Work Text:
"Ouch!"
The cry startled Aziraphale, pulling him out of his reading.
"Damn, that hurts!"
Without a second thought, Aziraphale dropped his book and rushed into the kitchen, where Crowley's cry had come from. He was shocked to see blood beading from the florist's thumb as he held it and grimaced.
“Crowley! Did you cut yourself?!"
Before Crowley could answer or explain, Aziraphale continued, "I have a first aid kit in my desk drawer. I'll be right back."
Aziraphale ran into the next room while Crowley tried to stop him.
"Aziraphale, it's just a—"
He didn't have time to finish his sentence before Aziraphale returned with a first aid kit. The bookseller opened it and emptied its contents onto the kitchen table.
"Okay, okay..."
He grabbed a small pouch. "Survival blanket... No, that's not it."
He threw it over his shoulder.
"Aziraphale..." Crowley tried to interrupt. "It's just..."
"Shh." Aziraphale took another pouch. "A tourniquet... No."
He threw it over his shoulder as well.
"Aziraphale, it's stopped."
"Let me concentrate, okay?"
Aziraphale picked up the stethoscope. "Don't need that either." He put it on the table.
“Aziraphale!" Crowley shouted and banged on the table to get his attention.
"What?!"
"Look." Crowley showed him his finger, which had stopped bleeding. “It’s nothing, just a paper cut. From opening my mail."
Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and saw that the cut was tiny and had stopped bleeding.
He hid his face in his hands. "You must think I'm ridiculous."
Crowley looked at him tenderly, removed his lover's hands from his face, and said softly, “Actually, I think it's rather cute, the way you panicked.”
Aziraphale looked sheepish but didn't seem convinced.
Amused, Crowley said kindly, "You can still help me, you know."
Aziraphale frowned.
“How?”
Crowley held out his injured finger. "Kiss it better."
Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but obeyed nonetheless, kissing the injured finger tenderly.
Crowley grabbed his chin and said playfully, "Thank you. It's much better now."
"Idiot."
"But sincerely, Aziraphale," Crowley said, his tone becoming more serious and gentle. "Thank you."
"For what? I didn't do anything."
The florist caressed his lover's lips with his thumb and said, "Even if it's nothing, the fact that you worried about me is rather nice."
Aziraphale murmured, "You're welcome."
"Let me thank you properly, then."
Crowley leaned in, his warm breath against Aziraphale's cheek. He pressed his lips against his lover's in a soft kiss that quickly intensified until they were forced to pull apart to catch their breath. They had long forgotten the reason for the kiss.