Work Text:
It was around September when Aziraphale stepped into a legitimate gardening store for the first time in his existence. Humans bustled about, adding far too large bags of potting soil to their trollies. Aziraphale thought vaguely that he did not appreciate the sound of trolley wheels against the dirty concrete floor. He had never felt more out of place in a shop and surely plants didn’t need such a large bag of soil… He was only shopping for one plant so perhaps they had much smaller bags. Aziraphale didn’t have a car, and he didn’t fancy lugging a large bag of soil down the streets of London. The plastic encasing the soil looked flimsy and was coated in a thin layer of dust and grime. In fact, it seemed the entire nursery was covered in a thin layer of dirt. However, from the looks of the occupants of the shop, they wouldn’t want it any other way.
Apparently, Aziraphale’s lost expression garnished the attention of a shopkeep. He found himself very quickly cornered by a bright young lady that reminded him of his own demon at home. A tall and rail-thin girl that couldn’t be older than twenty smiled brightly at him. She had red curly hair that was tied up in a bushy ponytail. She sported a shop apron with the nursery’s logo proudly displayed on the front.
“Evening, sir. You look like you could use a hand or six.” She joked lightly.
Aziraphale balked at the accuracy of her statement and considered giving up on the entire ordeal. But he had made a commitment to himself. His Christmas gift for Crowley this year would be created without miracles.
“Yes, quite. Good afternoon. I am trying to… raise a plant.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure what terminology was appropriate. His hands gestured in front of him, hopefully, it was the universal sign of ‘I’m trying to grow a plant and have absolutely no idea what I am doing.’
“Oh, wonderful! Always a fulfilling decision, plant rearing. What kind of plant is it?” Aziraphale fought off the urge to sigh loudly. Apparently, this entire process was going to require adequate communication. The thought of it made him want to turn tail out of the shop and go sit somewhere nice and quiet where he won’t have to explain his thought processes to human shopkeeps. But this was for Crowley. Aziraphale felt his resolve to trudge on strengthen.
“Actually, I haven’t started yet. But I am sure I will know the right plant when I see one.” The shop woman smiled politely. Probably thinking something along the lines of; ‘Great. Another amateur wanker I have to sell my plants too so they can go home and die.’
“We have a lovely selection of sprouts in the nursery! Very easy on upkeep as they come with a full set of care instructions.” The woman motioned their way to an off sectioned greenhouse. Which, he must admit, did contain a very impressive selection of budding adolescent plants. It was also very tempting to grab the first healthy plant he could find that had a fighting chance of survival under Aziraphale’s care. That, however, was not the plan.
“I was actually really hoping I could get a seed instead of a sprout. It’s for somebody awfully special. He’s a fan of gardening. And I thought it would be more sentimental if I grew a plant from a seed.” The shopkeep nodded in understanding before giving him a look that was a mixture of happiness and pitty.
“That is a nice sentiment indeed. However, growing a plant from the seed can be a bit harder. And forgive me for overstepping, but this appears to be your first time delving into the world of gardening…”
The woman wasn’t wrong. Aziraphale preferred to utilize miracles to make plants grow the way the Good Lord intended. Because apparently, his soft touches and gentle cooing were not enough to keep them alive. Aziraphale thought back to his and Crowley’s days at the Dowling estate. His gardening technique consisted of whispering sweet nothings to the plants, getting awfully confused when they didn’t care and awfully distraught when the died anyway. Crowley had told him more than once that if he wanted the plants to submit, he had to show them who’s boss. Aziraphale had tried to whisper threats to the petunias. However, they fell of deaf leaves. And he always miracled them alive in the end.
‘You’re spoiling the bastards, Angel.’ Crowley had said as he knelt low to the flower beds. ‘Listen here, fuckers. If I must ruin my stockings by kneeling in this dirt one more time, I’m going to rip each and every one of you from the ground. And then I’ll string you all up from the ceiling and let you dry slowly until every drop of water evaporates from your stems. And every morning I’m going to drink a nice tall glass of ice water while you watch in a death induced desperation.”
