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“It’s a shame about your hair, dear. You didn’t have to cut it so short.”
Crowley huffed, throwing his head back to finish the wine in his cup. “I was tired of people trying to take locks of it,” he said, “not to mention people acting as if you were my master and asking to buy me or my hair!”
Aziraphale giggled at that and only stopped when Crowley gave him a dirty look over the rim of his glasses. “You must admit they’re right about one thing,” he offered. He reached into his robes as Crowley started to bluster and argue against this and he produced a collar. Wordlessly he slipped the polished metal around his neck and the demon blinked.
“What is..?”
“It’s a slave collar.”
“Wha..?!”
“Read the tag, darling.”
Crowley pouted, making a face as he took the collar off to look at what was engraved on the large tag. Normally these tags were used to offer rewards should the slave run, something like ‘my name is X, hold me for X and you’ll be given X amount of money’.
“My name is Crowley and I belong to Aziraphale who loves me for all eternity. No one may put a hand on me save him.” Crowley’s cheeks burned a bright red as he read the words aloud.
Aziraphale just smiled and took the collar from him, placing it around his neck once more before kissing him on the cheek and hugging him around his middle.
***
Many years and one Armagedoutofhere later and Anathema would make a comment about an odd looking choker Crowley had taken to wearing around his neck everyday. “It’s very lovely and it looks ancient! Where did you get such a choker?”
“It’s a slave collar Aziraphale gave me back in Rome,” Crowley would answer proudly, leaning against said angel.
“Was he expensive?” Anathema teased.
“No, he gave himself to me freely,” Aziraphale laughed, kissing Crowley on the cheek.