#bazz writes

“I highly doubt that whatever you’re doing back there has anything to do with peaches.” Aziraphale set his book aside and primly took off his nifty reading glasses that were more for form than function. “You know I’d be awfully cross if it does and you didn’t share any.”

“No peachesss,” Crowley promised. The rasp of scales sliding furiously against the floors loud in the otherwise quiet shop. “If anything, I’d sssay ‘s more like a pretzel.”

Intrigued by that tiny admission, Aziraphale rose from his cushy armchair and mentally prepared himself for whatever Crowley could have possibly gotten himself into while he began the short walk into the backroom.

The sight that met him upon entry was not at all what he’d expected.

Crowley was in serpent form, sprawled out on the floor, littered remnants of an unfortunate mug of cold cocoa scattered around him, and absolutely tangled in the blanket Aziraphale had carefully laid over him while he had been dozing off in the sunbeams earlier. But, from the look of things, he had also managed to get a bit tangled up in himself too—if the giant mess of a knot in his middle, spine up in a rather nasty twist because of it, was anything to go by.

“Uh,” Crowley’s thin tongue poked out to lick his non-existent lips, strongly resisting the urge to hide his snout somewhere deep amongst his coils in embarrassment, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Azirpahale desperately tried not to laugh for Crowley’s sake, “and I’d very much love to hear it, but how about I get you unraveled first? That can’t be very comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great.”

Gently, Aziraphale picked up the bundle of snake and went about inspecting the knot. Oh dear, Crowley had done quite a number on himself with this one, he tsked. It took him a couple minutes of poking and prodding for the knot to finally give way.

Inspecting his handiwork, Aziraphale stroked a hand down the smooth scales in a soothing manner. “There we are, good as new.”

“Thanksss,” Crowley slipped through the angel’s hands, collapsing onto the floor and back into his favorite human shape. But as soon as he materialized, he grabbed at his back with a grimace, leaning into the arms Aziraphale had brought up when his knees almost buckled under him. “Ow, that smarts.”

“Something wrong?”

“Think I pulled something in my back,” the demon explained with a wince before it turned into a disbelieving laugh, “didn’t know I could do that as a snake.”

“Neither did I,” Aziraphale chucked along with an undercurrent of concern, raising a hand to snap, “is it something I could help with?”

“Nah, don’t trouble yourself—I’m fine, really. Nothing a bit of sitting down for a while, stretching it out, and maybe having something to drink can’t fix.”

“Oh,” Azirpahale wiggled, though a more controlled wiggle as to not jostle the poor demon’s aching back too much, “I do believe I can help with that!” Together they hobbled their way over to the sofa so the demon could sit himself down, and then moved on to pour them some drinks from an ornate crystal decanter of Crowley’s favorite scotch. “Now then, I believe I was promised an explanation on how that happened?” He asked, offering a tumbler of amber colored liquor to a crooked sitting demon.

“Right.” Crowley accepted it, tongue flicking out to better catch the scent. Oooh this was the good stuff, leave it to Aziraphale to know him so well. “Let’s just say I couldn’t get comfortable, tied myself up in knots without something warm to wrap myself around in such a drafty old bookshop.”

“Well then,” Azirpahale smiled down into his glass, feeling brave, “perhaps I’ll just have to offer myself the next time you feel the need to cuddle something warm, shouldn’t I?”

Crowley sputtered into his drink, alcohol burning his nose, and tried to hold onto his cool attitude, even after the indignity of today’s events. “Sure, if you like.”

Crowley pulled back with a grin, uncovered eyes bright with glee before they closed as he gave a languid stretch. His spine popped and cracked, and a groan of pleasure fell from his lips as too many vertebrae clicked back into their rightful places.

“Fine, ‘s nice to sleep on my own bed instead of on the couch every few nights.”

“But I thought you liked sleeping on the couch.”

“I do!” Crowley exclaimed, draping himself over the back of Aziraphale’s chair, conveniently hooking his chin over a plush shoulder and pressing a fourth and fifth kiss to the soft bit of neck he found exposed just above the collar, as the angel pouted. “Really, I do, but sometimes it just gives me such an awful crick in the neck… and m’ hips aren’t too pleased about it when my legs hang off either.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? I could have miracled it to be longer or softer or whatever it was you needed to be more comfortable,” Aziraphale was starting to fret before Crowley’s arms came around him.

“I like the sofa, angel. There’s no reason to change it.”

“But—”

“No ‘but’s,” Crowley gave him a comforting squeeze before rocking him from behind into what could only be assumed was a tempting sway. From there, Aziraphale could guess where this conversation was going. “Tell you what, if you really wanna do something about it, why don’t you come over to mine for tonight?” Crowley inquired innocently, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the door that should have led to nowhere. “You could join me, read in bed while I sleep next to you.”

