Ineffable Husbands One Shots

Warm Grey

"After you, angel."

"Why thank you, dear."

Crowley held the door as Aziraphale stepped into his apartment for the first time. Though there was not much in his apartment normally, aside from plants of course, Crowley had thoroughly cleaned it upon the prospect of Aziraphale's visit. He felt Aziraphale would appreciate a clean apartment and the place was spotless. Painstakingly, he swept every speck of dirt from the ground, vacuumed the carpets, straightened his draft of the Mona Lisa, adjusted the few books on his bookshelf, and checked if any of his hundreds of plants had any spot or imperfection that could possibly mar the angel's first experience there.

Aziraphale stood silently barely out of the doorway, his head swiveling about the room. Crowley rugged at his collar, hot and stiff on his neck. Maybe he had overdone it with the cleaning. The bookshop where the pair spent most of their time bulged with antique books and old correspondence letters and ink and a box of sunglasses that Aziraphale had taken off Crowley's face on several evenings of over indulgence on fine wine. Heaven, as Crowley recalled it was bare, corporate, sterile. A blinding white void where Gabriel clicked around in his scarf, barking orders and sneering at perfectly good angels, well one wasn't perfectly good. But he scanned his apartment, the grey color darkened the feeling but it was nearly as bare as Heaven, not accounting for the countless houseplants.

Aziraphale turned around to look up at the demon. Crowley defended his empty home "I know it's not much but I'm no—"

"Oh it's just lovely. I do adore all your plants. I've never been very good at keeping plants alive, but for someone who was made to cause suffering, you're simply wonderful at it," Aziraphale said, a blinding smile spreading across his cheeks.

"Ngk yes," Crowley coughed, his face heating up further. Aziraphale lightly grabbed Crowley's arm.

"Do you mind me showing me all your plants?" Aziraphale moved his hands on top of Crowley's, pulling towards himself. Crowley stuttered and the angel immediately dropped his hands, brushing his cream overcoat. "Apologizes, where are my manners? Should I take off my shoes?"

"You take those things off? I'm surprised. I haven't seen em off your feet in 160 years."

"Indeed I do. Shoes wear out faster than jackets. This is my fourth pair, but they're getting harder to find nowadays."

"Thank Satan they are," Crowley mumbled.

"Hey. I like them. They're...timeless."

Crowley looked down at the shoes. Tan leather covered the toes and sides while chocolate colored suede made up the rest of the shoe, stopping just above the ankles. They were odd but not as dreadful as the shoes Gabriel and the other angels wore, which replaced the swede of Aziraphale's with a thick sock-like material. At least Aziraphale had the decency to wear laces.

"Just because something is old, doesn't mean it's timeless," he said, shaking his head. With a flick of the wrist, Aziraphale's shoes as well as his own went from their feet to sitting orderly next to the front door, knocking Aziraphale's heels into the ground harder than he anticipated. The angel teetered and caught himself on the wall before he could fall over.

"Do you wear high heels?" Crowley giggled, not that he would ever admit to giggling for he is a menacing demon. Aziraphale pulled Crowley by the arm in the direction of the nearest plant, which was not too far in hindsight.

"Enough about my shoes. I want to see your plants," he whined.

"You do." Crowley ignored the angel's whining and answered his own question. "You're a good few centimeters shorter than normal. When was the last time you took those things off?"