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It had been a while since Crawly had seen the angel Aziraphale in the flesh. They had been avoiding one another ever since Crawly’s last temptation had gone a little too far and Cain had killed his brother. (Crawly had simply suggested that it wasn’t fair that Abel’d had his sacrifice accepted when Cain had not, being the firstborn, and Cain had taken it very seriously.) So that had been the first murder (whoops), and then Aziraphale had been recalled to Heaven to come up with a plan to countermand temptations to murder. When he came back there were a few awkward moments and then work got busy with more and more humans populating the Earth.
Some time after all of that that, Crawly found himself receiving a commendation for creating cursing, all because he’d stubbed his toe while walking through one of the more populated villages in flimsy leather sandals, and one of the children had overheard and gone off running to a larger group of children with his gleeful report. Now it was all, “Damn this, and Jehovah that,” and the powers of Hell were absolutely thrilled.
It gave Crawly an excuse to shirk his duties for the rest of the year at least, and so he travelled north, away from most of the humans, and found himself a little abandoned shelter on a hill, really nothing more than a cave that had been equipped with the barest essentials and closed off from the elements with rocks, mud and straw at the front. It was comfortable inside, if a bit damp, and there was a small straw bed set off the floor by a wooden pallet, which would do for his purposes nicely. He miracled some warm skins to cover it and disrobed with a snap, leaving only his thin black shift on, and climbed in. All in all, it was an acceptable setup, and he had earned a vacation. Being among humans could be exhausting.
He was just about nodding off when he heard footfalls outside, and he froze, wondering if the human inhabitants were returning, but then he heard a cautious, “Crawly? Crawly, are you here?” uttered in the unmistakable voice of the angel.
His heart skittered in his chest. It always did whenever he saw the angel, and he sat up, then thought better of it and lay back down. He didn’t want to seem too eager, though he wasn’t precisely sure why this was important.
“Yep,” he said. “In here.”
“Crawly?” Aziraphale said again, as though he couldn’t believe his ears, and then he was poking his head past the worn animal skin that framed the doorway. His blue eyes lit upon Crawly where he lay, and something strange flashed in them. “Whatever are you doing in this hovel?”
Crawly shrugged. “Dunno. Just taking a nap.”
“A nap? Crawly, these conditions are deplorable.”
“I am a snake, after all.”
“That is true. You vile serpent,” Aziraphale added a little louder, as though for an audience. He sniffed deeply and then pursed his lips. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside? It is rather cold out here.”
“Be my guest,” Crawly said, pulling himself up to sitting. His arms were mostly bare, and his shift slipped down his sharp-boned shoulder, and Crawly didn’t miss the way the angel’s eyes darted over to him as he fixed the material and then smoothed his long, curly hair back from his face. “How did you know I was here?”
“I asked around in the village. You’re quite a bit taller and more distinctive than most humans.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Crawly, though being noticed couldn’t be good for business. He had recently taken to dressing as a woman because he liked the clothes more, and he often wore a head covering to hide his hair, but whatever he did, his eyes gave him away if people looked too closely.
“Yes, well,” Aziraphale said, coming inside and nearly bumping his head. The ceiling of the dwelling was low. It forced him to stoop and then, when no other sitting arrangement announced itself, he shuffled over to the narrow cot and perched precariously on the edge. Crawly couldn’t help noticing the angel looked good – plump and healthy – and he was wearing what appeared to be a new robe, tied with a strip of leather. He folded his hands in his lap. “I dare say you must be quite proud of yourself.”
“Hmm? Me? For what?”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I suppose it’s asking too much for a demon to be forthcoming. You know what – the whole new trend of taking the Lord’s name in vain, of course. One can’t walk a mile these days without hearing shocking blasphemy.”
“Oh, that, yeah. Was an accident,” Crawly admitted, legs struggling from under the weight of warm fur. He swung his long legs awkwardly out, so that he was sitting next to the angel, all knobby knees until he tucked them under his shift.
“An accident? You can’t mean it.”
