aziraphale and crowley have a cottage to themselves. the demon’s nearly asleep in the hammock, basking in the heat of the sun. leisurely swinging his foot as he listens to aziraphale fuss with the garden. they grow easily, flourish under his touch as he speaks to them, “yes, yes, that dastardly demon doesn’t understand you, does he? no.” he tuts, “i’ll ensure he throws none of you out.” really just mumbling to himself.
and crowley speaks up, his voice thick in that drowsy sort of way, only to tell aziraphale to stop undermining him, “i can hear you, you know."
but he’s smiling.
Good cop bad cop with the plants~~~







