[For a horrifying moment, Crowley wonders if Aziraphale has fallen, because the only time he's had a breakdown like this was after crawling out of a pit of sulfur, but Aziraphale still feels like an angel. Surely he'd know, if something that awful were to happen.
He doesn't feel any relief, not really, since it means he's still in the dark about what sparked this, but it isn't a mystery that needs to be solved right away. There's no immediate danger, as far as he can tell. They can talk about whatever they might need to talk about once Aziraphale has worked his way through this and come out the other side. Crowley doesn't want to ask any questions right now, preferring not to risk Aziraphale thinking he needs to get a hold of himself in order to answer.
Better out than in, with these things.
Crowley keeps his arms around Aziraphale, letting him press as close as he needs. One hand is a solid anchor at the nape of his neck while the other strokes up and down along his back, as though helping to ease out the sobs. After a moment or two, his wings slip into this dimension so he can bring them up and forward around them both, adding an extra layer of enclosure. An extra layer of safety.
There isn't anything he can say to solve this, but he can murmur reassuring nonsense as he holds Aziraphale, telling him that it's alright, that he's safe, that he can let it all out. Whatever Crowley thinks he might need to hear in the moment to help get him through.]
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He doesn't feel any relief, not really, since it means he's still in the dark about what sparked this, but it isn't a mystery that needs to be solved right away. There's no immediate danger, as far as he can tell. They can talk about whatever they might need to talk about once Aziraphale has worked his way through this and come out the other side. Crowley doesn't want to ask any questions right now, preferring not to risk Aziraphale thinking he needs to get a hold of himself in order to answer.
Better out than in, with these things.
Crowley keeps his arms around Aziraphale, letting him press as close as he needs. One hand is a solid anchor at the nape of his neck while the other strokes up and down along his back, as though helping to ease out the sobs. After a moment or two, his wings slip into this dimension so he can bring them up and forward around them both, adding an extra layer of enclosure. An extra layer of safety.
There isn't anything he can say to solve this, but he can murmur reassuring nonsense as he holds Aziraphale, telling him that it's alright, that he's safe, that he can let it all out. Whatever Crowley thinks he might need to hear in the moment to help get him through.]