Aziraphale shuddered at the memory. He could still feel the panic coming off the petunias to this day.
“Yes, I read growing seeds was harder. But as I said, it is for my partner. And I want to put a lot of effort into his gift. So, if I could find a seed that will be at least sprouted by Christmas, that would be lovely.”
The shopkeep seemed to think that was the sweetest thing she had ever heard because her anxiety melted away and her smiled blossomed. “Of course, Sir. Right this way! Any plant in particular you are interested in? Flower, fruit, vegetable?”
“A flower, I think… Do you have pictures? I’ll know a good one when I see it.” The shopkeep tutted around the desk for a moment before exclaiming “Ah-ha!” and pulling a far too large binder out from under the register.
“S’all in here. Tabs are marked, we have your standard algae, your mosses, your ferns, flowering plants, vines, root plants, whatnot. You name it. Take your time, let me know if you see something that catches your eye!”
Aziraphale gave a small thanks and began thumbing through the catalog. He immediately went to the flowering plants. Bright and beautiful things they were. Each picture had a small graph next to it that said how much sunlight the plant preferred. How much water it liked, the age to maturity and basic information like such.
Aziraphale had thumbed through the flowering plants three times now and not one flower had stood out to him… He was beginning to panic quite a bit. In a huff of annoyance, he closed the book. Guilt immediately settled in at the idea of giving up and he let it fall open once more. This time, the book fell open to a page in the fern section and he felt his breath hitch.
This was the one. Athyrium niponicum. Also known as the Red Beauty Ghost fern. A beautiful sprawling fern with feathered leaves. The inside of the leaves was a pale white color, but the very edges sported a deep red that faded inward as the leaf lightened. The entire plant seemed to sprawl into as much space as it would be allowed. Aziraphale traced the picture lovingly before realizing the shopkeep had returned and was peering over his shoulder.
“Great choice, that one. Medium level of care. She prefers shade and sandy acidic soil. Not too hard. Shall I get everything rounded up?”
An hour later, Aziraphale stepped out of the shop with a packet of seeds, a beautiful red pot, a bag of clay soil, and a bottle of soil Ph Balance solution. The shopkeep, Catherine, Aziraphale learned, wished him good luck. She also supplied him with a business card in case he had any questions. She paused for a moment, scribbled her personal number onto the card and handed it back.
“In case you need help and the shop is closed.”
Aziraphale could do this. Three months until Christmas. The plant will surely have sprouted by then. On the walk back to the bookstore Aziraphale named the infant seedling, Cheryl.
Aziraphale quickly glanced into the bedroom, ensuring that Crowley was asleep. Said demon was currently sprawled upon their bed, a thin sheet barely covering him from the waist down. Aziraphale’s eyes softened despite himself. Knowing that Crowley would be immediately looking for him if he awoke and found Aziraphale gone, he stepped into the room. Crowley was beautiful at all hours of the day. But there was a certain serenity about the serpent while he slept. He pushed Crowley’s hair from his face. He had taken to growing it long since Armageddon. Aziraphale leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Crowley’s jaw.
“A’zira… wassup?” Crowley mumbled from his slumber. Aziraphale let his hand fall from his partner’s hair down to caress his jaw.
“Can’t sleep, dear. I’m going to go read in the shop. I just wanted to let you know in case you woke up and I wasn’t beside you.” Crowley smiled softly and nuzzled his cheek into Aziraphale’s palm.
They had this conversation long ago. The conversation about how it caused Crowley to panic when he couldn’t find Aziraphale. It reminded him of that day. It reminded him of that fire. The panic that settled deep into his corporation at the idea of Aziraphale being gone from this life and the next. Crowley had broken down into inconsolable anguish when Aziraphale stepped out for pastries when the demon had first moved in. Since then, a compromise was made. Aziraphale had agreed that he would communicate to Crowley if he was stepping out or spending some time alone.
“I love you,” Crowley said, his hand coming up to caress Aziraphale’s face in return. A tender moment between two occult beings blossomed in that small flat. The world pretended not to shift because of it.
