Chapter Text
Note on the front of A.Z. FELL & CO, written on fine goatskin paper in finer dark ink:
As I am currently on sabbatical, I am afraid the shop will remain closed for the foreseeable future. I anticipate returning to business within 6 months, around the beginning of the summer holiday in August or perhaps late October. However, this date is further subject to change if I find that something needs tending to. If you find that you must contact me regarding stock, book repair, or any other item of business, you are free to call. I am available most weekdays before about 9:30am or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I am free as early as 8, I have been known not to respond until 1, except on Tuesday. On weekends, I will be available during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing of my telephone line on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays).
A.Z. Fell, Bookseller
For the rest of the day, all Fell did was cuddle Crowley. He sat with a book on the sectional and frustratingly, annoyingly just kept petting him as he read. Crowley was expected to, again, do nothing, which was equally as frustrating.
After a good few hours of this, Fell took him back to the nursery and sat with him in the rocking chair. He murmured something to himself as he studied the books on the shelf beside them, clearly contemplating what to read before reaching to pull something out. Crowley followed Fell’s movement with wary and tired eyes, watching as he grabbed a hard copy of The Tale of Despereaux.
Cradling Crowley’s head in the crook of his elbow, Fell opened the book and began to read.
“Book the first, A mouse is born. The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear read. You must trust me. I am telling you a story. The story begins within the walls of a castle, with the birth of a mouse. A small mouse…”
As Fell began to read, Crowley had to admit, if only to himself, that the man had a reading voice. It was soft and melodic—really the stuff of pretentious audiobooks.
“The last mouse born to his parents and the only one of his litter to be born alive. ‘Where are my babies?’ said the exhausted mother when the ordeal was through. ‘Show me to my babies.’”
Oh god, that accent—
Fell did not disappoint when he started to speak in the voices of the characters, but as he attempted the French accent of the mother mouse, it was truly awful, and he couldn’t help the little snort of rude amusement that escaped him.
“Oh? Is someone laughing?”
Crowley immediately stiffened, looking anywhere but the man himself with a sneer. Fell just chuckled.
“Is someone making fun of my silly voices?”
Crowley scowled hard and blushed at his patronizing tone.
“It’s ok to laugh, darling, it’s supposed to be silly.”
He looked pointedly anywhere else.
Fell chuckled again and affectionately ruffled Crowley’s hair, eliciting an irritated and resentful growl, and continued. “The father mouse held the one small mouse up high. ‘There is only this one,’ he said. ‘The others are dead.’ ‘Mom Dieu, just the one mouse baby?’”
Despite Fell’s low, soothing tone, Crowley felt deep anger boiling in his stomach. If Fell thought for one moment that he would play along or just sit on his ass and cry he was very, very wrong.
He made a clear point to not listen to the story at all, looking around the room for any weapons or windows or something. As Fell continued reading however, his anger and frustration just increased. His squirming and straining was renewed. He was tired, he had a headache, he was wearing a diaper, he was pissed—
Fell paused his reading with a bemused sigh when Crowley’s squirming became too distracting. “My, someone’s rather cranky. Just relax darling, shh. Story time is quiet time.”
Red with embarrassment, Crowley, in a fit of anger-driven energy, pulled his hands up from where they laid limp in his lap and started to frantically try and undo the gag around his head. His hands flailed from the front to the back as he searched for the buckle.
“Anthony.”
Fell’s tone sent a zing of fear through him, unused to hearing the gentle man with such displeasure in his voice. When Crowley didn’t stop trying to remove the gag, fingers limp and uncoordinated, Fell just gave a disappointed huff and set the book aside, reaching for something else on the shelf.
He firmly took Crowley’s hand in his own and fit a soft mitten over it. It was a dark navy blue color and thick with no discernible sections, just one glorified fabric sack for his hand. He then did the same for his other hand, tying them tight around his wrists, completely ignoring his struggling.
