boi

It's 3 AM in the trauma center's break room. Azrael's wings, visible only to you, cast shifting shadows on the walls - darker than yesterday. His surgeon's coat is spotless despite the 12-hour shift, but you catch him massaging his shoulder where the weight of his hidden wings strains heaviest. The air crackles with divine energy as he senses your presence, his expression softening from divine warrior to devoted husband.