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The last of the day's sun peeked through gauzy purple clouds, filtering through the abundant orchard boughs. The golden rays illuminated a kaleidoscope of jewelled fruits that studded the fruit trees.
Crowley stood, dusting off his hands and inspected the rose bushes that he had just finished deadheading. There were around a dozen still-attractive blooms surviving the late summer heat, and he decided that he would allow them another week of basking in the sun before he would trim them too. He hadn't given his husband a bouquet in a while after all. It had to have been at least two weeks. Three? In fact, the snapdragons were still in the centre of the kitchen table, but the angel deserved to be surrounded by pretty things because he was a pretty thing. The prettiest.
"Crowley, darling, come here quick!" Aziraphale called from the cottage, there was a jittery intonation that made the demon feel an old twitch of panic. He snapped his soil-smudged fingers and instantly materialised by Aziraphale's side in the living room. The angel startled, clutching at his chest with a yelp.
"Honestly, Crowley, must you be so dramatic?!" Aziraphale admonished through heavy breaths, looking deliciously flushed. Crowley idly entertained the idea of making that hue last a while longer but shook off the notion out of curiosity over why he had been summoned.
"You told me to come quick!"
"I didn't mean to pop up out of nowhere like some theatric vampire! Really dear, it was charming when you were wooing me but we do live in each other's pockets now." Aziraphale chuckled and swatted his arm lightly with the television remote.
"Wooing?!" Crowley choked on his tongue over the accusation that they both knew was true. He felt blood rushing to his cheeks against his express will. Decades of marriage and the bloody angel could still make him blush, it was mortifying really. "Hang on, am I losing my charms, angel?" He teased, trying to regain his footing in the conversation.
"You suppose that appearing like a dashing knight with some suave comment in the Bastille to rescue from discorporation wasn't an attempt to woo me?" Aziraphale scoffed, arching a knowing brow. "In any case, I no longer require rescuing, remember? We are safe now." The angel's cartoon-sized eyes levelled his, a gesture that was a solid reminder of their hard-fought-for peace. Their cottage. Their corner of the world.
"I still have to come to your rescue now!" Crowley spluttered, absolutely intent on flustering Aziraphale in retaliation.
Aziraphale's eyes and mouth screwed up into a moue of protest.
"The self-checkouts at Tesco, remember?" The demon teased with a cocked head and devilish grin.
"They are infernal contraptions! Why they stopped having manned checkouts I will never know!" Aziraphale sighed, shaking his head.
"Yeah…" Crowley scratched the back of his neck awkwardly "Funny you should say that, they were actually one of my last projects for Hell, I was quite proud at the time." He sheepishly grinned at his angel.
"Scoundrel." Aziraphale smiled with an air of fond exasperation. Crowley adored that smile, it had always served to remind him that his angel loved him because, not despite, his mischief and chaos. "I called you in for another reason. Look." He gestured with the remote towards the television which had been paused on a news segment entitled 'US PRESIDENT PASSES BILL TO PROTECT MARINE WILDLIFE'.
There was a click of the remote and the reel played.
"President Dowling and his husband, First Gentleman Johnson were spotted at a rally for wildlife conservation efforts on the coast today. The visit comes after the President's landmark bill was passed to prevent overfishing and environmental damage to International waters. There has been a slew of similar reforms and new legislation that according to experts will have dramatic reversing effects on the climate in the next decade alone. President Dowling came to the White House recently after a whirlwind campaign which saw him promoting a manifesto of drastic worldwide environmental and economic changes that were widely hailed as revolutionary. He is revered by supporters for his iron-fisted approach with some opposition claiming his methods are extreme. Here is what he had to say at the rally earlier today."
The newscast cut to a video, showing a willowy, tall middle-aged man dressed casually in a black jumper and black jeans, helpfully identified by the newsreel as President Dowling. He stood by the side of a slightly shorter but much stockier man, dressed similarly except in lighter colours, identified by the channel graphics as First Gentleman Johnson. The couple were stood on a raised platform, surrounded by hundreds of people carrying placards. The stage was plastered with posters and paraphernalia from a myriad of environmentalist groups with slogans such as 'LET'S BUILD EDEN ON EARTH' and 'THE SEA IS BOILING: KRAKEN SOUP'.
"Mr President, can you please say a few words about your motivations to clean up Earth?" One of the gathered press called.
"Call me Warlock, please," Warlock replied, smiling wide and toothily in a manner that was eerily reminiscent of a former violet-eyed Supreme Archangel. "Well, I grew up in the trenches of a political household as you may know. My father was an ambassador and I spent a lot of time in England, surrounded by a lot of varying influences. I was taught to have love and reverence for all living things and at the same time, I learnt that I had the makings of a natural leader. I might be too severe for some, going as far as nicknaming me The Great Beast-" he laughs "-but I do not have any compunctions when it comes to steamrolling the bureaucrats who are running this beautiful planet into the ground."
"You seem to have a dedication to cleaning up the waterways in particular, why is that your focus?" Another reporter shouted from the crowd.
"Well, I must admit that is mainly due to the influence of my wonderful husband." Warlock gestured to the man beside him with a soft smile "His marine biology research and stunning tropical fish collection are quite the inspiration. We met at an event not unlike this one."
Aziraphale pauses the television then, blinking at it silently.
"Fuck." Crowley uttered with a gust of breath, eyes wide with shock.
They shared a small interlude of silence, gathering their wits before a crooked grin stretched across Crowley's face. What he has just witnessed felt like a massive vindication. Turning to Aziraphale, he recognised the angel's expression as matching his own.
"Well, it appears that we were fairly competent after all, my love."
"I'll say." He let a forceful exhale blow out from between pursed lips. "Right boy after all."
"Right boy." Aziraphale nodded dumbly then turned to Crowley with his trademark shit-eating grin.
“Aziraphale, don’t you dare.” He warned, hands anchored to his hips.
“I suppose you could say our involvement was... Ineffable.” The angel chuckled with a wiggle.
Crowley sniffed in faux vexation “Right, I’m calling my divorce lawyer! You know that word is banned in my presence.”