Aziraphale looked at the state of Crowley's wings with dismay. "Hold on, dear," he murmured as he reached out with one hand to brush along the feathers. They smoothed out and became whole in the wake of his touch and that spread throughout the inky black wings. "There," he said with a smile. "Beautiful."
He truly did think Crowley's wings were beautiful, the black seeming to shimmer with colours in the right light. Though that may have been his fanciful imagination. But they were beautiful nonetheless, in the same way that Crowley's eyes were so lovely.
He suddenly realised Crowley had mentioned the gold and his wings flared out and curved around a little in response, the gold-tipped primaries becoming more obvious. Aziraphale looked at them with a troubled frown.
"I know. They grew back in that way and I have no idea why." Well, he did have some ideas but he'd dismissed them. "I certainly don't feel any different," he continued. "And if I'd been... promoted, then I'm sure I would." He was also sure that She would have said something. It seemed like the sort of thing She should mention to him.