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Published:
2020-01-13
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2,661
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1/1
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Cupboard Love

Summary:

Crowley's sulking in the boiler cupboard and won't be wheedled out. Aziraphale's at his wits' end.

 

“I didn’t mean it.” Aziraphale’s voice is taking on that fussy, plaintive quality that goes with a quivering lip and a certain amount of unconscious hand-wringing, and normally you’d be half inclined to roll your eyes and bounce him over it and half inclined to tickle it out of him (he’s atrociously ticklish), but right now you’ve just had it with everything, and it is so nice in here. Aziraphale keeps those fluffy towels from Harrods in the boiler cupboard, the very palest beige, which are so lovely on the human corporation after a bath.

When you’re a ten-foot long, glossy black snake with a crimson underbelly and a sour disposition, they’re merely excellent to curl up in.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“You’re sulking again.”

Damned right you’re sulking. You’ve got yards of sulk left in you. And it’s warm and dark here in the cupboard next to the boiler, and you’re not coming out any time soon.

“I didn’t mean it.” Aziraphale’s voice is taking on that fussy, plaintive quality that goes with a quivering lip and a certain amount of unconscious hand-wringing, and normally you’d be half inclined to roll your eyes and bounce him over it and half inclined to tickle it out of him (he’s atrociously ticklish), but right now you’ve just had it with everything, and it is so nice in here. Aziraphale keeps those fluffy towels from Harrods in the boiler cupboard, the very palest beige, which are so lovely on the human corporation after a bath.

When you’re a ten-foot long, glossy black snake with a crimson underbelly and a sour disposition, they’re merely excellent to curl up in.

“I know it was a bit glib of me to call you tame,” says Aziraphale despairingly to the dim recesses of the cupboard. “It just popped out. I mean, I had to say something to her. Do come out. We can lunch at that place you wanted to try. The Neapolitan one in Newport Street.”

You’re not hungry. Or, more precisely, the only thing that sounds appealing right about now is a whole rodent. Possibly even the nest of them that you whiffed earlier behind the 1800’s travel journals. Though even that’s a thought that puts your stomach on edge, or whatever its position is in this elongated corporation; just remaining in a stacked coil on the velvety bath sheets wins out. Aziraphale will have to make do with the smaller ones from Marks and Sparks if he wants one of those frothy perfumed bubble baths. You usually enjoy the part where he calls out darling would you mind and asks you to scrub his back, but, nope, right now you’re keeping the towels.

“Oh, really, this is unreasonable.”

Well, there’s nothing to be reasonable about.

“Sulk then if you want. You know I locked up before I carried you up here.”

Well, you do, and you know what he had in mind, but you’re just out of sorts. A good nap, perhaps. There’s a sound of huffing, inarticulate exasperation, then retreating footsteps. You let the world fade for a while.

 

 

“Just luck we were in town when you called,” said Anathema, setting her no-nonsense zippered bum-bag down on the side of the tub. “Newt's got the Wasabi over at the dealership again. There aren't enough spells in the world, this time it's the fuel injection. Wow, is this Lilac Vegetal? My granddad used to use that. You’re a blast from the past, Mr. Fell.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Oh, in a good way. So you mean – he’s really being a snake? In there?”

“Since yesterday.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure. You know he likes to be that way in the shop sometimes. It’s rather soothing really. I’ve got a tank for him, or he just suns in the window, and it’s ever so nice when he comes up on my lap and puts his head on my shoulder – “

“Uh, sure.”

“Well, to the point, there was a tiresome customer, she was already a bit put out, and he hissed for some reason, and she said Doesn’t something that big belong in a zoo?”

“Hissed."

“Yes. Doesn’t do it often, but sometimes he gets a bit moody. Always been that way – and, anyway, I said No, he’s actually quite tame, the perfect shop assistant, and that was when he dropped off the chaise – “

“You had a snake hanging out on the chaise. During business hours.”

“ – and went for her straight across the Axminster, and then he hissed again at me when I picked him up, and, well, when I decided to just carry him back upstairs, zip! right into the boiler cupboard, and here we are.”

“Well. I don’t know what you think I can do… “

“You’re so clever. You might sort out something I can’t. He always seemed rather fond of you, you know, Book Girl and all that. And you know all about herbs and those sorts of things – ”

“What do herbs have to do with it?”

“Well, he might be ailing – “

“Wouldn’t you want to call a vet then?”

Aziraphale fixed her with a skyey gaze that spoke volumes, for instance, How do I explain that this is my six-thousand-year-old husband being a snake in a snit?

“Well, let’s say hello. Mr. Crowley –– ?” Anathema opened the slightly cracked cupboard door a little wider. “Yipe!”

Her backward leap propelled her straight into Aziraphale. Their conversation had apparently drawn interest, at least to the point of a large, matte-black, wedge-shaped head resting close to the front of the cupboard, on the stack of inferior pale-blue Marks and Spencer’s. The yellow eyes fixed on them for a moment before the head withdrew in an undulating motion.

Anathema shook her head with a brrrr noise. “I didn’t know he was that big.”

