Happy Holidays, hoshi_ryo!
Title: Release
Recipient: hoshi_ryo
Pairings: None (Could be seen as A/C if you're wearing slash goggles)
Rating: Gen
Summary: Crowley asks Aziraphale to watch his plants. What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: No porn, referenced abuse of plants
The Apocalypse had been and gone, and the Earth was still pretty much okay. Adam Young had seen to that. Everything stayed pretty much the same.
Except, of course, that it didn't. Nothing ever did, after all. If Armageddon hadn't ended up being Armageddidn't, then which ever side had taken over would have inevitably kept things pretty much the same forever, an eternity of either torment or The Sound of Music.1 Since that didn't happen, Earth continued on pretty much as usual, which was to say in a state of constant change. 2
Unfortunately, as far as Below was concerned, most of the important changes were going on in the United States, which meant that Crowley began having to spend a great deal of time there.
He still lived in England, of course. He wasn't a barbarian. Oh, he kept an apartment in New York for the longer assignments, but it was even less lived-in than the one in Mayfair. It had a perfectly stylish furniture set right out of one of the more pretentious magazines, of course; it was Crowley's. But it lacked the one fundamental touch that differentiated between an apartment Crowley kept and an apartment Crowley lived in.
It didn't have any plants.
Crowley always kept plants. 3 Aziraphale thought that it was because of some subconscious longing for either Eden or Heaven, but since the last time he had brought that particular theory up Crowley hadn't spoken to him for more than a year, the angel tended to keep his mouth shut on the subject these days.
Crowley's flat in Mayfair did have plants. Giant, luscious, gorgeous plants that were kept in this state through terror of Crowley. Unfortunately, plants were living things, and could therefore not be kept in perfect condition and proper working order through sheer force of demonic will, like most of his appliances and the Bentley. They could get by on much less than ordinary plants, but occasionally Crowley was forced to spend more time in the United States than even his plants could go without water. Which meant finding someone to water them for him.
Normally, under such circumstances, it was a simple matter to engage the help of the sweet little old lady who lived a floor under him. She thought he was a dear young man, and that he and Aziraphale made a “sweet couple.” Occasionally, she would bring up some sort of baked good.
She also had the exact opposite of a green thumb. She was quite fond of plants, but they weren't fond of her. At all. By the time Crowley returned from whatever jaunt Hell had sent him off on, they were usually relieved to have him back. 4
Unfortunately, this time, she was unavailable. Normally Crowley made sure to maintain her good health through surreptitious use of occult power, 5 but unfortunately some things were beyond his ability to deal with. Such as her sister who lived in Sussex, who had apparently broken a bone or come down with something. Crowley hadn't bothered to learn the details; what was important was that his customary plant-sitter was unavailable.
Crowley did not have a backup plant-sitter. The idea that he might need one had never occurred to him. He was used to the things in his life ordering themselves as he wished, with very few exceptions, 6 and she had never been one before.
Crowley ran through a list of options in his head and blessed under his breath when he realized he really only had one.
…
Aziraphale had been delighted when Crowley asked him to look after his plants for him while he was away. 7 Crowley's plants were absolutely gorgeous, of course, plants Crowley kept always were somehow, but somehow they never seemed quite... happy to Aziraphale. It would be wonderful to be able to cheer them up a bit.
The door to Crowley's flat opened easily. 8 Aziraphale had been there in the past, of course, but this was the first time he was present without the demon also being there. It seemed quieter, somehow, without Crowley's usual snark.
Brushing aside the thought, Aziraphale turned to the plants. Technically, he was just supposed to put a little water in their pots, and maybe mist the leaves a little, but the odds of that happening were worse than a snowball's chance in Heaven. 10
“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said to Crowley's ficus as he inexpertly squirted the mister at a few leaves. Crowley had said that he kept his plants this nice by talking to them, after all. Surely he wouldn't be upset at Aziraphale doing the same.
The plant shrank away at Aziraphale's regard. All the poor plant knew was that this person came by often with The Scary Thing, 11 and that The Scary Thing seemed to like it. In the ficus' book, that meant that it was probably bad news.
