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Part 3 of The Ineffable Meet-Cute
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Good Omens Human AUs
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2024-03-22
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Doctor, Can You Take Care Of My Snake?

Summary:

Aziraphale is determined to hate the man who has brought a venomous snake, native to Australia, to his vet clinic.

Now, if only the man can stop being so charming and utterly besotted with his pet, this will be a lot easier.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Aziraphale should have refused. 

No, he had refused. For all the good it did him.

It went like this.

"I'm not doing it," he said, passing back the chart the moment his eyes slid over the species of the snake. Pseudechis porphyriacus. But, of course, Gabriel wouldn't even be able to pronounce that, let alone know what it meant. Idly, Aziraphale wondered where the owner had managed to find someone to sell them a red-bellied black snake. It had not come from a reputable shop, of that he was certain.

"You have to do it," Gabriel insisted, an edge to his voice that subtly reminded everyone around him that the word 'No' should leave their vocabulary the moment they found themselves in his orbit. "You are the only one who deals with snakes here."

'A herpetologist,' Aziraphale would have corrected him, except he was already toeing the line with his refusal. 

"Pet snakes- grass snakes, hognoses, ball pythons. Not bloody red-bellied black snakes." Aziraphale hissed, he wasn't proud of that.

It seemed that was the final straw in Gabriel's patience. The other man leant forward, lips stretching into an unnaturally wide smile.

"Listen here, sunshine. Anthony J Crowley is one of the largest contributors to this clinic and I will not have you risk that. So you go in there, you take care of his snake. Take care of his metaphorical snake for all I care. But the man is leaving this clinic with a smile on his face or so help me, the closest thing to a snake you'll be treating, will be the worms under the bridge where you'll be living."

That... that was a fairly convoluted way to say Aziraphale would end up fired and homeless if he didn't do what he was told. But point taken.

Anthony J Crowley looked exactly like the type of man that would keep a venomous snake, indigenous to Australia, as a pet. Tall and thin, dressed in black leather that appeared a few sizes too small for him and should have looked ridiculous, but was instead incredibly ho- Red hair in a messy bun, sunglasses on his face despite the fact it was night and they were inside. The man had a bloody face tattoo, for Heaven's sake!

Aziraphale hated him immediately.

"Mr. Crowley," he greeted, as politely as he could possibly manage, while also gritting his teeth. "My name is Aziraphale. How can I help you today?"

"Just Crowley." Even his voice was annoying. Deep and slightly rough around the edges. "It's the snake, you see. He hasn't been eating, well, anything."

For one, the snake was very clearly a she. But what did he expect from someone who kept a snake like this as a pet. The man probably tried to feed her something ridiculous like vegetables. 

"Okay," Aziraphale drawled slowly. "When was the last time the snake ate?"

"Last month, on the 18th," the man said immediately and Aziraphale had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Snakes could live for months without eating and this man was here, bothering him after barely a month? He opened his mouth to tell him just that when Crowley waved a hand impatiently. "I know, I know they can survive long periods of time without eating but he has always been very voracious. Every week, a few frozen mice, one fish fillet and a cup of dog food. I've never had a problem feeding him."

Aziraphale stared. Well. He knew this was mostly due to his already low expectations, but he truly was impressed by the snake's diet. Despite everything, he felt himself mellow down.

"Her."

Crowley raised his head from his very healthy-looking, very female snake. His fingers froze in the middle of petting her little head. Goodness. He had no right to look this adorable, especially when Aziraphale was trying so hard to hate him. "Wot?"

"Her. It's female. You can tell by the size." 

Aziraphale nodded towards the snake. It was an adult one, judging by the fact the belly was not as bright, and slightly smaller than what an adult male would be. Not alarmingly smaller, nothing quite like that, and he wondered once again why the other man had bothered to even come.

Or how he had even come to own this snake. 

He was just about to ask when he noticed the colour draining from Crowley's face, his fingers subtly shaking in the air. Oh, for Heaven's sake! Just because his snake had turned out to be a girl!

It probably clashed with his whole leather-wearing, snake-having persona. Aziraphale did roll his eyes this time. Luckily for him, Crowley wasn't even looking at him.

"Oh, no," the man whispered, one finger sliding over the snake's coils. She didn't twitch away from his caress, always a good sign, and one that ruled out abuse. At least there was that. "I have been misgendering you all this time? I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Was he... Was he talking to the snake? No, worse than that, was he apologising to the snake for having her gender wrong? 

Aziraphale could feel another one of his walls crumble down. 

"I don't think the snake cares, my dear. As long as you were feeding her."

