Chapter Text
As a snake enthusiast, Anathema frequents the pet store as much as—if not more—the grocery. In the beginning, she desperately tried to find more convenient solutions to feeding her voracious children. Frozen mice delivered to her doorstep were a godsend to some degree. However, Anathema soon came to realize there was no going back for some of her snakes, as they became spoiled on live food and would refuse anything that didn’t squeal or squirm. This left Anathema no choice but to become a regular customer at her local pet shop.
Anathema quickly left an impression on one of the newer employees, Newt. Enamored with her, the twitchy handler would begin to set aside certain stock of the rodent variety on her behalf. This was endlessly helpful for Anathema. It was awful to drive down to the pet shop only to discover they were fresh out of live prey for her hungry babies.
Thankfully, Anathema could count on Newt to make sure she didn’t go home empty-handed.
It’s Saturday, and Newt is hoping desperately that Anathema doesn’t stop by the shop. Not because he doesn’t want to see her, but because they’re out of large feeder rodents for the week, and that’s what she’s typically looking for.
So when he sees her car pull up through the window, his palms grow damp and he begins rehearsing his lines. It’s not as if Anathema won’t understand it isn’t his fault, but he hates the thought of disappointing her.
After greeting him, Anathema points at the chalk board above him with a vaguely flirty smile. “I’ll take the rest of your feeder rats.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Newt entertains an irresponsible idea that pops into his head. “Um, I.” He steels himself before looking at her apologetically. “I-I think we’ve only got maybe one, uh, Anathema. Sorry about that.”
Anathema looks rightfully surprised. Optimistic, she takes out her phone to check the feeding schedule she has on there. She was planning on feeding Hastur, but he’s due to go blue very soon and will most likely refuse a meal. Crowley, on the other hand, is expecting something to eat. “One rat will be fine. Don’t worry about it. Although, do you have any live pinkies?” Another flirty smile and Newt is gone.
“Should. Of course. I will. . . Go now. Check, that is.” He stumbles his way into the back, looking around to see if anyone is around to see him jeopardize his job.
First, Newt packs up Anathema’s regular order of pinkies. Then his eyes wander the stock room, searching for any rodents he hasn’t had a chance to move to the floor. By some miracle, there’s a cage of rats on the last shelf he investigates. They’re marked as pets, but this wouldn’t be the first time stock was recategorized. Newt is sure this has been done before. No harm in blurring the lines for a beautiful woman.
The cage contains four rats, three of which are sleeping and one of which that is lazing in their empty food bowl. Newt is drawn to the isolated rat naturally, seeing it as an easier target. He gently pokes a bit of its protruding fat through the cage bars. It’s fur is blond and downy, with an attitude just as pleasant. Considering it doesn’t screech at him in protest.
Newt takes the fluffy rat from the cage, feeling guilty as it sniffs his hand curiously. He handles a lot of rodents, and this one he can immediately tell would be a sweet, cuddly pet. “Sorry, buddy.” He packs it up as he would a feeder rat.
Returning to the front counter, Newt’s worries evaporate when Anathema’s face comes into view.
Aziraphale is not very happy to be traveling at this time of day. He and the others had only just arrived at Paradise (Gabriel insisted upon this name) and now it seems he’s been relocated again! Aziraphale is thankful he had the bright idea to eat while the others succumbed to sleep, because this box is barren in terms of food.
Several attempts at sleep are made, but it’s far too loud. Honestly! Aziraphale is not impressed.
Despite his indignation, Aziraphale is prepared to be nothing but cooperative as soon as he’s returned to the cage. Or. . . His cage? Truly, the rat is not sure what fate awaits him! But whatever it may be, hopefully it includes something to munch on.
Gabriel was the most knowledgeable about their purpose. He said they were bred especially to be beautiful, that they could expect to be worshipped and doted on by their owners. But what exactly is an owner? And why must they be separated? Gabriel and the others teased Aziraphale, yes, but it’s quite lonely in here all by himself. . .
Aziraphale feels much better about the whole ordeal when the constant jostling ceases and light floods into the traveling case. He is surprised to see a different human than before. Is this his owner?
The strange woman makes no move to pet him, instead donning coarse gloves and scooping him up wordlessly. Aziraphale doesn’t like the gloves; the fabric scraps unpleasantly against his nose when he inspects them and it’s more difficult to locate her scent.
Aziraphale is peeved with the glove-wearing human handling him and turns his attention to his surroundings.
