[ Crowley, a demon of minor annoyances, grins deviously before the tickling has him abruptly curl in on himself, gripping Aziraphale for dear life as he laughs reflexively. ]

Menace with those fingers, you are. Bloody menace.

[ Eager as ever, Crowley returns the kiss, and lays a few of his own. ]

Nothing for it then - a romantic getaway to the seaside ought to sort you out.