Chapter Text
Crowley should have known when he got to the bookshop that things weren’t quite right… again.
It was closed, but that was nothing new, he breezed on in anyway, then paused. Aziraphale was clearly here somewhere, but the scent wasn’t quite right. He wrinkled his nose, then flicked his tongue tips between his lips, trying to place the smell.
… That’s when the lion pounced on him.
Crowley lay sprawled on the carpet in the middle of the bookshop, pinned down by an enormous beige lion with pale blue eyes, which rumbled a greeting then licked his face with a tongue like sandpaper, dislodging his shades.
“Oh for Satan’s sake, Aziraphale! You’ve done it again, haven’t you?”
The lion didn’t reply, but continued to lick his face enthusiastically, as Crowley grappled with handfuls of shaggy blonde mane and tried to push the gigantic cat off him. Aziraphale not only couldn’t talk in his lion form, but if he spent too long in it, as it looked like he had, judging by his behaviour, he tended to forget human norms and regress into a more feline nature.
Crowley, in an effort to escape the overly friendly embrace, shifted into snake form to try to slither away. Unfortunately this didn’t go to plan, as his ideas usually didn’t, and instead Aziraphale began batting his noodly form around the floor playfully.
It was probably just as well that Anathema decided to drop by that afternoon to collect a book that Aziraphale had found for her.
Finding the door unlocked, she walked in, and found a huge lion playing with what she at first assumed was a large ball of rope on the floor, but which turned out to be a large ball of snake, trying desperately to get away and hissing furiously.
While the lion wasn’t something she’d been expecting, she at least recognised Crowley for who he was, and wondered what the hell to do to save him.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod…” Anathema stepped back and slammed the door shut again, standing on the doorstep wondering how one went about rescuing a demonic snake from the clutches of a lion. She only wished it was the weirdest thing she’d had to deal with in her lifetime so far. Compared to averting armageddon, dealing with a rogue big cat in a bookshop was the least of her worries. Glancing around she noticed the flower and plant shop opposite, and her brain helpfully zeroed in on a potted catnip plant on the display bench at the front. She ran over, grabbed the pot, slammed a fiver down on the counter and ran back to the bookshop again.
She took a steadying breath, then cautiously re-entered.
“HEY! KITTY!” she yelled, then threw the plant off to one side of the wrestling pair, where it smashed on the floor.
Aziraphale looked up in surprise, and then caught a whiff of the catnip, and left Crowley to go and investigate it. Crowley slithered over to the other side of the nearest bookshelf nearest Anathema, and re-took his human shape again.
“Thanks,” he gasped, and they both turned to look at the lion.
He was now rubbing his face in the plant and the mess of soil from the smashed pot, then rolled over and began wriggling about in the mess, chuffing happily.
“What the fuck is a lion doing in here? Aziraphale will go spare!” Anathema whispered frantically.
“That is Aziraphale. Long story. He’s harmless, just a bit… over amorous. He’s not feeling himself at the moment. Still at least he’s contained. Not like when he turned into an eagle and London zoo kept trying to catch him while he chased pigeons in the park.”
“He what?”
“He’s never been much good at the shapeshifting thing. He gets carried away then sort of forgets how to turn back again. I mean there was that entire squid episode, no, forget I mentioned it…” Crowley sniffed warily.
“Oh fuck, it’s cat mint isn’t it? You threw catmint at him? Oh fuuuuuuuuuck…” he groaned theatrically.
“I didn’t know what to do! I thought he was eating you!”
“Not on this occasion no,” Crowley sighed. “Look, we’d better lock the door, then we can get past him, I’ll fly you up to the mezzanine and we can watch from there.”
“Will he attack us?”
“Nope, but any minute now he’s going to get the zoomies. If you’ve ever seen a domestic house cat on catnip you’ll know what I mean. Now imagine that at ten times the size. It’s going to get messy. Then he’ll probably zone out and fall asleep for a while, then I can see if I can help him turn back.”
Crowley waved at the door to lock it, so no innocent members of the public came in, then took Anathema around the waist, unfurled his wings, and flew them both up to the next floor. Aziraphale looked up and made a stumbling attempt to catch the pretty feathered flying thing, but promptly fell over, then scrambled to his feet, pupils blown wide, stared at nothing for a second, then with scrabbling claws on the floor, he launched off at high speed and ran straight into a wall.
(Illustration by Elwyst. Can't see the image? Click here)
Anathema and Crowley sat on the balcony, sipping some tea that Crowley had miracled up from the nearest café, watching Aziraphale thunder around the bookshop below, with a noise like a herd of rampaging elephants.
Seeing as cats usually manage to make the same sound, you’ll have to imagine it amplified somewhat, accompanied by the occasional crashing noise of furniture falling over. Crowley sat there, snapping his fingers repeatedly, undoing the damage as it happened, one miracle at a time, fingers beginning to ache at the repetition.
A tawny blur, and Aziraphale caromed across the floor again, hurtling out from behind one bookcase, and promptly crashing into another, his tail lashing at his sides, and making happy chirruping noises. Crowley snapped at the wobbling bookshelf to stabilise it, and three books paused mid-fall, and neatly put themselves back on the shelves again. He took another sip of tea.
Aziraphale skidded around a corner, legs windmilling and claws scrabbling for grip with comedic paw-flailing, then catapulted himself into the next bookcase. Shaking his head as miraculously floating books re-shelved themselves behind him, Aziraphale then attempted to hide under the chair. Given that he was several times larger than the chair, he only succeeded in lifting it on his head. He looked rather proud of his very clever ‘hiding place’, until it fell off with a resounding crash.
