"No, Crowley, we can't, we have to go--" but the words die in his throat and his hands are all bloody again. He smears a little of it on his face as he wipes his tears, and he looks about to give up. But he goes to wash his hands in the kitchen sink, even though Heaven isn't counting his miracles anymore.
When he's done, he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he marches over and starts to undo the armor he'd laced Crowley into not a few hours ago, before all this mess. He can't believe it hadn't even lasted that long, just a few short hours and everything had gotten upturned.
"We did the right thing," he says, lifting pieces of the armor over his head.
That isn't a question, because it would've been worse if they hadn't intervened. He holds on to that to comfort him, and once Crowley is no longer covered in metal, Aziraphale loops arms around him and holds onto him, too.
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When he's done, he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he marches over and starts to undo the armor he'd laced Crowley into not a few hours ago, before all this mess. He can't believe it hadn't even lasted that long, just a few short hours and everything had gotten upturned.
"We did the right thing," he says, lifting pieces of the armor over his head.
That isn't a question, because it would've been worse if they hadn't intervened. He holds on to that to comfort him, and once Crowley is no longer covered in metal, Aziraphale loops arms around him and holds onto him, too.