Crowley barks his shin against the rock, which makes him wince - but it's glancing, and temporary, and rather less urgent than the need to keep up the rhythm, just there, where it makes Aziraphael's voice go ragged around the edges.

He's grinning again, fit to outshine the sun, but when he tugs Aziraphael's head back, and leans down for another kiss, it's just a little less than gentle.