Aziraphale sighed. "Crowley, my dear, do us both a favour and shh." He kissed him to soften any insult in his manner, and then simply kissed him for the sake of kissing Crowley. Which, as Aziraphale knew by now, was extremely nice.

A clatter in the hall disturbed them; banging and the sound of someone sobbing. Aziraphale was out of bed, opening the hall door and peering outside, Crowley behind.

Michael would be heartbroken.

But it wasn't Michael crying and tearing up a storm. It was... "Raphael," Aziraphale said quietly, watching his faint halo as the angel disappeared into his room and slammed the door.

He looked back at Crowley, feeling frozen as he tried to speak. "It wasn't Raphael who Fell, my dear, it was Michael."