Aziraphale wasn't sure why the ficus was leaning away from him, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. “Are you alright?” he crooned gently. “Is something wrong?”
It took several minutes of coaxing, but apparently the plant eventually decided he wasn't a threat. It seemed almost pathetically grateful for the attention after that, leaning towards Aziraphale and rustling its leaves whenever he spoke.
One by one, the same treatment was applied to the other plants. Some12 were easier to win over than others, but they all appeared to need a great deal of coaxing before they would relax.
If Aziraphale had realized exactly what was happening, just what it was that Crowley did to keep his plants green and lovely, he might have tried a different tack. One that was slower, for one thing. Because, you see, Aziraphale knew something that Crowley didn't. 13
Fear represses.
Oh, not always. An isolated fear to an immediate threat-being chased by a bear in the woods, for example-will usually result in a burst of energy in order to remove the danger. Persistent fear, on the other hand, such as the kind caused by dictators and abusers and demons who own plants, has a degrading effect over time. One scrunches over and tries not to be seen.
In the case of Crowley's plants, not being seen entailed not being any shabbier than the rest, so each ended up lush and verdant. On the other hand, none wanted to be the absolute best, as that too would attract the attention of their cruel master.
When a human spends a long time under a great deal of stress, the sudden removal of the stressor tends to produce a rush of endorphins. Plants don't have endorphins, but that doesn't mean something similar can't happen to them.
…
When Crowley returned, two weeks later, the first sign of trouble was the door. The frame was cracked, the door itself was askew, and tendrils were escaping through all the gaps.
The second sign was when he opened the door and discovered his flat was completely filled with greenery. He assumed it was complete, in any case. It was certainly blocking the door.
He had to stop and stare, for a moment. He had never imagined that asking Aziraphale to look after his plants was going to turn out well, but he had no idea what the angel could have done that would have caused this.
1. Crowley had been honestly unsure which would be worse. Aziraphale was much better at hewing to the party line, but privately his opinion had more in common with Crowley's than he liked to admit.
2. Also known as progress, in most cases. Aziraphale might have disagreed, although he was unlikely to say so in Crowley's presence. The demon was already far too happy to mock him for being behind the times as it was.
3. Not always the same plants, of course; the high turnover rate was one of the keys to Crowley's success in keeping them so frightenedly beautiful.
4. For about five seconds.
5. Only so she could make sure his plants were kept in top-terrified condition, of course.
6. Only two persistent exceptions, really: Hell and Aziraphale. The difference was that Aziraphale tended to result in things that Crowley would otherwise never have thought to wish for.
7. Aziraphale was terribly sympathetic with Crowley for having to go to the States in the first place, of course, but it simply couldn't be helped. It was simply something that happened sometimes.
8. Crowley hadn't bothered to give Aziraphale a key, but Aziraphale was just as proficient at imposing his will on inanimate objects as Crowley was, if frequently less blatant about it. (9)
9. He wasn't, but he liked to tell himself he was.
10. While there are parts of Hell that are full of fire and brimstone, there are also parts that are frozen wastelands, which means that depending on where exactly in Hell it was a snowball might have a very decent chance indeed. Heaven, on the other hand, is always warm and sunny.
11. Crowley
12. Mostly the younger ones, who hadn't spent as much time in Crowley's clutches yet.
13. In reality it wasn't so much that Crowley didn't know it,(14) as that he hadn't thought to apply a principle about people to his plants.
14. He could hardly have watched human civilization for 6,000 years without learning it, after all.
Acknowledgements:
The idea that Aziraphale believes Crowley's penchant for keeping plants to come from a desire to return to either Eden or Heaven, and Crowley's displeasure with the idea, are not mine. They come from another fanfiction. Unfortunately I do not recall which one at the moment.
The idea of a sweet little old lady living in the flat under Crowley's I attribute to our lovely irisbleufic. If I recall correctly, she has showed up in multiple stories, although I do not believe she shares all the attributes of my interpretation of her.
