From upstairs, the muffled sounds of clattering and banging filtered down as Aziraphale fussed and fretted as he followed Crowley back to the sofa, looking relieved that he'd stopped threatening to do violence against his other person but still distressed over the fact that Crowley didn't seem to even notice how severely he must have been hurt. The only thing to seem to be able to distract him from this fact was the shouted "Angel, there's just more books in here," at which he gave an exasperated roll of his eyes towards the upper floor.
"Behind the 18th century cartography books, my dear!"
"Oh, right..."
At the resumption of the commotion above them, the angel finally seemed to feel comfortable with helping Crowley shift his wings so that they were more relaxed, in a place that he could inspect them for damage, though his hands on the feathers were infinitely delicate and gentle for fear of pushing them in a way that would cause him pain.
"Your wings, Crowley, just look at them! Show me where they're hurt, please, I-..."
He hesitated, his lips pursing now that the question of the other demon's identity had been asked directly, now that he was calm enough to listen. He didn't want to dump too much into his lap with the state he was in, but he knew he couldn't just lie about what was happening, not with the others' presence so impossible to ignore.
"Well, you see...obviously, that's Crowley. When you appeared in the park, I thought you were him. Well, I mean, you are him, obviously, it's not that I think you're not you, of course. I mean to say I thought that Crowley had woken up from the nap he started a few days ago and had finally come looking for me. So you can understand my conf-"
"Aziraphale, you have got to be kidding me, this box is from World War II! If these bandages were alive, they'd be dead already!"
Crowley's fast, heavy footsteps thundering back down the stairway signaled that he had, at last, found the first aid kit, and he was waving it in the air by his head as he charged back down to rejoin them, as loud and thundering as ever. Aziraphale could only sigh.
"It's fine, Crowley. You know I wouldn't let anything in my shop do anything as gauche as succumb to something like a little dry rot, bring them here."
The demon grunted, marching over and holding the old, battered government-issued first aid tin out as he stood just over his shoulder, making no attempts to hide the way he was staring at the bloodied demon in front of them, and his very tiny reptilian friend.
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rosecarmine
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Date: 2020-11-22 11:14 am (UTC)The only thing to seem to be able to distract him from this fact was the shouted "Angel, there's just more books in here," at which he gave an exasperated roll of his eyes towards the upper floor.
"Behind the 18th century cartography books, my dear!"
"Oh, right..."
At the resumption of the commotion above them, the angel finally seemed to feel comfortable with helping Crowley shift his wings so that they were more relaxed, in a place that he could inspect them for damage, though his hands on the feathers were infinitely delicate and gentle for fear of pushing them in a way that would cause him pain.
"Your wings, Crowley, just look at them! Show me where they're hurt, please, I-..."
He hesitated, his lips pursing now that the question of the other demon's identity had been asked directly, now that he was calm enough to listen. He didn't want to dump too much into his lap with the state he was in, but he knew he couldn't just lie about what was happening, not with the others' presence so impossible to ignore.
"Well, you see...obviously, that's Crowley. When you appeared in the park, I thought you were him. Well, I mean, you are him, obviously, it's not that I think you're not you, of course. I mean to say I thought that Crowley had woken up from the nap he started a few days ago and had finally come looking for me. So you can understand my conf-"
"Aziraphale, you have got to be kidding me, this box is from World War II! If these bandages were alive, they'd be dead already!"
Crowley's fast, heavy footsteps thundering back down the stairway signaled that he had, at last, found the first aid kit, and he was waving it in the air by his head as he charged back down to rejoin them, as loud and thundering as ever. Aziraphale could only sigh.
"It's fine, Crowley. You know I wouldn't let anything in my shop do anything as gauche as succumb to something like a little dry rot, bring them here."
The demon grunted, marching over and holding the old, battered government-issued first aid tin out as he stood just over his shoulder, making no attempts to hide the way he was staring at the bloodied demon in front of them, and his very tiny reptilian friend.