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Aziraphale didn’t know why he had one of Crowley’s feathers.
Well, that wasn’t true in the strictest sense. Aziraphale knew exactly why he had the feather—because he picked it up and kept it. Even long afterward, he remembered the scene: a single black feather floating languidly to the ground as Crowley rushed to meet one of his infernal superiors.
But he didn’t know why he picked it up. Didn’t know why he kept it. Didn’t know why he’d take it out, hands shaking, when he was sure he was alone.
And he didn’t wonder what Heaven would think if they saw the feather nestled in an elaborately decorated box in the bookshop. Angels who wondered too much about those kinds of things tended not to remain angels for long. He didn’t wonder what Crowley would think, either. That rejection would have been much worse.
He didn’t wonder, but he worried. An abstract, cloudy, terrible thing that pervaded his thoughts as he refused to acknowledge what the facts clearly led to.
“Hmm? What’s this?” Crowley asked, holding the delicately engraved box up to get a better look.
Well. It was only a matter of time before this happened. Crowley spent so much time at the bookshop these days, and Aziraphale hadn’t bothered to hide the thing. Perhaps a part of his subconscious wanted Crowley to discover it.
He wondered if Crowley could sense his own feather inside the wooden enclosure. Perhaps, even after all this time, there was still a tiny twinge of demonic power attached to it. Perhaps Crowley was giving him an out.
In the not-so-distant past, Aziraphale would have taken it. But things had changed. He had spent so long pushing Crowley away, and it simply wasn’t necessary anymore.
“See for yourself,” he answered.
Crowley opened the lid of the box gently, picked up the black feather gingerly. His face turned a slight twinge of red. He didn’t say anything; just looked between the feather and Aziraphale.
“It’s yours,” Aziraphale blurted out after a few moments of silence.
“Y-Yeah, I figured. Uh. If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you had this?”
“I’m not sure. It’s been so long, I’ve lost count.”
Crowley nodded. After some more quiet, Aziraphale began to wonder—was something wrong? Did keeping this token around make Crowley uncomfortable?
“You can have it back, if you’d like. I’m sorry if—”
“No, no, you don’t need to apologize. I was just…thinking.”
“Oh.”
“You see, uh. Er. I-have-one-of-yours-too.”
Aziraphale’s face brightened, dispelling any trace of anxiety in the air. “Do you? That’s lovely. Will you show it to me? Only if you want to, of course.”
Crowley smiled. “Next time we’re at my flat.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Aziraphale said as he wrapped his arms around Crowley. Crowley brought his own arms up to tightly return the hug.