Chapter Text
“‘Get up there and cause some trouble,’ they said. How’s a demon s’posed to cause trouble when the only company is a few useless angels and God’s latest pet project brought to life, lording over a bloody perfect garden She made for them, strutting about on the legs She gave them? Waste of bloody appendages if you ask me, legs,” Crawley muttered, adjusting his coils to drape more comfortably across the branch.
He’d been perched in this tree for bloody ages. Towering on a hilltop riverbank, it was the perfect vantage point to spy on both the Northern and Western gates at once. And the angel of the Southern gate was partial to lengthy chats with their fellows, allowing Crawley to surveil 75% of enemy targets without lifting a scale. ‘Course, there was also the angel assigned to the Eastern gate, but that one never seemed to hang around with his fellows.
Crawley raised his head, following along as two of the angels bent their heads together, straining to listen for a hint at what they were assigned to do. Guarding gates, pff, as if the demon horde would invade by something as mundane as a common portal. Surely there must be something else—
“Oh!! Oh dear Lord, mmm!”
Crawley redoubled his tail’s grip, sheepishly pulling himself back up onto the branch. Well really, no need to be embarrassed. Natural reaction, nearly falling out of a tree. The cry of pleasure had rung out directly underneath him, after all. ‘S enough to startle anybody. Not that he was startled, really. No demon worth his salt would be startled by anything so mundane as an angel like this one, suddenly appearing at the base of Crawley’s tree, sitting there with those little blonde curls, and that nose, and making the most ridiculous sounds—
“Yes, yes! Such wonders! Oh, God, yes!!”
What was he doing down there? Curiosity getting the better of him, Crawley loosened his coils and slithered his way down, coming to a stop just above the angel. From this vantage point Crawley could see the angel sprawled in the grass, an absolute bounty of fruits from all corners of the Garden gathered in his lap. Crawley watched with interest as the angel picked up a brown, teardrop shaped fruit, biting delicately to reveal pink flesh before taking the rest into his mouth with a moan of satisfaction. The angel narrated his way through an assortment of fruits, never taking more than a bite or two of one before moving on to the next. He eventually reached for a squat, golden orb which he turned pensively in his hands before taking a bite.
“Now, see, I do believe I have developed a preference for the persimmons growing on the northern slopes, my Lord. Not to imply there is anything lacking in Your creation of the other ones, of course, but I have a theory that the mists from the waterfall drift at just the right angle to—” here the angel broke off, blushing. “Well of course one doesn’t presume to explain the makings of Your own wonders back to You, of course.”
The angel set aside the persimmon, reaching next for a cluster of blood-red orbs. “Grapes! …Ooh, do you know Lord, I do think that one may have gone a bit off, but never You worry, I expect the humans will find a way to appreciate that aspect as well!” The angel’s enthusiasm for the fruits of Eden seemed boundless.
The angel continued his one-sided conversation, clearly uninclined to let a full mouth stem the tides of his words. “Lord, I truly adore Your proclivity, I’ve gathered every fruit to be found and yet You have bestowed a unique flavor to each!” Here the angel silenced himself at last, trailing off as he carefully arranged the fruits by some means lost on the snake, before taking one in each hand and biting them in turn.
“Peaches and plums, mmmfff!” The angel’s words were lost to the fruit in his mouth, his enthusiastic bite leaving juice running down his chin and the scent of it bursting into the air.
Crawley had so far been bemused by the angel’s behavior, blathering on at God over the literal fruits of Her creation, bit embarrassing really. But now he found himself inhaling deeply, starting to see the angel’s point of view. The two stone fruits were incredibly distinct, nuanced in depth and tone, and the snake found himself drifting lower to examine the many discarded fruits in the grass, flickering his tongue over the still warm spaces where the angel’s mouth had left craters in the flesh.
“Mmm, oh, I must admit to being skeptical of the pomegranates at first, Lord, I do beg Your forgiveness, but having taken the trouble to tease out the arils I have seen the error of my ways. They are magnificent!”
Crawley raised himself up again, breathing in the airborne droplets as the angel spoke as he ate. This was where the flavor was most intense—rioting from the heat of the angel’s mouth, elevated in combination with his saliva—here, Crawley could absolutely understand the angel’s earlier exaltations, could see himself joining in and singing out Her praises, he—
With a rush of cold dread Crawley recoiled, contracting back into himself before racing back to his perch in the highest branches of the tree. He couldn’t let himself think like that. He didn’t think like that, he was a bloody demon for Satan’s sake. What business did that angel have in the first place, helping himself to a spot under Crawley’s tree, eating fruit and praising God and looking so tempting…. No. Crawley would just ignore the blonde angel and concentrate his efforts on the other three. Surely one of them would be his ticket out of here by letting something slip, anything that would give him inspiration for how to cause some trouble and get the Hell out of here and away from that angel.
Crawley forced himself not to notice as the angel worked his way through the remaining fruits in his bundle. Not to spare even a glance as the angel stood and brushed himself off. Not to listen even a bit to the angel’s words as he at last began to walk away.
“You know Lord, I do believe that out of all of You have created, the apples truly are the greatest temptation.”
Apples? Now there was a thought.