Aziraphale took a slow sip of cocoa, it had been toeing the line of being lukewarm before it reached his lips, but it soon found itself to be the perfect temperature again. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, he hadn’t done that one, and looked over his reading glasses suspiciously to see Crowley quirk his own brows hopefully before continuing.

“Come on, it’ll be just like old times— like that time we shared bedrolls in Wessex, or when we shared had to share a room at an inn that only had one available. It’ll be fun.”

“Alright, you wily tempter.” Aziraphale huffed, playing up on being put upon, but was actually delighted by the offer. “But before then, will you let me use your kitchen? I’m afraid my oven has been a bit on the uncooperative side lately, you see, and there’s this cake recipe I’ve been meaning to try…”

“Yes, angel, alright.” Crowley sighed, giving in. He nuzzled into the side of Aziraphale’s neck, inhaling the scent of his faded cologne as deeply as he could manage while his chest was still trapped between the back of an armchair, before pulling away and moving to hold open the odd door again. “You can use my kitchen on the condition that you’ll cuddle with me tonight.”

There was a bit more weeding that could be done, and the rhododendrons still needed a talking to, but this seemed like a good enough stopping point for today. He’d gotten loads more done out here than he expected to, anyway, so he could afford to laze around in the warmth of the sun until Aziraphale called him in for supper.

Throwing off his gloves, he laid back on the grass and fell into a light doze— totally unaware to the soft slap slap slap of little webbed feet making their way out of the pond and over to where he napped.

—

Something poked Crowley in the face.

It wasn’t a hard poke, but it was enough to bring him out of the pleasant doze he’d fallen into too soon for his liking.

He scrunched up his face and turned away from whatever was trying to disturb his slumber, only to have his face rudely poked once again.

Grunting, he sleepily batted a hand at the offender, fingers grazing something very soft but not making an impact, and rolled over entirely so that he was lying on his stomach with his face buried in his arms. Good luck trying to poke him in the cheek now.

He hummed, settling back down and was on the verge of dropping back off into sleep— when that blasted thing had the nerve to poke him right on the top of his head. Hard.

“What the—” Crowley snarled, whipping his head up to tell off whoever had dared to bother him, but the venomous words died on his tongue when he saw the scruffy little duckling from earlier, “duck?”

It gave a miniature quack, happy to finally be acknowledged.

“And what do you want?” Crowley brought a hand up to rub at his tired eyes, and propped his chin in his hand while he regarded the little troublemaker before him.

Another tiny quack and the duck went in for yet another poke, this time directed at Crowley’s arm.

“Hey!” Crowley dodged the tiny beak and gently nudged the duckling back a few duck-sized paces so he could push himself up from the ground. “I haven’t got any peas or oats on me. You’re out of luck, I’m afraid.” He concluded with a stretch and made his way back to the cottage.

Though, unbeknownst to the demon, the tiny duckling had followed him all the way to and through the back door.

Aziraphale was kneading dough on the bench when Crowley came up from behind and hugged him, head nestling itself comfortably between the junction of Aziraphale’s neck and shoulder. “Hullo, angel.”

“Hello, my dear.” Aziraphale leaned back into the contact and rested his head against Crowley’s. “I’m guessing the garden was behaving itself today since I saw you lying on the grass, did you have a nap?”

“Yeah, er…” Crowley squeezed his angel around the middle as he wiped the dough from his hands, “or I tried to, anyway.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” Aziraphale asked distractedly, setting the towel over the bowl of dough so it could rise before baking.

“Not as such,” Crowley nuzzled against Aziraphale’s neck, planting a soft kiss there, “I got disturbed in the middle of it.”

“Oh? By what?”

“A lone duckling of all things.”

Aziraphale turned in Crowley’s hold with a smile but before he could give him a peck on the cheek, Aziraphale noticed something over his demon’s shoulder. “Ah,” he started, desperately trying not to laugh, “would that happen to be the duckling you were talking about?”

“Wot?” Crowley’s head whipped around to look over his shoulder at the duckling (turned intruder) and it had the gall to tilt its fuzzy little head back at him. “Uh… yeah.”

“Hello, little one.” Aziraphale cooed, beckoning the little creature closer with a miraculously full palm of peas. “Aren’t you just the most darling thing?” He brushed a careful finger over delicate feathers that needed a preening.

Crowley harrumphed. “A tiny menace, more like.”

“Awww, Crowley, don’t be like that.” Aziraphale continued to coo, and a thought occurred to him. “You said it was all alone?”

“Yeah,” Crowley watched as the duckling climbed into Aziraphale’s hand, and had to admit that it was pretty damn cute, especially paired with the angel’s unrestrained look of joy, “didn’t see any other ducks around it.”