“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered back, lowering himself to press a gentle kiss to Crowley’s lips. The demon hummed and nestled against his pillow once more, letting sleep overcome him. Once his breathing had properly evened out, Aziraphale stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down into the shop.
In the of A.Z. Fell and Co’s back room, you can find a storage room. It was more of a storage closet. But it was there. Hidden, dank, dark and barely used. Perfect for raising Cheryl in secret. Aziraphale had been watching over Cheryl and was elated to notice she had sprung her first sprout just a few weeks ago. She was beautiful and Aziraphale was sure to greet the sprouting fondly.
“Cheryl, my love. How absolutely gorgeous you look today.” Aziraphale cooed, crouching down to run a finger down her single leaf gently. He grabbed the pant mister to his left and began misting the soil surrounding the sprout. Catherine had told Aziraphale that watering the plant’s leaves directly caused water spots. And he knew how Crowley could get about spots on his plants. Best to teach Cheryl young. He ran over the instructions in his head. Cheryl preferred little sunlight and heavy, moist soil. Aziraphale took Cheryl out into the sun for one hour a day. Catherine had assured him that this would be plenty, especially in direct sunlight. Apparently, ferns are used to capturing their sunlight in snippets from the forest floor throughout the day. Fascinating little creatures, these plants can be. Aziraphale was beginning to understand Crowley’s fascination with them.
Once Cheryl was nicely watered, Aziraphale gathered the small plant in his arms and exited the storage closet. The back alley was perfect for sunlight gathering. Aziraphale grabbed a book and sat next to the plant, reading to her as she soaked in the warmth from the sun and the love from the angel.
Aziraphale needed a bigger pot. It was Officially December 1st which meant it was officially the holiday season. Cheryl seemed to thrive on the Christmas cheer because she had doubled in size over the last week and was officially bursting through the seams of her seedling planter. Aziraphale didn’t mind. It was an excuse to chat with Catherine, who had become a fast friend of the angel since the adoption of Cheryl. Aziraphale often brought in pictures of Cheryl and cooed over them with Catherine. As the angel walked into the nursery, which seemed less grimy to him nowadays, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Crowley was standing in the nursery, his back towards the angel, pursuing plant feed. Aziraphale began to panic. If Crowley saw him, he would immediately know something was up. And Aziraphale would have to come clean about Cheryl! And Christmas would be ruined when it was so close. No, Aziraphale needed to hide and he needed to hide NOW.
A quick glance around the shop and he spotted Catherine behind the teller.
“Mr. Azir-” Catherine raised her hand in greeting at him, but Aziraphale raised a finger to his lips and pointed towards Crowley. Catherine immediately lowered her hand and motioned for Aziraphale to come behind the register. After a quick glance in Crowley’s direction to ensure he was still studying plant food, Aziraphale hustled behind the register and dropped behind the counter as fast as he could. Catherine also dropped behind the counter after ensuring that no customers were watching the bizarre display.
“What’s happening?” Catherine whispered. Her hair was not in a ponytail today, instead, it was flying lose and fast around her face.
“That’s Crowley,” Aziraphale answered, peeking up over the counter. Catherine’s eyes widened and she allowed herself a glance upwards.
“He looks like he could be my dad...”
“You’re not wrong…” Aziraphale muttered. “I mean he isn’t your father. But you do look alike. Is he coming this way?” Catherine checked once more.
“I don’t see him. Why are you here?”
“Cheryl needs a new planter.”
“Already? She’s a growing kid, that one. I have just the one in mind!”
“Oh really? I was looking through the catalog and saw a lovely one. Perfect for the holiday!”
“Oh, was that the November catalog, or the December catalog?”
“You know, my dear. I am not quite sure- “
“Excuse me.” It was Crowley, Aziraphale let his mouth shut with a snap. Hopefully, Crowley wouldn’t recognize his scent. They had been living together for a good while now and it might be just familiar enough that Crowley had become blind to it. Catherine squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment at what she was about to do and slowly raised herself up from behind the counter.