My dear. Where had that come from? He would have cringed to himself, if not for the fact he was temporarily distracted by the way the man's face snapped up towards him. His mouth slightly open, eyebrows high above his glasses. His cheeks were flushed slightly, a startling sight against his pale complexion. He looked-

'Don't go there,' he reminded himself. This was a client and one that apparently was very important to the clinic. One that still owned an animal that should be in the wild, on an entirely different continent. Speaking of which.

"Forgive me for asking, Crowley, but how did you come to own a red-bellied black snake?"

The flush spread, over a sharp nose, down a jaw that could cut. Aziraphale supposed this was the moment the man revealed himself to be the villain and animal kidnapper he suspected him to be.

As if having read his thoughts, Crowley shook his head. A few hairs escaped from his bun and danced in front of his face. His hair was curly. 

Aziraphale wondered what it would look like, wrapped around his fingers.

"Nothing bad, I promise. It's not like I found hi-her in Australia and smuggled her in my suitcase. One of my clients, I'm a solicitor, you see, I do pro-bono work for the RSPCA. It's the largest animal welfare charity in the- Sorry, you know what the RSPCA is, 'course you do. Anyway, last year they busted this breeder. Horrible man. He probably smuggled h-her in a suitcase out of Australia, to tell you the truth. They managed to rehome everyone else but nobody wanted her. She is huge and eats too much and she is venomous. Not that she has ever bit me, really. She is a sweetheart, she didn't even bite him and he certainly deserved it." 

Crowley stopped to take in a much needed breath. Aziraphale allowed himself to blink. Just the once. He wasn't sure if he was capable of more.

"So I said, you know, I'll take her. What's the harm? I already loved her so obviously, I didn't want them to put her down. I mean, I wouldn't have, even if I hated her guts, you know. Living thing, right? So, um, yeah."

Aziraphale blinked again, for the second time ever since the man had started talking, for those counting. The story was... wild. There was no other way to put it. What sort of person would agree to take care of a 5ft venomous snake? Well, he would, but that was neither here nor there. 

Crowley looked like he might vibrate out of his skin. He was also slightly sweating. 

The poor dear. Aziraphale had been rather awful to him, hadn't he? Especially when the man had only been trying to do a good deed. He was going to help him, he decided. Help him with his very healthy snake.

Aziraphale nodded and finally headed for his desk. Then he motioned for Crowley to sit across from him. Dangerous thing, that, reducing the distance between them. Inevitable, still.

The man hesitated, glancing at his snake, as if to ask permission, before deciding that she looked quite happy in her little crate.

"While a snake not eating for a month is entirely too common and nothing to worry about, we can go over a few things that might have stopped her from eating," Aziraphale began, once the man had settled before him. This close, he looked even more enticing, with his freckles that caught the fluorescent light and the tempting curve of his lips. Not the mention the long slope of his neck and the- 

Enough. Still a client, even if one Aziraphale liked a lot more than 5 minutes ago.

"Let's begin with her enclosure. Can you describe that to me?" 

He really hoped his voice had not come out as shaky as it felt. The man before him grinned, shifting in his seat, and Aziraphale felt his heart flutter in his chest. And then long fingers were slipping inside too tight pockets and fishing out something small and sleek and Aziraphale felt his whole body flutter. 

"I can do you one better," Crowley said, and for the first time since Aziraphale had entered the room, he looked like the sharp, dangerous creature he had assumed him to be. He leant forward, body splaying over the desk in a way that should not have looked so indecent and yet- "I can show you."

There was a reason for the pride in his voice. The enclosure, well, it was perfect. A smaller one, so the snake wouldn't feel too exposed, with plenty of hiding places and shade. A rock to the side with a heat lamp above it that kept it the perfect 30°C. Goodness, but there was even a little pond in her vivarium. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at that.

"All the articles I read said they like to be near water," Crowley said, almost shyly, shrugging. It was hard to tell with the glasses in the way but it almost felt like he was avoiding Aziraphale's gaze.

Aziraphale had no idea why. This was, hands down, the best vivarium he had ever seen. And he had been called to treat snakes in a number of private homes and nature reserves. Her lack of appetite, something that again Aziraphale didn't see as a problem quite so early on, was very much not caused by the stress of a bad enclosure. If anything, the vet felt slightly guilty that the snake was now stuck into the crate they used for examinations, knowing what was waiting for her at home.

"That looks splendid, my dear," he couldn't help but praise the other man. Truthfully, he wanted to print out these pictures and put them above his desk, so he could stare at them whenever he wanted. And only partially because he could clearly make out long fingers in the reflection of the glass. 

