Title: Ophidian Evidence
Author: Macx & Lara Bee
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Fandom: Good Omens/CSI
Rating: PG-13
Series: 1) Whole, 2) Gravitation, 3) Undeniable, 4) Warmth, 5) One Man's Demon, 6) Millennium, 7) Convergence, 8) Adjustment, 9) Consequences, 10) Mimicry, 11) Modification, 12) Incomplete, 13) London - Indiana, 14) An Angel and a Demon Walk Into a Bar, 15) And the World Still Turns, 16) What's in a Name, 17) Who You Gonna Call?, 18) Body Heat, 19) Interlude, 20) Physical, 21) The Gift
Summary: Crowley ends up as evidence in a CSI case...***
The call had been an easy one. A B&E at a local store. No bodies, no garbage dump, nothing out of the ordinary, except for… well, the evidence. Nothing had been stolen, as it seemed. Only a few items had been turned over, opened and spilled.
Dr. Gil Grissom, supervisor of the graveyard shift, had been on call and he had taken it, driving to the small store where he had already been expected.
There was also a van from animal control.
One eyebrow rose, slightly surprised, and he walked over to where Detective Vartann was already expecting him.
"It was a quiet night until this call," the tall man remarked dryly.
"So it seems. What do you have for me?"
"Breaking and entering." Vartann flipped open his notebook. "The owner, Mr. Suleyman Yilmaz, heard the alarm around 2 a.m. and called the police. They arrived ten minutes later. No visible signs of a forced entry, but some items had been disturbed and they found, well… come with me."
Vartann gestured at the CSI to come with him and Grissom followed, mystified, still carrying his silver crime scene kit. He nodded at one of the beat cops and entered the store where the lights had been switched on. It didn't really look like the scene of a crime, aside from a more or less scavenged rack of potato chips, some broken bottles of milk, and a red apple that had been nabbed off the fruit basket. There were no marks that someone had tried to open or steal the register. The small electronics section was undisturbed. Not even the newspapers and magazines had been ransacked.
But in the middle of the mess sat a rather stunned looking…
"A snake?" Grissom asked, both brows rising.
The snake looked at him, obviously taking offence by his tone of voice, though it didn't move.
"Yeah. It's been here since the patrol car arrived."
And if Grissom didn't know it any better, it looked like the snake had gobbled down several bags of potato chips, two cartons of milk, and whatever it had planned with the apple, it had been interrupted.
But snakes didn't eat any of the aforementioned items.
At least to his knowledge.
His field of speciality was Entomology, and reptiles and insects usually didn't come up together in the books he read.
While not being the resident expert, to Grissom the reptile appeared bloated, and it looked kind of… sick.
"That must be some joke," Vartann went on. "We're just waiting for you to take a few photos, then animal control will remove the snake."
So Grissom did just that, studying the living evidence with curiosity. He had found stranger and weirder things at crime scenes, but the whole set-up was what made him wonder what this was about. He didn’t recognize what kind of snake it was, but looking at it, those unblinking eyes studying him just as much as he was studying the reptile, Grissom had the brief impression that it knew… something.
Animal control came in after he was done and the snake was removed with a minimum of fuss. It really did look sick, not moving much, not even trying to twist away from its captors. Then again, the greenish look could just be... a snake-thing.
Turning to the rest of the scene, Grissom began to snap more pictures while he examined the puzzle pieces of his latest crime scene.
* * *
The snake was evidence. As such, it should be in the evidence vault or one of the secure lockers, but with it being still alive that wasn’t an option. So a tank had been procured, the snake had been placed into its new habitat, and one of the lab techs was looking after their charge.
Grissom had called on one of his people, Nick Stokes, to help with the B&E case and the two men were now looking at the dark green and slightly blackish reptile.
“Can snakes leave finger prints?” Nick mused out loud, smiling mischievously as Grissom shot him a scowl.
“We haven’t identified what kind of snake it is yet,” the graveyard supervisor said. “We also don’t know how it got in. The owner claims he has never seen it before and he doesn’t own one. I found no open windows, no door ajar, and no breaks anywhere a snake this size could fit through.