“Hello, sir... All finished up?” Crowley regarded the shop girl with mild disinterest. She had beautiful hair, so he wouldn’t be too hard on her.
“Interesting conversation down there?” Crowley asked, nodding to the desk. Catherine laughed nervously.
“I was uh…. On the phone.” She answered lamely. Crowley stared at the girl for a long moment.
“Alrighty then. Just the plant food, please. And the December catalog.” Aziraphale cursed silently. He just remembered that the planter he wanted to get was featured on the cover of the December catalog. As Catherine began ringing up the plant food, she eyed Mr. Crowley with interest. So, this was the famous life partner of Mr. Fell? He looked nothing at all like she imagined.
While Mr. Aziraphale was soft and joyous, this man looked like he popped children’s balloons for fun. He walked in a hunched fashion like the very walls would attack him at any moment. His outfit was black and tight-fitting against his lean body. He had an angular face that looked like it should be on the cover of Forbs magazine and his hair was a beautiful deep red. Catherine could see why Mr. Aziraphale was so taken with him. However, he could also see why Mr. Crowley would be so taken with Mr. Aziraphale. A match made in Heaven, Catherine was sure.
“Any plans for the Holidays?” Catherine asked as nonchalant as possible, but her voice was high and nervous in her throat. She felt Aziraphale hit her leg in silent protest behind the counter.
“Spending it with my partner,” Crowley muttered, digging through his shoulder bag for his wallet.
“How lovely, how long have you been married?” Catherine asked. She could practically hear Aziraphale groan from bellow.
“Not married. Can I get a receipt?” Good lord. Like talking to a wall… Although she had a feeling that this Crowley was a real Pandora’s Box once you got him to open up. She handed Mr. Crowley his receipt and his plant food.
“Have a lovely holiday to you and your partner.” Catherine said brightly and meant it.
“Yea, and you.” Crowley stalked off without another word and she felt Aziraphale sag against her leg in relief.
“Well, that was horrifying.” He mumbled, picking himself off the ground and dusting his trousers off. “I guess we can scrap my revolutionary planter idea. It was the featured planter on the December catalog!”
Catherine let her own evil grin stretch across her face and Aziraphale thought briefly that perhaps she was Crowley’s love child from somewhere. Although according to his math, she would also have to be his own love child.
“Oh, don’t worry. I gave him the November Catalog.”
“Shit,” Aziraphale whispered in the dead of night. Crowley was asleep. It was a week before Christmas. And Aziraphale was fucked. He grasped Cheryl’s long leaves gently, trying to calm the well of tears in his eyes. If he let himself get too upset, Crowley would sense it and wake up. Aziraphale didn’t need to breathe, but his breaths came in short panicked huffs anyway.
“Oh, good lord. What do I do…? What do I do…?”
Aziraphale gathered Cheryl in his arms and left the storage closet in a hurry. He was frantically searching after that business card that he had been given so long ago by Catherine. He set Cheryl on his desk and began rummaging through his paperwork. The business card was soon unearthed from under last month's inventory.
Catherine’s number was still scribbled on the back of the card. It was late. Or more precisely, it was very early. Almost four in the morning… He felt terrible for waking the poor girl up this early. But this was an absolute emergency.
The phone rang roughly six times before a sleep heavy voice answered.
“’ Ello?” Catherine seemed very displeased at being woken up.
“Catherine? It’s Aziraphale. I’m afraid I wouldn’t wake you this early if it was not an emergency.”
“Aziraphale? What’s wrong?” Catherine sounded much more alert now.
“It’s Cheryl… If I have a cab sent to you, do you think you could make a house call?”
Catherine bustled through the doors of the shop at half-past four. She was bundled in a thick winter parka, her wild hair stuffed under a stocking cap and a thick scarf wrapped around her neck.
“Morning, my dear.” Aziraphale greeted her with a polite kiss on the cheek.
“Morning, Mr. Aziraphale. Where is Mr. Crowley?”
“Asleep, and I am afraid he most likely will be until noon. Can I take your coat?” Catherine shed her layers and stepped forward to examine the small fern.
