Chapter Text
It all started on the wall in the garden. Two man-shaped beings stood on the edge of their world, watching the humans heading out over the sandy dunes. The angel, Aziraphale, cast Crawly the softest look he’d seen since the Fall. Not that it was very hard to fit that description, mind you. The Serpent, creator of Original Sin, did not get very many soft looks nowadays. Still, it filled Crawly with a flicker of unfamiliar, not entirely welcome warmth. The demon shifted under the curious blue gaze, uncomfortable with this forgotten feeling. He very seriously felt the need to shift his companion's - acquaintance's - demeanor a bit.
“Well,” the demon drawled in an effort to be difficult. “That went down like a lead balloon.”
The angel glanced over at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
There, a look of confusion. It wasn’t quite the disgust he’d been hoping for, but it was better than soft, unassuming curiosity. Damn that apologetic frown, though.
“I said, that went down like a lead balloon.” As though enunciating would help. It didn’t.
Of course, by the time the angel told him he’d given away his flaming sword, Crawly was awestruck. Unfortunately, eternally awestruck.
When the first drops of rain began, Crawly instinctively shifted towards the angel’s side. The angel, in turn, lifted his wing to cover Crawly from the rain. It was a pathetic instinct for a demon to seek any sort of protection from an angel, for sure. Still, the warm proximity sent another flicker of light through Crawly, so he didn’t really focus on that aspect. He’d just created Original Sin, for Someone’s sake. He deserved a little break.
They stood there for a long while. Crawly wasn’t exactly sure what to do, where to go next. Time had only just started to exist, and Crawly wasn’t great at managing it yet. He glanced over at the angel.
Aziraphale frowned out at the sand, worrying his lip between his teeth. The rain plastered his curls to his forehead. Crawly followed his blue eyes out over the dunes.
The humans - Eve and Adam, Crawly recalled - were holding on to each other’s hands against the coming storm. From this distance, they looked more like one form than two separate beings. If they could stay together, Crawly mused, they would have a better chance out there.[1]
A very long time passed, and the humans finally disappeared over several dunes. The rain slowed from a pour to a drizzle[2] to nothing. Crawly glanced up at the wing above his head, shielding him from nothing but the brightening sky. The feathers looked soft and sweet (Shut up) like clouds, but a few secondaries were out of place. His fingers itched to fix them.
“Er,” Crawly started, with no words to follow it.
“Oh.” Aziraphale had been deep in thought, it seemed, and hadn’t noticed the rain stop. He pulled his wing back to himself. Crawly felt the flicker of warmth in his chest die down [3] as the angel pulled his divine grace back into himself. He shifted a step away, giving Crawly space.
“Now what?” Crawly asked. He flicked his forked tongue out, tasting the air. It was dusty and clean all at the same time. That was new.
Aziraphale looked surprised that the demon was still talking to him. “Oh. Er. I assumed that you would…” He waved his hands vaguely before seeming to remember himself and clasping them in front. “Go make yourself busy.”
“Make myself busy?” Crawly raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting I go stir up more trouble?”
Aziraphale said nothing, his lips in a thin line as he quickly glanced at the demon. Crawly smirked. “Not suggesting it,” Aziraphale said finally. “But expecting it, perhaps?”
Crawly shrugged, ruffling his wings a bit as he rolled his shoulders. One brushed against Aziraphale’s. He tried not to feel insulted as the angel shifted his own out of the way. “Nah. I think I deserve a rest after that one. Otherwise I’d seem too diligent. Not a good look for a demon.” He looked over at Aziraphale again, noticing - or imagining - his shoulders relax slightly at those words.
“No, I suppose not. Not that I’d know anything about being a demon. Er,” Aziraphale ended his sentence gracefully.
Crawly scoffed. “Nah, course not. More my department.” He glanced over his shoulder into the garden. “So, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,” he said, teasingly stressing each word. “Want to take a look at exactly what you’ve been guarding?”
With surprising compliance, Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder briefly. “Yes, yes, it’s quite beautiful,” he muttered. After a moment, though, he turned back out to the desert, brow furrowed.
“Oh, come now,” Crawly purred. “That’s hardly enough of a look.” Feeling emboldened by the angel’s general lack of smiting, he elbowed him gently. It earned him a surprised but not entirely unpleasant look. “Have you been down there yourself?”
“Er, briefly, yes,” Aziraphale admitted. “To give the humans… well.” He made a little motion with his right hand, flattening the palm and moving it up and down. Crawly raised an eyebrow in confusion. Aziraphale sighed. He glanced up, then back down, and quickly whispered, “The sword.”
“Ah,” Crawly said, as though he’d already forgotten. (He certainly hadn’t.) “Well, that was for business, not pleasure.” Aziraphale shot him a confused look out of the corner of his eye. Crawly didn’t really blame him. Business wasn’t a thing yet, after all, but Crawly was already cooking up some particularly devious ideas involving stocks and the crashing thereof. “I mean, did you really take a good look around? Run your fingers through the leaves? Savor a berry, dip your toes in the cool streams?”