Nick studied the mysterious reptile and for some reason it felt like it was looking back at him with the same air of curiosity. Currently John Doe the Snake, as it had been dubbed, was curled up under a red light bulb that was warming the cold-blooded animal and it seemed to be content.
“Maybe some other customer left it in there. A prank from a bunch of local kids. Could also be someone just dumping it, trying to get rid of it.”
Grissom’s expression told him that neither theory sat with his boss, and Nick didn’t feel like that was an explanation either. He had had people drowned in a desert and a diver up in a tree, but a snake gorging itself on potato chips in a convenience store? That must be strangest thing ever. Then again, there was always a way to top strange by more strange.
“We need to examine the evidence,” Grissom interrupted his thoughts.
Nick’s brows shot up. “The snake?”
“The snake.”
“It might be poisonous.”
“Which is why we let an expert handle the snake while we have a look at what evidence might be on it. Or in it.”
Nick was almost sure the snake was staring at them with wide-eyed horror.
* * *
There was nothing ground-breaking to be found either inside John Doe or on its skin. Squirming as it was held down, the snake had been rather unhappy about having a CSI poke and prod at it, though Grissom had been careful and gentle with the animal while an expert made sure it couldn’t bite, but it had to be uncomfortable nevertheless. X-rays revealed nothing but what was to be expected inside a snake. Grissom had even dusted the dark green scales with finger print powder, though with little luck, unless making a snake sneeze counted.
It had resulted in a surprised expression in the supervisor’s face and the snake glaring at him in disgust. If it had been able to sniffle, it would have done so.
Grissom sat in his office, gazing at the tank with its closed lid, the red light lamp, the sand and the piece of wood to make their guest feel more at home, and he wondered just what it was that kept him on his toes around the animal. No one had been able to identify the snake just yet, aside from placing it into the boidae family, though there had been some close relatives their local expert had been able to name, but he wasn’t sure this was a distant cousin of them.
John Doe remained a mystery.
Checking the video footage of the store had been a dead end. The cameras installed were fakes, and the store owner had seen no one and nothing, as he claimed. He was more interested in his insurance claims and opening his store once more to the public.
“You should feed it,” Nick’s voice drew Grissom out of his thoughts.
Gil nodded at a small cage with live white mice. “I already thought about it. Animal control left them with me.”
“So, you gonna keep John Doe?” Stokes teased.
“Highly unlikely. We will leave it in the care of Animal Control.”
The snake moved restlessly, exploring its home, then it curled up again under the lamp after a while.
“You think it understands us?” Nick wanted to know, peeking into the tank.
“It’s a snake, Nick. While animals do respond to our voices, to the sounds we make, they don’t understand the words or the meaning behind them.”
“That’s dogs, Gris. This is a snake and I feel like it’s listening in on us.”
Grissom’s eyebrows rose a little and his lips twitched. Nick just grimaced.
"Don't tell me I've been watching to many horror movies."
"Why should I when you say it?" was the reply.
Another grimace.
“I’m ready to go. You coming?”
The older man walked over to the mouse cage. “After I leave it with something to eat.”
A white mouse was dumped into the snake tank and it scurried around, nose twitching.
The snake watched it, not making a move to go for its prey, then the head turned slightly to gaze at Grissom. It was as if wanted to say 'You can't be serious! I'm not eating that.'
The mouse moved in front of the reptile, but there was still no movement, only a tightening of the curls. The mouse sniffed at the much larger and very warm animal with it in this tank, coming nose to nose with its enemy, but the snake ignored it.
Quite confused, the mouse decided that the other end of the tank was nice, too. Gil Grissom just studied the strange animal, feeling the same confusion about the situation.
* * *
Animal control came in form of a blond man in a white overall, looking like he would rather wear something else, be somewhere else, and probably do something else. He left the distinct impression of a book salesman on those who he met, all of them just smiling at the nice guy from Animal Control, answering his polite inquiries as to where the snake was, and most forgot what he looked like after five seconds. Just his good manners and general niceness stuck.