Also not mine, but here's a little bonus: A song by one of my favorite artists, which I feel could be subtitled to us Good Omens fans: How To Tell Adam Young That Santa Claus Is Your Parents: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzM-n04qLlQ
Recipient: hoshi_ryo
Pairings: None (Could be seen as A/C if you're wearing slash goggles)
Rating: Gen
Summary: Crowley asks Aziraphale to watch his plants. What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: No porn, referenced abuse of plants
The Apocalypse had been and gone, and the Earth was still pretty much okay. Adam Young had seen to that. Everything stayed pretty much the same.
Except, of course, that it didn't. Nothing ever did, after all. If Armageddon hadn't ended up being Armageddidn't, then which ever side had taken over would have inevitably kept things pretty much the same forever, an eternity of either torment or The Sound of Music.1 Since that didn't happen, Earth continued on pretty much as usual, which was to say in a state of constant change. 2
Unfortunately, as far as Below was concerned, most of the important changes were going on in the United States, which meant that Crowley began having to spend a great deal of time there.
He still lived in England, of course. He wasn't a barbarian. Oh, he kept an apartment in New York for the longer assignments, but it was even less lived-in than the one in Mayfair. It had a perfectly stylish furniture set right out of one of the more pretentious magazines, of course; it was Crowley's. But it lacked the one fundamental touch that differentiated between an apartment Crowley kept and an apartment Crowley lived in.
It didn't have any plants.
Crowley always kept plants. 3 Aziraphale thought that it was because of some subconscious longing for either Eden or Heaven, but since the last time he had brought that particular theory up Crowley hadn't spoken to him for more than a year, the angel tended to keep his mouth shut on the subject these days.
Crowley's flat in Mayfair did have plants. Giant, luscious, gorgeous plants that were kept in this state through terror of Crowley. Unfortunately, plants were living things, and could therefore not be kept in perfect condition and proper working order through sheer force of demonic will, like most of his appliances and the Bentley. They could get by on much less than ordinary plants, but occasionally Crowley was forced to spend more time in the United States than even his plants could go without water. Which meant finding someone to water them for him.
Normally, under such circumstances, it was a simple matter to engage the help of the sweet little old lady who lived a floor under him. She thought he was a dear young man, and that he and Aziraphale made a “sweet couple.” Occasionally, she would bring up some sort of baked good.
She also had the exact opposite of a green thumb. She was quite fond of plants, but they weren't fond of her. At all. By the time Crowley returned from whatever jaunt Hell had sent him off on, they were usually relieved to have him back. 4
Unfortunately, this time, she was unavailable. Normally Crowley made sure to maintain her good health through surreptitious use of occult power, 5 but unfortunately some things were beyond his ability to deal with. Such as her sister who lived in Sussex, who had apparently broken a bone or come down with something. Crowley hadn't bothered to learn the details; what was important was that his customary plant-sitter was unavailable.
Crowley did not have a backup plant-sitter. The idea that he might need one had never occurred to him. He was used to the things in his life ordering themselves as he wished, with very few exceptions, 6 and she had never been one before.
Crowley ran through a list of options in his head and blessed under his breath when he realized he really only had one.
…
Aziraphale had been delighted when Crowley asked him to look after his plants for him while he was away. 7 Crowley's plants were absolutely gorgeous, of course, plants Crowley kept always were somehow, but somehow they never seemed quite... happy to Aziraphale. It would be wonderful to be able to cheer them up a bit.
The door to Crowley's flat opened easily. 8 Aziraphale had been there in the past, of course, but this was the first time he was present without the demon also being there. It seemed quieter, somehow, without Crowley's usual snark.
Brushing aside the thought, Aziraphale turned to the plants. Technically, he was just supposed to put a little water in their pots, and maybe mist the leaves a little, but the odds of that happening were worse than a snowball's chance in Heaven. 10
“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said to Crowley's ficus as he inexpertly squirted the mister at a few leaves. Crowley had said that he kept his plants this nice by talking to them, after all. Surely he wouldn't be upset at Aziraphale doing the same.
The plant shrank away at Aziraphale's regard. All the poor plant knew was that this person came by often with The Scary Thing, 11 and that The Scary Thing seemed to like it. In the ficus' book, that meant that it was probably bad news.
