Ineffable Husbands - Oneshots Book

Aziraphale's Wings

Aziraphale stretches his wings out. It had been much too long since the last time they had been cleaned, so he felt like it was finally time to change that.

He actually had the time, too.

He was alone, in the flat above his beloved book shop, which was closed for the day.

He looked in the mirror of his rather large bathroom, grooming himself as needed.

"Angel!" A certain demon's voice suddenly floated up the stairs from the bookshop.

"Oh, Crowley! I'm up here," Aziraphale calls, putting his wings away and walking out to greet him at the top of the steps.

"Hello, Angel," Crowley says, smiling a little. He removes his sunglasses and steps into Aziraphale's flat at the angel's gestured invitation.

"Hello, Crowley," the angel answers, smiling back. "I wasn't expecting you to come," He says, "What's the occasion, dear?"

"Just wanted to check up. Any plans for today?" Crowley asks, heading for the angel's couch. He lays himself across it lazily.

Aziraphale follows him over, "Ah, not much. I was just beginning to clean my feathers, actually."

"Pardon the intrusion, then," Crowley says, "You can carry on and I will remain in my place here. I'll take a nap or something."

Aziraphale grins, appreciating the respect from the fallen angel. "Oh, I do thank you, Crowley," Aziraphale says, clasping his hands together.

"Yes, yes, Angel," Crowley purrs, folding his arms under his head. "I'll be right here if you need," He says, his eyes drooping closed.

Aziraphale goes back to the task at hand after walking back to the bathroom. He realized quickly that there were many parts he wouldn't be able to reach.

Usually, angels helped each other out with this and, though Aziraphale had never really been that close with any particular angel, there was a sense of duty angels had towards each other. Specifically when it came to their wings.

He felt their missing assistance terribly now.

'Maybe I could ask...' He shakes his head a little, purging the idea before it was fully thought. It would be rather embarrassing to show Crowley his wings, even if they had been more or less inseparable for the past 6,000 years (and counting).

It left him vulnerable and, it wasn't like he didn't trust Crowley. It was just new to him and he wasn't sure if he could manage that just yet.

'I'll just have to stretch a bit more. I'd hate to use a miracle so wantonly,' Aziraphale thought, reaching for the hard-to-get spots the best he could.

In the end, it wasn't perfect, but he had done his best.

Aziraphale rejoins the demon in his living room. "Crowley?" Aziraphale says softly, wanting to ask him a question yet fearing he would be waking the demon up. Not that he needed sleep or anything.

"Yes, Angel?" Crowley asks, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. Aziraphale could still tell the demon's full attention was on him as he spoke, just like always. The angel did so appreciate the demon's constant 'drop everything for Aziraphale' attitude. And no, that did not go unnoticed over the years.

"Would you like a spot of tea?" Aziraphale asks, "Or anything at all, really?" He begins to feel that a few of his feathers were out of place but he willfully ignores this.

"Hm..." The demon ponders over this, "Why don't you sit with me?" His eyes flutter open in a soft way that totally contrasted his usual dark, angular exterior. Crowley stretches, much like a cat, and sits up to make room for the angel.