"Ngk," Crowley replied, which should have been funny but was instead, adorable. Aziraphale felt himself smile.

"It's very clearly not the vivarium," he concluded, once the pictures had run out. Felt it almost like a physical loss when Crowley shifted away from him, taking with himself his warmth and the vague smell of something earthy and enchanting. "I can examine her, just to ensure nothing is wrong and I can take some samples to do further tests. But at this point, we might just have to monitor her condition."

To even imply that Aziraphale was using his position to leverage more meetings with this beautiful and awkward man was, frankly, ridiculous.

"You don't think it's parasites, do you?" Crowley, bless him, seemed too worried to pick up on Aziraphale's evil ways. 

He hurried to shake his head, hurried to wipe the worry off striking features. "No, no, I very much doubt that. It's more of a routine check, really."

The way the man looked over at his snake made him feel slightly guilty. There was nothing wrong with her. He knew that, she knew that, a person who had only seen snakes in movies would bloody know that. And yet there Crowley was, fretting over her like she would perish if he let her out of his sight for even a moment. It was extremely endearing. 

And coupled with the fact that the man was, and it was okay to admit this, now that he wasn't hating on him, he was the most beautiful creature Aziraphale had ever seen. And, yes, that included that San Francisco Garter Snake he had treated a few years back. All of these factors combined were causing something strange to flutter in his chest that he couldn't quite ignore.

But, no, he chastised himself as tempting lips pulled into a frown. He was going to be a professional and he was going to examine this (perfectly healthy-looking) snake and then he was going to ask the man out on a date. Maybe. Possible. 

Okay, probably not. But he was going to make sure the snake was the healthiest animal on the planet. The least he could do, really.

Mind made up, he nodded to himself and reached for his glasses and his gloves.

"Would you mind holding her, my dear?" he asked, while rummaging through his drawer. Goodness, but the mess of it. Was that a calendar from the early 2000s? "I do believe you when you say she is not dangerous, but I might frighten her and her venom can be deadly."

He finally turned to face the other man, glasses perched on top of his nose. Only to find Crowley staring at him shamelessly, mouth hanging slightly open, cheeks flushed.

"Is something the matter?" 

By pure instinct, he glanced at the snake to make sure she was fine. Animals were always unpredictable when anxious and there were few things more stressful than going to the vet. A new environment, a new person touching and looking at them. Aziraphale didn't like going to the doctor and he could actually understand what was going on. He felt for these poor critters who couldn't. Who just had to trust that their owner had their best interest at heart.

But, no, she was perfectly fine, body slowly coiling around itself as she raised her head to seek out Crowley's hand. And the man himself shook his head quickly, turned even brighter. Also made that sound, as if he had been punched in the chest, but somehow in a sexy way? Aziraphale was perhaps not the best judge as he seemed to find everything the other man did incredibly alluring.

"No, um. Nice glasses. Suit you." And then the man was turning around fully and Aziraphale could no longer trace that flush with his eyes nor imagine running his fingers over it. Over his cheekbones, down towards his lips.

Strong, he could be strong. And professional. He approached the crate with all the solemnity of someone heading for the guillotine. 

Thus commenced the longest and most frustrating 40 minutes of his life. Crowley was close, so very close, and Aziraphale couldn't even blame him because he had been the one to ask for his help. And the man would run long, delicate fingers over black coils, would shush his snake and would mumble something to her that Aziraphale couldn't really decipher, as focused as he was on examining her. 

And their fingers would brush sometimes, just little touches, inevitable when both their hands were covering the same few feet of scales. And Crowley would make noises, startled ones at first before they grew... softer, more intense. 

It was taking most of Aziraphale's brain power to focus on not combusting on the spot and also on trying to do his job. 

"She is perfectly fine," finally, he concluded. Very much did not take his hands off her scales. The tip of his pinkie was grazing the other man's wrist. "Tickety-boo."

Crowley grinned. Also didn't remove his hands from the snake. "Is that the medical term?" 

Goodness, but Aziraphale didn't think he would be able to handle it if the man was funny too. Surely, there should be a limit to how perfect someone was?

"Very much so," Aziraphale agreed, with all the air of one of the best herpetologists in the country. And none of the air of someone who was wondering whether they could blush to death. 

The smirk grew, turned even sharper, and Aziraphale scurried away towards his desk, as if seeking shelter from a ravenous predator. He picked up his prescription pad, more to have something to do with his hands and with the vague hope that holding something would hide how much they shook. Then he picked up a pen, because he might as well. Bit silly, wasn't it, only holding a prescription pad?

And since he was holding both of those things, he decided to jot down some ideas.