“Yes, he turned out to be… well, he's grown a bit since Eden.”

“Has he done this before?”

“Not quite like this. Though I'm fairly sure he slept for the last half of the nineteenth century. As I said, he does have moods.”

Anathema looked keenly at Aziraphale, but he didn’t seem to be pulling her leg. She leaned down so that she was at eye level with the faint amber sheen just visible behind the boiler. “Mr. Crowley, we’re a bit worried, don’t you want to come out now?”

The only response was a faint hissing.

“You don’t suppose he’s ready to shed, do you?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Just saying the eyes looked a little dull, I think that happens before they shed. I don’t know what he looks like normally. I mean normally as a snake.”

“If he is, what should I do?” Aziraphale was pretty clear in his mind that if someone was having a baby, you boiled water and got clean sheets, and that bundling up and sweating it out worked for a fever, but he couldn’t think of a thing to fit this situation.

“I don’t know. I’m a witch, not a herpetologist. Maybe get some books.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. The solution to everything. He’d make the round of the shops in the morning.

 

 

“Please come out,” the angel said plaintively, about a half hour after resolving that he was not going to let Crowley make him plead and wheedle. “I’m very lonesome.” Midnight had struck, and he was wearing piped pyjamas and the tartan dressing gown that the demon was especially fond of calling an abomination.

He’d gotten used to waking up with Crowley in the bed. Well, he’d gotten used to waking up, full stop. There was really no point to sleeping, unless he knew that the first inklings of returning consciousness would involve those long limbs flung over him in every direction, early light on that vivid hair, the drooling snores and snuffles that were unaccountably so endearing, the long yawns and sinuous stretches and sleepy murmurs of good morning, angel.

He’d stopped short of bringing the wing chair into the bathroom. He had tried leaving a saucer of milk at the front of the shelf, going on a vague memory that it was supposed to appeal, but it was still untouched.

There was a rustle in the back of the cupboard, but nothing more. Not going to look. He’s only longing for me to look.

The yellow eyes reflected faintly in the dimness. They did look duller than usual. The Harrods towels had become quite an enveloping little nest.

“I’ll get in bed and leave all the doors open. It’s all right if you want to stay that way. Just come in and snuggle.”

 

 

“Two sugars, ta very much. I ought to’ve called ahead, just realized where I was.”

“”Not a bit of it. It’s always lovely to see you. How’s the Sergeant?”

“Oh, a frightful grouch, as usual. How’s that dashing young man of yours?”

“Ah – well, I’m not sure, exactly.”

“Oh love! You're not quarrelling, are you?”

“Ah – uhm – well, not really – it’s just that – “ Aziraphale discovered that he was near tears. “He won’t come out of the cupboard.”

“The cupboard?”

“I think because it’s warm in there.”

“Won’t he tell you – ?”

“Um – he can’t. He’s a snake at the moment.”

“Well! I knew I sensed something about him.”

“Usually he changes back after a bit, but – Anathema thought he might be getting ready to shed. I’ve gotten all these books about snakes but I’ve not had the chance to make a start.”

“Oh, love, I know a bit about snakes. One of my old friends was an exotic dancer, used to use a big boa in her act, she had him trained to wind around her just so”  –  Tracy gestured with fluttering fingers towards chest and hips – ”you know, for the Decency Laws. A lot of people think snakes are sexy.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes in a long blink. “Yes, I – suppose – he did tell me he used to model for Franz von Stuck. Young women in the – altogether.”

“Oh, what a rascal.” Tracy set down her cup. “Shall we go have a look in, then?”

“Well, if you – “

“I used to help Chloe out sometimes when Zeus was shedding. Mostly they manage quite well on their own, but everyone appreciates a bit of pampering, don’t they?”

 

 

“Sorry, haven’t cleared up lately – “

“Well, you’re a worse pack-rat than the Sergeant.”

“This way – “

“Oooh, what a nice big tub. You two must have some lovely times. In here? Oh, Anthony – it’s Tracy, I’ve come by for a little visit,  you’ve been such strangers – “

The hiss was more modulated, not as sharp. Tracy worked shoes off her bunioned feet and ooofed slightly as she got to her knees on the tile floor. Glossy-nailed fingers rested on the blue towels, scratching in a come-hither movement.

“You’re making your husband fret, now is that nice? Come out – there you are, oh, Anthony, darling, aren’t you just the prettiest thing.”

The big black head threaded in between the now completely disheveled linens, nosing a stack of flannels to the floor. The forked tongue flickered, scooping air. Tracy was layered with fascinating scents.

“Oh, he absolutely is shedding. Look here, he’s rubbing his head on the shelf. That’s how they work it loose. Let’s help him out, didn’t I see a big piece of driftwood in that terrarium thingy downstairs? Just the ticket.”

“Uhm – right, I’ll get it.”

When Aziraphale returned Tracy was running water in the bath and poking around the remarkable assortment of oils and unguents cluttered around the basin. “Here we are – Zeus used to like Brilliantine for some reason, but this’ll do – oh my goodness, Anthony, the size of you. I had no idea.” (Aziraphale found himself sucking in a reminiscent breath, and allowed himself another long blink.) Tracy scooted out of the way as the long cascade of black body dropped to the floor and advanced on the chunk of driftwood weighing down the chenille bath rug; the head-rubbing that ensued recalled a cat engaged in serious whisker-marking.