Aziraphale wasn't sure why the ficus was leaning away from him, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. “Are you alright?” he crooned gently. “Is something wrong?”
It took several minutes of coaxing, but apparently the plant eventually decided he wasn't a threat. It seemed almost pathetically grateful for the attention after that, leaning towards Aziraphale and rustling its leaves whenever he spoke.
One by one, the same treatment was applied to the other plants. Some12 were easier to win over than others, but they all appeared to need a great deal of coaxing before they would relax.
If Aziraphale had realized exactly what was happening, just what it was that Crowley did to keep his plants green and lovely, he might have tried a different tack. One that was slower, for one thing. Because, you see, Aziraphale knew something that Crowley didn't. 13
Fear represses.
Oh, not always. An isolated fear to an immediate threat-being chased by a bear in the woods, for example-will usually result in a burst of energy in order to remove the danger. Persistent fear, on the other hand, such as the kind caused by dictators and abusers and demons who own plants, has a degrading effect over time. One scrunches over and tries not to be seen.
In the case of Crowley's plants, not being seen entailed not being any shabbier than the rest, so each ended up lush and verdant. On the other hand, none wanted to be the absolute best, as that too would attract the attention of their cruel master.
When a human spends a long time under a great deal of stress, the sudden removal of the stressor tends to produce a rush of endorphins. Plants don't have endorphins, but that doesn't mean something similar can't happen to them.
…
When Crowley returned, two weeks later, the first sign of trouble was the door. The frame was cracked, the door itself was askew, and tendrils were escaping through all the gaps.
The second sign was when he opened the door and discovered his flat was completely filled with greenery. He assumed it was complete, in any case. It was certainly blocking the door.
He had to stop and stare, for a moment. He had never imagined that asking Aziraphale to look after his plants was going to turn out well, but he had no idea what the angel could have done that would have caused this.
1. Crowley had been honestly unsure which would be worse. Aziraphale was much better at hewing to the party line, but privately his opinion had more in common with Crowley's than he liked to admit.
2. Also known as progress, in most cases. Aziraphale might have disagreed, although he was unlikely to say so in Crowley's presence. The demon was already far too happy to mock him for being behind the times as it was.
3. Not always the same plants, of course; the high turnover rate was one of the keys to Crowley's success in keeping them so frightenedly beautiful.
4. For about five seconds.
5. Only so she could make sure his plants were kept in top-terrified condition, of course.
6. Only two persistent exceptions, really: Hell and Aziraphale. The difference was that Aziraphale tended to result in things that Crowley would otherwise never have thought to wish for.
7. Aziraphale was terribly sympathetic with Crowley for having to go to the States in the first place, of course, but it simply couldn't be helped. It was simply something that happened sometimes.
8. Crowley hadn't bothered to give Aziraphale a key, but Aziraphale was just as proficient at imposing his will on inanimate objects as Crowley was, if frequently less blatant about it. (9)
9. He wasn't, but he liked to tell himself he was.
10. While there are parts of Hell that are full of fire and brimstone, there are also parts that are frozen wastelands, which means that depending on where exactly in Hell it was a snowball might have a very decent chance indeed. Heaven, on the other hand, is always warm and sunny.
11. Crowley
12. Mostly the younger ones, who hadn't spent as much time in Crowley's clutches yet.
13. In reality it wasn't so much that Crowley didn't know it,(14) as that he hadn't thought to apply a principle about people to his plants.
14. He could hardly have watched human civilization for 6,000 years without learning it, after all.
Acknowledgements:
The idea that Aziraphale believes Crowley's penchant for keeping plants to come from a desire to return to either Eden or Heaven, and Crowley's displeasure with the idea, are not mine. They come from another fanfiction. Unfortunately I do not recall which one at the moment.
The idea of a sweet little old lady living in the flat under Crowley's I attribute to our lovely irisbleufic. If I recall correctly, she has showed up in multiple stories, although I do not believe she shares all the attributes of my interpretation of her.
Also not mine, but here's a little bonus: A song by one of my favorite artists, which I feel could be subtitled to us Good Omens fans: How To Tell Adam Young That Santa Claus Is Your Parents: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzM-n04qLlQ