didn't mean to leaf you behind

“A Dear John letter!” Crowley was telling him, voice slurring. “Can you believe that? The nerve. Six-thoussssand years and that’s how it ends?”

They’d moved to the sofa, Aziraphale’s pot tucked into the crook of Crowley’s arm as he sprawled across it with one leg up over the back cushions. Every so often a bit of good scotch splashed onto Aziraphale’s leaves. Not as enjoyable to drink as a plant, it turned out.

[Another fill for the GO Kink Meme prompt: Aziraphale accidentally turns into a plant and Crowley adopts him.]