Aziraphale’s blue eyes settled on Crawly for a long moment. There was something in there that Crawly recognized, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“I don’t think that would be right,” the angel said softly.
Crawly groaned, squinting up at the clearing sky. “Come on, angel. We’ve been over this. You are an angel, ergo you can do no wrong.”
Aziraphale frowned. His face would stick that way, if he wasn’t careful. “Yes, well, that’s quite reassuring to hear, especially coming from you-” ouch “-but…” His fingers were laced tightly in front of himself. Crawly wondered if that helped him contain himself, all the doubts and questions that Crawly realized, with wonder, were bubbling just beneath the surface.
Crawly was so focused on trying to figure out the angel that he was caught by surprise as his gaze was returned. Aziraphale looked at Crawly’s back, at the large black wings, and seemed to scrutinize them. It made Crawly feel prickly, being under that gaze and not knowing why. Demons were usually held under angelic gazes for bad reasons. The angel was probably looking for weak points, joints that could be easily broken even without the help of a flaming sword. Crawly self consciously drew his wings in to himself, making the target smaller.
Aziraphale blinked, breaking out of whatever thought he’d been having. “Well. I just mean, it doesn’t seem right. For me to enjoy what they’ve been banished from.” He nodded out at the endless expanse of sand.
Crawly blinked. “You’re worried about them. Like, genuinely.”
Aziraphale frowned at the sand. “Well, I am an angel. Of course I am.”
Crawly scoffed internally. He doubted the Guardian of the Western gate was having this same moral quandary. “Yeah, sure. But if you’re worried about them, that means you think something bad might happen to them.”
“I’d argue that something bad has already happened to them, Serpent,” Aziraphale muttered, fixing Crawly with a look. For the first time, Crawly broke away first. He stared out at the sand, trying very hard not to feel guilty.
He pushed on. “I mean, sure, that wasn’t the best reaction. Not ideal. But they’re still Her children. She wouldn’t cast them out and leave them to sssuffer alone, would Ssshe?” He’d meant it to be a jab at the angel, but surprised himself by the amount of hissing venom he finished with. He couldn’t look at Aziraphale, couldn’t bring himself to see whatever pitiful or righteous expression might be in his eyes as he looked at the pathetic, crawling demon next to him. Crawly coughed awkwardly against the silence.
“I mean to say,” he rushed on, consciously controlling the hiss, “They’ll be okay. And if you think they won’t be-” He tried to shoot the angel a sharp look, but could only focus as high as his clasped hands “-then maybe I’m not the only one on this wall who’s doubted the Ineffable Plan.” He pitched his voice in a poor mimicry of the angel’s tone.
Aziraphale stiffened next to him, glancing up again. His wings fluffed slightly, bristling. Crawly tensed, half expecting him to strike him for his words. After a moment, though, the tension in the angel lessened. He glanced at the demon and bumped him slightly with a white wing. “You know,” he said softly, “It’s quite sweet of you to try and comfort me.”
Crawly, though very new to having a stomach, though he might be sick. “Eaugh,” he choked, taking a step away. “I am not… sssweet.” He shot his wings open, ignoring the amused look on Aziraphale’s face.
“Have fun worrying over the humans,” he spat, stepping towards the edge of the Garden wall, towards Eden. “I’m gonna go wile some rabbits before I get crushed by some boulder She decides to drop on me or something. Have fun wasting your time staring at sand because you’re too shoddy an angel to trust in your stupid Plan.” Well, it wasn’t tactful, but at least it was more demonic in substance than what he’d been saying a few moments before.
“Oh really, Crawly,” the angel started in an achingly chastising tone, but Crawly didn’t listen. Instead he let out a long hiss as he sunk down the wall of Eden, slipping into his scales like slipping into a hot bath[4]. If he was lucky, he’d never have to see that bloody angel again. Really, he thought to himself as he found a warm rock in the sun to bask on, he couldn’t be happier if he never even heard mention of Aziraphale again.
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Footnotes
1Crawly had seen them doing other things before the apple, things that seemed to maybe be painful or maybe felt good. It was a bit unsettling to watch, what with all those parts, but in a way Crawly felt a bit jealous of the closeness. They’d held each other afterwards, all warm and sleepy. Jealousy was alright, but jealousy of something warm like that? Probably not the best idea.[return to text]
2Fantastic new words, those.[return to text]
3Mercifully? Disappointingly? both were horrible, undemonic thoughts. And by horrible, he meant lovely. Lovely was horrible. It makes sense if you don't think about it. Shut up.[return to text]
4While baths didn't technically exist yet, they would soon in the grand scheme of things. And once they did, oh boy. Crawly was going to enjoy the Something out of them.[return to text]