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Aziraphale put his book down when the doorbell rang. He'd been eagerly waiting for the television repairman for a while now, but he couldn't help reading a few lines here and there, idle waiting not being his style.
He gasped upon opening the door. The man standing there had a toolbag on his shoulder alright, the lanyard hanging from his neck bearing the company logo, so he must have been the awaited repairman, but he looked much more like a rockstar. Lean build, indecently tight black clothes, cheeky smirk, artfully tousled red hair, flashy sunglasses, and― was that an actual living snake coiled around his wrist?!
"Oh, good Lord," Aziraphale whispered.
"Uh, hi, no, just a regular mortal, I'm afraid," the man drawled. "I was called in for telly repair?" he tried.
"Yes, of course, please, come in," Aziraphale babbled in one breath. "I'm sorry, but is that really a snake?" he asked, pointing at the man's arm. Bracelets generally didn't move on their own, after all, and this one definitely looked like it was swaying its head around.
"Bentley has separation anxiety," the man offered an explanation that didn't really explain anything. "D'you mind?"
"No, not at all, as long as he doesn't bite."
"She's a girl, and no, corn snakes are not venomous. She's just a sweetheart," the repairman cooed at the snake, gently stroking her little lavender snout with a fingertip.
Aziraphale felt like he was slightly melting.
"So where's that telly of yours?" the strange repairman asked.
"Oh, over here, please," Aziraphale showed the way.
"What the actual fuck is this?" the man inquired, looking at Aziraphale's―admittedly outdated―setup.
"My television," he replied in confusion. He did call the repair services for his television, what else?
"Nnnope. That," the man pointed at the CRT screen with his snake-adorned arm, "is an actual relic. You should've called a museologist. Better yet, an archeologist. I'm not sure even my old teachers would know what to do with it."
"It is perfectly serviceable," Aziraphale tutted.
"It's not, that's why you called," the repairman pointed out with a sharp-toothed grin.
Aziraphale frowned. "Fair enough," he shrugged, straightening his bow tie.
"So what's wrong with it?"
"It doesn't work."
The man's eyebrows formed a steep V. He tilted his head sideways. "You don't say? What's wrong exactly? No picture? No sound? It only rinses the laundry once? It freezes your dairies? The dust filter is clogged?"
"There's no need to be snippy," Aziraphale pouted. "There's neither picture nor sound even though it seems to switch on just fine," he indicated the little red LED light at the bottom of the device.
"I didn't mean to sound bitchy, sorry," the repairman said apologetically. "All right, let's see what we can do." He set his bag down, crouching and nudging the snake's curious head out of the way. He turned off and unplugged the telly before opening it up.
Aziraphale fretted above him before his British host instincts kicked in. "Would you like a cup of tea while you're here?"
The man looked up. "Yeah, thanks. Black, no sugar."
"I'll be right back with it," Aziraphale beamed.
By the time he returned, the telly was already dissected, some of the parts laid out on the coffee table, the snake lazily making her way among them. He set the tea mug and a small, shallow bowl of water on the only free corner of the table.
"Why the water?" the repairmen asked with an arched eyebrow.
"For... Bentley, was it?" Aziraphale replied, nodding his head towards the snake. "It felt only proper to offer something to her as well."
The man's face softened. "Awww, thanks, angel," he said before turning beet red.
"Angel?"
"Ngk. Gnnhhhnggh." After going through a few more interesting clusters of nonsense consonants, he added, "I've called it, by the way. Your telly is officially dead. Look at these," he gestured at the visibily fried electronics.
"Oh, dearie me. Is there really no way to save it?"
"No, sorry. It's so old that no one sells parts for it anymore, and even if they did, they'd cost more than a brand new device. How old is this thing, anyway?"
>"About thirty years, I think."
The redhead whistled. "It's definitely served its time, then. Time for it to retire?"
"Oh," Aziraphale sighed sadly. "If I must."
"Does it hold any sentimental value to you?" the repairman asked with a soft smile.
"Not really, no," Aziraphale fidgeted with his signet ring. "I'm just not good with modern things," he explained, vaguely gesturing around his flat and its old timey furnitures and devices. "As you can clearly see," he added.
"It's okay, I understand," the man soothed. "I could recommend some newer models to you if you'd like. Ones that are easy to use, nothing fancy."
"Oh, would you, really?" Aziraphale brightened. "That would be ever so helpful!"
"Yeppp, no problem," the man grinned and took a sip from his mug. "Good tea, thanks." He nudged Bentley towards the water bowl before starting to clean up the table and gather his tools.
Aziraphale's heart performed a hopeful somersault when he noticed the small gay pride pin on the redhead's toolbag. "So, how much do I owe you?"
"Eeeeh, nothing apart from our base fee, since I didn't really do anything."
"Really? Well, at least let me invite you for a cup of tea or coffee, please. It's the least I could do."
"Okay, angel. Not now though, I have another client. I can give you my number if that's alright?"
"Why do you call me angel?" Aziraphale asked while fishing out his ancient mobile phone.
"I'll tell you next time," the repairman grinned, not looking up from his bag. Upon noticing Aziraphale's mobile, his grin became even wider. "Oh thank fuck, I thought you still used a landline. Though this thing isn't much more modern than that."
"Horrible boy," Aziraphale huffed, though his heart wasn't in it. "What name am I saving your number under?"
"Crowley. First name's Anthony, but I don't like that."
"I see," Aziraphale smiled and handed the phone to Crowley who typed in his number with one hand and stretched out his other to let Bentley slither over. "Do you carry her with you everywhere?" he asked curiously.
"Yeah, it's 'bring your snake to work' day every day for me," Crowley smirked. "At least as long as she stays hidden under my clothes. D'you wanna pet her?"
"Oh, I... y-yes, all right," Aziraphale replied, stroking Bentley's head. "She's so smooth!" he giggled.
Crowley let out another bout of nonsensical consonants, then cleared his throat and finished gathering everything. "Right, so. See you. Some day," he saluted with one lazy finger.
"See you, dear fellow, whenever you're free," Aziraphale smiled and waved him out. "Oh, and Crowley?" he waited until the redhead turned back. "I do still use a landline."