Ever since I found out that Crowley still turns into a snake I had an idea, what if he has the same problem as snakes do with warmth. Snakes are cold blooded aka ectothermic and don’t like cold places, hence why you don’t see them during winter. Now, what if Aziraphale came in on him during a really cold winter?
I am so sorry I have taken so long to reply to this! I’m just- life. Okay, I’m blaming life. That thing haha!
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There are many things Crowleyenjoys, many which he will go out of his way to find time to enjoy. Heat. Warmstones on a sunny day. A good glass of wine. The tops of mountains where there’sno clouds and he can see every star he helped make. His plants growing andleaning toward him when he expresses a drop of praise for their efforts. The gentlescent of expensive wool mixed with aged books, coca and something that smellslike love but can’t be because that’s something no demon can smell.
But, just as there are thingsCrowley enjoys, there are things that he does not. Visiting hell. Dealing withHastur. Hastur in general. Damp rain on cold nights. Cold nights. Dark dayswhere the sun is hidden or too low to bring any warmth with it. Arguing over sidesand duties and responsibilities.
Yes, there are things Crowley likesand things he does not.
This cold snap in early October isone of those things he doesn’t like. It’s usually windy in October but not alwaysso cold, not so biting as to make the demon want to curl up into a ball andconserve as much warmth as he can. He’s full of hellfire and still he’s cold.The body of a snake will always be susceptible to the cold.
And Crowley is a snake after all.
A snake that has just beendiscovered by a mildly fretful angel who had gone searching for his demonicfriend when Crowley didn’t show at the bookshop at the planned time.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaims,moving over to the bed that the serpentine form is curled in the centre of. “What’swrong?”
Crowley instinctively moves towardthe angel when the bed dips, seeking the warmth he can see through his eyesthat the angel is burning with. It draws him in before he can process whatAziraphale has said and Crowley is partly crawling into Aziraphale’s lap beforehe finally answers the angel[1].
“Cold,” Crowley hisses. “It’sssscold angel.”
“Oh you silly thing,” Aziraphalesays, pulling Crowley’s serpent-form against him, making sure the demon issurrounded by a cocoon of warmth. “You should have said something.”
“I’m a demon,” Crowley says andyes, yes he is, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to care about that fact as theangel unfurls pristine white wings[2]and brings them around to trap more warmth in this bubble the angel has madehim. “s’nice angel.”
“Of course it is.” The angel smilesat him and it’s such a soft smile, the kind he bestows on gentle animals—the ducksin the garden, the pigeons by the bookshop, anything but Crowley in thishorridly serpentine form. And yet Aziraphale’s smile doesn’t fade the longer helooks at Crowley, if anything it grows softer. “Next time you feel this cold,tell me. I don’t like the idea of you alone now that—well—since Tadfield.”
“Ssssorry,” Crowley hisses, pushinghis head against Aziraphale’s hand, letting out a soft hum that no snake canmake in reality when the angel gently strokes his scales. “Didn’t realisssse.”
“It’s all quite all right now mydear,” Aziraphale soothes, not stopping the gentle caress of Crowley’s head andit lulls him, sends him gently into a rest surrounded by warmth and kindnessand, above all, love.
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[1]Said angel had only been politely panicking over Crowley not answering him immediately and instead watched the serpentslithering over his thigh.
[2]Wings that were pristine only because Crowley had insisted on dealing with themlast week after he caught a glance of the state the angel had let them getinto. It had taken a fair bit of arguing, angel-wrangling and, finally, promisesof several delightful meals at the Ritz but Crowley had gotten his way. But notwithout having to allow the angel to preen Crowley’s wings also.