Hands effectively captured, Crowley stopped fighting to get eye contact with Fell, chest heaving with breath from his effort. Fell’s eyes softened at whatever he saw in Crowley’s expression and he reached out to gently tap the part of the gag sticking out of his mouth. “Darling, your pacifier stays in. It’s good for little mouths, and you don’t know how to properly use your words yet.”
Crowley looked away, his vision swimming with unshed tears. He had no response to that.
He felt Fell give another deep sigh as he readjusted him to a more comfortable position in his lap. “Let’s try again, hm?” He cleared his throat and pulled Crowley just a little closer.
“‘Mon Dieu, just the one mouse baby?,’ said the mother mouse. ‘Just the one. What will you name him?’”
Crowley felt trapped in more ways than one.
His mouth was full of rubber, his hands were stuck in fabric, his body was clearly affected by some drug, and he was stuck in the middle of who-knows-where. He took a deep breath at the overwhelming feeling of despair and frustration and turned his head away from Fell, unable to do anything but listen to the story.
He was just so point-blank furious. But there wasn’t much he could do besides rest and wait for his strength to return so he could escape.
“You just want your bottle now, don’t you? Hm? Fussy darling. Here.” With a soft, knowing grin, Fell leaned again to the side, Crowley shifting with him, to grab an apparently pre-readied bottle. “I should have known you just wanted your drink.”
Crowley scowled, hard, and tried to wrench his hands away to push away the bottle. Annoyingly, Fell had seemed to anticipate this, and firmly held his mittened-hands under one arm as he unstrapped his gag and quickly pushed the bottle in his mouth. Like the last time, Crowley tried his best to push the nipple out with his tongue, but a sudden squeeze of the bottle had liquid shooting out. When Crowley still refused to drink it, he pushed up his tongue against the nipple and pursed his lips. With a sputtering sound, the liquid sprayed all over his face and dripped down his chin.
“Ohh, darling—” Why was Fell’s voice so damn soft? “Such a messy boy. Here we are.”
The bottle was pulled away and a soft cloth dabbed at the lower half of his face. The warm milk slowly seeping into his onesie was uncomfortable, but the dabbing? Careful, considering stripes to get all the milk away made Crowley squint with how discomforted he was.
“We’ll have to get you a bib. What a little boy you are!” And Aziraphale gentled a kiss right on his temple. Crowley groaned with how it made his skin crawl.
When the nipple came back, this time streaming with milk, he hurried to suck so he wouldn’t choke.
“There we are. That’s a good boy.” Crowley huffed again in anger, but kept sucking. He was too hungry to pass it up. Plus, he had no idea where he was. He needed all the hydration he could get before he started running for his life.
Eventually, he felt too tired to keep his head up and started accidentally drifting to rest against Fell’s sweater-clad chest. The cotton was warm and soft against his cheek, but he’d be damned if he was ever caught willingly cuddling with his captor. It wasn’t long before he was unable to lift his head after resting it against Fell’s chest, and he resigned himself to staying there when it became clear that his body wasn’t going to let him do anything different as he drank.
The peace that had descended in the room felt painfully forced. Everything was quiet beside the blush-inducing sound of Crowley sucking on the nipple of the bottle, the stuffed snake tucked underneath his elbow as he drank.
It was mostly dark with the exception of a galaxy projector of a warm and soft blue color slowly dancing on the ceiling, and Crowley busied himself with staring at it so he wouldn’t have to look at Fell’s tender smile. His plan was ruined when Fell chuckled, the motion gently shaking Crowley. “Do we like our night light? It’s rather pretty, isn’t it?”
Crowley just huffed and decidedly looked away from the ceiling. He wasn’t going to stand being demeaned by Fell. He sucked on the bottle with a sullen expression, his headache more or less gone. Fell just hummed tunelessly and massaged his head as he drank.
It was embarrassing to think about what he looked like from an outside observer. A squirming, oversized toddler. Just a Little unhappy with their Caregiver.
But none of that really mattered, because he was getting out tonight.
