Chapter Text
Being a snake, at least at one point in his life, Crowley had many small, snake-like quirks.
On occasion, and without really thinking about it, he would flick his tongue out to smell the air. He craved warmth when he was cold, and during the warmer seasons he enjoyed sunbathing- even if he was loathe to admit it. He had a hiss that only really ever made an appearance anymore at times of high emotion. His eyes, of course, were one the most obvious signs of his snakehood.
He also had never really gotten accustomed to legs. Especially using them to support his weight.
Once upon a time, perhaps, walking came as natural to him as- well, as being an angel. But that was a long time ago, and both of those things had been long lost and forgotten.
The first time he ever shifted from snake-form to human-adjacent-form, he was caught off-guard by the way his legs wobbled underneath him. They shook heavily, and made him feel weak and unsteady. He had gotten used to just having a long, sleek body with no extremities that apparently, the return of said extremities was causing some... issues.
"Well, that went down like a lead balloon."
He didn't tell the angel, of course- at first because enemies, duh, and he couldn't reveal his biggest weakness- well, the biggest one they didn't already know- but gradually, his reasons shifted from self-protection to embarrassment.
The idea of Aziraphale, his friend-but-not-friend-because-they-are-hereditary-enemies, knowing that Crowley, a demon from the pits of Hell, had stupid, shaky legs? Disgusting to him. He couldn't let Aziraphale find out- Satan knows, he may just pity him. Eugh. Or, even worse, be kind to him. Like Crowley is a human he's particular fond of, one of those that gets Aziraphale all teary-eyed and warm-hearted. Disgusting.
So, naturally, Crowley just never told him.
His hips tendency to buckle just turned into part of his overdramatic gait. It was easiest to deny the shaking or buckling when his way of walking was just so strange it all simply blended in. Easy as that! Crowley was absolutely fine!
Crowley was, naturally, not fine.
Today, God Herself seemed to find it fit to absolutely terrorize the demon. He had woken up in his bed, fully intending to get up and make coffee, go see Aziraphale, and enjoy the fact that the world was not a flaming holy battleground.
The moment Crowley swung his legs over the bedside and stood up, he fell face-first into the floor.
"FUCK." Said the lone voice in the apartment.
Crowley attempted to push himself up, only to find that his blasted arms- which were normally one of the things he could more easily conceal- simply gave out almost immediantly, leaving him stranded most embarrassingly on the floor. With a headache and slightly bloody nose.
"Fuuuuuuck." Said the lone voice again.
It took a frankly horrific amount of tries, but eventually Crowley managed to get into a sitting position on the floor. Taking a deep breath, he then clawed his way up, using the bed for leverage, and eventually was able to stand- "stand"- on a pair of extremely shaky legs, and using one extremely shaky arm for extra support.
Now, maybe you, being a presumably normal person, would simply stay home on such a day. Rest, relax, call Aziraphale and tell him something came up, sorry, can't make it today. And what a smart decision that would be!
Sadly, Crowley doesn't make it. For anyone who knew him, it wasn't a surprising turn of events.
He, instead, uses the walls and sparse furniture to make his way to his kitchen. There, he begins the painstaking process of making himself a cup of coffee, only realizes once it is done that he could have simply miracled one. In his exhausted, stubborn state, he completely forgot about that.
Damn, I really have gone native.
Crowley, sitting in the closest chair available, was trying very hard to casually sip his ridiculously heavy coffee, when the phone rang.
From across the room.
Fuck.
"Hello, Crowley! I don't wanna keep you, but this adorable restaurant just opened up- I've heard it has the most exquisite desserts, gelato and cake and- well, I was thinking perhaps we could go check it out today! It's close enough to the bookshop that we can walk, and well- call me back when you can! Or don't! Either way, see you soon, dear!"
And with that, the phone clicked off.
Running his hands down his face, Crowley made a noise that was somehow a mixture of a groan, a whine, a sigh, and a scream. It really would have been quite funny if he wasn't in such a embarrassing predicament.
I can do this. I'm going to do this. If it kills me, I'm walking that stupid, soft, idiotic, cute angel to that fucking stupid new shop, no matter what.
And with that, and a great deal of patience, Crowley made his way to the elevator.
Once he actually got walking, it was slightly easier- no, not easier, just less horrible- to get places. His gait was wayy worse than normal, his legs were buckling like nothing else, using his arms for anything related to strength required Herculean concentration, and he constantly felt like a gust of wind would knock him flat on his arse.
But it was fine, this was fine, totally fine, nothing to see here, you nosy bitch.
Driving, thank whoever, was a sitting activity. It took nearly all of his strength and Queen blasting loud enough to shake the car, but he was able to match his regular speeds. And he arrived at the bookshop in no time.
Now the hard part; he had to get up and moving again. Blegh.
Using the steering wheel, and then the roof of the car for leverage, he pulled himself up and out. It took a moment of standing and stretching, but he started taking very wobbly steps towards the bookshop.
His usual banging knock on the door was now barely a rap, but at least he wasn't collapsed on the floor.
If he kept standing in one place, however, he damn well would be.
"Ah! Crowley, I'm so glad you're here- did you get my voicemail? About the resturant?"
Aziraphale was fluttering the bookshop around with so much excitement, it felt rude to be pessimistic in front of him.
"Yes, angel, I did. Cake, I believe I heard?"
Aziraphale whipped around, a huge, cherabic grin plastered all over his face. He lit up the room, and Crowley had to lean against a bookshelf when he saw it.
"And gelato! Oh, would you like to go now, Crowley dear, or later?"
"Erm, now would be good. We can drink some wine here afterwards, how about that, huh?"
Aziraphale cheerfully nodded, patted Crowley on the shoulder, and practically skipped out the door.
Stupid, soft, idiotic, cute...
"Angel, wait up!"