Work Text:
Crowley stares in shock at the thin red streak on his wrist.
The wound stings. Mostly, it offends.
“Did you just scratch me?” Crowley snarls at the perpetrator. “You… you utter weed! You are covered with spots. A vegetative disaster, that’s what you are!”
The raspberry plant that is the target of his wrath hardly quails.
“Now, now, dear. Do calm down. You should treat them with respect. It’s all in the asking.” Aziraphale turns to the plant. “Such lovely berries. May I have one, please?”
The angel reaches between the leaves, confidently focused on the perfectly plump, ripe raspberry Crowley had his sights on…
… and gasps as another thorny stem whips against his arm.
The angel retreats. The demon steps forward. The raspberry plant has done it now.
“You,” Crowley hisses, “should meet my shredder.”
The plant fails to tremble in abject Fear of Crowley.
Crowley was not planning on extreme measures today. But this is war.
He moves a hand.
Abruptly, there is a plump, ripe raspberry between Crowley’s fingertips. The stem on the plant is bare.
The raspberry plant looks disgruntled. Aziraphale applauds.
Victorious, Crowley smiles like a snake, and pops the berry into his angel’s mouth.