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WHO: Aziraphale and Crowley

WHAT: Crowley is, for once, very happy to be a snake and makes himself Aziraphale's problem. In turn, Aziraphale makes him into a stylish accessory.

WHEN: Early July

WHERE: Aziraphale's room

NOTES: CW for their excessive flirting, Aziraphale's doe eyes and misuse of demonic serpents.

Crowley was sprawled in Aziraphale's window sill. This was not a particularly odd position to find the demon in - he has a tendency to sprawl on any available flat surface, usually quite dramatically, especially when he was in the process of making mountains out of mole hills. And he especially had the tendency to do this sprawling on Aziraphale's furniture. After all, what's the point without an audience...?

What was unusual, however, was the state Crowley was in. It was very rare that he took on the shape of a snake - after all, he worried that he might not be able to change back - but he had recently gotten one of his own powers back and wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the feeling of once more being a lazy, cold-blooded reptile.

Which wasn't entirely far from how he behaved when he had legs, but this was a part of himself he found, quite unexpectedly, that he missed.

The fact that in this form he took up the entire window seat that could easily fit the two of them with room to spare was now Aziraphale's problem. Crowley's only concern was getting a nice, slow even rotation so his glossy black scales soaked up as much sunlight as possible. There was a shifting of black coils and Crowley's red belly was exposed to the sunlight. A low, contented 'hhhhh' issued from the Serpent of Eden as he settled once more for the time being.

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Aziraphale comes back into the room after having gone downstairs for something or another, and can't see Crowley when he gets back in the room.

Well, to be quite honest, he isn't looking for Crowley the way he should be.

"Crowley?" he inquires, looking around. He's taken aback. "Crowley?" he asks again, softly as to not disturb him, making his way over to the window sill, smile spread across his lips.

Oh. He really was a lovely serpent, wasn't he?

Aziraphale goes over to retrieve a pillow from the bed, and tries to lift some of the coils gently to slot it underneath, so he can have something soft to lie on.

Crowley makes a series of garbled noises before partially slithering his way up Aziraphale's arm so the angel has an easier time of shifting the bulk of him.

"Hhhh sss'warm, angel," Crowley says lazily, though whether he means his little patch of sunlight or Aziraphale, he doesn't specify.

Aziraphale ends up shifting most of Crowley onto his lap, as he takes a seat on the windowsill. By accident. Obviously.

"You're very cumbersome to move," he ribs lightly. "How are you feeling?" Better, he assumes, if he's sleeping around as a snake. He usually doesn't.

He finds it wholly endearing.

Crowley is far from complaining, the serpents flat head sliding under the collar of Aziraphale's jacket, coming to rest on his shoulder. It's warm, dark, and terribly comfortable, and he can smell the angel's cologne.

"Got thisss back," comes the muffled response as Crowley adjusts himself in Aziraphale's lap to maximize the amount of his scaly body touching the walking sunlamp that is Aziraphale. "Didn't think I'd miss it."

Aziraphale finds his arms around Crowley's-- well, where his neck might be, that extends from the rest of him. "I'm so glad you're enjoying it, dear." Because he quite likes this form, Crowley being such a surprisingly soft snake, and warm underneath the scales.

"You know. I had accidentally turned into a big white snake last month, and I think everyone who came by me was... calm about the whole thing. Calmer than I was anyway, was hard lifting my head."

Is that maybe a soft encouragement for him to be like this more often? Maybe.

Once he's settled, Crowley goes still, relishing in the embrace. It's not as though they don't touch, but not like this. Not with Aziraphale's arms around him. It's warm and comfortable, and Crowley doesn't dare upset this rare moment when all is at ease.

"I wish I had ssseen it," he says at last, his forked tongue flicking out from under the collar of Aziraphale's coat when the demon hisses his response. "Musst have been a cute snake. Were you alright...?"

Because he knows how jarring changing forms can be.

"Oh, yes," he responds. "Plenty of people came over to take care of me, help get me somewhere with water. I couldn't figure out how to move it all at once, you know. Very uncoordinated as a snake, I am. Makes me wonder how you ever got used to having hips."

He gently brushes Crowley's scales, but only the one direction of course. "I was white with little cream spots." There's a little laughter in his voice. "Fitting, I suppose. Not quite as lovely as your form. Of course. You're very elegant like this."

"Always been a bit snake-y, me. Sss'all that zipping through wormholes - the event horizons gave us all a bit of a stretched quality."

The image of a serpentine Aziraphale, all white and cream , struggling to figure out basic snaking is so delightful, that it pushes away the darker feelings as to why the Almighty had forced him into this shape to begin with. Crawl on your belly in the dirt and eat ash, indeed.

