Random AU's for the Ineffable Husbands that either come out of my mind or got inspired by other AU's in the community (if that is the case, I'll specify from where and who the original AU came from). Chapter lengths may vary from very short to very long, I don't plan on giving myself a minimum or maximum word count for this. Even if one goes on for very long and probably should be broken up into several parts, I'll refrain from doing so, to keep it as a literal one-shot. So this should be fun. (Book says "Completed", but that will only be official when the line below says "Word Count" and not "Current Word Count". If it still has "Current", that means there's still more AU ideas I haven't gotten to, but will someday. If you like how I write the ineffable spouses, add this book to your library so you're notified when a new one-shot comes out!) Current Word Count: 310,200 (55 one-shots)

"Oh. Yeah." Crowley shuffled his feet, looking surprisingly boyish. "Come to New York with me tomorrow?" Aziraphale blinked. "Why?" "To see how Warlock is doing," Crowley said, as if that was obvious. "Warlock?" He blinked again, and Crowley looked annoyed. Unfortunately what came out of his mouth was, "You were the one who suggested killing the boy." "It wasn't personal." Crowley took off his dark glasses, apparently the better to glare at him. "He's still our kid." "B-but, Crowley, he's not our kid," Aziraphale said helplessly, wondering if Crowley was going insane or if he was. "You're a terrible father for an angel," Crowley said, accusingly. "I'm a demon, and I make a far better mother." --- Aziraphale is almost certain that Crowley is only being perverse. But demons are unaccountable creatures, and Aziraphale finds himself flying to New York with him anyway.

Aziraphale would forgive him, of course. He always did. That had always been the Hell of it. It had been stupid to think things would be any different this time. It was a game they had been playing a long, long time, and he was all kinds of fool and idiot if he was going to suddenly start taking it seriously, even if only a few days ago he had thought Aziraphale was dead. Our side. It would be nice, really nice, if there was an *our side.* To be honest with himself, there was nothing in all the universe he wanted more. "I'll pick you up at eight," he repeated to the closed door, and headed back to the flat to take it out on the plants.