"This is what we are going to do." He talked as he wrote, gaze carefully fixed on his acceptable for a doctor penmanship. "I have taken a few samples that I will send to the lab, we should have the results in a few days, a week at most. There are also some things that might help with her appetite, nothing too invasive, mostly vitamins. However, I can assure you, she is one of the healthiest snakes I have ever treated, a month of not eating is nothing to be concerned about. Not to mention the fact she moved in with you quite recently, a certain period of adjustment is to be expected."

Aziraphale tore off the prescription for vitamins and handed it to the other man, who wrapped his fingers around the piece of paper. Also, coincidentally, around Aziraphale's own fingers. His hand was warm and soft and surprisingly gentle. Aziraphale forgot what else he had meant to say.

"Do you have any ques-"

Crowley didn't even let him finish. "Can I have your number?"

Aziraphale stared. He could hear the high-pitched beeping sound his brain made as it struggled to reboot. Dimly, he realised that he might be able to die from blushing too hard and then wondered how pissed Gabriel would be following his untimely death. 

"I- I don't do house visits," he said slowly, after too long a time for it to be considered normal behaviour. A snake could use his cheeks as heat lamps, they were burning that hotly. 

Crowley let go of his fingers. Even then, his movements were slow, measured, as he gently lowered Aziraphale's hand, before he let go of it completely. Then he nodded, averting his gaze. Aziraphale was already missing his warm fingers around his own.

"'Course, yeah. Sorry to bother you." The man nodded again, before turning to look at his pet. His touch, as he stroked her head, was gentle. It made Aziraphale's mind buzz with images of what it would look like to have those fingers run over his own skin, trace his own markings.

Perhaps he could do a house visit for the man? It wasn't like Gabriel would stop him. For goodness' sake, his boss might pay for his Uber there and would probably even slip a couple of condoms into his work bag, when he wasn't looking. Aziraphale wouldn't put it past him.

Before he had opened his mouth and tried to claw back his words from the heavy air around them, Crowley was talking.

"It's just- And I know it's silly- But I worry about her. She hasn't had the easiest life and she deserves... better. More. If- if something were to happen to her I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." 

Aziraphale knew he was perhaps more smitten than was advisable after a mere hour in the presence of the other man. But he couldn't help it. Not when he could feel the genuine worry, tinging the man's words, could see the anxious pull of his lips. The flutter of his fingers as they traced black scales.

Before he had lost his courage, Aziraphale jotted down his number on his prescription pad and handed it to Crowley. The other man didn't make an attempt to take it.

"Are you sure? I don't want to get you into trouble with your manager." Crowley hesitated. The paper fluttered between them with Aziraphale's nerves. "He does seem like a bit of a prick."

Aziraphale laughed. What else was there to do when the literal man of his dreams was also being a bastard to Gabriel. 

"Don't worry about him. And don't hesitate to call me. Anytime." He paused, for just a moment. Enough for the meaning behind his next words to be painfully clear. "For anything."

It did occur to him that he was very much not acting like himself. This man, with his cheeky grin and his fiery hair, with his inexplicable softness and delightful humour. He was doing strange things to him. Making him feel like he would never forgive himself if he missed his chance, for one.

"So you can come check on my snake?" the man asked, one eyebrow lifting over the glasses. His voice was back to that sinful drawl it had been in the beginning of his visit. Aziraphale had found it so annoying.

What a change an hour made.

The man was teasing, there was no other way to explain it. And perhaps it was the surrealism of everything that was happening, the fact Aziraphale had gone from hating this man with a burning passion to giving him his personal phone number in the span of one visit. Perhaps it was the mischief painted on sharp features that Aziraphale almost felt drunk on.

"Among other things." He tilted his head, a smile, serene and innocent, pulling at the corners of his lips. Nobody could accuse him of anything untoward. Even if it very much was. 

Crowley tipped his head to the side, something shy in the pull of his lips that suited him even more than that roguish smile. If that was even possible. 

"I might have to call you at random times. Would that be okay? Fluffy doesn't much care for business hours, I'm afraid."

Aziraphale opened his mouth, perhaps to say something entirely unprofessional, perhaps to tease, when he stopped. Considered the other man's words carefully.

"Fluffy?" he repeated, the only thing stopping him from having to collect his jaw from the floor, the fact that he was used to hearing the most ridiculous names from pet owners. Granted, it was usually 5 year olds with their first pet rabbit. But still.

Crowley's cheeks flushed once again, the colour almost pulsing on pale skin. Aziraphale wondered what it would taste like. It occurred to him that he might find out, very soon.

