There was something infinitely comforting in seeing Crowley dressed more normally, even if a part of his brain he'd been suppressing for more millennia than he really cared to admit was disappointed.
"Careful, dear," he said with alarm as Crowley staggered. He lurched forward to wrap an arm around Crowley to steady him. "You've only just been healed! Here. Sit down on the bed and I'll show you my wings."
He let himself prattle on to distract himself from any number of thoughts and feelings as he let his wings manifest in this reality. At first glance, they looked no different than they normally did but if one looked closer, there was a sheen and a shimmer to the feathers that spoke to their newness. There was also a gleam of gold on his primaries - they looked like the tips had been dipped in molten gold - which hadn't been there before.
"There, see?" he said soothingly. "They're perfectly fine, though some of the little bones took the devil's own time to mend."