Chapter Text
"So, how are you finding the corporeal world?" the angel asked conversationally.
Crawly wasn't sure how to answer. The world? How could he describe the world? He could taste it all on his tongue, surging through his newly made senses so that he could barely tell one from another. The nearest star smelled golden, tasted hot, wrapped him in a loud embrace, while the others were far and looked cold and felt like clean water, ,though he was well aware they were just as hot close up. Distance, that was new, too. The earth and rotting foliage sounded dense, crumbling, wet and green and dark, calling out new, unangelic instincts to burrow away in it, and the humans tasted on the air like laughter and hunger and sweat, and the angel...
Crawly knew angels. He'd been one himself, before having it explained to him that the traditional division by choirs was replaced by spanking new concepts called "Winning Side" and "Losing Side", and he'd unfortunately spent too much time hanging around with the Losing Side. Sorry about that, old thing, the Metatron had said, but it was a funny old world, isn't it? Or would be, once the world was created. Time for Crawly to hang up his halo and Heavenly nametag and toddle downstairs with Lucifer and the others. Yes, Crawly knew angels.
He even knew this particular angel. He'd been vaguely aware of Aziraphale in Heaven, at least. Keen on the Earth project. Bit of a swot, but seemed all right, considering.
It shouldn't matter so much that this angel had a body now, a Human shaped one. Lucifer said, crossly—Lucifer was always cross these days, he was a bit of a downer to be around to be honest—that they were actually God-shaped bodies, and they were all made in His image, bit of a typical narcissistic move. Crawly wasn't so sure about that. He remembered God as being less about the two legs and more of a kind of bright light with an annoying knowing smile—only that wasn't right either, there hadn't been such a thing as light back then, had there? Or lips to smile with. The more Crawly tried to think about it, the more he felt his knowledge of what things had been like Before reshape itself into what his material body could recognise.
He was, he thought, rather in favour of materiality, now he was getting used to it.
Anyway. Human, or God-shaped, corporeal bodies, that was the thing. This angel had a corporeal body covered with what seemed like warm, creamy pink skin, his heartbeat loud and strong and steady, with eyes that, while clearly inferior to Crawly's snake-shaped eyes and without even UV sensitive vision, were clever and sharp and kind all at once. He had a voice that prickled like acid and glowed like deep warm earth. Every little detail of his corporation, from the tiny golden hairs on the broad spread of his thighs to the way his white wings were slightly rumpled, made Crowley want to taste him.
Look at him, sorry. Not taste him. It was so easy to get his new senses muddled.
Crawly realised the angel was still waiting for an answer. He cast his mind hastily back to the question. "I dunno," he said cautiously. "Got a lot of bones." He wriggled in the grass for emphasis, rather enjoying the slide of sales against cool grass. "Takes some getting used to."
"I can see that," agreed the angel. "You seem to have rather more in your spine than me, and I'm still figuring out how mine can bend. I'm finding my knees more of a matter for thought than I imagined, too."
They both stared at Aziraphale's knees for a moment. They were round and dimpled. Crawly's tongue flickered out, trying to catch their scent.
"Haven't tried knees yet," Crawly said. His brain caught up with his mouth. "Not that I would, being a perfectly ordinary snake. I was made this shape, after all. Haven't ever been anything else. What do you mean, corporeal world? Sorry if I seem clueless, I'm only eleven days old."
The angel gave him a long look. "Admittedly, I wasn't personally involved with the reptile design brief, but I'm fairly sure serpent tongues weren't shaped for speech. Something to do with the vocal cords and lips, too. But you're quite chatty."
"Funny about that. Must be this evolution thing the other angels keep banging on about." Crawly tensed, ready to slither off into the foliage in the case of any violence. There was another name for the Losing Side. Demons. It wasn't a nice name.
Aziraphale gave a somewhat put-upon sigh, but didn't pursue the matter.
Crawly relaxed his coils a little. For some reason didn't want to bite the angel, at least not so as to hurt, and while he'd been told to make some trouble, he had very firm opinions on the trouble he made resulting in trouble for him personally. The angel had a very impressive sword, blue-hot and bitter. But the angel seemed disinclined to smite, and the company was nice.
Nice. That was a new word. It meant precise and accurate, but also a lot of other pleasant things as well, things there weren't much of in Hell. Eventually, Crawly knew, he'd have to approach the humans and go about making some trouble, but for now, there was no harm in being friendly.
After all, it was nice to be with someone who recognised how overwhelming this new corporeal world could be. Didn't mean he was making friends with the Enemy, or anything.
Just tasting interesting new experiences.