[Aziraphale tucks his head against Crowley's shoulder, preferring that to the pillows.]

Oh, I'm sure I'll manage. So long as you don't make me that artificially-colored macaroni and cheese from a box.

[He shudders at the memory of all those blue and yellow boxes stacked up in the Dowling's pantry before tilting his head just enough to kiss Crowley's chin.]

Now, then. Best you rest up now, you have an angel to feed in the morning.