With a final hum, Fell pulled the empty bottle away from Crowley and set it on the side table. Mouth free of the bottle and gag, Crowley stretched his jaw. He was tempted to say something, all of his questions accumulating at the tip of his tongue, but they all fizzled out in his throat like faulty fireworks. He could learn why Fell had kidnapped him after the man was arrested and interrogated. For now, all that mattered was getting out of there, and that meant not pissing his captor off.
He was unsurprised but disappointed when Fell put the gag back in his mouth. After deeming it tight enough, the man leaned back in the chair to get a good look at the entirety of Crowley. He almost seemed to melt with affection, his smile lines deepening when Crowley scowled in return.
“You were so good today, sweetheart. I know this is all rather difficult for you, especially since you don’t understand quite yet, but you’re doing marvelously.” Fell cuddled him closer, pressing gentle kisses to his face.
Everything felt warm, so warm it was stifling. Fell’s honeyed voice, the cotton onesie he was stuffed in, the diaper, Fell’s large palm smoothing rhythmically over his forehead, and he growled at the feeling. He gave one big squirm and was relieved to see that he had gained a good amount of his strength back when Fell had to squeeze him tighter to his chest.
“Calm down, darling. Deep breaths. We’re going to go to sleep now.”
With a coo, Fell lifted him up and settled him into the crib, pulling the blanket over him until it was right under his chin and tucked the stuffed snake into his arms. Crowley left the snake as it was and buried his face into the pillow, stilling with a heavy exhale in hopes of making Fell believe he was sleeping hard and fast.
There was a final press of lips to his forehead before the door was closed and Crowley was left to sleep.
He waited for a while.
It was honestly hard not to fall asleep, considering how lethargic he felt in the soft bedding, but his nerves kept him up. It was as if his skin was buzzing with the anticipation of escape, the same kind of thrill one got right before a shot or getting on a scary rollercoaster. But it was fine! He loved exciting things! And this whole ordeal would make one hell of a story. Though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t considering just completely forgetting about this whole experience, tossing it to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to forget about a shitty thing that happened.
He waited even longer.
Waiting was honestly more hell than he thought it’d be.
When the light outside his room went dark, he shifted uneasily in the crib, stilling when the sound of shuffling footsteps went past his door. Finally, when he deemed it long enough since Fell had probably gone to sleep, he twisted out of the tightly tucked in blanket . Christ, did Fell work in a hotel before running his bookshop?
He twisted and squirmed and strained until he was sitting upright and criss-crossed in the crib and began the nightmare of trying to get out of his restraints. He first shifted until his feet were able to reach his wrists and, with his toes, started to agonizingly undo the tight knot that had kept his hands trapped. He growled under his breath when he realized how tight the knots were, but continued anyway.
When his left hand was finally free, he hurriedly took off the mitten on his right hand before frantically looking for the clasp to the gag at the back of his head. The relief he felt upon removing the godforsaken gag with his own hands was immense, and he had to pause his actions when he realized how much he was trembling.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit this was happening, right now. Calm down you bellend, you useless dumbass, calm down.
Steeling himself with a few deep breaths, he stood up in the crib, ears straining for any possible indication of Fell, and swung a leg over the wooden bars.
The diaper crinkled and he cringed upon finding that he completely forgot to take it off. When he shifted on the bars, it crinkled more, and he realized that it would make more sound if he tried to get it off. His priority was getting the hell out of there, not saving his pride from being found by the police in a diaper.
His legs quivered at the action and he snarled in frustration as he carefully, quietly maneuvered himself out of the crib and onto the floor. Heart beating frantically, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears when his feet finally touched the soft, carpeted ground. He slowly shifted his weight from holding onto the bars to the floor, clutching a hand tight over his mouth to stifle any sounds when he finally started making his way to the door.
Walking was like trying to move on legs that had been asleep for hours— feasible but almost completely inefficient. He had to make a conscious effort to move them one by one, but eventually made his way to the door.
