louiselux | Er, I wrote mpreg!

Now,

ari_ expressed a desire for egg-laying fic and, well, this must be one of the oddest things I've ever written. Crowley is in a tricky situation.

Baby Snakes

'Crowley? Are you in?'

Aziraphale's concerned tones drifted up from the stairwell. Crowley jerked out of a doze; his dreams had been full of small furry mammals. He willed Aziraphale to go away, but no, he was coming up the stairs. Crowley flicked his tongue and clamped his sharp teeth shut in dismay. Steps came closer, then they stopped. He looked up to see Aziraphale staring at him through the sitting room doorway.

'Here you are! I was worried. You didn't call or anything. And why are you a snake?'

Crowley snorted through his delicate nostrils and didn't answer.

'And why are you lying in all that paper? It's funny, it looks just like a nest.' He came closer and peered down. There was a silence during which Crowley could feel Aziraphale's eyes widening. 'Oh,' he said in a small, dazed voice.

Crowley curled up more securely around the soft skinned, cream-coloured eggs and wordlessly dared Aziraphale to say one more thing. He wished he'd gone and hidden rather than have Aziraphale see him like this.

'They're eggs,' said Aziraphale in tones of wonder. He sounded as though he'd been hit on the head by a brick.

'Well spotted, Sherlock.'

There was a pause while Aziraphale tilted his head this way and that, trying to get a closer look.

'Are they, um, yours?' he asked delicately. Crowley fixed him with a stare, not that he could do anything else, having no eyelids.

'Of course! Why else do you think I'd be hanging around in this shape?'

'Quite.' Aziraphale looked like he was trying not to laugh. He evidently gave in, a silly smile growing on his face. 'Are you the father or the, um, mother?'

'Oh bloody-- All right. There was this other snake. We met at the zoo, we got on, yadda yadda. You know how the story goes.'

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

'Well maybe you don't. Anyway, we went out and then-- ' He gestured with a flick of his head at the clutch of eggs.

'But didn’t you take precautions?' Aziraphale asked.

'I didn't think I had to!' Crowley snapped back. 'I mean, I didn’t expect this to happen. Who would? I must just not have been concentrating or something. Concentrating too hard. I don't know! I didn't even realise I was pregnant- just thought it was indigestion.' He lapsed into glum silence.

'So, ah, this snake was a male snake?'

'Well what do you think?' he said with heavy sarcasm.

Aziraphale just gazed at him.

'Look, I was an angel once too, you know,' Crowley snapped. 'You're not the only sexless being round here. I can be female if I choose,' he said, not meeting Aziraphale's eyes.

'Well, yes, I suppose you can.'

Crowley dropped his head dolefully back onto his coils. He'd been such a fool. That snake had turned out to be such a, a-- snake. Underneath him the eggs twitched with tiny movements. He tried hard to resent them and only made himself more angry when he couldn't.

'Oh, look,' Aziraphale breathed, leaning over, 'they're moving! When do they hatch?'

'I don’t know,' Crowley admitted.

'You don't?'

'Look, I've never done this before, all right? I'm not a bloody expert.'

'Yes, but you are a snake. Why are you a snake now anyway?'

'What would you want to give birth to? Some nice neat eggs or a big, shouting, messy baby?'

'Right, yes, I see,' Aziraphale said slowly. 'But you could change back to your usual body.'

'I thought it might be better for them if I was like this,' he said quietly, looking away.

*

They spent the next few days in an odd sort of domesticity. Aziraphale sat next to him sipping tea and watching video tapes of the Antiques Roadshow. Crowley stayed curled up on his nest, occasionally demanding milk and plates of scrambled eggs.

Aziraphale was in Crowley's spotless kitchen making a fresh vat of tea when Crowley slithered in at high speed, curled straight up his leg and up onto his shoulder.

'They're hatching,' he hissed, 'come and do something!'

Aziraphale spilled boiling water all over the counter and dropped the teapot with a crash. He disentangled Crowley gently from his arm. 'But what?' he said.

'What am I going to do with them?' moaned Crowley. 'I can’t bring them up.'

'Why not? I'm sure you'd make a fine parent, if you put your mind to it.'

'I'm a demon. We don't do pocket money and packed lunches. You'll have to do it!'

'Me? I rather think not, my dear boy.'

'Why not?'

'They're yours. What about the father?'

'Shutup!'

They watched each of the eggs twist and break to show tiny blunt-nosed black heads peeping through, their pink tongues flickering at the new, strange smells. They slithered shakily out onto Crowley's rug and stared up at him. Crowley hissed and moved closer, gently touching each of them with the tip of his tongue.

Aziraphale left them alone.

'I'm ready. Where are you?'

Aziraphale was in Crowley's study, a book propped open in front of him and a plate of sandwiches at his elbow. Crowley's voice floated up from below, strained and sharp, followed by the clatter of footsteps on the stairs. He pushed rather breathlessly into the room.

'Come on. It's time.' Under his arm was a small wooden box, carefully drilled with air holes.

There was the Bentley, which Crowley drove less frantically than usual. There was the long-haul flight during which he sat with the box on his lap the whole way, not letting Aziraphale hold it even once.

The long increasingly bumpy taxi ride to edge of the jungle. Aziraphale paid the taxi driver to wait, even though Crowley just wanted to hypnotise him. It was raining hard and the ground was muddy. Dirty water splashed up over Crowley's shoes and trousers but he didn’t seem to notice.

'Here's about right.'

Aziraphale looked about. It all looked the same to him. 'If you're sure ... '

Crowley looked at him then, in the eyes, and nodded, then knelt down and very carefully slid the lid off the box.

'Come on,' he whispered, upending it gently. Four small reluctant heads poked out, taking a few moments to get used to their new surroundings, then their tongues came out and flickered excitedly. Crowley smiled. They looked at him and he said something-- Aziraphale couldn't understand it, but the words were fluid and sibilant and sent a shiver down his spine. After a moment they slipped away, moving without a single rustle over the forest floor and into the greenery.

'Bye,' Crowley whispered, watching until there was nothing to show they'd ever been there.

'Let's go,' Aziraphale said, tugging on his arm, and led him back to the waiting taxi. The drive back to the airport was silent. Crowley stared out of the window, watching the muddy countryside and its ramshackle villages pass by in a green and brown blur.

The stewardess on the plane was very kind and at Aziraphale's request procured him hot sweet tea and a soft blanket. Crowley ignored both offerings. He was forced to fiddle with her memory in the end, much as he hated to do so. The air pressure changed subtly and he looked round at the slight movement of air. Crowley had gone, but onto his legs slithered a large black snake, patterned with red. It curled up in his lap and pushed its nose up against his hands, which were warm. He sat and stroked it all the way home.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

carmarthen.livejournal.com

I'm impressed. This could've just been bizarre, but you somehow made it...cute. Kind of sweet, in a Crowleyish way.

*pets the snakelets*

From:

the Iberio-Swiss divide

Er, I wrote mpreg!

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