A chuckle causes a ripple through his coils that had slowly been wrapping around Aziraphale, and Crowley settles again, warm and comfortable.

"You're lucky no one put you on a sheet of silk and satin. Absolute nightmare."

"Ooh, that'd be cruel. No, everyone was very kind. Except one person who ran away, but I think she had just arrived to the hotel, wasn't really expecting a talking snake. I think it was the talking bit that got her."

He likes the way that Crowley delights in this, even if it's embarrassing for him. "You know, everytime I lifted my head above the ground a few feet, I'd topple over." He gently pats Crowley on his crown. "No idea how you keep balance. It's so difficult, being a snake!"

Crowley snorts. Who on earth would be scared of a talking snake?

"If it ever happensss again, I'd be happy to help you figure it out. Lifting your head is done more with your body, while your neck holds it still."

If Crowley could grin, he would.

"To move, you got to wiggle your whole body, pushing forward with your sssternum while your tail is like a sssort of rudder going back and forth."

There's another ripple of movement through Crowley's body, now quite tangled around Aziraphale. But then, if the angel didn't want a heat-seeking reptile to try to leech his warmth, he probably shouldn't have pulled the wretched thing into his lap.

Crowley exhales a contented sound - warm belly pressed against Aziraphale, while his back toasts in the sunlight. He is quite a happy creature.

This position isn't uncomfortable, and Crowley seems to like it a lot. He's warm too, and it would be quite nice to sit like this in the winter, he thinks. There isn't much sun to speak of here, but at least there's a little bit of glow.

"I think I would like that. You could show me how to be a better snake." And he'd need all the help he could get.

"You know Crowley, I got my strength back, and even though it was in a tea, it hasn't disappeared," he says. "And it's been a whole month! You might just get to keep this one," he comments.

Another contented sound rumbles up from Crowley. Aziraphale with his strength back would be a very, very good thing. Their miracles would be better, but beggars can't be choosers. Eyes fluttering shut, there's another brief shift as Crowley adjusts himself and relaxes.

"I hope ssso. I'd like us to be whole again sssoon."

His tail twitches, right at the end.

"Mind you, it might be possible for them to take it away at any time."

He nods. "I know. Won't count on them, but... it's quite nice to have," he adds, patting Crowley on the head. He seems to be enjoying this a lot, and it makes Aziraphale happy inside.

"Do you only want to be like this in this room? I think it might be nice for you to sunbathe in the pool area. Quite a shame it's not overly-hot anymore. It was very pleasant as a snake."

"Hhh," Crowley's body curls somehow closer to Aziraphale, as though to recoil from invisible eyes.

"Maybe. Humans get... Well, they get a bit weird thisss. We can test the waters if you want though."

"Ahh, Crowley, it's just for your comfort," he says. "If you'd rather keep this private, I understand." He wraps his arms around the snake body.

"I just thought, might be nice to sun on some rock."

"You're warmer than any rock," Crowley says, relaxing once more in his arms. He has never wanted to move less in his entire life. If it wouldn't put Aziraphale out, Crowley would happily nap for an entire century wound around him.

"But if you've got things to do, I reckon it's the next best option."

Because he wouldn't want to leech warmth off of anyone else. Aziraphale is just special like that.

Aziraphale shakes his head no. "Nothing more important than being here with you," he responds, giving him a little scratch by his ears.

"If you're content to spend all day like this, I should get a book. And we'll both be comfortable the entire day." He feels a smile spread on his face despite how he tries not to. But he can't help it, Crowley is just so cute like this, all sweetly satisfied, and sleepy.

Crowley shuffles his way along so his upper half is draped over Aziraphale's shoulders, and his lower half wrapped snugly around his waist. He only squeezes enough to hold on, and tucks his head under Aziraphale's chin.

"If you really don't mind me like this, that actually sounds nice. Could read along even, if it's not terribly tragic."

"Oh, shush you. I'll find us something we both like." He can't believe that Crowley is still mad about Shakespeare.

And he'd asked him to make Hamlet successful, not the most successful pieces of literature in the entire English-speaking lexicon!

There's a hissing sort of chuckle from the demon. 'Mad' is far from the word he'd use. 'Fondly exasperated' is a bit closer to what he feels about the whole thing.

"Might've gone a bit above and beyond with that one, I admit."

"A bit? A bit! Crowley, I just wanted Shakespeare to be kept afloat long enough to fund his next few plays. And not have to deal with his... dreadful moaning," he admits. Because nothing was worse than trying to cheer up one of the greatest playwrights of all time who alternated wildly between dramatic self-loathing and equally dramatic pursuit of vengeance against his critics.

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