Each step was terrifying, and when he could feel his breath speed up into little puffs, he paused right by the door to steel himself. His heart was pounding hard in his head and as he reached for the handle with the hand not covering his face, he couldn’t help the fearful whimper that escaped him. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, desperately trying to keep quiet, and slowly pulled the handle down to open the door.
Every limb shook furiously as he worked to slowly open the door, his heart rate spiking when he couldn’t keep the doorknob from clicking as it left the bolt. He slowly, slowly pulled the door open and left the room to walk in the darkness.
With one hand still clasped over his mouth and another running along the walls for stability, he tried to navigate back to the living room from what he remembered.
Walking in the pitch black with not even light bleeding out from under a door was terrifying. He had never been afraid of the dark before, especially considering how much it made his head feel better. Whenever he had migraines his go-to treatment was lights off, force some ibuprofen down his throat, curl up in his bed, and try not to cry. Now it was like the darkness itself was trying to choke him with fear.
He stumbled desperately in the direction he hoped was closest to the living room, useless legs working hard to keep up with his frantic body.
Click.
When the hallway light flicked on to reveal Fell standing at the end of the hall, he couldn’t help the small shriek of surprise that left his throat. His hand instinctively clasped over his eyes to protect himself from the bright light, but his sudden blindness had him stumble and trip over his own legs and sent him crashing to the floor.
There was the sound of Fell making high pitched concerned noises, but nothing registered for Crowley besides an overwhelming rush of adrenaline. He gasped and began trying to claw his way up the wall and away from Fell, every signal in his brain just screaming for him to go, go, go, GO.
When large, tight arms grabbed him he yelled and kicked out. “Let go, you sick pervert! LET GO.”
Fell huffed out a breath of effort as he tightened his grip around Crowley’s waist. "Anthony. Are you really this keen on breaking the rules?” He scolded him with what was probably meant to be a calm tone, but was strained as he struggled to get Crowley under control.
“I’m fuccckkkin’ keen on leaving!” Crowley snarled back.
“Oh my. Such foul language from such a little mouth.”
Fell’s voice wavered as Crowley almost surged out of his grip, but took a deep breath and pulled Crowley up into his arms, ignoring his thrashing. Once he secured Crowley, arms in a vice grip around his waist, he started to carry him back into his room.
“Why are you doing this to me?!” Crowley howled, flailing with all of his strength.
“We will have that conversation when you are quiet and able to listen.” Fell replied, voice strained with the effort of keeping Crowley still as he entered his room.
Upon being taken back towards the changing table, Crowley’s struggles renewed and he frantically twisted to hold onto Fell’s clothing, his hands bunching up the soft fabric of his sweater.
“Mr. Fell–” Crowley gasped, all pride gone, "Please, stop–”
Fell just huffed and started to firmly push him onto the changing table. “Anthony, you need to calm down.”
At that, Crowley just snarled and thrashed harder.
The whole struggle felt off. The room smelled of jasmine and lavender, the scents working to convince his hindbrain to relax. It was like getting into a fight at the spa. All the purposefully calming scents with the soft projector directly contrasted his biting words and struggling.
When he felt his back hit the soft padding of the table, he found himself beyond speech, reduced to spitting and trying to claw his way out of Fell’s grip. Despite his struggling, Fell was able to overpower him and wrangled his hands into the restraints. When Crowley found himself unable to move his hands, he finally stilled, dizzy with the effort of fighting.
With one hand gently resting on Crowley’s quivering stomach, Fell started searching through the changing table. Crowley shuddered with the easy intimacy Fell touched his body with, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from crying at the hopelessness of it all.
“So,” Crowley began, his throat clicking as he swallowed, “Do you treat all your victims like this, or am I special?” He couldn’t keep from trembling in anxiety, knowing he was probably just digging a deeper hole for himself.
“Oh, my darling,” Fell stood up from looking around the changing table, now holding a prepped syringe and an alcohol prep pad. He had a resignedly sad expression, his cheeks pinkened from the struggle. “You’re very special. That’s why you need taking care of.”
