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mekachu04Eventually, they do get the injured duo moved to one of Lucifer's couches. Crowley introduces them to Linda and Chloe - allowing Lucifer to learn the angel's name officially, although he's pretty sure it's not Assssssirifel.
They've splinted said angel's right arm and bound his wings, along with wrapping ribs and bracing once dislocated knees. He's resting on his left this time to take weight off his right shoulder, and his wings are tucking in tight against his back. Crowley watching in horror as the move the right wing; he can see the damage that's been done, and he admits to Lucifer that even if he wasn't drained, fixing an injury like that was outside his ability as well. The two demons regretfully acknowledge that if Amenadiel hasn't been found by the time the angel is mobile they'll likely have to amputate it; its outside the Principality's ability too, and the window of it being healed correctly it small and closing fast.
Linda's already leaving her baby daddy a voicemail on the matter, before calling to check in with Eve who's watching Charlie. Lucifer is actually relieved she didn't come as well; he's not sure how she'd feel about seeing Eden's Serpent and Guardian again.
Crowley has slithered around his angel once more, sticking his tongue out at Maze when she scoffs, but there is no heat in either move. His wings aren't out this time, not feeling the need to hid them from view.
In the morning, he'll stagger out to Lucifer's main living area on two legs that don't quite move like a human should, but looking more alert and at ease with himself. His face is still bruised and battered, wrappings still obscuring the left side of his head, single gold right eye staring back at him. He stands just outside the threshold, hands tucked into pant pockets (well, fingers) and looking for permission to enter Lucifer's space.
The women have gone home, they've got their own lives that still moved on without Lucifer.
"Breakfast?" the devil offers, pouring himself a missed shot of scotch. The serpent smirks, but shakes his head. "No thanks boss," he manages, the 's' lingering a little longer than usual, but nothing like the tired hissing from the previous day.
Lucifer savors his drink, letting the moment rest for a bit, before finally waving Crowley into the room, "Boss, hmm? I was under the impression that you were retired."
Crowley sat himself across the counter from him, slouched and pointedly not looking at him.
"Crowley." Lucifer prompted.
"I didn't... I wasn't expecting you to come."
"You called for help."
"Wouldn't be the first time I've asked; I guess I got used to being ignored."
"You never asked me for help before," he countered.
Crowley nodded. "Call it my Hail Mary then. Nobody else seemed to be listening." He picked at the counter top, voice dropped to a whisper, "I was desperate."
If he was expecting Lucifer to be offended, he didn't show anything when Lucifer just raises his glass in a mock toast.
"Luckily for you I was listening in that area already. Although." and Lucifer set his glass down, before leaning back and studying the other demon, "That was a pretty strong prayer to start with. I wouldn't be surprised if it called me topside even if I wasn't already checking in with what Amenadiel was doing."
Crowley nodded but offered nothing. The moment stretched just to the point of awkward before Crowley strained up, face steeling in preparation, "What do I owe you then?"
Lucifer groaned, shaking his head, "No. No, this is something Amenadiel owes me. He's the one that drug you two out in the open. I can understand his impulsiveness to keep him and his safe, but this was not poor planning on your part, but his. Him, also, failing to keep either of you safe, or even to care for you after the battle is a failing on is part, so he is the one that owes me a favour. Several actually. I'll make him a list."
Crowley clearly is uneasy with this kindness, and he fidgets in place.
"If we can save your angel's wings, then feel free to be indebted." he murmurs, not just voicing the very real fear he has, but the need to gauge Crowley's awareness of the problem. The full body flinch cements it. He knows.
Lucifer pores them both a round. This time Crowley drinks.
-
Mazikeen arrives by mid-morning, trailing behind a full course breakfast delivery that was just setting up. The Devil beamed at her when she came in, and she allowed him to draw her into an embrace. She'd missed him too.
The humans had jobs (and school for Trixie) to attend to, leaving the preternatural beings alone for the next few hours. Crowley skulked around the edge of the room when she came in; the two not really familiar with each other and having little in common. She picked at a few of the food items, pondering her words choice over a sausage link.
"How's the eye?" she asked finally, gesturing to his face as her ice breaker. Crowley looked her over for a moment to gauge any hidden meaning to her question. Finding none, he shrugs, "Swelling's down," he squared his shoulder, otherwise ignoring his own pain, "So thank you. For helping yesterday."
She nods, "and the angel?"
If she'd opened with that question, he probably would have closed up and gone on the defensive. Instead just looked dejected. "He'll survive."