“Could we, erm—” Aziraphale started, looking up through his lashes, and Crowley immediately knew exactly what the angel was about to ask. “Could we keep it? It could be like our own little found family.”

“Aziraphale, you’re already a part of my family.” And the only one I need in it, Crowley didn’t say. “We don’t need a duckling for that.”

“Yes, but… well, it’s all alone and we—”

“Fine.”

The sun beat down on the top of Aziraphale’s head as he tiredly trudged up and over a particularly large dune. While he wasn’t exactly one to question the Almighty’s choice of design, he couldn’t help but conclude that sand and sun had proven themselves to be a rather horrible combination. It was far too hot and much too bright to be hospitable for long, the sun baking everything in its sights to a crisp.

Something wet trickled down from his temple, and he wiped it away. Sweat. He was sweating like a human, though maybe that just came with donning a corporation.

He turned to his left, a question on the tip of his tongue, but it died when he saw that Crawley was gone. Perhaps the demon had had enough of the endless expanse of sun and sand, Lord knows Aziraphale was nearly at his limit too.

But that was when a squiggly black creature made itself known by sliding down the side of the dune next to him, sending a torrent of sand up into the air as he raced down. Aziraphale wrenched his wings up in an attempt to shield himself from the rain of sand.

“Are you quite done?” He snapped.

But Crawley just scaled right on up the dune again. “Nah. It’sss fun, you ssshould try it.”

“Absolutely not,” Aziraphale chose to keep one of his wings up, the better to block out some of the sun. It didn’t help much, and he still found himself squinting, but it was better than nothing.

Crawley gave the serpent equivalent of a shrug before sliding down the dune again with a “wahoo!”

Aziraphale shook his head and wiped at his brow. While Crawley had a bit of fun, he took the opportunity to try and catch his breath before they continued onwards. But during his little break, he hadn't realized just how close he was standing to the edge of his dune.

The soft edge gave way and he lost his balance as his center of gravity suddenly shifted, sending him careening forward into a presumably very sandy ditch. He yelped, wings frantically flapping to compensate for the sudden lack of solid ground under his feet.

And before he had the chance to brace himself, a hand covered in quickly retreating black scales shot out from behind him and grabbed hold of his heavenly robes, pulling him back onto semi-stable footing.

“Woah, there. Careful, angel.” Crawley said teasingly, though the next bit came out a touch too sardonically for Aziraphale’s liking, “Wouldn’t want you to suffer a fall, now would we?”

“No, no, we— I, I wouldn’t want that.” He managed to catch himself, though he was embarrassed by the turn of events. Crawley gently let go of his robe, leaving behind a wrinkle to which Aziraphale brushed away with a mere thought. He took a calming breath, trying to soothe his obviously ruffled feathers. “Thank you.”

“Save it. Look, I think I saw an oasis a few paces back. What’dya say we go check it out and get out of this sun for a bit?” Crawley asked, already turning on his heel in the direction he apparently saw signs of vegetation in, and grimaced when his foot immediately sank into the sand. The first few steps he took were wobbly and riddled with grunts of effort, but he managed well enough. “Oh wow, I can see why walking through this put you in such a bad mood.”

“It’s not the most pleasant experience.” Aziraphale huffed, stumbling after the demon. Oh, he really did hope there was an oasis. One with plenty of shade, and maybe even a refreshing pool of water would be lovely. But then, what about his duty to watch over the humans? “Do you think the humans will be alright on their own for a little while?”

“I’m sure they will.” Crowley grinned back at him, his smile somehow brighter than the sun. And then, to really sweeten the deal, he gave an innocently tempting sway and added, “I didn’t mean to get a bunch of sand in your wings. I could take a look at them when we get there. If you want, of course, but I can only imagine how much they must itch.”

“I’d…” Aziraphale trudged up next to him, looking into the surprisingly sincere eyes of an even more surprisingly kind demon, “I’d like that very much.”

“Good, it’s just back a little ways. Let’s go.”

—

Sure enough, there was a small oasis with a delightfully cool pool of clean water and verdant plant life surrounding it.

Crawley settled Aziraphale on a low boulder in the shade and settled in behind him, motioning for him to spread his wings. Gentle fingers combed through his coverts down through to the tips of his primaries, freeing the annoying grains of sand, causing Aziraphale to hum and sigh in pleasure.

They then spent the rest of the afternoon soaking in the pool, scrubbing away the accumulated dust and sand of the desert from their skin, before moving on to lounge against a couple of rocks in the shelter of a cluster of palm trees. Crawley even pulled out some of the fruit that he pilfered before leaving The Garden, and shared it with the angel.