Crowley stilled completely when he caught sight of the needle and scoffed at Fell, falsely brave in response to hearing something so ridiculous and seeing something so terrifying. He shook his head in disbelief at the ceiling.
“You’re crazy. You’re crazy. You need help. You know what? If you let me go, I won’t even say anything. Zip. Zero. Z-zero. Quiet. Just–” His voice shook as the adrenaline fueling his confidence started to wear off and melt into fear. “Just let me go.”
As Fell started to unzip his onesie to reveal the pale skin of his torso, Crowley made a desperate sound of refusal, pulling against the restraints. Fell, for his part, looked nothing but concerned and focused. There was no anger on his face. No surprise or shock either, he simply smoothed a hand back over Crowley’s stomach and Crowley felt like he could puke from the intimacy.
“You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart.” His face became terrifyingly blank, only just tinged with soft remorse. “We’re going to take care of you first. Then we’ll talk.”
When Fell opened the alcohol prep pad, its powerful acrid scent immediately hit his face and Crowley couldn’t bite back the whimper that escaped him. Fell gave a sympathetic murmur at the sound but didn’t look up, completely focused on methodically cleaning the area right above his hipbone with the cold pad. Upon seeing Fell uncap the needle, Crowley distinctly felt his heart rate increase, breathing out in stuttering pauses.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit there could be anything in that syringe. Knockout stuff. Poison.
He immediately began to twist again in his restraints, frantically trying to get off the table.
“No no no no no, don’t touch me—” He snarled viciously before his voice pinched into something high and frantic as he desperately pulled against the restraints.
Fell pressed down firmly on Crowley’s stomach to keep him still as he injected the clear substance into his side. Crowley couldn’t keep from crying out, and gasped in fear and pain. Fell depressed the needle perfunctorily and soothed a hand over Crowley’s stomach before capping the needle and putting it out of view. He immediately got to rubbing the area with a cotton ball and covered it with a bandaid decorated with fucking Peppa Pig.
While Fell occupied himself with putting things away and puttering around like injecting mystery serums was an everyday occurrence for him, Crowley was busy losing his mind.
“What was in that. What did you just do.” He kept his voice as firm as possible as he squirmed on the cushioned table to gauge any difference in his motor control. He groaned when he realized that his legs felt heavier, like someone had turned his bones to lead. His brain immediately wanted to follow suit, deeming his entire body much too tired to be awake. He squeezed his eyes right before opening them wide. He needed to stay awake. In this state Fell could do virtually anything to him, and the thought was terrifying.
Though instead of dismembering him, all Fell seemed to want to do was make low soothing sounds at him and stroke his slackening cheek. “Deep breaths, darling. It’s just meant to help you hold still and relax. We needed to help you calm down for a moment. You’re alright.” Fell said, his voice obnoxiously calm and self-assured.
Mute in the face of his helplessness, Crowley clammed up. He’s fine. He’s fine. This’ll wear off and he’ll escape later. He’ll just be quieter next time. Make Fell trust him, then get away as fast as possible. Look at the galaxy projection. Fell’s right, it is pretty. Love the color, doesn’t hurt his head that much.
Fell unstrapped Crowley from his restraints and lifted him up like he was something precious, sitting down in the lofty chair with him secured in his lap. “Now, I know this is difficult, but there are a few new things you simply have to learn.”
Crowley groaned and sluggishly reached up to his face to rub his aching forehead. Fell pulled his hands away to do it himself, rubbing deep circles into his forehead with his thumbs, slow and sure. The touch grounded him, and were he not so exhausted he would have seethed with annoyance.
“Just listen for a moment, dove. I noticed you weren’t taking care of yourself. Never eating unless I fed you. Working yourself to the bone. Leaving no time for leisure. I had to do something.” Fell’s face adopted a fierce expression, which frankly looked hilarious. Like an affronted bird puffing up. Yeah, he looked funny like that.