He shook his head, forcing himself to be more positive, "He's fine. Or. He will be. It's not.... It's not the worst thing we've faced."
That was almost disheartening. Maze might never of had wings of her own, but she had watched Lucifer's struggle with his, and to hear that possibly having to amputate a wing was not the worse thing was either an extreme hyperbole, or a sad reflection on the on goings of the 'gone native' duo.
Something must have shown on her face, because Crowley just smiled - fake and tired - "we're both still alive. we'll figure the rest out as it comes."
-
While Crowley and Maze 'chatted' Lucifer happened by the guest room, taking note of his angel guest was sitting up on the couch, looking out over the LA skyline. He knocked on the door frame before entering; one should never sneak up on angel or demon unless they where meaning to cause harm. The angel turned to regard him; his face still bruised, and the right side still swollen to the point where he didn't seem to be able to see out of that eye. He could see the moment the angel realised who he was, straightening in place, and making a move to stand. "Lu..Lucifer Morningstar."
Lucifer raised a hand, the motion causing the angel to pause and regard him uncertainty, "No need to stand, angel. I'll forgive the social faux pas this time."
He tried to play it off with a chuckle, but that just seemed to set the angel at farther unease.
"Asirafel, right?"
"Oh!" he fidgeted, plucking nervously at the hem of his borrowed shirt, "Aziraphale," he clarified, "Principality. Gua- Guardian of the Eastern Gate."
"Aziraphale. A pleasure to final have a name to the face," Lucifer gave his most charming smile, being sure to keep any suggestion out of it. "I am sorry to be hosting you under these circumstances."
Aziraphale gave an uneasy, breathless laugh; one more of nerves than humour, "uah.. yes."
Lucifer broke eye contact first, looking out where Aziraphale had been looking when he arrived. "Have you been to LA before?"
"I have not," he admitted, "the last time I was in California at all was in San Francisco for the gold rush."
"I'll give you both a tour before you return to England. It's the City of Angels after all. Seems like it would be a must-do for one of the Host."
He had turned to give the angel a cheeky smile, trying to put some humour in a bad situation; the angel smiled back, but it was a lie; a barely constructed mask over clear distress. Lucifer couldn't bear to see the angel cry, he clapped his hands together, "I understand you like human cuisine; I've ordered us all breakfast, if you would be interested."
-
Aziraphale does not like to ask for help, but he also is not too proud to refuse it when offered. Lucifer extends him an elbow, and they slowly shuffling out to the buffet. His sense of balance is off, unable to course correct with his wings bound like they are. With the right wing distended the way it was, Aziraphale was unable to fold either of them away, and Lucifer helped him belt the wing in place to keep it from dragging listlessly behind him as they joined the demons. Lucifer escorted him directly to Crowley, making a big show of handing the angel off, much to Crowley's mortification. Aziraphale seems to delight in in though, so the Devil counted it as a win. Mazikeen also got a chuckle out of it. As the pair worked on getting Aziraphale a plate, Lucifer studied the angel from behind.
More importantly, he was studying the wing. While the left wing was also splinted and bound, Aziraphale could very much feel it's handling as Lucifer helped him get up. It would take time, but it should heal. The right wing though... A miracle from heaven could fix anything, but he was worried about the wing in the meantime. Mostly that it was dead weight right now and (())) Lucifer couldn't bring himself to sever the limb. If he would ask Mazikeen to do so, she would, but she made no effort to take the initiative on her own.
Later that afternoon, when Linda and Chloe returned, children in tow, Linda's calls to Amenadiel where starting to take a desperate tone as she could see how badly Aziraphale was struggling to
-
It took a week for Amenadiel to return to Earth, and the only things forgivable about the wait was LA being his first stop. Linda turned him away from her door immediately; she'd bring Charlie to Lux and meet him there, but that needed to be his first stop.
Crowley beat Lucifer into chewing him out for his late return; he was furious about being abandoned by the angel, after leading Heaven's army right to them in the first place. Lucifer, Chloe and Mazikeen stood as an impenetrable wall to prevent the angel's escape as he got a well-deserved dressing down from a furious and increasingly desperate Crowley.
The tirade only tapered off when Aziraphale entered the room, woken by Crowley's yelling, and Amenadiel caught sight of the Principality. Whatever state he thought he'd left the two in was shattered when he took on the sling holding his arm and wings in place.
His right arm was healing well enough, and his left wing was doing well as well. But nothing could be done for the damage to his right wing, and Crowley visibly deflated when Amenadiel turned in out in favour of hurrying to look at Aziraphale's wings. He reached out for a miracle, and human and demon alike turned away from the heartbreak on Aziraphale face when Heaven did not answer Amenadiel's call.