Crawly nodded and told the story of the sandal, and by the end of it even Aziraphale was smiling faintly, and they laughed together for a moment until Aziraphale remembered what he was laughing about, and quickly schooled his features.
“Even so, the word is that the Almighty is quite angry.”
“Makes sense. It’s personal, you know, like when a kid calls a parent a bad name.”
Aziraphale seemed to be considering this. He was silent for a long while, and Crawly caught himself admiring the angel’s profile, the pert nose and the soft line of his jaw. His corporation was well suited to his disposition.
“So is that why you came? Are you going to smite me?” Crawly finally asked, to distract himself from having fond thoughts about the angel – who was, after all, his enemy.
“I was instructed to thwart you, yes, and smite if necessary.”
“A little late for that, angel,” said Crawly. “You have to thwart me before I work my wiles.” He grinned.
Aziraphale let out a long suffering sigh. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.” His posture relaxed, the slope of his shoulders lowering, and Crawly wished he had something tasty to offer him. The angel had a fondness for sweet things, he’d noticed. “I suppose your people are awfully happy with you,” Aziraphale said.
“Head office gave me a commendation,” Crawly admitted. “And I hardly lifted a finger! Angel, have you noticed that these humans pretty much do our jobs for us?”
“I had noticed that, yes.”
They talked for a long time on that note, both of them relaying stories about how humans seemed to be running wild with the whole free will thing, and they were having such a pleasant time that neither of them realised that the day had dimmed considerably, until Crawly shivered; his bare feet were freezing.
“I dare say, it shouldn’t be this dark yet,” said the angel, who also seemed to be noticing the chill, and he got up to look outside, pushing aside the hide covering the door. “Crawly, come over here. It’s the most curious thing.”
Crawly stood and ducked, nearly braining himself on the ceiling, and then joined the angel at the door. They stood side by side, watching as swirls of white fluff descended from the sky. A cold wind blew Crawly’s shift up around his waist, and he fought it down, instructing it to stay down and never behave so impertinently again.
“Is it manna?” Crawly asked.
“No, much finer than manna,” said the angel.
“Is it rain?”
“No, it’s cold. Here.” Aziraphale walked out a little beyond the door and reached down to gather some of the white stuff in his hand, which immediately started to melt as he passed it to Crawly.
Crawly looked at it curiously even as it turned his fingers pink with cold. Under his shift, his nipples pebbled into beads which ached as they pressed against the rough cotton. “Like frozen rain,” he said thoughtfully. But as more of the stuff landed on his outstretched arms, he noticed that each bit of it was individualized, not at all like a drop of rain ¬– each speck was a perfect, geometric shape. “Beautiful.”
“Indeed,” said Aziraphale in a funny voice.
There were already several inches of the white fluff on the ground, and the sky was so dark and foreboding, it looked like more was in store. Crawly shivered and reached down to gather a handful. He used both of his hands to mush it together, and it compacted nicely, creating a smooth white ball. Aziraphale was watching him intently. Crawly smiled, and threw it at him.
The ball hit the angel squarely in the chest and exploded, and he let out an indignant yelp. “Really, Crawly, you’re no better than a child,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice. They stood watching each other and then the sky for another long moment.
“It doesn’t seem to be going away,” said the angel.
“This must be your lot,” said Crawly. “It’s too pretty for it to be mine.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“No, no it must be yours. It’s awfully cold – but still tempting to the touch.”
“I didn’t get a memo about it – did you?”
Aziraphale frowned. “No. It certainly seems like the sort of thing we should’ve been notified about. Oh dear, I’m supposed to be on my way to bless one of Adam’s new great-great-grandchildren.”
The stuff was even deeper now, and threatened to swirl its way inside their shelter. “Well, angel, you can try wading through it.”
“You try wading through it! This is a new robe, and these sandals are simply not practical for cold weather.”
“I’m not wading anywhere. This is my house. Er, cave. And I’m not dressed for the outdoors.”
