Chapter Text
Garden of Eden, 4004 BC
In the beginning, a little over four thousand years ago, an angel was the first to realize the inconvenience of long hair. Indulgence was, admittedly, her main sin, and once God’s creative phase was over, this angel enjoyed long, luxurious periods of brushing her wild blonde curls (ideally while being accompanied by the recently created fruits, which were among God's most lovely creations, she had to admit).
Now, however, she had more than her hands full with her gig guarding Eden. At the time of the assignment, Aziraphale was more than honored that She trusted her capabilities — although, if She saw her now, she may very well have second thoughts. While the angel landed gracefully on the wall cradling the garden, she very ungracefully spat strands of her hair out of her mouth caught once the wind blew violently. Oh, she hadn't gotten used to wind at all, yet. In heaven, all the wind only came from the flapping of angel's wings. Nothing like this bluster.
She glanced at the sky, looking at the far-away black clouds blocking the sun. They were unlike anything she had seen, and while they were feather-light, they looked so heavy and almost sad. They seemed to be the cause of the wind, she believed.
Her musing at an end, she took a furtive glance around. She considered her options. God's attention currently was elsewhere, probably on the pair that she just helped escape – er, banned from Paradise. If she miracled unnecessarily, oh, something like a sharp weapon and cut her hair, there would be questions from superiors. Not to mention, her heart ached at thinking of having to change her appearance, which she’d quite gotten used to. Surely a small miracle to make a ribbon to tie her hair wouldn't be noticed, she thought. First, it would help her to watch over the garden better. Not to mention, had she had it earlier, perhaps she would have been able to spot the intruder. So she justified the miracle, and so a delicate white ribbon appeared in her plump hand.
Meanwhile just out of the angel's hearing range slithered the loveliest of snakes. Its sable scales gleamed in the young sun's rays. After a long journey, it reached the end of the wall, crawling over in the direction of the angel. Slowly, slowly, it approached her. Snakes can't emote, but if this one could, it would be grinning once it noticed the sudden tensing in the angel’s posture, hissing softly in satisfaction.
The snake would be no more as it transformed into a red headed woman beside the angel, hair passing down her slender waist in a carefully coiffed mane. The same serpentine eyes looked the angel up and down, noticing that the other pointedly avoided looking at her. Her eyes lay firmly on the floor below, carefully manicured hands tossing her hair in the world’s first ever messy bun — if she managed to get it tied, that was.
“Well,” The redhead began, turning to look at the garden. Her voice was like the silk the angel clothed herself with, Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice. No wonder Adam was convinced. Noticing the angel wasn’t going to reply, the redhead, the demon, continued. “That went down like a lead balloon.”
The angel couldn’t help but muffle back a snort. She refused to have this stranger make her laugh, especially about the nefarious circumstances the demon herself caused. “All thanks to you.” The angel scoffed. It came out angrier than she meant it to, as her annoyance in settling her hair in place only burned more.
The demon eyed her, raising a brow. “All they told me was to get up here and make some trouble—” She began, but watching the angel struggle was distracting, frankly. She strode behind her, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice that her movements were as graceful as a human as they were as a snake. Having the demon behind her, however, was unnerving. Something settled in the pit of her stomach that didn’t have a name, but it was very much present.
The demon reached to clasp her hands. The angel to recoil, looking back as if she’d been burnt just from the touch. She’d let go of her hair to check where she was touched, likely believing that she was burnt. The curls framed her soft face, and the demon raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “All a demon wants to do is help, for once, and this is how an angel treats them?” She rolled her eyes, but the angel’s stance softened.
“A demon’s help—” The angel almost seemed like she would laugh, but she clasped her hand over her mouth. “Well, do you blame me? You were the cause of all—” she gestured in the direction of the two humans traveling in the barren desert, the wind blowing in their face. “— all this.”