"Don't fret over it," Aziraphale's voice cracked, trying to keep a stiff upper lip as he absolved Amenadiel of guilt.
"No, no angel," Crowley interjected, clearly upset, "He should fret over it!" hands cupped each side of Aziraphale face, forcing the angel to look at Crowley, "He should fret!" before looking over Aziraphale shoulder to glare at Amenadiel, "This is your fault,. you should damn well fret!"
-
"Okay," Mazikeen finally interjected, turning to Amenadiel, "Can you, or can you not, fix the angel's wing? Because he can't go on like this much longer"
Aziraphale deflates into Crowley, they all know the answer, just no one wanted to hear it voiced
-
Linda finally lets Amenadiel visit with his son, taking the reprieve to join Crowley and Aziraphale where they have holed up in the 'couch room' as Crowley has dubbed it. She's not surprised to see dry eyes all around. Tears mean acceptance, and neither of them are there yet, not really. Crowley seamed closer to that point, Aziraphale setting his own feelings aside to comfort the demon. Linda knocked, Aziraphale looking over to give her a strained smile that didn't reflect in his demeanor at all. Crowley was still limbed at the moment, put otherwise doing his best to coil up in the angel's lap, and buried his face into Aziraphale's neck not unlike the way he'd tried to hide them both that first night. Both the angel's hands were in Crowley's hair, made all the more awkward where Crowley has burrowed under his slinged right arm
She sits and talks with the pair for a while; her clients usually are more removed from the trauma, so it's strange talking about something so fresh, without the chance to rationalize or compartmentalize it. Its happened to Aziraphale, but he hasn't even had a chance to notice yet, because he's so focus on Crowley. It is different to help them side by side, she's not a couples therapist - but she's quick to adjust prompts where needed to guide them through these tiny first step.
"It's far from the worst thing we've faced, Dr Martin" he tried to reassure her when she tried to prompt him into talking about what /he's/ feeling instead of comforting Crowley.
"Crowley said something like that to Mazikeen too. This. This seem like (()) "
Aziraphale struggles with himself for a moment, clearly searching for the words he asnds before he starts speaking. "we're both alive. and... relatively well. the rest can be worked out as we go."
"That seems about that Crowley said too."
She let him work through his words, she could see there was something there he did want to talk about, and Crowley offered nothing in support or denial. Aziraphale left hand worried at the collar of Crowley's shirt, "We both.... defected.. from our original sides. together." he settled with finally, turning to took at the door to the rest of Lucifer's penthouse home.
"Was Lucifer involved with that?"
"He was there at the original confrontation," Aziraphale admitted, "but neither Crowley or I really heard from him afterward as to gauge his reaction to that in of itself. I can't speak for Crowley, but I do not recall Lucifer making any attempts to contact us one way or the other after that first time, and he wasn't there for us at all."
Aziraphale was not her patient, and Linda had to restrain herself from prying down that train of thought. right now, she was here to gauge how he was dealing with the amputation. or.. not dealing with it.
"Do you feel unsafe here, with Lucifer?"
"Oh no," he did brighten with that, looking sincere, "No, no. He may be the Devil, but he has been straightforward and honest with us the entire time we've been here. and he has admitted he was unaware of Crowley's trial when it happened, and I do believe that. whether he would of stopped it we have not discussed, but I do believe he did not find Crowley's execution to be just."
she had to school her face on that one, "execution?"
"it didn't take," Aziraphale offered a bit cheek, trying to mask his hurt that it was a thing that had happened to them with a bit of humour.
She shared his smile, gesturing at Crowley. she could see where he'd tightened his hold, but ultimately said nothing. "obviously."
That would be worse than losing a wing, Linda figured. with how close they two where, she was sure they'd gladly give up any number of limbs to keep the other one alive.
but then she heard the slight hiss form Crowley, almost lost into Aziraphale's shirt where he still was burrowed into. the words where muffled, but they sounded an awful lot like '/they tried to take you way too/'
Aziraphale looked pained by that too, hugging Crowley closer, looking guilt when it was clear by Linda's face that she'd heard him.
"At least Hell gave Crowley a trial." he said finally, "it's more than what i got"
Crowley whined, tightening his grip, and Linda had to talk quite to avoid the shame starting to settle in on the angels face. like he felt he should bear the weight of his own failed execution. "do you feel like that's why the angels attacked you, when Amenadiel tracked you down to to help us?"