When Fell looked down at Crowley, though, his face softened and turned into something more familiar. “Here with me, you don’t have to worry about anything. You’ll get good sleep, you’ll eat well, you’ll have genuine fun, and you’ll be with someone who truly cares for you. You’re finally allowed to be what I know you truly are.”
Crowley shook his head, first slowly before increasing in speed. “No–… no. Y’know ‘m neu-tral, right?”
“Are you so sure? You never cooked for yourself. You needed someone else to make food for you to eat. You don’t have any manners, don’t know how to properly talk to real adults. You don’t have any friends, no significant relationships besides me.”
“I– what?” The audacity woke him up some. “I have ple-ny of friends!”
“No. No you don’t, darling. What kind of adult is friends with a baby? One who pities them, that’s who.”
Crowley paused, just absolutely overwhelmed with incredulity. “Fuck ‘ou. I have friends,” he bit out each word.
“You’re not a real adult,” Fell continued almost as if he hadn’t heard him. “Because a real adult knows how to take care of themselves. A real adult can cook and clean and shop and have a social life outside of work. You most certainly did none of those things. You are nothing more than a Little to me. You’ve proved nothing but your inability to be a responsible, real adult, and I am merely doing what you both need and clearly want.”
“No. No no, ‘ou kidnappeb me. Yyyou fuccckin’– drugged me ‘n– and mabe me wear uh diaper!” Crowley knew he was sort of losing his edge, what with the yelling, but it was impossible to respond with even an ounce of calm.
Fell clucked his tongue at him. “You know, you’re already in heaps of trouble for using your legs and leaving your crib. I don’t think you want any more spanks for bad language, do we?”
“I don’t gibe a flyeeng shit aboud that—” Crowley snapped, continuing to yank hard at the restraints. “We both know ‘m NOD UH FUCKIN’ LIDDLE!”
What was first passive disappointment hardened into stony anger on Fell’s face. The hand on Crowley’s cheek slid down to firmly grip his chin, ignoring his thrashing. “First, little boy, I think it’s in your best interest to stop speaking immediately. You are clearly incapable of using your words correctly and politely. Second , you need to understand that I hold the best judgment when it comes to your life. You were unable to care for yourself, and clearly needed someone else to do it for you.”
Crowley’s face scrunched up and he directed his eyes away from Fell, his face burning with restrained rage and humiliation.
Fell’s voice softened as he went on to stroke his hair. “I care about you, Anthony. You’re clever and kind and care so much about the world. There was no one who appreciated you for that– but I do. People are so quick to snuff out any sort of that beauty. You know that better than anyone. You had to grow up so fast , my love– it’s unfair. You were forced to uphold a standard you were never taught to properly do or maintain.” Fell’s voice was full of conviction as he spoke, and was tinged by a sort of mournful wistfulness. “And now it’s taken a toll on you.”
Crowley just continued to mutely shake his head, unsettled and afraid for what could possibly come next.
“You deserve better. You’ll get better. All you have to do is trust me.” Fell sighed, absentmindedly stroking Crowley’s throbbing head. “I know the things I do for you don’t make much sense right now, but they will. You’ll understand perfectly well. And there’s nothing you have to do. Just relax and trust me.” Finished with the conversation, Fell reached for the retrieved pacifier gag he had set on the side table before starting to strap it around his face. Though Crowley’s legs were completely unusable, he was desperate to keep from being silenced. He threw a clumsy hand up between the gag and his mouth.
“C’n… I c’n ee qui-et. Blease.”
Fell just shook his head and went right back to putting the gag on him, though now he did so with a bemused smile. “I know you can be good, sweetheart. Your pacifier isn’t a punishment. It helps.”
Crowley grumbled as it was put on, but held mostly still. Ok. New plan. Do everything he says, doesn’t matter what it is. Placate him. Make him think he’s ok with it. Then he’ll get the hell out of here. He’s clinically insane, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to reason with him.