Unlike the room from before, this place is more cozy. It’s less bright, no windows to speak of, and much warmer in comparison. The perfect atmosphere for a nap! Aziraphale sees there are several cages along the walls, each of varying size, filled with foliage and. . . Hm, some kind of creature. Not-rats. Yes, each cage is full of foliage, water, and not-rats!
The human moseys over to one of the biggest cages. It is so enormous Aziraphale is reluctant to even use the term ‘cage’ as a descriptor. Half of it is lush greenery and rocks, the rest of the space occupied by water. How delightful! Aziraphale has never had the opportunity to swim before. He’s heard good things about swimming and is excited to try.
Sliding open a portion of the glass, the human unceremoniously dumps Aziraphale inside and onto some grass. The rat would normally be unhappy with this kind of treatment, but the magnitude of the cage forgives this woman’s impersonal behavior. Is this all for him?
Aziraphale sniffs around his pink feet. There are so many new smells, it’s hard to say if he’s alone. He cannot see any not-rats in the vicinity, excluding the ones across the way, but that surely cannot be the case! Rats are extremely social creatures, he can’t be expected to occupy this massive space by his lonesome. Right?
And most importantly, where’s the food?
Deciding to have a brief look around before he finds a spot to sleep, Aziraphale checks out the swimming pool before exploring the underbrush. The rocks look too tiring to scale so Aziraphale naturally takes the path of least resistance.
Arriving at the back corner of the enclosure, Aziraphale is delighted to not only find a toasty lamp emanating heat, but a fellow animal! The creature is very long, so long it’s able to curl around itself. Reassured he isn’t alone, Aziraphale approaches them.
But before speaking, Aziraphale examines the not-rat. Everything about them is so exotic. While their size is undeniably impressive, Aziraphale doesn’t know what to think about the lack of fur. No wonder they’re relaxing under this heat lamp! They must get cold easily.
Their skin looks tough and smooth, made out of something Aziraphale has never seen before. It’s mostly black, but the not-rat’s belly is a bright red. They are gorgeous.
“Hello,” he greets with a polite chirp, cheerful. Although the not-rat’s deep yellow eyes are open, they do not respond. Aziraphale frowns before repeating himself, but again, nothing. Aziraphale grows concerned the not-rat may be in some sort of trouble. Are they sick? Or worse. . .
Aziraphale’s fears are snuffed when the fluffy rat notices they are indeed breathing. So why is he being ignored? Has Aziraphale done something wrong?
Put out, Aziraphale finds a comfy spot to sleep that is nearby the unwelcoming creature but not impolitely so. He has to make a good impression! He doesn’t want to appear presumptuous. Aziraphale hopes dearly that they’ve simply had a misunderstanding that can be resolved after a good rest. No one but Gabriel would cuddle with Aziraphale, and Gabriel wasn’t the best at it, bless his heart. The chubby rat is hoping this not-rat will want to cuddle in the near future. If they do have issues with the cold, Aziraphale can help keep them warm!
Aziraphale wakes up some odd number of hours later. He isn’t well-rested by any means, but once he remembers everything, the rat is too excited to sleep! He wiggles and stretches awake, a tad peckish. Hopefully some food has been added to the enclosure so Aziraphale can really make himself at home.
Noticing the not-rat is gone fills Aziraphale with relief. That means they are definitely awake and hopefully in a better mood for talking. Getting to his pink little feet, Aziraphale prepares to go looking for the creature, surprised when he find them a few breaths behind him. Aziraphale sits on his ample rump, smoothing over his bedhead reflexively.
“Ah, good evening, my dear!” Aziraphale chatters. Embarrassed to be caught so disheveled, the rat continues grooming as daintily as he can while speaking. “Forgive me, I’ve only just woke up.”
The not-rat’s facial expression is hard to read at best and indistinguishable at worst. But their intense stare falters. Are they angry? Curious?
Azirphale wiggles thoughtfully. “I apologize if you found my behavior untoward earlier. . . I’ve had a dreadfully eventful day! Of course, that isn’t to say I am not grateful to be here. This place is magnificent. I was rather fearful I was the only one here, at first. You can imagine my relief when I found you!”
At this, the not-rat frowns. Their neck relaxes, which had previously been S-shaped and looked uncomfortably tense.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Aziraphale frets, attributing the not-rat’s silence to his own rude babbling. “Introducing myself seems to have slipped my mind. My name is Aziraphale. What may I call you?”
When all Aziraphale receives is more silence, he tries to identify the problem. Perhaps he is supposed to already know who this creature is? “Ah, are you my owner?”
“Ngk.” The odd sound is not what Aziraphale had been expecting, but he would never judge. “No. I’m Crowley.” Ah, much better! Aziraphale thinks, deciding that Crowley’s voice is nice to listen to, deep and charming.
