Chapter Text
“GROW, you sad excuse of a plant,” growled Crowley, trying to put the fear of, well Crowley, into the plant. The leaves of the plant were almost touching the ground, but that didn’t stop it from quivering terribly.
“Is that weakness I see.” It was a rhetorical question, but with great effort, the plant starts to lift its leaves from the ground. Droplets of water slowly start to show on each leave, just to go down its stems. The quivering increases, but the strain proves to be too much, and in exhaustion the leaves go back down.
“Pathetic.”
Crowley’s mouth turns into a snarl as he looks away from the plant and starts to pace around the room. Every single plant was trying to blend in with the background. Dramatically pulling his glasses off his nose, he points an accusatory finger at the yellowish spots on the plant’s leaves. “How dare you,” he gasps.
“This is highly offensive.” He throws his arms out and resumes his pacing. “You are my plant, and you will show some respect.” He punctuates his speech with heavy stamping of his feet.
“Did I water you? Of course, I did. Did I overwater you? Of course, I didn’t.” He proves his point by jabbing his slender finger into its soil. It feels perfect to him. The perfect growing conditions, but apparently, some plants can’t appreciate that.
“You had water, sunlight - my love. And this is how you repay me,” Crowley snarls. Serpent boy sighs heavily and suddenly sits down on the ground. He rests his head on the palm of his hand and stares intensely at the offending plant.
Who do these plants think they are?! He thought. His garden was nothing but perfect, and that behaviour was unacceptable. Yellowish spots were bluntly staring at Crowley, almost screaming of failure. That mediocrity just won’t cut it.
“You disgrace of a plant; I will throw you out the window,” the demon threatens. His mouth stretches into a smile that is more fang than real teeth. With slow predatorial movements, he fluidly creeps towards the plant that yet again starts to shake.
“I can show you why we don’t do those here,” with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes he walks away; just to be back a second later with a single empty pot hanging from his fingers.
“Remember your friend Tom,” Crowley questions, while he dangles the pot ominously in the air and spins around for all the plants to see.
It has the desired effect on the occupants of the room. The silence was deafening. Every heavy step Crowley took seemed to resonate across the space, making every plant jump. Stopping in the middle of the room, the dark shadows outreached from Crowley, enveloping everything in the shades of black.
“He was such a model plant,” Crowley spoke darkly and slowly, “never causing any issues.” He made a long pause. Crowley took his sweet time to drag his fingernails on the pot; the sound echoed around them. Tom was such a lovely plant, he thought. To Crowley, the caress was full of admiration and pride; but to the plants, it was the most disturbing picture.
Getting lost in the depths of his own thoughts, Crowley removes his sunglasses and puts them in his hair. The action leaves his eyes exposed. In the darkness, golden eyes are shining brightly, yet they have a hint of fog in them.
Is it because of something I have done? The demon was doubting himself on the inside, and rethinking every recent action taken in his home garden.
The silence was interrupted by the sound of leaves shaking. That broke Crowley out of his thoughts. His head snaps to attention, and with it, the fog in his eyes and the darkness of the room disappeared. His attention, once again, on that one plant.
“Until he did.” Crowley puts the pot in front of the plant and points at it. “Do you want to know what happened to him,” the demon asks.
To Crowley, the sounds in the room made him feel like he was in some windy forest. On the inside, he was smiling with satisfaction.
Tom, in fact, was fine. He was given as a gift to Book Girl, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Let me tell you a story,” he speaks lowly, with a hint of something that carried an innate feeling of danger.
***
Aziraphale, like every night at 8 pm, was enjoying a good book and a cup of tea. Usually, the only sound accompanying this activity was the sound of a turning page, but today Crowley was expectationally loud in the adjacent room. However, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him, so Aziraphale didn’t pay it any mind.
He was engrossed in this one particularly fascinating passage in the book, when he noticed the quietness of the place. Is he finally done tending to his plants? Aziraphale thought. But Crowley was nowhere to be seen. In his place, weird shadows started crawling out of the room, which caught the attention of the Angel. Uncanny, he thought.
Walking towards the room, he can make out Crowley’s soft voice. He stops in the doorway. The picture of his partner speaking softly to his plants brings a fond smile to Aziraphale’s face.
“My dear boy, leave them be.” Aziraphale decides to stop Crowley’s soft, yet disturbing monologue about some macabre death of a previous plant.
Crowley freezes and suddenly looks at his angel.
“They need to know what they did.” He sneers at the plants around him.
Aziraphale glances at the still trembling plants in the room. “I believe you succeeded.”
That makes Crowley stop. After a second of silence, the demon adds, “I need them in perfect condition.”
The Angel smiles lovingly at the demon. “They look as stunning as you do,” he says as a matter of fact. At that moment, he has the pleasure of watching Crowley grow red on his face and splutter, struggling for some kind of answer. His boy was beautiful when baffled and embarrassed.
While looking at his own feet, Crowley slowly joins Aziraphale in the doorway. He leans on his angel and touches their foreheads together, in turn, Aziraphale’s hands go to the demon’s hips. They both have their eyes closed, basking in each other’s closeness. It is unclear who moved first, but it was definitely Crowley who placed a soft peck on Aziraphale’s lips.
They look lovingly into each other’s eyes. Aziraphale raises his hand to caress Crowley’s cheek. The demon closes his eyes and savours the feeling. “Join me for dinner,” Aziraphale asks, breaking the silence. The question draws a laugh from the demon. “I am quite peckish,” the angel continues with a smile.
“Of course,” Crowley agrees in a heartbeat and kisses Aziraphale on the forehead. However, instead of going to the kitchen, the demon walks back towards the plant and kneels in front of it.
Aziraphale watches as his partner sighs heavily as he looks in deep concentration at that one offending plant. After what seemed like forever to Aziraphale, Crowley starts to caress the leaves and rearrange them. Every touch holds purpose, yet at the same time feels feathery light and full of compassion.
In a doorway, Aziraphale calmly waits for his demon to be done. Eventually, Crowley slowly gets back to his feet, and takes one last look at the plant before he walks away. Usually, Aziraphale has eyes only for the beautiful creature in front of him; however, this time, something else also catches his attention. Over Crowley’s shoulder, the plant starts to slowly move its leaves back up.
In passing, Crowley touches Aziraphale’s arm, but the angel’s attention is on the plant that by now started glowing softly. Aziraphale was trying to understand what he was seeing. He didn’t cast any miracles, Crowley for sure didn’t, so was it some kind of trick that demon was playing? Aziraphale thought.
“Angel,” Crowley asks, breaking Aziraphale out of his deep thoughts.
The question startles Aziraphale, “Yes, dear,” he inquires. The only answer is an unimpressed-looking demon with one eyebrow raised. “Yes. Dinner. Right.”
Aziraphale follows Crowley, but not before giving the plant one last confused look. He promises to check on it tomorrow.