Fell hummed to himself as he went about readjusting Crowley in his lap, re-mittening his hands and pushing back his hair. He gently lifted the snake, also retrieved from the crib, and booped its nose against Crowley’s with a playful grin. “See, dove? If you left, your snakey would have been all alone, and I rather suspect they like you.”
Crowley sneered and leaned as far away from Fell as he could, away from the snake. He didn’t need a stuffed animal, thank you very much. Fell tucked it in his arms anyways, ensuring Crowley was unable to toss it aside before kissing his forehead.
“My dear boy,” Fell murmured against the skin of Crowley’s forehead. The moment felt meaningful—Fell cradling Crowley close to his chest and breathing in deep, measured counts. The intimate vibrations made him scrunch his nose, but Fell continued, either unaware of or ignoring Crowley’s distaste.
“No story time tomorrow night, and we’ll do the rest of your punishment in the morning. That means a sound spanking.”
Crowley scrunched his nose harder, biting down on the rubber in fear and frustration. He couldn’t help the little sound of disagreement that escaped him, which Fell was quick to shush.
“Darling, it’s the consequences of your actions. You’ll do wonderfully for me tomorrow.”
Crowley growled, completely prepared to push against Fell’s chest to get away before remembering what had happened the last time he tried that. He just turned away, looking at the projection at the ceiling with a scowl so intense it hurt his face.
Fell seemed completely impervious to Crowley’s I-will-destroy-everything-dear-to-you face, choosing to slowly rock the chair back and forth as he ran his fingers slowly, soothingly through his hair. Crowley was just relieved that Fell didn’t seem too pissed with him—outside the intense absolutely insane lecture he wrought. An angry Fell could mean anything—more humiliation, injury, even death. Who knew? Crowley sure didn’t.
Completely exhausted by the effort and fear and failure of his escape attempt, Crowley found himself unwillingly drifting off. He stared at the slow moving projection of the night sky, a smoke-like blue nebula with little pinpricks of light scattered throughout to emulate stars. It reminded him of the time he went to the planetarium with his friends on a school weekend, with the amazing galaxy projections on the walls. He was completely enraptured by the planets and stars back then, and even now the slow, floaty pinpricks of light served to calm him.
The slow rocking combined with the warm, large palm smoothing over his head distracted him from his anger and humiliation. Fell’s hand left warm, tingly streaks of pleasure each time it smoothed over his forehead. The warmth seemed to settle at the base of his skull, fogging his head up with simple, quiet pleasure.
He hated him. He fucking hated Fell. He was the reason why he was here, why he was suffering so much degradation and shame. Crowley was going to cheer the day Fell was arrested. He was going to catalog every humiliation, every slight, every word and make sure Fell got life. He was going to stay focused and aware and get away.
He just needed to stay alive and sane until then.
But if today was any indication of what he was going to have to deal with, though, he didn’t have much to look forward to. Not at all.
Little Squirrel’s Big Day, Excerpts from Pages 4 and 15
“Guess what, Daddy?”
“What, little squirrel?”
“I’m running away!”
“Why is that so?”
“Because,” said the squirrel, “There are no fun toys. No toasty flakes. Just gross green bok choy . And nothing new to play!”
“That is serious,” mused little squirrel’s Daddy. “So I suppose you must go,” And he packed a small bag with her toys and a nappy.
(…)
Little squirrel cried in the arms of her Daddy. “I shouldn’t have left, it was a mistake! I don’t know what to do alone, I’m sorry I was crabby!”
“Don’t be afraid, little squirrel,” her Daddy hushed.
“But the world is so scary! There are earthquakes and strangers and everything’s rushed. I need you to hold me, I need to be carried!”
And little squirrel’s Daddy held her so tight she wasn’t afraid, not with all of her might.
But then her Daddy said something completely surprising. “I was scared too,” with a sadness she was just now realizing.
“But how!” she cried. “How could you be so scared?
“Don’t you know, little squirrel? It’s because I care. I didn’t have you, and it made me so blue.”
(…)