𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞

Aziraphale looks up at the demon, and he sees it again: he sees the genuine concern, the gentleness in his features, the softness in his voice. He sees the fear, the worry, the weariness on his face, and it serves as a reminder of their current situation. Not that they can afford to totally ignore it, for their own sake.

But it's all of Crowley's efforts. It's all of his patience, his care, all of the gentler sides of the demon that Aziraphale has the privilege to see. That's what he really notices.

So, he smiles. Rests his hand on top of Crowley's, a repeated gesture this evening, holding it there.

"I'll be fine, my dear." He thinks. He hopes. He has yet to properly examine the issue and the actual damage. "Just some good rest, and I'll be back in tip top shape in no time at all."

Pardon him his indiscretions with so much hand touching. It feels right, is all.