Good Omens Oneshots

Injured Wings~

Crowley sits in his car on a backroad that nobody ever travels on. He lets his wings come out and sees all of the damage done to them in the mirror. When hell found out he had been "working" with Aziraphale, they tortured him for days, maybe even weeks.

There are nails driven into the wings, dried blood in hard to reach places, burns from diluted holy water. They honestly look terrible, and they ache horribly. "Call Aziraphale." Crowley says, the Bentley listening to him and ringing the bookshop.

When Aziraphale picks up, he obviously didn't look to see who was calling. "I apologize, but we are certainly closed today. Try again tomorrow." The angel says, going to set the phone down when he hears Crowley's familiar voice.

"Wait! It's me." Crowley says, making Aziraphale pick the phone back up.

"Crowley? Where are you? I haven't seen you in a while." Aziraphale asks, counting the days since he's seen the demon. 6. It had been 6 days since they'd seen each other.

"It's a long story. Can I pop in?" Crowley asks, tucking his wings back in and putting the car in drive, knowing that Aziraphale will agree.

"If you will fill me in on what's been going on. It's been six days!" Aziraphale says, a little angry at the demon.

"I know Angel, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. I'll see you in 5." Crowley says, hanging up so there aren't any more questions. He's a little embarrassed by what he is going to ask of Aziraphale, but it's necessary.

When Crowley arrives, he parks the Bentley and walks in. He sees Aziraphale sitting at the chairs on the exterior wall by the window with two cups of tea. He sits down and Aziraphale hands him one.

"Care to explain?" Aziraphale asks, taking a sip of his tea.

Crowley does a little miracle to shut all of the blinds, making sure nobody can see into the bookshop. He brings out his wings and Aziraphale gasps at the state of them. "Crowley!" He says, standing up and inspecting his wings. "What happened to you? Who did this?" He asks, angrily.

"Hell found out that we've been 'working' together." Crowley explains, using air quotes since they're doing less and less working as the years go by.

"So they tortured you?!" Aziraphale asks, shocked.

"Yes." Crowley says, dropping his wings down towards the floor. They're unbearably sore and tired. "I know this may not be a good idea, but would you help me take care of them?" Crowley asks, blushing slightly. He knows how this could end up.

"Of course! Let's go to my room so you're more comfortable." Aziraphale says, but before they make it to the stairs he asks, "do you want any tea to bring up?"

"I'm okay. Thank you, Angel." Crowley says. Aziraphale nods and the two make their way up to the angel's room. Crowley has never seen it before, but it's as you'd expect, lined with books on every wall, a lamp in the corner, and a huge white bed in the middle of the room.

"Lay down, I'm going to get some supplies." Aziraphale says, walking into his bathroom to pull out a first aid kit and grabbing a washcloth, wetting it a little.

When Aziraphale comes back, Crowley sees that the washcloth is wet and he gets visibly nervous. "It's just water, normal water. To clean the dried blood." Aziraphale says, holding it out to Crowley. Crowley inspects it and nods.

"Just make sure you don't-" Crowley starts.

"I know. I won't turn it to holy water." Aziraphale says, kneeling on the bed and inspecting how bad Crowley's wings actually are. "Dear lord, how long did they do this to you?" Aziraphale asks, staring at the injuries.