Chapter Text
It was over.
It was over, and they were fine.
It kept coming to the forefront of Aziraphale’s mind as they stumbled their way home from lunch at the Ritz. Crowley had smuggled one of the wine bottles out of the restaurant under his jacket and it was miraculously staying full on the walk home despite how much they drank from it. They meandered their way through London, talking about the merits of the lunch and the wine, all the while the thought that it was all over, they had actually done it kept repeating in Aziraphale’s mind. When they reached the newly restored bookshop, Aziraphale unlocked the door, or rather he tried to. Every time he tried to put the key in the lock, he missed the mark completely.
“Too much wine, Angel?”
“Hardly, it’s my hands. They’re shaking. Can’t seem to stop them.” He jumped when Crowley’s long-fingered hand covered his own and helped guide the key home. He held the door open and allowed the demon to enter first before closing it behind them and locking it. The bookshop was quiet, dark and smelled of home. The minute the comforting smell hit him, he felt his legs go from under him and he was on the floor.
“Angel!” Crowley was in front of him instantly.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Aziraphale shooed the demon away. “Don’t fuss.” He took a deep breath and got to his feet. Once upright again, he looked at Crowley and smiled. “We did it. I can’t believe we did it!” he couldn’t help the laughter that started. “We actually did it! We tricked them and everything is fine.”
He wasn’t sure who started it, but the growing excitement somehow became a hug. Aziraphale smiled as thin but surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his lower back, then suddenly he was lifted, his feet off the ground and they were spinning. It was utterly ridiculous but also delightful, until he felt dizzy. He gripped Crowley by the shoulders and gestured for him to stop. The demon who had been grinning wider than Aziraphale ever remembered seeing seemed to realise what they were doing and released him abruptly, taking a short step back, putting a little space between them before chugging the bottle of wine in his hand. Holding his head, Aziraphale smiled warmly and tried not to stagger. Crowley was always so embarrassed all the time. It was delightfully endearing, given his supposed demonic nature.
“I think this calls for a drink,” Aziraphale said when the room stopped spinning and Crowley had finished his wine. “Well, more drink, a celebration.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening in the bookshop, steadily working their way through bottle after bottle. Both were alarmingly drunk, but the mood was jovial and light. This was, after all, a celebration.
“It still hasn’t quite sunk in,” Aziraphale said. “That we’re ok, I mean.”
“We’re fine!” Crowley all but yelled, his volume control failing after so much wine.
“Yes. But it still doesn’t feel quite real. Last time… last time I felt like this…” he trailed off. Crowley raised an eyebrow and Aziraphale watched, entertained briefly by the height the demon managed. “Well, it was when we met in the garden. I’d been so worried about meeting a demon, but then you turned up and it was… well, you didn’t quite match up to what I was told.”
“Didn’t match up?” Crowley looked distraught, and Aziraphale rushed to explain through the drunken haze.
“Nothing like that but heaven was all ways ‘Demon’s bad! Demons scary’ and well, you weren’t bad, or scary. You were just an enormous snake.”
“Just an enormous snake,” Crowley sounded like he might sulk.
“You know,” Aziraphale said, opening yet another bottle before standing and wobbling over to the couch. He plopped down next to the sprawled demon and refilled his glass. “I’ve been wondering when I was you, well I mean when I was pretending to be you, down in Hell, I noticed something.” He watched as Crowley blushed, the red getting brighter and brighter, he smiled, taking a moment to enjoy the demon’s embarrassment before taking mercy on his friend. “Your body doesn’t like...” he waved an arm rapidly in front of himself, “Limbs, I mean, it feels like it’s constantly trying to shake them off.”
“Well, not literally but-”
“Which got me thinking about Eden and your other shape.” He smiled, recalling the oversized snake fondly. “So, I was wondering... was wondering why don’t you do that more often?”
“Do that?” Crowley said.
“Be a snake,” Aziraphale said. Crowley said nothing. “You were a beautiful snake, all shiny and ...” he trailed off, realising what he was saying.
“Um, yeah, well.” Crowley was now a lovely shade of red. “Well, you said it yourself. My body likes that shape, not sure I’d be able to come out of it and thumbs... thumbs and other things are bloody useful.” The demon snorted. “I mean, can you imagine what it’d be like being a bloody gigantic serpent these days? I’d end up in a zoo.”
“Nonsense, I’d never let that happen.” He hit the demon with his best, or at least the best version his drunken self could manage, “do it for me, dear,” eyes and waited. He knew well that Crowley indulged him, sometimes to the point of it being ludicrous and that he abused it at times, but it was such fun to get his way, especially when it came to things like this. Besides, Crowley had said he valued the fact that Aziraphale could be a bit of a bastard.
“Aww, don’t make that face.” Crowley looked away. Aziraphale leaned forward and, with a flick of the wrist any stage magician would be proud of, he removed Crowley’s glasses.
“No hiding,” he couldn’t help the giggle. “None what so ever, not anymore, never again.”
“Angel.” Crowley looked at him, his expression a mix of emotions that Aziraphale was far too drunk to decipher. Rather than try, Aziraphale put as much force as he could into his “do it for me, dear” expression and watched with delight as Crowley crumbled.
“Just for a little while.” Aziraphale already knew he’d won. “I... I’m just feeling terribly nostalgic after getting my sword back briefly, and would love to see you like that one more time.”
“Hold my drink.” Crowley thrust the already two-thirds empty glass of wine at the angel and huffed. Aziraphale smiled, knowing full well the sulk was for show. Crowley seemed to take an odd sort of pleasure in indulging Aziraphale’s whims.
“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale smiled delightedly as Crowley shimmered before him.
It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment of change. It was quick, quicker than he remembered it being in the garden. Suddenly where had lounged a very drunk demon now coiled the biggest damn snake Aziraphale had ever seen.
Crowley, as a snake, was perfect. Aziraphale knew that this stunning appearance was very much on purpose. His scales shimmered in the dull lamplight, ebony black reflecting blue back at him, the red of his belly scales looked deep and soft and with no real thought Aziraphale reached out and let his fingers run down the snake’s side.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” he muttered. “You’re softer than you look.”
The snake gave him a look of disdain and flickered its tongue at him. He sniggered, nearly dropping the two glasses he held. Turning towards the table, he went to put the glasses aside. Once this was done, he turned back and yelped, Crowley the now-massive snake had moved silently, his face was inches from Aziraphale.
“Bastard,” Aziraphale smiled. “You’re lucky I put the glass down.” The tongue flickered, touching Aziraphale’s nose. He winced and rubbed at his nose. Crowley leaned forward, briefly touching their noses together.