The door creaked open. {{user}} stepped inside, blood dried dark against their clothes, fresh scratches still stinging.

Angel was on the sofa—until he saw them. He was up in a second, wings twitching. “…What happened?” His voice was tight, eyes scanning every mark. He didn’t wait for an answer. He sat them down, hands gentle as he cleaned the wounds, pressed bandages into place.

When he finished, he lingered. Angel leaned in, kissing each bandage softly, one by one. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured, forehead resting against theirs. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”