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He had turned up that morning, quite out of the blue, and stationed himself on one of the tables (the one with the small but surprisingly bright reading lamp). He had also, in spite of Aziraphale’s continued cajoling, pleading, and eventually begging, refused to leave. This was new territory for Aziraphale. Prior to the Apocalypse, he didn’t think he’d ever had to even ask Crowley to let him be, other than hinting at it passively. But this was a new world, after all, and after the fire in the bookshop and the terror and upset Crowley had grudgingly admitted to feeling when he’d thought Aziraphale might be dead, the angel was a little more willing to cut the demon some slack when it came to hanging about.
Of course, when Crowley usually decided to hang about, he chose to do it in human form.
A long black snake lay coiled on Aziraphale’s table. It appeared to be sleeping, although every so often it would open one yellow eye to watch Aziraphale’s movements around the shop. Crowley could be all sizes, when he wanted to, and on the occasions when Aziraphale had interacted with Crowley in this form, he was more used to dealing with the garden-snake variety. A little thing, the right size to drape around your shoulders, if he promised not to be a nuisance. This was not that. Today, for whatever reason, Crowley had decided to be on the upper end of boa constrictor. As an angel, Aziraphale was strong, but he was also a bit uncoordinated, and scooping up that much snake and depositing him elsewhere would have been decidedly difficult. So Aziraphale worked around him.
It was irritating. Crowley’s bulk spilled over the edges of the table, his tail stretching out to trip Aziraphale when he walked past. He kept squirming, and had several times knocked over the lamp, forcing Aziraphale to catch it before it hit the floor, and had with a flick of his tail threatened teasingly to do it to whatever bookshelves he could reach as well. He kept yawning and grinning at Aziraphale, happy to be in his way and a bother.
Aziraphale was not happy. He didn’t always mind Crowley’s little tricks – they got on each other’s nerves occasionally, sure, but that was what friends (lovers? Six-thousand-year-old-romantic-partners?) did. They never really meant it. It was all in jest. But Aziraphale wasn’t in a teasing mood this morning. Heaven had tried to get into contact with him, and he was resolutely trying to ignore their increasingly insistent ploys. He was in no mood to deal with anyone, much less the serpent.
When Crowley nearly tripped him for the fifth time that morning, Aziraphale lost his temper. He did not shout. Shouting was not in his nature. But his voice got very cold and very low, and his eyes grew very hard. “Get out, now.”
Crowley blinked. Then he blinked again. Aziraphale glared at him. “I have been patient with you, but I cannot take it anymore. I had a truly awful night and I do not need you getting in my way and making…making a mess out of things. If all you’re going to do is cause trouble for me, then you can get out of my shop.”
The snake curled in on himself. Coiled tightly, he surveyed Aziraphale from behind his mass, as if trying to decide if he was serious or not. Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed further, and Crowley decided he was. He slunk from the table, sliding down onto the floor like a tear rolling down a cheek and spilling onto the ground. He glanced up at Aziraphale, who forced his expression not to waver. He pointed towards the door.
When Crowley did not leave, but curled himself up in a tight ball under a table in the farthest back corner of Aziraphale’s shop, the angel decided that was fair. Reptiles, as a general rule, are not the most expressive of animals, but whether because Crowley was not actually a snake or simply because Aziraphale had know him for six millennia, Aziraphale could feel the guilt dripping off the demon. He went back to shelving and did his best not to look in that direction.
He almost managed to forget about the whole thing until a young couple wandered in. Aziraphale liked young couples anywhere but inside his bookshop. Outside it, he smiled fondly at shy new lovers sharing looks over dessert plates or holding hands. Inside it, he glared. They had a tendency to wander in, thinking exploring an antique bookshop made a charming date activity, and generally getting very put out – and on occasion even angry - when Aziraphale told them the price for whatever particular rare poetry book they happened to have selected.
This particular couple did not need so much as a haughty cough to be encouraged to leave. They headed back, giggling, towards the poetry section. Then the giggling turned into a shriek of horror, morphing itself into the word “Snake!” And they were gone, bolting from the bookshop.
Aziraphale flipped the sign to closed and approached the back corner. Crowley gave him a shy smile, still lodged under the table but now a bit puffed up, like he’d been posturing to strike.
“Did you do that on purpose?” Aziraphale asked. “Because you know I don’t like couples in here?”
The snake winked.
Aziraphale got down onto the floor, folding himself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” he said, “about earlier. I was upset. Admittedly, you were being a nuisance, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
Crowley slithered out from under the table and draped himself, to the best of his ability, over Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale stroked his scales. “It’s Heaven,” he said with a sigh. “They have me in a right state. I expect they’ll be trying to recall me back from earth soon.”
Crowley shuddered. Aziraphale’s hand stopped stroking and rested there. “Is that why you’re here?” he asked tentatively. “Has Hell been trying to call you back too?”
A nod.
Aziraphale resumed the petting motion, and Crowley relaxed again. “It’ll be alright,” the angel said. “For both of us.”
He didn’t know if he believed that. But believing it was a lot better than the alternative.