“You always get those really stubborn ones out, my dear.”
Aziraphale sips his cocoa and sighs happily, listening to Crowley’s little grunts and muttering while he grooms his wings.
“There’s one I can’t bloody get,” Crowley grumbles. “I’ll get it though.”
“Oh I know you will.” Aziraphale laughs softly. Crowley won’t give up on plucking a stubborn feather. It’s part of the reason Aziraphale always sits on a nice comfortable cushion and pours a nice cup of cocoa before they begin.
One by one the ruffled white feathers fall, catching and dancing on the air before finally resting.
Part 2
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