“How long does this usually go on for?” Anathema asked, watching with interest, and the occasional wince as something else crashed, and then un-crashed with another snap.
“Hmm?” Crowley asked, distracted and smoothing out the feathers in his wings. “Oh. the zoomies, or the whole lion thing?”
(Illustration by Alice Rovai. Can't see the image? Click here.)
“Both.”
“Well the zoomies can be about twenty minutes then he’ll exhaust himself and fall asleep. The lion thing, well, can be a few weeks. Looks like he’s been a few days already judging by the state of him.” Crowley dropped a loose feather down from the balcony. It twirled down, Aziraphale jumped at it, and it landed on his nose. He sneezed and pawed at his face in irritation.
“How can you tell?”
“He’s not communicating like an angel, or a human. He’s thinking like a cat. At least he’s a playful one.”
“Does he do this often?”
“Not really, but ever since he found he could, he keeps trying now and then, each time convinced he’s going to get better at it and that ‘this time I’ll be able to change back on my own,’" Crowley snorted. “Not that he ever has yet. Always takes a damn intervention, but he’s nothing if not stubborn. If he changes into something mythical, like not a ‘real’ animal, like the squid thing, then he can communicate just fine. But sometimes he tries to take a proper animal form, and forgets that the brain dictates behaviour and can overwhelm you if you’re not practised at it.”
“Does that happen to you when you’re a snake?”
“Not any more. Been doing it for millennia. I mean it did, back when I was a new demon, I tended to get discorporated after a while then got issued a human shaped body again by default and remembered what I was meant to be doing. Or Beelzebub would send someone to get me and help me change back. Now it doesn’t make a difference, I get a bit more snaky, but I can still think like a demon, I can control it. Aziraphale just gets too carried away with all the new senses and loses himself in it a bit.”
“You don’t say,” Anathema deadpanned, watching Aziraphale lift his tail and scent mark a pillar. Crowley pulled a face and snapped the smell and mess away with a weary sigh.
“Why are you fixing everything? Maybe if you leave it like he trashed it, when he comes back, you can show him what damage he does when he’s in that form, and he’ll be embarrassed into not trying it again?”
“Nah, I couldn’t do that to him. It’d break his heart to know what he does to his books when he’s in this state. Better if he doesn’t know.”
Aziraphale was slowing down now, and paused, panting, sprawled out in the middle of the rug. Eyes still wide and head swaying slightly, apparently fixated on watching dust motes dancing in front of him. He flopped on his side, then rolled on his back and batted at dust particles with paws the size of a dinner plate.
“Looks like he’s in the chilled phase now,” Crowley commented. “Should be safe to go down.” He had been perched on the railing, legs dangling, and spread his wings to soften his landing as he jumped down. Anathema stayed put to watch for a while before she’d dare make her way to the stairs.
When Crowley landed, Aziraphale flicked an ear back at him, but carried on batting lazily at thin air in a dream-like state. Crowley sat down next to him and began rubbing his belly. He shivered his wings out of existence again just in case Aziraphale decided to try playing with his feathers.
“You feeling sleepy now, big fella?” Crowley ruffled his fur affectionately. Aziraphale relaxed further, eyes closing and paws going limp. Lions couldn’t purr, but he gave the impression that if he could, he would. He made a happy little grunt instead. Crowley continued to rub his belly, until some decidedly un-angelic sounding snores began emanating from the bity end.
“Right, he’ll probably sleep that off for a while now. I’ll keep an eye on him. Hey, if I give you my credit card would you pop down that fancy butcher’s two streets away for me? They do exotic meats there, if you could grab me about ten kilos of ostrich steaks, or zebra if they’ve got it, that’ll keep him happy for a while.”
“What?”
“Well he’ll be hungry when he wakes up, and in this form, cake just won’t cut it. He gets grumpy when he’s hungry. Unless you want to watch him while I go and buy his dinner?”
“Um no, that’s fine, I’ll go.” Anathema made her way cautiously down the stairs, and took Crowley’s credit card. “How will I carry back ten kilos of meat?”
“Oh, there’s a sack trolley in the back room, borrow that if you like. Or you can ask if you pay extra if they’ll bring it round. But it depends how long they’ll be - it’d be best if they don’t try to deliver after he’s already woken up. I figured you could do it faster.”
“Fine.” Anathema went through to the back room to find the sack trolley, and hauled it out with her, grumbling. Crowley began to check in corners to make sure he hadn’t missed any damage that might need miracling back to rights again.
Anathema was back a little while later, hot, flustered and annoyed, dragging the heavy sack trolley behind her, laden down with vacuum sealed packs of meat. Crowley helped her carry them indoors and began stacking them in the fridge for later, leaving one packet out on the counter top for when Aziraphale woke up.
“Thanks for that, you’d probably better head home before he wakes up, I can deal with him from here.”
“Did he leave a book out for me?”
Crowley blinked at the human incredulously. He looked between Anathema and the sleeping lion.
“Does he LOOK like he left a BOOK out for you, Book Girl??? He’s a fucking feral feline right now!”
“Sorry, sorry. Fine. Well call me when he’s… well. Feeling himself again. Or if you get stuck, I suppose.” Anathema grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Crowley nodded absently.
“Uh, yeah, thanks, will do.” His gaze was fixed on Aziraphale, who was still snoring, but whose tail was now twitching in his sleep. “Mind how you go.” He poured a fortifying mug of coffee and set it on the table, then sat down on the sofa to wait. Aziraphale’s paws and whiskers twitched in his sleep.