“She has grown an enormous amount… In fact, almost too much to be normal…”
Aziraphale bit his lip and didn’t answer. It was probably his magic that he allowed to seep into the fern. He desperately hoped that Catherine wouldn’t look too closely at just how much Cheryl had grown.
“She was doing so well.” Aziraphale started, trying to keep the hysteria out of his voice. “And Christmas is so close… I was so sure that she would survive but like all other plants I have tried to raise…” He didn’t finish that sentence. The idea of Cheryl meeting the same fate as the Dowling estate plants was unbearable.
“Now see here, Mr. Aziraphale. Plants are tricky, yes. But all things happen for a reason. Cheryl is not going to die just because some cosmic entity has decided you are no good with plants. She is sick, but there is a reason.”
Cheryl’s leaves had begun to become dry and brittle around the edges. The deep red color that had just begun to set into her leaves was quickly being overtaken by leaf rot. It had settled in overnight, almost like a plague. Aziraphale noticed it immediately and was quite sure it had not been there the night before.
Catherine pulled out some meters from her bag and stuck them into the soil.
“This one checks the moisture level of the soil.” She pointed to one of them, “and this one measures the acid content of the soil. They both look fine to me…”
Catherine began to study the plant closer, turning on Aziraphale’s desk lamp to get a better look.
“Ah. I know what the issue is!”
“Oh, thank goodness. Is it fixable?” Catherine nodded and pulled out a pair of ceramic plant sheers.
“Your plant sheers are metal, right? Looks like Cheryl here has fallen victim to a bit of rust. It infects plants with high acidic soil. Use ceramic sheers instead of metal ones, prune her a bit tonight. She will be bustling and healthy by Christmas day!”
Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief. Catherine had come all the way across the city to help him at such an ungodly hour. Aziraphale felt the odd urge to swoop her into a bone-crushing hug.
“How on Earth could I ever do to repay you, my dear girl?” Catherine smiled softly.
“Well… some breakfast sounds lovely.”
Christmas day was a quiet morning. Catherine was spending the day meeting her boyfriend’s parents, and Aziraphale had blessed the union when they had last talked. He was certain the boy’s parents would absolutely love her as much as he did. Catherine didn’t have any family and she was such a young thing. Aziraphale had invited her to Christmas dinner in Tadfield at Newt and Anathama’s cottage. He truly hoped she decided to show as the young girl had become like a daughter to him in these past few months. He was only saddened that he couldn’t introduce her to Crowley properly, as he would have identified her as the shopkeep where he buys plant food.
However, after today, he could come clean about his recent new hobby. And hopefully, Crowley would love her just as much.
Aziraphale woke slowly. He always did when he slept. While he didn’t sleep often, he felt that waking up next to Crowley on Christmas morning was too good an opportunity to pass up. He let his eyes open slowly, the light streaming in was muted by the clouds outside. It was snowing gently, and Crowley was gazing up at Aziraphale. Crowley’s head was pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest, one hand tangled in his blonde curls and the other drawing star patterns on his collarbone. Aziraphale smiled and brought his hand to rest on Crowley’s jaw.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” Aziraphale whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Angel.” Crowley kissed him softly on the lips and once more on the cheek.
“I made you breakfast,” Crowley said but made no motion to move.
“How wonderful. I am famished… however, I am afraid I cannot wait for a second longer to give you your gift.” Crowley chuckled and began untangling himself from the angel in his bed.
“I’m glad you said something because I absolutely agree. Why don’t you get dressed and we will meet each other by the tree in ten minutes?” Aziraphale smiled and kissed Crowley once more before sliding out of bed and reaching for a comfortable pair of flannel pajamas. He felt Crowley swat at his backside lightly and he shot the demon a playful glare.
“Foul fiend… don’t think you can distract me.” Crowley lounged on the bed, completely exposed. His chin resting in his hand as he gazed at the angel.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”
Aziraphale checked over Cheryl once more before placing her in the box.
