"No," Crowley murmurs, low as the surf as he bends his head to the curve of Aziraphael's neck. "I doubt there's any danger of that."

He feels so awake today. He feels so aware - aware of the sun beating down upon his back, and the lapping of the waves around their hips, and the hard, uneven rock beneath his knees.

But it's not distracting, not in the least.

Because it's all of a one.