Take These Broken Wings And Learn To Fly

Chapter Three

Exam phase is upon me. Urgh.

Yes, they are still idiots not daring to believe how much the other cares about them, nothing new here. Have some hurt/comfort :)

Thanks for reading, everyone! I'll eagerly await any screaming in the comments hehe

~oOo~oOo~oOo~

Crowley has taken him in, has given him a place in his flat, in his bed.

Crowley has taken care of him, cleaned his wounds and wrapped them in bandages, makes sure he's as comfortable as he can be in this state, barely leaves his side.

Aziraphale knows the demon sits next to the bed for hours, watching him while he sleeps. He's slept a lot the last few days, the pain exhausting in a way he has never encountered before.

He's told Crowley he's fine. He's told Crowley he doesn't have to do all this, doesn't have to watch over him day and night. The demon just nods each time, but doesn't leave.

"Don't mention it", Crowley says every time Aziraphale tries to thank him.

"Just let me do it", he says every time Aziraphale suggests he's doing too much, being too kind.

He doesn't dare use actual words like kind and nice and selfless, knows the demon would just bare his teeth and deny it all, but that's what Crowley is, what he always has been, and what he proves to be even now, when Aziraphale doesn't deserve any of it. He never did deserve Crowley's kindness, really, but now...now.

Now Aziraphale hardly understands how the demon can stand to look at him, let alone watch over him with worried eyes, touch him with gentle hands when he needs to reposition his body, when his bandages have bled through again and need changing.

When the nightmares are taking their toll, and Crowley lies in bed next to him, allows Aziraphale to take comfort in his warmth, his closeness, the gift of his mere presence.

He does it all without complaining, without wanting thanks or gratitude. He does it all without a second thought even though Aziraphale can constantly feel the apprehension in Crowley's entire being, the tension in his shoulders when he looks at him, the anger he pushes down and buries under the thorough execution of every mechanical task - every change of sheets, every plumping of pillows, every brewed cup of tea.

He expected Crowley to be angry with him, and he is.

It's not like Aziraphale can blame him, not really. It had hurt them both, parting the way they had. Aziraphale knows he would choose the same path again now, even knowing how it ends for him, for them both. He thinks Crowley knows it too, deep down, the same way Aziraphale knows Crowley couldn't have come to Heaven with him.

But it hurts anyway. Perhaps the inevitability of it all makes it hurt even more.

It had hurt to leave him, it had hurt to be away from him.

Now it hurts to be with him, too.

Because Crowley is guarded now, closed up in a way Aziraphale isn't used to from the demon at all. Crowley has always been the brave one, ready with his attention and open with his affection to the point of recklessness. Sure, he's always denied and scowled at any implication of kindness behind his actions, but Aziraphale has always known better.

Even now Crowley does anything Aziraphale asks, more than Aziraphale deserves. It's why he's hesitant to ask anything at all, because he knows Crowley won't deny him, will put Aziraphale's needs before his own, the way he always has - the way he shouldn't have to.

But Aziraphale has always been weak, weak for earthly comforts, weak for Crowley, and most of all - weak for the comforts Crowley provides.

He has allowed himself to be selfish, to take what Crowley offered, a place in his home and a space in his bed and the entirety of Crowley's care and worry. He revels in his soft touches and gentle words, knows that he has no right to them, wonders how long they'll last.