Upstairs at 777 Abby Road, Sunday Morning (12/30)

[ditheringangel]

Aziraphale pressed his face against Wilson's chest, unable to help a little smile at how much his mate's scent comforted him. The young doctor had finally come in the library late the previous night, and gently insisted the angel come to bed. There'd been a cup of tea waiting on the nightstand, and rather than ask questions, Wilson had simply

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[doctorjwilson]

It was not that Wilson wasn't curious about the blood on Aziraphale's shirt and his generally disheveled and obviously unhappy apperance. It was that he'd learned that there was a time and a place for conversations and right then, hadn't been either.

Slowly waking to the comfortable sensation of Phale in his arms, Wilson shifted slightly on the pillow and ran his hand along the angel's shoulder.

"Morning, lover."

[ditheringangel]

Closing his eyes, Aziraphale exhaled a soft sigh. "Morning, James love," he answered quietly.

Wilson's discretion had been appreciated, but the angel knew he needed to explain himself. And now that he was feeling less upset over what had happened, the idea of discussing it a lot less worrisome.

"I'm sorry about last night."

[doctorjwilson]

"It's all right, love." Wilson said softly, carding a half asleep hand through the angel's hair. "Though, you had me worried. Something up with the kids?"

[ditheringangel]

"Not..."

Aziraphale frowned, because it did have something to do with the kids in a way, but that wasn't really the main point.

"I got into a fight last night," he admitted softly. "A fistfight. With Captain Harkness."