Chapter Text
The kids on stage take their final bow, and both Crowley and Aziraphale give a standing ovation like they were at the Royal Opera House. Warlock beams at them from the stage, and runs over as soon as he’s allowed.
“What did you think?!” he asks, letting them both sweep him up into hugs.
“Oh, you were marvelous, darling!” Cook coos, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Very impressive improv, little hellspawn,” Nanny says with a smirk, wiping Cook’s lipstick mark off a second later, “it was like the Angel Gabriel was right there in front of us. Now, shall we take some photos of you with your castmates before you change out of your costume?”
Warlock eagerly rushes over to the area where all the other parents are clustered taking photos, his normal sullen shyness around his schoolmates forgotten in the excitement of the play. He even reluctantly agrees to stand for a photo with Trixie Carter who had played Mary, even though she was still obviously cross with him for changing the script.
Trixie’s mother, the unopposed leader of the PTA for three years running, then directs all the children to line up to take photos with their families. She pointedly ignores Warlock as he hovers awkwardly on the edge of the group.
Ms. Karnad, Warlock’s teacher, looks over at him. She thinks about the way Warlock is always beaming as he tells stories about his Cook and Nanny when he shares them at Monday circle time. She thinks about how he added them both into his family portrait, and actually put them on either side of himself in the picture, with his parents on the outside of the group. She thinks about how he asked them to call his Nanny when he got the flu last month, and the fact that these two women were the ones here, tonight, hugging him and cheering him on. She thinks about her own parents, who she stopped speaking to when she turned 16, and the aunt she considers her real family.
Ms. Karnad tells Trixie’s mother to wait and walks over to Warlock. She kneels down in front of him to speak.
“Warlock, do you want to take your family picture first?”
Warlock looks up, eyes wide. He starts to smile, then pauses uncertainly and whispers, “Um...Ms. Karnad...my parents aren’t…”
“I know, I recognized your Nanny, and isn’t that Cook Frances from your family portrait?” she smiles and prompts, “Lots of people have different types of families…”
Warlock’s whole face lights up as he finishes, “and they’re all special in their own way!”
He runs, grabs the hands of the two women, and pulls them over to his teacher. Both the women look shocked and uncomfortable, but clearly can’t say no to the boy.
“If you let me take your camera, I wanted Warlock to have a picture with his family tonight,” she explains, hoping her meaning is clear.
The tall, red-headed Nanny gives her an assessing look through her sunglasses, then hands over the instant print camera, “If you wouldn’t mind taking a couple, we’d appreciate it.”
They end up with three different photos of Nanny and Cook with Warlock. The two adults still look a bit uncertain in their smiles, but their love for the young boy between them is clear. Warlock has the biggest smile in these photos out of all the ones taken that night.
Years later, when Crowley opens a safe in his flat to retrieve a thermos full of Holy Water, he pauses for the briefest moment to look at the other precious items kept in the safe. One of those items is a small instant camera print of two women kneeling with their arms wrapped around a young boy dressed as an angel.