goodtobebad | open post;

[ Moving in together had gone well, all things considered. There hadn't been that many changes, after all - perhaps the presence of 'the bookseller's sharply-dressed friend' had suddenly become all the more obvious, and, sometimes, there seemed to be the faint sound of a television, music, or some kind of conversation going on behind the new decorative curtain hanging on a wall on the top floor of the shop, right by the stairs.

While the flat had originally been made thinking of Crowley's comfort, at a point resembling a smaller version of his previous residence in Mayfair, it didn't take long before it started changing into somewhat of a space clearly lived in by the both of them. Some old tomes and parchments strewn about, dark colors and tidiness being slowly consumed by more warm pastels and signs of life. It's a balance, you see, and the angel has gradually been making more use of an actual home than he did.

Then, there were the plants. Large, luscious and lively, bringing a splash of bright color to the place. Crowley's finest work, of course, and one wouldn't have expected him to change his methods just because he's sharing a space.

The angel does admire the work he puts into maintaining them, though he's commented, more than once, that perhaps a little bit of a balance is needed. Perhaps not his place, but the yelling is...well, the yelling is something. Though, more often than not, he was forced to agree with the results.

That didn't mean that, when the demon wasn't around, he didn't offer the plants some words of encouragement behind his back.

A usual morning. He's taking his time with a nice cup of tea, still in pajamas and robe - a
habit he had picked up as he'd been sleeping more often - stepping around the flat and enjoying the peace.]

Good morning, my leafy friends. [ He's also picked up the habit of greeting the plants every morning, often even spending his breakfast with them, when Crowley was otherwise away or asleep. ] My, you are looking lovely today.

Is that a new leaf coming in? My word, you've been doing such a wonderful job. Good show, well done.

Edited 2019-07-15 14:10 (UTC)

[ Moving in together had been, all things considered, a fantastic idea. Almost as good as kissing the angel - two great ideas, all rolled into one wonderful package that Crowley has been enjoying for several weeks now. Just living with the angel, having him close most of the time, and kissing him whenever he feels like it.

Yes, it's very good.

Except, perhaps, when Crowley wakes up, late in the morning, and can hear, clear as day, his angel's voice sweet-talking his plants.

He makes a low grumbling noise in his throat as he rolls out of the bed, tousled and in black silk pajama trousers (naturally). ]

Are you encouraging them to slack off?

[ The angel had been reaching to touch one of the plants, just smiling serenely at them, but he sure jumps when he hears Crowley's voice from the door.

He holds his tea with both hands now, and smiles at him like nothing's happening. Of course, one would know, Aziraphale is a terrible liar. ]

Oh, good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?

...Fine.

[ He... he did sleep quite well. He's not going to lie about that, not now!

But he's still grouchy! ]

You shouldn't -

[ He needs to not have this discussion in the same room as his plants! They will lose respect for him if they see him being nice. ]

C'mere.

[ He's going to very gently take the angel's elbow and guide him out of the plant room. ]

[ Oh, no.

He's already being pulled out of the room before he has time to protest, so he dedicates his energy in not spilling his tea.

Not that he expects Crowley to do anything drastic, he just...you know, some conversations are bothersome!

When they get to the other room, he finally speaks.]

My love, what's wrong?

[ Yes, he absolutely picked those words on purpose. ]

[ Wow that's uncalled-for! Crowley tries to glare at him but it's difficult when Aziraphale just broke out the my love like a weapon! ]

Don't... don't my love me! I told you not to sweet-talk my plants!

[ Aziraphale can be oblivious sometimes, incredibly stubborn in others, but he's also not an actual idiot. Usually, looks work, but sometimes he needs to resort to words.

Really, this is all Crowley's influence on him. Clearly. Obviously.

He sips his tea, really playing up that angelic innocence.]

I was merely checking for spots.

Yeah, and you were telling them how pretty they look in the morning sunlight or something, don't try to deny it!

[ Of course, part of the reason why he took Aziraphale out of the room is because he knows, inevitably, that he will cave on this. He'll let the angel do his nice cop routine, but the plants can't know how quickly he'll give in. ]

[ The angel sips his tea, like that's a good way to pretend innocence.

He frowns for a moment, but then, in one of his very posh, very Aziraphale, very you-are-technically-right-and-we've-spoken-about-this-before-and-I-said-I-wouldn't-but ways: ]

Well, they do.

[ He shifts slightly and practically mutters into his tea.]

You've done great work with them.

Yes, well...

[ Huff. He's crumbling. ]

You can't tell them that! They'll start to get ideas!

[ He's not sulking. Of course he isn't. ]

I was simply complimenting them on their part!

[ Well. Okay. The thing he said he wouldn't do.

Can you blame him, though?

Probably. ]

[ Crowley rolls his eyes skyward. Angel, please. ]

I can't just have them start to think they're fine the way they are, you know.

Why not?

[ Like Crowley hasn't explained it at least three times before, if not more.]

They work very hard, and they look magnificent.

Because if they start to get complacent, they'll start to grow spots.

[ And then they will be flawed, and look - Crowley isn't projecting in the slightest. ]

[ Not at all, who would ever get that idea?]

Spots are natural, it's not their fault.

My dear, I hardly think some compliments will ruin your garden.

Imperfection is completely their own fault.

[ Crowley huffs darkly. He has no real arguments in the face of Aziraphale's logic, of course, because - well. ]

[ He eyes the demon for a moment, curiously. But perhaps still putting too much of a fuss to truly notice something.]

All creatures are not perfect.

Besides, they can be helped, if it comes to it.

They know what's expected of them. I don't see any reason why they should have a second chance.

[ That... might be hitting close to home. After all, he never had a second chance. Will never have one. ]

A second chance at what exactly?

[ Granted they have had this conversation before, and Aziraphale has had to agree, more than once, to leave Crowley's plants to his own choice of management, but it's just within the angels nature to be irritantly good natured. Well, if you don't count the passive aggressive way he does so.]

...To... to grow better!

[ He waves a hand vaguely. ]

To live up to their full potential, or some rot.

I think they'd be quite content with just some water and some sunlight.

[ Okay, yes, he's very much meddling. But he tries to tone down into something sounding more calm.]

I don't quite understand why it has to be this way. [ Clearly.]

Because it's the way I want it.

[ He's seriously just pouting now, unable to come up with a better reasoning. No one's ever questioned him on this - obviously, no one has ever been allowed so far into his life to even be aware of his plants.

He suddenly feels very exposed. ]

Isn't that how you're supposed to motivate things? They know where they stand, they know what's expected of them and what will happen if they don't meet expectations.

[ 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?

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oh my good crowley, you whipped sonuvabitch

y e s

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