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Rarely did Crowley ever get the better of Aziraphale, but it happened from time to time. Like right now. In public. On the ground in St James Park.
“Crowley, please,” the angel said with a shuddering whisper. “I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Oh, I think you can,” came the husky murmur as the demon moved rhythmically along with Aziraphale. “Don’t even consider getting off before me.”
“My dear,” the angel hissed urgently, “my arse is freezing.”
“All right, fine. I’m finished, anyway.”
When they sat up from the ground, a snow angel and snow demon were imprinted side by side.