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It was only when he had to turn on his desk lamp that Aziraphale realized it was evening and, more importantly, that it had been some time since he'd seen Crowley.
"Aziraphale, I'm going home." he turned to Muriel, who already had their backpack slung over their shoulders and, as always, a book in hand.
He asked them, "Before you go, tell me, have you seen Crowley by any chance?"
Muriel replied, "Well, after circling around a bit, he mumbled something vague about the rooftop, about grooming his wings, and left."
Muriel frowned and continued, "Is that common? Because I've never felt the need to do that with my wings, not that I've had to take them out often, but..."
Aziraphale replied quietly, "I don't know, I admit. We've never talked about it."
This made Aziraphale realize that once again there were so many little things they didn't know about each other.
But maybe tonight he'd learn more about his demon.
Muriel greeted him before leaving.
Then Aziraphale closed all the blinds in the bookshop to keep himself out of sight and teleported to the rooftop, hoping this was the one Crowley had been talking about.
Arriving on the roof, Aziraphale could immediately spot the demon despite the surrounding darkness.
Crowley had his back to him, wings outstretched, sitting on the edge of the roof. The black wings flapped slightly, and Aziraphale, mesmerized by their beauty, couldn't hold back a gasp.
At the sound, Crowley turned his head sharply and immediately retracted his wings.
Aziraphale stepped toward him and protested, "No, please. Don't hide them."
He closed the distance between them and came to sit beside the demon on the edge of the roof. He gave him a small nudge on the shoulder and asked gently, "I've already seen your wings, so why hide them?"
Crowley shrugged and replied, "Circumstances were different.
Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and, stroking the palm with his thumb, asked gently, "And what are the circumstances tonight?"
Crowley replied, "A need to tend to them, I suppose..."
Aziraphale asked gently, "Is this something you do often?"
Crowley hesitated a bit before explaining, "You know, it's like when I used to go to hell and back to my apartment. Down there, everything's dark, cramped, dirty, so when I got to my apartment, even though it was already clean, I had to scrub everything until it was spotless. And I did the same thing with my wings. So, I've kept that habit, I guess."
Azirphale nodded, once again completely flabbergasted by their common behavior. He had turned the bookshop into a place that was the antithesis of heaven. Not particularly tidy, not bothering to leave anything lying around, a warm, lived-in atmosphere, unlike the cold, empty, sterile Heaven.
He asked gently, "So it's not too hard to live with me? Compared to your apartment?"
Crowley replied hotly, "No way. Not at all. Have you noticed that when we used to drink together, it was always at your place? Never in my apartment. Because I've never felt at home in my apartment or down there. Only here."
Aziraphale, reassured, asked, "So what do you do when you're tending your wings? Will you show me?"
Crowley spread his wings and brought the left one to his lap, pointing to a few tangled feathers at the tip and saying, "I usually take care of that sort of thing."
Aziraphale, fascinated, asked him, "May I?"
Crowley looked up sharply, "What?"
The angel repeated, "May I?" then quickly added, "But I understand if you don't want to."
Crowley shook his head, "It's not that, I'm surprised you want to touch them."
Aziraphale, with a confused expression, replied, "Of course I want to, they're part of you."
Crowley replied with a dejected look, "But these are not my angel wings anymore. They are the wings of a demon."
"Idiot!" exclaimed the angel, "What don't you understand about the fact that I love everything about you?"
Seeing that the demon still looked doubtful, Aziraphale reached into his pocket and fumbled for a few seconds. He removed a small cloth pouch and handed it to the demon, "Open it!"
Crowley, confused, obeyed. He undid the small tie that held the pouch closed and pulled out a small black feather.
"It's one of my..."
Aziraphale nodded and replied, "If it's something I don't love, why do you think I'm wearing it?"
Crowley gazed in amazement at the little feather resting in the palm of his hand and murmured, "When?"
Azirapahle replied, "Tadfield, the military base, after we were in the sky with Adam. This little feather came flying by itself in one of the folds of my jacket."
He took the feather from the demon's hands, put it back in the small cloth pouch, and put it back in his pocket.
Then he turned to Crowley and asked again, "May I?"
Crowley nodded and brought the tip of his wing to the angel's lap.
Aziraphale laid his fingers gently on the black feathers and began to untangle them. As soon as he untangled one, he gently smoothed it back into place.
As he buried his hand a little deeper into the down, he heard Crowley gasp. He immediately removed his hands and turned his head toward him, asking worriedly, "Did I hurt you?"
Crowley shook his head, and Aziraphale noticed that his cheeks were slightly red. The demon said in a hoarse voice, "On the contrary, I did not expect it to be so enjoyable."
Aziraphale asked softly, "Would you like me to stop?"
Crowley said nothing and shook his head.
The angel insisted, "Crowley, this is too important. I need you to tell me clearly."
Crowley looked away and said in a voice clear enough for Aziraphale to hear, "I want you to continue."
The angel replied quietly, "And you can say stop whenever you want."
Crowley nodded and Aziraphale continued to untangle the last of the feathers. When he was done, he ran his fingers along the wing in a gentle caress, watching for the slightest reaction from Crowley.
Remembering how the demon had cared for him, worshiped every part of his body, he decided to do the same with his wings.
He had to stand up because the wings were wide and he wanted to treat them with the love they deserved.
Standing behind the demon, he gently put a hand on his shoulder and asked, "Are you all right?"
Crowley nodded.
Aziraphal leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the demon's head. Then he slowly slid his hand from top to bottom along the large, smooth feathers that ran from the center of the wing, before doing the same with each layer of wings. Always checking to make sure Crowley was all right.
After that, he carefully stroked the base of the wing where it emerged from the back, noticing how fluffy it was. He couldn't help but gently bury his fingers in it.
Seeing that Crowley was leaning back in his hands, a sign that he was really enjoying this, Aziraphale began to gently massage the area. He continued for a few moments, in small, delicate strokes, finally gently removing his hands from the fluffy down before leaning forward and planting a light kiss on the demon's neck.
In response, the wings fully unfolded as Aziraphale stepped back, and he couldn't help but exclaim in total awe, "Oh, Crowley, they're so gorgeous! I've never had time to look at them so closely before. Please don't ever be ashamed to show them again. They are pure beauty!"
Then he circled around the unfolded wings and returned to the demon, who looked at him with a smile, his eyes glistening slightly with unshed tears. He asked him softly, a slight worry in his voice, "Are you all right, my dear?"
"Yeah..." Crowley replied, his voice slightly hoarse, "I've just never felt so cared for before. It's a little overwhelming."
Aziraphale sat down on his right and took his hand again, intertwining their fingers. He rested his head on the demon's shoulder and said softly, "Then you know how I feel every time you take care of me."
Crowley turned his head slightly and kissed the angel's forehead tenderly as his right wing wrapped around Aziraphale, the other fluttering slightly on the other side.
After a few moments of silence, the angel said in a slightly pouty voice, "That's really not fair."
"What?" asked the demon, perplexed.
The angel replied, "I mean, your eyes, your hair, your wings, isn't there anything about you that isn't gorgeous?"
"Angel?"
"Huh?"
"If this is a new form of torture, I swear it's working."
Aziraphale turned his head to observe the demon and saw that he had flushed cheeks.
He chuckled softly before asking a little playfully, "Oh, does that mean I've found your weak spot?"
The demon gently retracted his wings and turned fully toward the angel, cupping his face between his hands and saying softly, "You are my weak spot."
This time it was the angel whose cheeks turned slightly red as the demon pressed his lips to his in a tender kiss.