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Summary
“Would you,” Aziraphale picked at the soil staining his robes, stealing a glance at Crowley, “forgive him because of it?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”
“It matters.”
Crowley met his gaze. “Why?”
“Because you’re – ” Aziraphale took the clay tablet back in his hands, “we’re – ” he pursed his lips, bristling before he settled primly. “Because it’s polite.”
Crowley laughed. “You can do better than that, angel.”
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Or, Crowley’s plants aren’t a new hobby. Aziraphale finds him in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Series
- Part 1 of whickber street horticultural society
Bookmarked by Fleurexq
21 Sep 2023