goodtobebad | open post;

[ Okay, this... This is getting to a point that Aziraphale finds a bit disconcerting. All creatures are creatures, including plants, and maybe he's digging his nose somewhere he shouldn't, but this is a bit much.

He gives Crowley a look.]

And, what? Just-- get tossed aside if they make a mistake?

[ Or if they try to step out of the norm?

Is there a different between an honest mistake and a purposeful one? ]

Well, yes.

[ He looks a little uncomfortable, then sighs. ]

I don't destroy them, you know. I. Give them to other people.

[ People who will love and care for them despite their imperfections, because in the end, that's perhaps what he's always wanted for himself. Not to go back to Heaven. To find something else. ]

[ Maybe one day he'll find it. If he hasn't.

Aziraphale blinks, pausing, maybe starting to feel a bit silly about this.

However, it's not the first time even he's assumed Crowley was capable of doing worse than he really does. ]

You... Do?

...Yeah.

But don't tell them that.

I mean, if they knew, they'd all grow spots and then I'd have none left. If they knew - that being imperfect would mean they'd wind up happier than ever.

[ Did... he just say that aloud? ]

[ He certainly said something that causes Aziraphale to pause and be entirely too unsure of how to proceed.]

... My dear? [ More of a question than a call.

He heard that, Crowley. He's been trying to do a better job at listening.]

What?

[ He shrugs, and waves a vague hand. ]

Look, if you really want to play good cop... fine. But it's on you if they start falling short.

[ He's still looking at him with questioning concern.]

Will you... Still give them away?

Or you can have them, if you want them so much.

[ He smiles faintly then. ]

It’s a little poetic, you have to admit. You, taking in the cast-offs and loving them.

[ Ah.

He can't really bring himself to pull up a polite smile. Instead, he just watches him for a moment, then gingerly steps closer and rests a hand on his arm.]

My dear... What is this about?

[ Like he can't guess.]

Nothing!

[ He’s flustered. He shrugs and closes the space between them, taking Aziraphale’s face between his hands for a kiss. ]

I love you. Even if you do ruin my plants.

Oh-

[ Well, he's not about to say no to a kiss. He also can't exactly push him much farther, no matter how obvious it is that there's something else afoot here.

Was he that blind?

He holds onto one of Crowley's wrists with his free hand.]

I love you too, my darling. But--

[ But...that won't work. He gives him another concerned look.

But he takes the cue, for now.]

Would you like some tea?

Sure.

[ Tea, right.

Obviously, Aziraphale is blind, not taking the opportunity to jump the shirtless demon who's currently kissing him, but oh well. They'll get there.

He just has to get used to the idea of someone else having access to his plants. ]

[ They'll get there. There's other matters at hand.

He does pull him along to the kitchen - the plants can go ignored for now, and Aziraphale will try not to be too loud in his doting -, and serves Crowley a nice cup of tea.

When he sits, he does try to keep casual for a while.

A little bit.

And he fails, constantly giving Crowley very not subtle glances over his cup.]

You’re fretting. Stop. I’m fine.

[ He does look rather relaxed, though he spiked his tea with whiskey. ]

I’m actually perfectly happy and content right now, even despite the fact that you’re going to spoil my plants rotten.

I didn't say anything.

[ He just, you know, is implying it. With his face. Across the table. Incredibly obviously.

He finishes up his tea.

Silence, for only a couple more seconds.]

So, you give them away.

Yes, yes, say it louder so they can all hear.

[ He waves an irritable hand. ]

Thought you'd be happy to know that.

[ The angel smiles affectionately. ]

I am.

I think it's...nice of you.

[ Ah, forbidden words. ]

Well... there you go.

[ See? He's not even denying it. ]

I want to scare them, not destroy them.

I would say you've done a fantastic job at that.

[ By how absolutely the energy changes when Crowley's doing his gardening.

Sometimes Aziraphale can hear him from the shop. And so can the errant customer.

He thinks for a moment, like he's deciding on whether or not he should say this. He takes a short breath.]

I was just...wondering. About what you said.

About what?

[ He raises an eyebrow. Aziraphale is going to have to do the work here. He said it, he doesn't think he needs to repeat himself. Hmph! ]

[ Oh, you know how good Aziraphale is at deep personal talks. You know, half of the time. ]

About... perfection? And expectation?

[ Those blue eyes are staring right at you, Crowley.]

Yeah. I said what I said, angel. That's how I remember things.

[ He adds another shot of whiskey to his teacup. ]

Before I fell.

[ Well, that was easier than he expected. Crowley's quite the open book, lately. ]

Is that so? [ Not a hint of doubt to him despite his choice in words, just the implied 'do you need to talk about it?'.]

I mean... yeah. I didn't choose to fall. I didn't wake up one day and say, oh yeah maybe today I'll just say fuck you to God and start a big row. I just messed up. I didn't meet expectations.

[ He shrugs. ]

I see. [ Kind of a dry answer, not that this has been the first time Crowley's mentioned the level of purposefulness in his falling. He looks thoughtful for a moment.

Despite all the times Aziraphale's casted on him an image well attributed to demons ever since the original fell, he doesn't quite feel the urge to do so at this time.

One could wonder why.

But one wouldn't wonder for very long, if they tried. ]

I suppose that can't be helped.

[ Which are probably not the right words for right now, but he doesn't know what else to say. ]

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shot number two and it's not even noon

HE'S A DEMON

party on, demon guy