“You’re certainly not,” said the angel, and Crowley felt suddenly self-conscious. Perhaps he should have put his clothing back on when the angel arrived. But wasn’t that sort of modesty such a human preoccupation? And had Aziraphale noticed his corporation naked underneath the thin fabric?
The thought was interesting. “I’m going back inside. You coming?”
Aziraphale sighed forlornly. “It doesn’t seem to be slowing in the least.”
“You might as well stay, angel. You’ll get lost wandering around in a storm like that. Best wait until it’s over. The kid isn’t going anywhere.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said the angel. “Are you sure I won’t be an imposition?”
Crawly was not very sure of that at all, but he wasn’t going to let the angel get himself discorporated – he was much too entertaining to have around. “Nah, s’alright. Come back inside.”
They retreated back to the shelter, which was not much warmer, and Crawly hunted around for some flint. Whoever had abandoned the cave had left plenty of wood in the cooking area – a fire pit which was vented above with a makeshift chimney in the ceiling. Crawly had become quite adept at building fires over the last several hundred years on Earth, and he quickly struck the flint to light kindling, which he blew on gently to grow the flame until it was ready to take on the larger pieces. While he worked, the angel sat behind him on the edge of the bed, and slowly several things occurred to Crawly.
He was showing off his fire-building skills, just a little, because he wanted Aziraphale to be impressed. Not of lesser importance was the fact he was alone with the angel, facing a long, cold night, and there was only one bed.
He wasn’t sure if angels slept. Crawly didn’t need to sleep, of course, but he found it enjoyable, so much so that he had gotten into the habit of sleeping every night just for fun. And it was rapidly growing darker outside.
There were other thoughts about what angels may or may not do, but Crawly pushed those thoughts aside. They would only get him into trouble.
The flames crackled and the smell of smoke filled the air, but whoever had made the fire pit had done it well, and most of the worst smoke went up the chimney. Crawly warmed his hands and feet as the wind outside began to howl, and the skin covering the door flapped dangerously. He got up to fasten it, and then turned back to find Aziraphale watching him. In the dim light of the hovel – for really, that’s what it was – he looked more human than ethereal. Crawly wondered how someone so dedicated to his angelic role could appear so anchored to his corporation.
Not that Crawly wasn’t dedicated – of course not! He was just happy to take advantage of shortcuts when they arose.
“Now what shall we do?” Aziraphale sat with his hands on his knees, rubbing them in slow, methodical circles. “I wish I’d thought to bring something to nibble.”
“Miracle?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t want to draw attention to myself – here with you.”
Crawly drew back, stung. “’Course not. Heaven forbid.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to be here, but you have to admit it wouldn’t look very professional, Crawly, the two of us together.” The angel sniffed, and Crawly’s snake senses picked up the blood flushing his cheeks, even if it wasn't visible in the darkness.
“Do you really think they’re paying much attention to what we do?”
“What do you mean?” The angel frowned.
Crawly came to sit on the pallet and ran his hand over the fur absently, until he encountered Aziraphale’s plump backside, and drew quickly back. “I dunno, just that if they were paying attention, they’d have known I didn’t really deserve that commendation. I get the feeling that I could pretty much take credit for anything, and no one would check up on it.”
The angel seemed to be mulling over what Crawly had said. “I daresay that’s all well and good for you, but I did get a dressing down for using a frivolous miracle the other day.”
“For what?” Crawly’s eyebrows shot up.
“I miracled myself some hot water for a bath. It’s just so trying to fill up a whole basin with hot water you’ve warmed on the fire.”
“And they got in a twist about that? Seems a bit unreasonable.”
“I do like bathing quite a bit.”
“How often?”
“Every day, of course! It’s awfully sandy living in the desert.”
“True,” said Crawly. He’d found sand in places he didn’t even know existed. He was amused to know that Aziraphale indulged in such an embodied, human comfort.
“So you can see my difficulty. Best not take any chances.”
“Suit yourself, angel,” said Crawly. “But I could miracle you a nice stew, maybe something sweet?”
