"Your wingssss are a messsss, angel," Crowley noticed. In point of fact, they weren't as bad as he made them out to be but they could do with some work. They were still so very beautiful even in their state of disarray and a tiny part of him was jealous of that beauty. But he didn't say it. He had no right to be jealous, he told himself when his own wings were so different because he'd Fallen.

"What?" Aziraphale blinked up from his book and took a quick glance over at his white wings. "Oh yes, I'm afraid they are a little. I've never quite gotten the hang of preening them myself and it's been a while since I've been to Heaven to get them taken care of. Perhaps I've let them go a tiny bit."

"You're 6,000 years old and you ssstill can't preen your own wingssssss," Crowley lamented. "Can you even fly like that?" he asked.

"Can't say I've tried recently. It's not really feasible in the middle of London."

"And you never thought to just miracle it ssssso they don't sssse you?"

"It's rather frowned upon, I'm afraid, to use a miracle for purely selfish reasons like that. Unless I'm saving my own life or someone else's I suppose, I don't really have a need to fly."

"You miracle our table free at the Ritzzzz all the time and it'ssss not like we need to eat. You've probably miracled up your fair share of bookssss for your collection, too."

"Well...yes, I suppose that's true," the angel blushed a little.

"Sssso, don't you missss flying at all?"

"Now that I think about it...yes, yes, I do," Aziraphale pondered, thoughtfully, "Usually I'm so preoccupied with my books or the food I tend to, well, forget about it."

"I could...preen them for you...when I can change back," Crowley offered. His own wings were always perfectly groomed, pride of course being a sin he took great pleasure in it. It wasn't only pride though, it was practical. He couldn't fly if his feathers were molting. "If you want...I mean..." he muttered.

To anyone else from Heaven or Hell, a demon offering to groom an angels' wings would be a cause for them to suspect insanity and / or laugh. Their wings were the most sacred part of them, the most treasured and the most easily broken. It was assumed that every demon who Fell instantly lost their wings, but in actual fact, the more evil the demon was by intent, then the sooner they'd loose their wings. Because most demons Fall and instantly begin committing evil left, right and centre, their wings vanished instantly. It was frowned upon and was punishable by a gruesome death for a demon to retain their wings. It was a mark of Heaven and therefore, not acceptable down below.

The fact that Crowley had retained his wings even after he Fell, after 6,000 years suggested that he'd never been quite as bad as other demons like Hastur or Ligur, both of whom had lost their wings when they'd Fell. He'd been claiming for years that he too had lost his wings and no one from Hell had ever bothered to check, after all what demon would lie about that? But he was always secretly relieved when he checked to see that they were still there every singe night. It was too much of a risk to go flying too often; who knew what other demons were lurking nearby? But he'd miss them if he ever lost them.

"Oh, really?" the angel smiled, fondly, "Thank you, that's very generous of you. I'd be so grateful."

"Ssssssss," came the hissed, nonchalant reply.

"Speaking of wings," Aziraphale began. "I'd always heard that demons loose theirs after they Fall, is that the case?" he asked.

"Ermmmm...yeah."

"But you still have yours," the angel noted. The first and only time he'd seen them in 6,000 years was when Crowley had stopped time and they'd briefly spoken to Adam right before Satan himself had appeared on Earth.

"...Yessssss."

"You always have?"

"...Yessss," Crowley repeated.

"Being as they're made from the Almighty's Grace and if the Almighty hasn't seen fit to deprive you of them, then it means that I was right, doesn't it? There is good in you and it's always been there," Aziraphale smiled, "And I'm not the only one who knows it."

"Ssssshut it, angel."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, my dear," Aziraphale insisted, "It's a good thing."

"Not if you're a demon."

"Is that what you really think?"

"Doesssssn't matter what I think. If Hell ever found out I lied about them, a holy water bath all at once would be classssssed as a merccccy killing. They'd tear them off feather by feather and then drip holy water on what'sssss left...slowly...while they're sssstill attached. Ssssaw that happen once...agessss ago on another demon who Fell but sssstill had hisss wingsss. He wassss ssstupid enough to let ssssomeone ssssee. I warned him. He wasss barely a demon for five minutessss before they got to him. Horrible way to go. Took weekssss for him to die."

Aziraphale's arms slightly tightened around his friend, though not enough to hurt him but it wasn't unnoticed by the snake who hissed in what he intended to be a comforting manner though he wasn't sure if snakes could actually convey comfort via a hiss.

"Are there no other demons with wings?" the angel asked.

"Don't think sssssso, no. If there issss anyone, they're hiding them, like me."

"There are no other demons like you, my friend. I did only catch a glimpse back then, but I thought your wings looked really rather splendid," Aziraphale said, genuinely, "Standing in the middle of what was potentially the end of the world didn't seem like the time to comment on them though. I'm glad you never lost them, it would be a true shame if you did."

Fortunately, Crowley thought, it was quite impossible for a snake to blush.