Grissom happened to walk in on their visitor as he was preparing to take the snake out of the tank and into a special carrier.
And he was talking to the snake.
“Of course they feed you mice,” the blond said as he lifted the animal, looking it over with care and carelessness in one.
It was obvious he had handled snakes before, but he was taking no precautions concerning bites from a possibly dangerous creature. He was actually lifting the wedge-shaped head with a finger under the snake’s chin, gazing into the lidless eyes.
“No, you want to do that,” he said, as if the snake had just suggested something.
Grissom detected a clear British accent and the whole manner of the man was unlike any animal control guy he had ever met.
“I don’t care how good you feel now. No, no, I won't do that. No, I won't. Stop suggesting such demonic things, my dear. We'll solve this the normal way.”
The snake curled its lower half around the man’s arm and he smiled a little.
“You’re welcome. Now please get into the carrier, dear, so we can leave?”
A soft hiss could be heard.
“No. Like I said, we do it my way. And stop commenting on my get-up. It was your idea to come here, and you let yourself go. Now shush.”
Grissom studied the scene of the man talking to their evidence snake with the detachment of a scientist looking at a bug under a microscope. People talked to animals, but rarely did employees of AC talk to those they had been called to remove, pick up or detain.
The snake looked miserable as it was placed into the carrier.
When the blond turned, their eyes met and Grissom was given a pleasant, calm and very nice smile.
"Hello, Dr. Grissom."
Grissom’s eyes flicked between the carrier and the man. The calm smile stayed, widening even.
“I’ll take good care of him.”
Grissom couldn’t argue with that statement. For some reason he knew that the blond would. So he just nodded.
“Thank you for keeping him safe, Dr. Grissom,” the other man went on. “I have been looking all over town.”
“You lost him?” Grissom heard himself asking, his natural curiosity coming through once more.
“He was… displaced. It was of course purely accidental.”
Grissom gazed at the carrier. The snake looked back, a bit more lively and perky than before.
“We will try not to repeat this unpleasant experience, though it might be more unpleasant for Crowley than me.”
Grissom studied the snake, Crowley. The lively look had made way for a scolded one, closely followed by embarrassment.
“He was found at a convenience store, eating potato chips.”
The man sighed, looking at the snake in the carrier. “Yes, he does have his vices.”
“Snakes don’t eat fast food,” Grissom found the need to point out.
This whole conversation appeared surreal, but he was unable to think why. He couldn’t pull away, leave, call for someone to stop this man who clearly wasn’t from Animal Control. He was bound to stay here and talk about Crowley the snake.
“He has an unhealthy addiction to certain things.”
The snake grumbled. With a little hiss at the end.
“You’re not from around here,” Grissom stated, sure in that knowledge. “And you’re not from Animal Control.”
The man looked chagrined. “It’s so obvious?” he wanted to know, embarrassment in his voice.
“The accent is a giveaway.”
“Oh. Well. Yes.”
“And animal control usually doesn’t talk to snakes.”
“Ah. It’s a habit. Crowley doesn’t normally look like that.”
Yes, this was getting weirder and weirder.
“I think we should leave now,” the obvious Brit murmured.
Grissom couldn’t argue against it, thought it was against everything he knew. Here was a stranger whose name he didn’t know, taking away evidence by the name of Crowley, and Grissom felt it was just the right thing.
The blond walked past him and through the hallways, no one questioning him, no one stopping him. Grissom simply watched until he had disappeared, fascinated and confused. And with the disappearance of the man, the recollection of the conversation between him and the snake, the whole weirdness, melted into nothingness.
“Gil?”
He blinked as if to clear his head, then turned to look at Nick. “Yes?”
“I’m ready to go. How about it?”
He nodded, a bit absent-mindedly.
“You okay, man?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I am.”
“Long day?”
Grissom didn’t answer, just looked down the corridor.
Nick gave him a critical look, then seemed to accept it. “Okay. You want to go for breakfast or home?”
The blue eyes reflected a smile. “I think I’d prefer home.”
Nick’s dimpled smile lit up his whole face. There was a mischievous glint in his brown eyes.