“It never tastes as good as the real thing.”
Crawly could hear the pout in the angel’s voice, and it made him want to laugh, but he didn’t dare. Aziraphale was such a soft, funny angel. The first time they had met in Eden, his impulse had been to speak to Crawly, to listen to him, and to offer him shelter in the rain. He was nothing like Gabriel, Michael, or worse still, Sandalphon. He was a puzzle, and Crawly liked puzzles. He was glad this had happened, that he had been able to offer Aziraphale shelter in return, though of course he could never admit to it out loud.
After a while, the fire started to burn down into embers, and Crawly got up again to poke it and check on the weather. The storm had only grown worse, and a gust of wind nearly knocked him over at the entrance.
“It’s a lot less pleasant when it’s coming down like that,” he said.
“Indeed,” said Aziraphale.
“Might be my lot after all.”
“Or maybe God is angry – with the humans.”
“For the cursing.” Crawly frowned.
“I don’t mean to say it’s your fault, Crawly. Like you said, it was an accident.”
Crawly snorted. “I am still a demon. I took the credit.”
“You’re not . . .”
“What?”
“Nothing.” The angel looked away.
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothing!” he said.
“You were going to say I’m not like the other demons, weren’t you?” Crawly was delighted. He was delighted not only that he knew he was right, he was delighted that the angel had been thinking the same thoughts as him – that they really were aligned, in a way.
“I don’t even know any other demons.”
Crawly laughed. “You must do. You must have met my esteemed colleagues Hastur and Ligur at some point.”
“The one with the frog?” Aziraphale made a face.
Crawly nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Well yes, I’ve met them, but not socially.”
“So this is social?” Crawly was having too good of a time not to push his luck. The angel was getting increasingly flustered, and when Crawly came back to sit near to him – closer than before – he didn’t move away.
“You are a ridiculous thing,” said Aziraphale, but he didn’t deny it.
Crawly decided he could live with that, and he looked longingly behind him at the bed. He was tired, but he wasn’t sure what the protocols were; should he offer the angel the bed and take the floor? It was awfully cold on the floor even in spite of the fire. He could miracle another cot, but the angel didn’t seem to want them to draw attention to themselves.
Finally, he couldn’t hold back his yawn, and the angel turned to him. “You must be tired. I interrupted your nap. Please, feel free.” He gestured magnanimously to the paltry cot behind them.
“Uh, thanksss,” said Crawly. “I just . . . I’ll lie down, then.”
What happened next was an awkward shuffle of bodies as Crawly maneuvered onto the pallet and lay facing the wall under one of the furs, with Aziraphale still upright behind him, and honestly taking up a great deal of room. Crawly was aware there was no way he was going to be able to sleep with an angel sitting like a sentinel, especially one with chattering teeth, and he let out an audible sigh.
“Sorry, am I bothering you?” Aziraphale asked, craning his head around. “I can sit on the floor.”
“No, no, it’s too cold for that, angel. You’re shivering. Why don’t you lie down under the fur?”
“You don’t mean . . . next to you?”
Crawly rolled his eyes. “Well, not if you’re going to be precious about it.”
The violence of the storm had picked up once again, so that even the rock and mud wall at the front of the cave wasn’t entirely protective. The fire flickered and danced, and a particularly vicious gust knocked loose a rock from the outside of the hovel, which clattered down the side and made the angel shiver even more violently.
“All right,” said the angel. “If you wouldn’t mind.” He began to remove his sandals.
Another awkward rearranging occurred, this one with limbs, and once everything was settled Crawly became very aware of the warm body beside him, the heat of the angel’s shoulder against his own. He tried hard not to give in to his desire to press closer and was grateful he wasn’t currently wearing the part of Adam, but the part he was wearing, the part of Eve, though more easily concealed, had a tendency to make him want to do unwise things all the same.
Neither of them spoke. Crawly knew the angel wasn’t sleeping, but it was much cosier now that they were sharing warmth under the fur, and soon, in spite of his body’s kindling interest, Crawly fell into an exhausted doze.