Half an hour and a glass of Lillet Blanc later, Tracy trailed her fingers in the shallow water, ran in a little more from the Hot tap, and swished in some rose-scented oil. “It doesn’t seem quite his top note, but it’s the only proper oil, we don’t want bubbles up your little nose, do we – “ Tracy paused as she slid her hand under the big angular jaw and kissed the raked-back snout lightly, leaving a fleck of Maple Red. “In you go, lift him up through the middle.”

Aziraphale stepped gingerly around the rustling phantom of Crowley’s cast skin, which more or less filled the available space, and heaved up with both arms on the glossy black midsection, flecked here and there with a few last scraps of papery integument. The snake slid through his bare forearms and over the side of the tub, splashing Tracy, who’d taken the angel up on the offer of his tartan dressing gown.

“Pass us a flannel, ta.”  The snake butted against her forearm,  half knocking her off balance; as she worked down its length, reached under the crimson belly, sponging off last bits of skin, a small geyser of rose-scented water caught Aziraphale amidships.

“Just like him. The floor’s always swimming when he’s done in here.”

“Good thing you’ve such a big space.”

“We did a little – renovating when he started spending more time here.”

“Now look how splendid he is, you’re quite the beauty, aren’t you?” The red belly scales were vivid and a little variegated, the black glistening with rose oil and a faint holographic sparkle. Aziraphale gave up on the hope of keeping his clothes dry and sat down on the tub edge while Tracy opened the drain and polished her way down the serpentine length with the flannel. “There you are,  ready for top billing.”

The snake gave her face a flick of forked tongue before twining around Aziraphale’s waist to rest its head on the drenched twill trousers. Tracy rubbed a thumb between the radiant golden eyes.

“You just be good and scrub the tub, now,” she said.

 

 

“We don’t want bubbles up your little nose,” said Aziraphale archly as the sound of the chimes died away in the shop.

“Oh, shut. Up.”

Even in human form Crowley looked more sleek and vivid. There was a deep fire to the ruffled red hair, the yellow eyes gleamed like tourmalines, even the black of his clothing was darker and its drape more supple.

“You are a frightful little flirt.”

“Just polite.”

“You are never just polite, dear. My – still smelling a bit like roses. I might get fond of it.”

“Don’t you dare,” growled Crowley, who would, of course, have rolled in rose water as long as it resulted in the angel snuffing up his neck and into his hair like this.

“You’ve given a deal of trouble. What ought I to do with you?”

“Let me take you out? I could murder lunch.”

“Well, that’s unlike you.”

“Always gets me that way. You were saying about the Neapolitan place?”

 

 

“Antipasto, a plate of orecchiette and the calamari salad. I believe I need to alert the Guinness people.”

“Not done yet. Think I saw panna cotta on the menu, can you get his eye?”

“This really is quite extraordinary.”

“Doesn’t happen often. Caught me a little by surprise. Hm, maybe that and the tiramisu, what looks good to you…?”

“Why ever wouldn't you come out? I was worried sick.”

“Well – always do get a bit ratty at first, not sure why, and once that wore off  – “

“Crowley, you are the cause of my making myself ridiculous in front of a warming cupboard at one o’clock in the morning.”

“It was just that – an espresso too, grazie – it’s a very bad idea to change back once the whole thing’s underway – “

“I wouldn’t have minded you staying like that. It was lonesome. I could have kept you warm.”

“Angel. Do you honestly think I’d have been able to make myself stay like that if I were in bed with you?”

Pink was rather Aziraphale’s colour.

“What happens if you do – ah? – “

“What do you think happened to the end of the nineteenth century? Really difficult getting things to shake out right. Didn’t know whether to see a veterinary or a dermatologist.”

“I had no idea – “

The desserts arrived. Crowley’s assault on his plate remained faintly homicidal.

“Are you all sorted, then? Is there anything else we need to do?”

“Well – got my orders from Madame, haven’t I? Made a shambles of your bath.”

“Oh, it’s really not – “

“And then I was thinking of helping you shed.”

Crowley waved for the check.

 

finis

 

Notes:

Once again, a hat tip to my reptile-fancier stepmother Adelia for pointers on snake husbandry (if that's the word, which I have to think it truly is in this case) and shedding behaviour. Ever tolerant of my weird snake questions: I may some day persuade her to at least watch the series.

Franz von Stuck (1863-1928) overwhelmingly used religious and mythical themes in his paintings, and was partial to large snakes; Die Sunde (sin) shows a nude woman, presumably Eve, with a large-barrelled snake coiled around her and over her shoulder. Look here

 

here,

 

and here

 

and tell me he didn’t enjoy a close acquaintance with Crowley (also that Crowley didn’t offer up a highly idealized description of Aziraphale. Or maybe von Stuck just couldn’t wrap his head around the concept of cuddly angels.)

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