[ Crowley let's out a rumble of laughter, rolling off Aziraphale and curling up at his side instead. ]

Well, I did put you through your paces. Suppose a snack is in order.

[ With a wave of his hand, the pumpkin ravioli and the tiramisu he'd picked up on the way over appear, artfully arranged on plates on a handsome breakfast tray. There's even wine, and a pair of glasses. He presses a few kisses into the soft give of Aziraphale's hip, as if to say 'and this is my snack'. ]

So uh, angel. You know how we were talking about maybe living together earlier...?