It was still dark when, sometime later, he was awoken by the sound of the howling wind. The storm was still going in full force, and for the first time Crawly was a little afraid. What if it never ended? What if this truly was the wrath of Heaven, raining vengeance upon them? (Crawly didn’t know the Almighty’s future plans – it was probably for the best.)
Those thoughts spun in his head as his attention gradually shifted to his own current circumstance. The angel was sleeping, or at least appeared to be. His face was very close to Crawly’s neck, his warm and even breath tickling the hair behind Crawly’s ear. But that was nothing compared to what was happening down below. They had both shifted so that the front of the angel’s pelvis was pressed against Crawly’s buttocks, and – he was aroused. His arm, meanwhile, was wrapped securely around Crawly’s waist.
Heat flooded through Crawly’s body, and he immediately felt himself soften and grow wet between his legs. The angel seemed oblivious to what was happening; he was still breathing the slow and even breaths of sleep. Crawly’s heart pounded in his chest. He inhaled carefully and closed his eyes, but there was no way he was going to fall back to sleep himself. And he couldn’t just lie there, feeling the angel hard against him, and ignore it. He had to put some distance between them, as loath as he was to do it.
His first motion woke the angel. Aziraphale’s eyes blinked open, and he was met with a sleepy, confused look, which soon grew alarmed. Instead of recoiling, however, the angel seemed frozen in place.
Crawly considered his options. He could, and probably should, just laugh it off, move away, and pretend it hadn’t happened.
But the thing was. The thing was he liked the angel, and he was pretty sure the angel liked him too. This was probably the only chance they were ever going to get to be alone together, with even the illusion of freedom to do what they liked.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, covering Aziraphale’s hand, which rested on his belly, with his own. Slowly, very slowly, he nudged downward. The angel’s hand travelled willingly.
“Crawly, we . . . probably shouldn’t . . . touch.” His voice was hoarse.
“Why not?”
“Ah, well . . . ” Aziraphale said, but his hips shifted, and he pressed his hardness against Crawly’s backside. “It’s – what if they—”
“They’re not watching us, angel. And even if they are, I’ll take the blame. I’m already fallen, remember? I’ll tell them I tempted you.”
“Are you?”
“No more than you’re tempting me.”
At this point, gentle touches and insinuations had turned into more. It was so easy to ruck up his shift, and for the angel’s fingers to find his hot sex. It was so easy to release Aziraphale’s part from the folds of his robe and to welcome it between his thighs. The angel wrapped his arms around Crawly, and they moved like that together, the hardness slipping against his wet folds but never penetrating. Crawly guided Aziraphale’s fingers over the nub that held the secret to his pleasure, and though it soon became clear the angel was not at all practiced, he was a quick and eager learner. Crawly gasped and cried out, his body tightening as his climax, which had not been far off to begin with, rolled over him.
“Angel,” he whispered, even as he was still pulsing against their joined fingers. “It’s okay – if you want to put yourself – inside me.”
“I’ve never done this.”
“First time for everything. Why should humans get to have all the fun?”
“Are you sure it won’t hurt you?”
“Nah, not a bit.”
Aziraphale’s part caught against him on the next thrust. He was thick but breached Crawly easily, and they both let out sounds of relief as they joined together. The wind howled on steadily, but Crawly could no longer be bothered to care if the world was ending. This would be a pretty good way to go out, with the angel wrapped around him – inside him. He wondered if this could be the first time and not the last, but he couldn’t follow the train of thought because the angel started to move his hips.
It was slow and careful at first, Aziraphale obviously still concerned for Crawly’s comfort, but after a few thrusts he gained a steady rhythm and let himself go. He touched Crawly, covetous, his free hand roaming under Crawly’s shift to squeeze his small breasts and tug on his nipples, making them harden.