"Mmmnyeangk," the man, very eloquently, said. Aziraphale was so charmed by it that he didn't even have the presence of mind to wonder how, exactly, this man was supposed to be a solicitor. Not that he had any right to judge after all. Seeing as here he was, giving his personal phone number to a client and offering to help them with their 'snake'. 

"Thought it would be funny. Since h-she doesn't have any fur. Obviously, I didn't think I'd have to tell someone like you her name!" The red splotch of blood was spreading, darkening, as Crowley waved a hand in his direction. Also, refused to look at him.

He was adorable.

"Like me?" Aziraphale repeated, took a step forward. Was he to raise a hand he would have been able to feel the blood pulsing underneath that soft-looking skin. Could have cradled that sharp jaw, could have seen if it would cut the pads of his fingers as he traced it.

Soon.

"Yeah," the man growled, almost an accusation but one that had lost its bite. "All soft smiles and kind and pretty. Probably prefer something smart, right? Something soft like you or something."

"Fluffy is soft. I like it," Aziraphale noted, trying and failing to hide his amusement. Not that it mattered, the other man so very lost in his own ramblings to notice him stalking closer. 

He was playing a dangerous game but like this, so very close he could feel the other man's chest fluttering against his own, could almost feel the heat of his breath against his cheek. Nothing else seemed to matter.

"Now, angel, good name that. Proper name. Maybe not for he- You wot?" Crowley's face finally snapped towards him. His eyes were wide and golden under the glasses. And incredibly beautiful.

"I like it." It was Aziraphale's turn to shrug, nonchalant, as if he wasn't standing inches away from the most ridiculous man he had ever met. "It suits her. Especially with the way you can't keep your hands off her."

To keep calling what was happening on Crowley's skin a blush would be similar to likening a hurricane to a breeze. 

The man was perfect. Gorgeous and witty and kind and utterly adorable. It might have been the reason why Aziraphale reached forward and pressed the piece of paper with his number into his fingers. Tried to ignore the way Crowley's breath hitched as Aziraphale's fingers wrapped around his own. Tried to ignore the way his own heart stuttered at the feel of those long fingers, warm underneath his own.

"Anytime," he repeated, very much aware of the implications behind his words and not ashamed of them one bit. "For anything."

Crowley's fingers squeezed around his number, crumbling it into his hands. And then he nodded, pressed the ball of paper and anxiety to his chest, like something precious.

They were so close, their lips would brush together if Aziraphale only twisted his head slightly. He wondered if it was too soon to kiss him. It probably was. The man was a client, they hadn't known each other long. And anyone could walk in on them and as much as he was sure Gabriel wouldn't mind, he wasn't one to risk it usually. Not to mention-

It didn't really matter, in the end. Crowley kissed him. Just, grabbed him by the lapels of his white coat and pressed him close. 

Aziraphale kind of deserved it. Any animal would strike, if sufficiently provoked. 

It was a surprisingly gentle kiss, despite its tumultuous beginning. Crowley's lips were gentle and soft and curious, fluttering against his own just like an injured bird, caught in the cage of his fingers. 

Far too soon, not nearly enough time for Aziraphale to enjoy it properly, and the man was letting him go. Withdrawing his hands and his mouth and his heat, and Aziraphale really didn't know which one he missed the most.

"Sorry," Crowley hurried to say, hurried to put some distance between them. He looked horrified. "Fuck, I'm so s- I should not have done that. That was very much not appropriate behaviour-  Assault, actually!"

"Crowley-"

"Listen, how about I leave now and I - I won't even fight it if you want to go after me for sexual harassment. I can text you the names of some very good colleagues of mine. Or leave them at the reception desk, yeah? They'll be happy to take your case, no charge."

"My dear-"

"They don't like me much, you see, so you'll be doing them a favour, really. And I will never come back here to bother you, obviously. I am so fucking so-"

It was Aziraphale's turn to kiss him. Crowley kind of deserved it. Aziraphale had tried to shut him up in the normal way a number of times. 

And, surely, nobody could question his professionalism now. Especially not when, an hour later, Crowley emerged from his office, slightly flushed and grinning, clutching Aziraphale's phone number in one hand and a container holding London's healthiest red-bellied black snake in the other.

Aziraphale had done exactly what Gabriel had asked him to, after all.

Notes:

I did SO MUCH research for this fic, you guys! So much I even came up with an entirely different Snake!Crowley idea to write some day! So if there are any inaccuracies, please don't tell me and let me live with the delusion that this is how vets talk and act (minus taking care of pet owners' 'snakes')

As always thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

My Tumblr if you would like to come say hi!

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