“This is it, Cheryl. Today, you’re going to meet your dad. This is what we have been preparing for. Are you ready, my girl?” Cheryl seemed to give off a buzz of excitement. She never met Crowley. But she had heard Aziraphale talk about him frequently. She had quite literally been waiting for this day her entire life. She made sure her leaves large and bushy. She ensured that there was not a single spot blemishing her deep red color. She stood tall and proud and exuded love.
Aziraphale tied a ribbon loosely around the box, bringing Cheryl out of the storage closet for the last time. He shut the door behind him only to find Crowley already waiting under the tree. He looked absolutely fetching. Black trousers, a red knitted sweater, and a Santa hat. Aziraphale felt love flutter in his chest and then felt Cheryl shiver in reaction to it. Aziraphale clutched the box closer as he sat next to the demon, who leaned over and kissed Aziraphale soundly.
“You first.” The angel whispered as he pulled away. Crowley smiled and Aziraphale placed the box in Crowley’s hands gently.
“I poured a lot of love into this, my dear. I hope you love her as much as I do.”
Crowley seemed somewhat confused at the use of ‘her’ regarding the gift. But he took the box gently and began to untie the ribbon. The box opened easily and Aziraphale was quivering with excitement. Crowley’s eyebrows raised so far up his face Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad sign.
“It’s a… fern.” Crowley whispered. He reached his hand out and traced the leaves, Cheryl seemed to reach out in greeting and wrap a long vine around his finger as if to keep him close as if to say, ‘Hello, I’ve waiting a very long time to meet you. I love you and I am here.’
“Not just any fern.” Crowley kept going “you raised her yourself. From a seed. For me. I can feel how much time and effort and love you’ve packed into this thing…” Crowley let Cheryl wrap her leaves around his trailing hand as he looked up at his angel.
“Her name is Cheryl.” Aziraphale supplied weakly, a sappy grin refusing to leave his face.
“Cheryl,” Crowley repeated with a choked sob and a laugh.
“My love, why are you crying?” Aziraphale gabbed Crowley’s hand gently. Crowley laughed once more and placed Cheryl down gently so he could wipe the tears from his eyes and continue to hold Aziraphale’s hand.
“They’re happy tears. I love her so much. She’s gonna have her own plant room. I can’t be putting her up with all those other failures. She’s better than them.” Aziraphale laughed and Crowley crawled into his lap and wrapped his arms around the angel’s neck. Aziraphale wrapped his own arms around the demon waist.
“Thank you, Aziraphale. It’s absolutely perfect.” Before Aziraphale could answer, Crowley, pulled him into a fierce kiss, one hand placed on the angel’s face and the other on the back of his neck. Aziraphale kissed back with just as much gusto. He felt Crowley tip them gently onto the floor, kissing the angel while straddling him.
Unfortunately, Crowley pulled away but kept his hand resting on the angel’s chest.
“Your turn,” Crowley whispered, grabbing a small black box from behind him but keeping his place straddling the angel’s hips. Aziraphale made to grab the box but Crowley pulled it away gently.
“Let me.” He whispered. He gently got off Aziraphale and pulled the angel up into a sitting position. He slowly unwrapped the box, stealing kisses from Aziraphale along the way. Finally, all the paper was gone. And Crowley shifted his position once more so one knee was tucked under him. Aziraphale felt his breath catch in his throat.
“Aziraphale.” Crowley opened the box. A ring. A beautiful white gold ring with a band of small diamonds running through the center. “I could sit here and tell you all the different ways I love you. But after six thousand years we both know words could never possibly encompass what you mean to me. So, I’ll just say this. I love you. I love you more than anything in this miserable universe. To be without you would be like ripping out my own heart. Marry me?”
Aziraphale smiled so brightly, it illuminated the snow that had pillowed softly on the sidewalk outside on the streets of London.
“Yes,” Aziraphale whispered. He laughed bright and clear as a bell. “Yes, of course, my love!”
A demon and an angel embraced in a bookstore as a young fern watched on. She was growing very fast and would be more suited for a cottage in the South Downs rather than a bookshop. But for right now, she was content to grow under the love of this place and under the love of these two. The world shifted once more and Cheryl pretended not to notice.