Crawly pushed back against him, wanting it deeper, and he was met with an even more vigorous effort. The fur covering their bodies slid away, and Crawly welcomed the cool air over his heated skin. It wasn’t at all like the random couplings he’d had with humans – maybe it was the way Aziraphale held on to him, how he stroked back Crawly’s hair and kissed his neck softly. It was ridiculous, but the angel made him feel precious. He’d never felt that before.
Moments later, Aziraphale cried out and buried himself to the hilt, and Crawly felt warmth flood him. He climaxed again on their joined fingers.
When it was over, Crawly closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow. He was waiting for the angel to say something, and maybe the angel was waiting for him to speak, but Crawly didn’t know what to say. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected something like this, because they were still on opposite sides. But the rejection he most feared didn’t come.
They disengaged, which was always a messy business, and even at the risk of protest, Crawly used a quick miracle to clean them both up. He didn’t fancy spending the rest of the night on a sodden, sticky bed, and he doubted the angel did either, even if it did bring the wrath of their superiors upon them.
They lay side by side for some time, not precisely in each other’s arms, but close together, until the fire turned to embers and then to ash, and the storm outside abated as well. As it grew quiet, Crawly got up to relight the fire, and he noticed a faint light filtering in through the chimney. It was almost morning.
The angel sat up and fixed his robes. “I suppose we should see what awaits us.”
Crawly nodded and miracled on some warmer clothing – a long, belted tunic and cloak with black, fur-lined boots. Aziraphale didn’t mention it, and Crawly wondered if he’d been entirely forthcoming in his earlier reticence about using miracles; perhaps he had wanted them to share the bed and was only looking for an excuse. If that was just a little true, the angel was even more interesting than Crawly had already thought.
“You can’t go out there like that, angel.” Crawly pointed as Aziraphale tied his sandals. With a quick nod and a look not far from contrite, the angel miracled himself a similar pair of boots and a fur cloak.
They went to the door and Crawly untied the stays on the flap, which immediately swung open.
There were about two feet of the stuff, now, but it was no longer falling from the sky, which seemed to be clearing as it lightened. Everything was covered by the sparkly, frozen expanse. It was like what someone who had never seen Heaven would imagine it to be, but even though Crawly didn’t remember much of his life before the fall, not even the Garden of Eden had been as pretty as this.
“My,” said Aziraphale, breath puffing in the cold air. “It is very nice to look at.”
“Yeah,” said Crawly, admiring the angel’s lips as he spoke. Already what had happened between them seemed like a dream, like that memory of Heaven, disappearing as Crawly tried to grasp at it. Aziraphale’s hair glowed in the early dawn light, and he looked like an angel again. They couldn’t have been more different.
The angel took a few plodding steps and then turned back. “My, this is difficult to walk through. It looks like I have my work cut out for me.” He kicked at it and scrunched up his nose. “I wonder if it will go away?”
“When it gets warm enough to melt, I reckon. Are you sure you have to go today?”
“Yes, I’m afraid duty calls. Will you stay here?”
Crawly glanced back through the door at the smouldering fire and the bed. He knew if he stayed, he’d wish the angel had as well, but he didn’t have it in him to leave and go tempting, either. It was curious that he was already feeling lonely, and he wasn’t even alone yet. “Yeah,” he said.
Aziraphale came back to the door. Before Crawly knew what was happening, the angel had grasped his hand. He looked very earnest. “I do hope we will meet again.”
“I think you can count on it, angel,” Crawly said. He wasn’t expecting the kiss, when it came – and apparently Aziraphale hadn’t been either. He let out a shocked breath as their lips met, held for an instant, and then broke apart.
“Thank you . . . for letting me stay, Crawly.”
“Ah, don’t mention it. You’re not so bad, for an angel.”
“And you, for a demon.”
They grinned at each other.
“I’ll see you,” said Aziraphale.
“Yeah, see you around, angel.”
And just like that Crawly knew that it wasn’t the end. There would be another place and time for them. When, didn’t matter. Crawly would wait an eternity for that day.
He watched as the angel retreated back down the hill – not very gracefully – until he disappeared into the vast field of white.