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Summary
He let a devilish grin spread across his face and felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat. “Aziraphale, you absolute tart!”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, scandalized.
And that just made Crowley laugh harder. “You—you spend a week as a handsy lush and they invent an entire religion around it!”
“Oh,” Aziraphale groaned, and Crowley threw his head back and cackled.
OR:
Aziraphale is one sexy bastard, Crowley is a jealous bitch, and together they accidentally invent the first Bacchanalia.