“See you at home,” he only said and walked into the locker room.
Grissom went into his office to shut down the computer, the snake forgotten.
* * *
Somewhere else entirely the snake had not forgotten and wouldn’t any time soon.
“This is degrading,” Crowley muttered.
“It’s your own fault, my dear,” Aziraphale replied, fussing about his charge. “You were the one playing around with a dangerous, magical object.”
“It was an apple, angel!”
“It was a cursed object!”
“Aren’t they always?” Crowley sighed and twisted his snake body a little.
“And you just had to eat all those unhealthy foods.”
“Oh please!” There was an exasperated hiss. “I happened to be displaced, halfway across town, ended up in a convenience store, and those transformations make me hungry!”
The angel sat down next to the agitated snake and petted Crowley’s head. The snake calmed a little, seeking more body contact, which Aziraphale had no problem granting.
“How long is this magical seal going to last?”
“From what I can detect, you should be able to change back into your human shape soon,” was the absent-minded answer. “Do you know if they took the apple to the crime lab as well?”
“How should I bloody know? I was locked up in a blessed reptile tank! And they fed me mice. Mice, angel!”
Another pat. “Dear… calm down. It’s bad for you.”
“Apples are bad for me,” was the sullen answer.
Aziraphale smiled a little. “You discover that now?”
Snakes can’t really stick out their tongues, but this one gave a good impression of doing so, sulking silently.
“We need to find the apple, Crowley. Someone used it as a carrier for a very potent curse.”
“I noticed,” was the grumpy reply.
“We have to neutralize it.”
“It neutralized itself, Zira.”
Blue eyes studied the demon. “It did?”
“I was apparently too much for it.” There was a smug tone to the snake’s voice. “After it did its trick, it became a simple apple again. The guy in the store probably already sold it.” Crowley wriggled a little and slid onto the angel’s lap.
Aziraphale stroked over the smooth scales. “That’s a relief.”
All that was left was to wait for Crowley to take human shape again. It would take some time, but it would happen. And then they could finally leave this place and return to their home in London.
“I think those two are at it like rabbits,” Crowley remarked out of the blue.
“Dr. Grissom and Mr. Stokes?”
“Yep. Radiating it enough for everyone to see it, if they actually looked. Nobody is, though.” Crowley looked smug. “It was blazing obvious. Like rabbits.”
Aziraphale chuckled. “I noticed their closeness.”
“Rabbits,” Crowley repeated.
“Not that another person’s love-life should be of interest to you.”
“I’m a demon, Zira. It’s what we notice. Angels, too.”
“Of course I noticed.”
“See? Fucking like rabbits and radiating it like Chernobyl.”
Aziraphale gathered the snake closer and settled back on the bed, radiating warmth and contentment.
“I think you should be more interested in your own state than another’s at the moment.”
The snake almost leered. Well, it did, actually. “I’m very interested in my state – at the moment. I like where it put me.” Crowley contracted his muscles a little, moving over smooth skin and some t-shirt fabric. “Very much,” he purred.
And for a snake, he purred very, very well.
* * *
Crowley stretched, felt vertebrae crack and he flexed his fingers, delighting in their feel. He was upright, he was bipedal, had hands and fingers and arms and legs and everything else associated with a human form.
Damn, it felt good.
Just because he needed to check them he stretched out his wings, the midnight black appendages glistening healthily. He moved them, feathers brushing against the walls, and he smiled more, an undemonic happiness in his eyes. The emotion was reflected in sky blue orbs that watched him with a warm expression.
“How do you feel?” Aziraphale wanted to snow.
“Wonderful,” Crowley purred and grabbed the angel around the waist, pulling him close.
"Apparently."
"What gave it away?" Crowley started to nuzzle and kiss a warm path up one side of Aziraphale's neck.
With just another move they were on the bed.
Aziraphale didn’t fight much against the loving contact, aside from a squirm to get into a more comfortable position, and then he was covered by one horny demon and silky black feathers.
Moans filled the room, followed by gasps and other noises closely related to two beings making love.
***
Next story in series - Stakes.