“How delightful. I’m very pleased to meet your acquaintance.” Strangely, Crowley isn’t similarly pleased. “Is. . . There a problem?”
Crowley’s tongue shoots out of his mouth and dances in the air. Aziraphale thinks it’s adorable and a good tension-breaker. “Don’t you know what I am?”
“I’m afraid not,” Aziraphale answers sheepishly. “If you would be so kind as to enlighten me?”
“I’m a snake, Aziraphale,” Crowley hisses, emphasizing the s and z sounds.
Aziraphale has never heard a hissing noise before and something about it is unnerving. He doesn’t like it, but. . . Is that mean? Should he say something to Crowley about it? No, they’ve only just met. Aziraphale hopes not to hear the sound again. It rattles his bones.
“Snake,” the rat echos, looking into Crowley’s striking eyes. “Are all snakes as lovely as you?”
Unfortunately, Crowley hisses again. It’s clearly not a sound signifying joy. It feels aggressive. Aziraphale grooms his fluffy face to settle his nerves. He feels bad thinking about how he may have upset Crowley.
“Lovely?” Crowley suddenly invades Aziraphale’s space, tongue flicking and wetting the blond fluff. “Mmm. Rat,” the snake rumbles in pleasure. Aziraphale is overjoyed Crowley thinks he smells good. He scents Crowley back, giggling when that long, curious tongue hits a ticklish spot.
The tip of Crowley’s tail nudges against the rotund swell of Aziraphale’s tummy. “You are a fat, delicious thing,” the snake purrs. Crowley’s purr is adjacent to a hiss, but much nicer to hear.
Aziraphale only giggles more. He was and always had been the fattest of his family, but none of them would ever acknowledge it. It’s nice to receive such a thoughtful compliment. His plumpness is something Aziraphale is especially proud of. “Thank you, my dear.”
Although thanks would have been the only appropriate response, Crowley seems unhappy with the rat’s reaction. He pushes, trying to disturb Aziraphale, “You’ve long outgrown your bones, rat. There is so much meat on you it’s sspilling onto the ground. Like a dumpling with a broken s-seam.”
“Please, you’re much too kind,” Azirphale squirms playfully, not used to being subjected to such wonderful attention. He adores the feeling of Crowley’s scales on his fur, so smooth and strong! To truly reciprocate the snake’s affection, Aziraphale nibbles and licks him gently.
Crowley is having none of it. The end of his tail winds around Aziraphale and holds him firmly in place. “I am not kind! I am a snake! You are a rat! You are my din—“ Crowley pauses to take a breath and calm down. He considers Aziraphale’s genuine innocence for a moment. Crowley can see he’s found the avenue to take if he really wants to frighten the rat. Aziraphale doesn’t seem too concerned about being trapped in his coils, but Crowley flashing his fangs as he shouts angrily has gotten to him. Crowley has never felt guilty about harassing his prey. But seeing Aziraphale’s sweet face melt into this confused, scared expression. . . It hurts Crowley’s heart. “Do you sseriously have no clue why you’re here?”
“No,” Aziraphale whimpers, clearly trying to act like he’s unbothered. He is a horrible actor. “I. . . I can see that my ignorance is greatly frustrating you. I am very sorry, my dear.”
Wanting to cast away any fear he’s inspired, Crowley uses the end of his tail to caress Aziraphale’s chubby cheeks. The snake feels embarrassed now, like he needs to explain his unwarranted outburst. Aziraphale obviously doesn’t know any better, that’s why he’s been so friendly. If he was privy to the food chain, Crowley is sure the rat would have ran away as desperately as all the others. “‘S nothing,” he dismisses. “Just not, um, usually my responsibly to. . . Explain.” If Crowley had hands, he would be hitting himself on the head right about now.
Aziraphale nibbles the tail stroking his fur to show he’s mellow again and forgiven Crowley before smiling at the snake obediently. “I see. Perhaps if you told me regardless?”
The prospect of doing so is much more unappealing than it was before. Crowley flounders, trying to think of something to say that will get them away from this damning question.
“You alluded to knowing why I am here,” Aziraphale goes on, trying to be helpful. “Please, do tell. If I am made aware of my purpose, then you will be happy, yes? We will be able to have fun together! I do not wish to upset you further, my dear.”
Crowley shakes his head and plays with the blond floof on Aziraphale’s head. Under the heat lamp, the rat’s blond fur glows angelically. He needs to protect this precious angel at all costs. “Don’t worry about it, angel. I-I think I just got confused.”