[ It's a rare treat to feel Aziraphale relax so much in his arms. They were both wound tight, but Crowley always thought Aziraphale carried it more. He was the one with more to lose, after all, and Heaven was full of picky perfectionists. Even now, when they can let some of those defenses down, old habits die hard.

So Crowley savours the moment and holds him close, hands running up and down his spine and combing through his feathers. Less grooming and more of a massage. ]

'Course. I do love when you take care of me.

[ It seems Crowley understood the unspoken implication - that this is about a bit more than looking after his hair, and that Aziraphale has the demon's bles- go-ahead to indulge to his heart's content. ]

You've always done so well, keeping us safe, yeah? You know I trust your judgment.