“Perhaps, just perhaps—“ The demon coiled back behind her, and this time Aziraphale did not react. Finally she got her hands in the angel’s hair. It was even softer than it looked, and she hummed as she gathered it in her grip. “If you weren’t so busy fiddling with your hair, you would’ve caught me, hm?” The demon hummed as she gathered it on top of the angel’s head, and the angel was finally able to tie it in place, letting out a sigh of relief. The demon smiled, slithering back to the angel’s side, both looking at the pair.
The demon broke the silence. “I’m Crawly, by the way.” She introduced herself, looking over at Aziraphale. Aziraphale nodded, smiling politely at her, holding her hands in front of her waist. Crawly opened her mouth to ask the angel’s name, but she realized one thing.
“You know, you were the one with the big flaming sword, weren’t you?” Crawly piped up, and the hair on Aziraphale’s neck stood on end. The demon’s enthusiasm was almost palpable. “Big sword— flamed like anything.”
“Well—” The angel stammered, smiling weakly. “I did.”
The demon turned to look away once more, crossing her arms as she kept speaking. “I’m sure you could, I dunno, turn off the fire or something and cut your pretty hair, if it’s giving you this much issue.” The demon’s words would’ve likely tickled the angel’s sense of vanity, normally, but just the mention of the sword made her stomach somersault. Crawly continued. “Cut it like, just, you know, shink!” Crawly made the gesture of slashing her own hair with a sword, laughing. It almost made what Aziraphale mumbled next inaudible.
“I gave it away.”
Birds chirped in the silence.
“You what?”
Crawly’s reaction had been too fast before realizing what she said. Her mouth hung open in shock for the briefest of seconds. She wasn’t sure if she heard it right. “You gave it—”
The angel stomped in place, her arms hung tightly on her sides as she turned to face Crawly. “I gave it away!!” She said, loud enough to make birds fly off the nearby trees. It was as if the universe itself was in shock. Aziraphale took Crawly’s stunned silence as an invitation to continue. “You just— you see, they were going to be cold out there—“ She gestured wildly at the pair crawling behind some trees, “— and– and– and she’s already expecting and—”
Aziraphale almost looked like she would cry, but Crawley just snorted, averting her gaze to spare her the embarrassment. “That right?” The demon crooned, amused. “What a naughty little angel—”
“Don’t say that!” The angel huffed, but her anger turned to worry as she gazed away, biting her lip. “I’ve been fretting all day about whether… whether…”
She looked again at her companion, holding her hands up to her chest. “Do you think I did the wrong thing?”
Crawly couldn’t believe her ingenuity. She just smirked, shaking her head. “Oh, no, no, no. There’s no way an angel could do the bad thing.”
The angel, evidently, didn’t pick up the sarcasm. She paused, then beamed and sighed with relief, the demon found something charming in that. She almost felt bad for teasing her. Almost.
Crawly hummed, before commenting, “You know,” She began, letting the silence settle so Aziraphale would look. “I was wondering if I did the right thing, myself.” She snorted, nudging the angel’s ribs. “With the apple and all.” Aziraphale looked like she relaxed a bit, smiling.
Crawly saw the glow of the sword in the bushes. The humans were making good use of the sword already, clever little creatures. She twirled one of her own curls with her finger before turning to look at the angel, grinning. “Would be funny, eh?” She asked, “If I did the right thing and you did the bad one.”
To her surprise, Aziraphale let out a laugh. Not a guffaw, not throwing her head back cackling, but more than Crawly expected. Just as quickly, though, she realized what she did and turned to look away, shaking her head to save face. “No, no, absolutely not.”
The demon sighed, rolling her shoulder as they watched the world’s first storm gather. “No, I…” The angel stretched her white wing, covering the demon’s head with her wing from the first raindrops in history. “I suppose not.”
And so it rained. Crawly simply took the scene in, but Aziraphale couldn't help but wonder if this was bad or good. The plants seemed to thrive under the droplets, but it made the Adam and Eve's steps heavier as they sunk further into the sandy floor. Were they tears from God? Surely not, as She knew everything. Her plan was, of course, ineffable.