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“Whoa.” Crowley stopped almost as soon as he stepped into the kitchen and raked a gaze across Aziraphale. “Where are you hurt, angel?”
Aziraphale didn’t turn around, continuing to make tea. “What makes you think I’m hurt?”
“Everything about you. Well, except for the fact that I can’t see an injury.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Crowley stalked closer and studied his angel more closely. “I’ve known you long enough to be able to recognize when you need rescue. What’s up?”
Crowley had expected more denial that anything was wrong. He absolutely hadn’t expected Aziraphale to just straight up burst into tears.
“Oh. Gosh.” Awkward, Crowley stepped forward and opened his arms. “Oy, Aziraphale. How about a hug?”
“Oh dear.” With a sob, Aziraphale stepped into his embrace and dropped his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I hurt my wing.”
“Your wing?” Crowley asked, baffled. He shifted his hands lower on Aziraphale’s back, avoiding the wing junction even though they weren’t currently manifested. “How?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not… not that bad.” Aziraphale sobbed again, which wasn’t exactly encouraging. “I got it caught in the front door.”
Crowley scrambled for something sympathetic and helpful to say. He came up completely blank. “How?”
“Oh, it was so stupid.” With a sniffle, Aziraphale pressed closer, nuzzling into Crowley’s neck. “I was outside reading in the sun a bit, and I thought it would be nice to take my wings out and sun for a while. And, um…”
“Nnnnh, shit. Don’t tell me you completely forgotten you’d taken them out.”
“I-I may have done, yes.” Aziraphale gave a long, heavy sigh. “I feel so very stupid, Crowley. I was still reading while walking inside, and I miracled the door to swing behind me.”
“And crunch?”
“And crunch,” Aziraphale agreed miserably. “I’m so stupid.”
“Nrng. You’re brilliant, angel, but you’re also really easily distracted by books.” Shaking his head, Crowley pulled back. He cupped Aziraphale’s cheek, drying a tear with his thumb. “How bad is it? Break anything?”
Aziraphale sniffled again. “I-I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Well, I didn’t actually check!” Aziraphale looked even more embarrassed now as he bustled back over to the tea. “I just put my wings away, and hoped the problem would fix itself.”
Pained, Crowley shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and covered his eyes with one hand. He loved Aziraphale, loved him dearly, but he had a terrible habit of dealing with every problem with a combination of denial and just waiting for the problem to go away. “Angel.”
“Mhm?”
“Take out your wings and let me look.”
Aziraphale sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Oh, all right. I suppose it’s a good idea to check.”
“You think?” Crowley took both teacups and jerked his chin towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom so you can lie down while I check. That’ll be better than having your wing hang straight down.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Moving more slowly than usual, Aziraphale joined him. “I’m sure it’s fine!”
Once he was lying on his stomach in bed, wings manifested, it was clear that his left wing was not fine. Several feathers had been snapped off, others crumpled. Crowley sighed and shook his head. “Only you would try to just ignore this.”
“I-I admit that it wasn’t my wisest idea.” Aziraphale let out a long, shaky breath. “I don’t think it’s broken, but it does hurt an awful lot.”
“Yeah, you’ve definitely got some massive bruising going on. Loads of damaged feathers.” And unfortunately, wings couldn’t be healed with miracles. Could repair some surface damage, stop the slow trickle of blood from torn skin, but feathers had to grow back in on their own. “Right, okay. I’m gonna just take off these damaged ones, okay? It’s gonna sting.”
Aziraphale sniffled again. “I know. Um. Perhaps I could have a nice drink first?”
“Of your tea?”
“I was thinking something a little more alcoholic.”
“Terrific idea.” Crowley gently ruffled Aziraphale’s hair, then hopped up. He poured a glass of scotch and pressed it into Aziraphale’s hand. “There, let that take effect first. I think maybe we should do ice packs or something on this afterwards.”
Aziraphale sighed. “Well, that doesn’t sound terribly fun, but it’s likely a good idea.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll put on a film or something so you’re distracted. Whatever you like.”
“Music?”
“Sure.”
Crowley went to get the ice packs, set them aside for now, and then knelt beside Aziraphale on the bed. He’d put on some Vivaldi, which was always a winner. Should distract Aziraphale from the pain at least a little.
As gently as possible, he wiggled the damaged feathers loose, murmuring apologies whenever Aziraphale made a soft noise of pain. There was no way to totally avoid pain, not when it came to wings, but he did his best to be careful.
“You snapped a couple of flight feathers,” Crowley said, detaching the dangling broken shafts. “Probably should stay on the ground until new ones come in.”
“I suppose I should.” Aziraphale gave a soft, rueful chuckle. He was breathing more easily now, apparently not in quite as much pain. “Good Lord, I feel so very silly. I suppose I should also be more careful about where I do my reading…”
“Probably a good idea. Reading and walking, less of a good idea.” Crowley smoothed the rumpled feathers, then wrapped the ice packs in tartan towels and settled them across the bruised section of Aziraphale’s wing. “There, angel. How’s that feel?”
“Much, much better. Thank you, dear boy.” Turning to glance at Crowley, Aziraphale smiled. His eyes were still red, face a little blotchy, but he looked loads better than he had earlier. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Be loads more sore from just pretending you’re not hurt,” Crowley said affectionately, rubbing Aziraphale’s back. “Next time you shut your wing in a door, just tell me, okay? I can help.”
“Well, I am going to do my best never to have my wing anywhere near a door again, but I will keep that in mind.” Closing his eyes, Aziraphale settled back down to rest. “When we finish this side of the record, will you tend to it?”
Crowley smiled, gazing at his partner. Being able to help by putting on more music was loads more enjoyable than dealing with broken feathers, but he loved coming to the rescue in any way. “Yup. I’ll deal with that, and anything else you need.”