My Dearest Warlock

Dreadful Dowlings

"Oh Brother Francis, that's so kind," said Crowley, hating every word. "And you, Francis, must be from Hell. It would explain why you're so-"

Mr.Dowling cleared his throat. "Please, save your flirting for later. I know exactly how that line ends, as I used it to seduce Harriet."

"Really," deadpanned Crowley. "And here I was, thinking it was the money and the mansion. Foolish me."

"Obviously," said Mr.Dowling, losing his smile. "No smart woman looks at a gardener and thinks about dating them. Although, I guess we can't all be smart and pretty."

Aziraphale's cheeks gained a pinkish hue at the insinuation. "Mr.Dowling, that's a very rude thing to say. Besides, we're not-"

Crowley interrupted him. "I, myself, must admit I have a fabulous taste in partners. Francis is, of course, the only one I've pursed. It feels as though I've been in love with him for six thousand years. Besides, I rather love a simple gardener that's always there for you, rather than a rich political figure that barely sees you."

Harriet gave her a small smile. "Oh, that's simply adorable. How sweet and pure, not to mention absolutely adorable! You must love him so much."

Crowley looked pained. She could say it all, admit that she loved him since the first time that she'd seen him. She could say all of the romantic, gooey things that were on the tips of her tongue, like she always dreamed of doing. But, Aziraphale had made it rather clear that she was just a friend, and she could respect that- unless she could show off to people who annoyed her, which currently consisted of Mr.Dowling and Gabriel Fucking Archangel. Although, that prideful bastard of an Archangel wasn't present, which Crowley was incredibly thankful for.

"Of course," said Crowley simply, giving her a tight-lipped smile. You have no idea.

"How 'bout you, Brother Francis? You seem rather...shy on the topic," said Mr.Dowling, smiling at the man across from him. "Say, is your lady the boss in the relationship? Or are you in shock at the fact that she just defended you, despite you being a rather common, replaceable gardener? I guess it's just me, but I try to show off my wife every chance I get."

Aziraphale wasn't even sure how to respond to that. Mr.Dowling was being truly hateful, possibly more hateful than Gabriel on bad days. Aziraphale wasn't easily replaceable, was he? Both a human and a bunch of Archangels seemed to agree on the fact that Aziraphale was replaceable- he really hoped Crowley didn't share the view and was too kind to say a word about it. But the thing that truly aggravated Aziraphale was the way he spoke of Crowley, as if she were a trophy wife.

"Excuse me, but I very much love Ashtoreth. And yes, sometimes I go into shock when I look at her. But since you had to go asking around, both of us had to confess our feelings in a way neither of us wanted to!" Aziraphale made a pained noise. "We shouldn't- we couldn't- admit our feels for each other! Our old sides wouldn't have liked it very much! We nearly died!

"And then, I couldn't even ask her out the way I wanted to! I was going to buy us a nice champagne, and we could have crêpes! Warlock could have picked out the flowers- he did have such a good taste in flowers- for me to give her. But no, you had to go ruin it! I hope you feel accomplished, you enormous-"

Crowley cleared her throat. "Dear, you might want to caution yourself. Warlock's right here."

And so he was. He was hugging Crowley as though he were afraid that he would be ripped from her arms and never allowed to see her again. It seemed Crowley didn't mind, if the bright smile that adorned her face was an indicator of anything. She arms were wrapped tightly around Warlock, embracing him in a loving, parental manner- not that Aziraphale would point it out to her later.