Good omens || One shots

Plant abuse

They need to be beautiful.

Third POV

Aziraphale had decided to pop in for a visit. He miracled his way into Crowley's, overly comfortable lounge. The sofa was piled with fluffy blankets and a thick rug was placed delicately on the laminated floor. It was a pleasant room. Aziraphale knew that Crowley liked to be cosy, no matter how much he protested. There was proof right in front of him. In addition, he had found Crowley asleep on his sofa when he came over to visit the bookshop one time, he had snuggled himself into a massive blanket and was surrounded by at least a dozen pillow. It was rather adorable and gave Aziraphale an amazing photo to sit on his desk. 

Aziraphale jumped when he heard a loud shout from somewhere in the flat. 

"I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS, SPOTS ARE NOT ACCEPTABLE IN THIS HOUSE!"

Was that... Crowley? Who was he yelling at? Aziraphale made his way through the rooms, only to find Crowley glaring furiously at a beautiful plant. Its leaves where a vibrant green and it stood up proudly, but something was off about it... it seemed frightened. It was only small, but Aziraphale swore he could see it cowering and shivering under Crowleys gaze. 

"Say goodbye to your friend everyone." Crowley sneered at the other plants in the room, "You know what you've done," he said, addressing the plant in his hand," You've disappointed me. This is going to hurt you so much more than it is going to hurt me." 

Aziraphale's eyes widened at he realised Crowley was threatening those poor, poor plants.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed, "That plant is shaking!" he stepped up closer to take a look, "Why on earth were you being so mean to them?" 

"Discipline, they will grow well or they'll face the consequence." Crowley shrugged.

"You can't be so harsh on them, Crowley! Look how frightened they are." the angel protested.

"Don't tell me how to grow my plants." Crowley snapped angrily, "The more frightened they are, the better they grow." 

Aziraphale sighed, "They'd thrive with love. You cannot just scare them into being pretty! Spots are part of how they grow!"

"They can't have spots!" Crowley yelled, "They need to be beautiful. Besides, things you can't help get punished too, like asking questions." he added bitterly.

Aziraphale sighed again, more sadly this time, "Crowley, what are you going to do to the poor thing, look it's cowering in fear." 

Crowley grinned maliciously, "I'll take it outside and rip its leaves off one by one, bit by bit until all that is left is the stalk. Then I'll crunch it into a tiny ball and bury it alive. " he explained carefully. The plant seemed to quiver more viciously, growing smaller.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale cried, "You can't!"

"Why not?" Crowley shrugged.

"Because- because you just- you just can't!"

"Doesn't seem like a valid reason to me." Crowley strutted off, carrying the plant and heading out of the door. Aziraphale's eyes widened and he turned to the other plants.

"I'm so sorry my dears, I'll see what's happening." he apologised before clicking his fingers and appearing in the garden. He looked around and was met with a peculiar sight. Instead of ripping his plant to pieces like he had promised, Crowley was crouching infront of it apologising profusely. 

"This is equivalent to hell, much more fun. You can dance! Sorry again for scaring you and accidentally hitting you on the doorframe. I promise I love you." he finished before standing up and turning around. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he spotted Aziraphale's beaming face, "Shut up, angel." he grumbled.

"I knew you weren't that bad, in fact you're rather ni-"

"Shut up." 

"-ce..."

Crowley death stared him.

"Woops." Aziraphale giggle then transported them back into the flat, "Can you be a bit nicer to them? Less threatening?" he asked carefully. 

Crowley sighed heavily, "I suppose so, but only for you." he grumbled. Aziraphale beamed once again before pulling him into a hug. Crowley tensed for a moments but soon melted into the embrace, wrapping his long arms around the angels torso. Maybe they don't need to be perfect.

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Word count: 701