Prompt: When aziraphale shelters crowley from the rain and crowley tucks in. Crowley can't lift his wings that's why
The rain fell around them, fat drops splattering on the ground, the wind picking up and an occasional rumble of thunder filling the air. the angel lifted his wings above himself, creating a shelter from the cold and the damp. He couldn't stand being wet, the rain was just so inconvenient at times. It was especially annoying because he had meant to speak a little more to the demon that was currently standing next to him, and he couldn't just invite the redhead home. No, that wouldn't right, it would be quite odd in fact. But he did need to get to his makeshift home where he could light a fire and tuck himself into some cosy blankets and read a good book instead of standing on this wall. In the cold. With the rain. And a demon.
Though speaking of demons, as he looked out of the corner of his eye, purely out of curiosity and of course because it would be rude to just leave without saying goodbye, he realised that the demon was standing still, black wings hanging at his side. The rain dripped down Crowley's shoulder length hair, turning it almost brown, and as the drops ran down his face it almost made the demon seem as though he were crying.
"Why my dear..." Aziraphale started, words catching in his throat as he tried not to sound too jittery. Somehow, he always managed to sound nervous or shy these days, voice appearing with a stammer at the most annoying moments. He cleared his throat before starting again.
"Crowley... why on earth are you letting yourself be drenched by this horrid weather?"
The demon grunted, shrugging his shoulders.
"Can't use them, now that I'm not all heavenly and all."
Frowning, the angel searched through his memory and a vast amount of knowledge that he held but couldn't remember anything about demons losing the ability to use their wings. His confusion must have been plain as day as the demon rolled his eyes. Just a little mind you, not nearly enough to cause offence, in fact it seemed just enough to keep up appearances and nothing more.
"They didn't survive my saunter down to hell, they're all broken now, burn when they move. None of our wings work, those of us that have wings anyway. It's a long way to fall from up there..." at this, the demon pointed to the still stormy skies, "to down there", this time the demon pointed to their feet though Aziraphale could assume he meant hell.
"You mean you haven't..."
"Nope."
Crowley popped the 'p', pronouncing it in such a way that the angel could tell he mustn't push the subject any further. He glanced at his own wings, white in colour but slowly growing soggy the longer the pair stood here. He couldn't imagine not being able to use them, let alone being unable to move them. He waited a moment before the rain felt like it was too much, even with the shelter of his own wings.
"Shall we find somewhere more sheltered my dear?"
Aziraphale shook his wings, trying to rid himself of some of the rain, pointedly ignoring Crowley's bemused smirk at the action.
Together they managed to make their way to a small hut that Aziraphale kept. He shouldn't, earth wasn't meant to be a permanent placement, but he liked to indulge in human things occasionally and keeping a house seemed to be one of those things.
As soon as they got in, Aziraphale hurried to the fire, hastily lighting it to rid the air of its damp chill. Sitting back on his heels, he closed his eyes, sighing gratefully as the heat crawled pleasantly over his skin. A quiet cough interrupted his thought, and he opened his eyes, remembering the demon he had brought with him, a demon who was standing on the doorstep just behind the threshold.
