[ Crowley chews thoughtfully on the offered morsel. It isn't bad, though he's finding he likes the sauce more than the ravioli itself. Still, it's hardly offensive, and surprisingly better than he thought it would be so it gets the 'mm' of approval and the press of a tender kiss to the back of Aziraphale's neck. ]

Dunno - but it's an option, if that sort of thing appeals. You should see it at least - I'd like to get your opinion before I do anything with the place.

[ He manages to keep his tone vague and noncommittal as he doesn't want Aziraphale to feel pressured into a whole new lifestyle. But the way the angel says it, build a home together, makes something old and and broken in him ache. He's never been able to call a place home; even his brief stint as an angel he hadn't been in Heaven much. The closest thing to feeling like somewhere he belonged was just Aziraphale.

But something they build together... Warm summer evenings in the garden, cold winter nights curled up together by the fire in the study, mornings in the kitchen making breakfast together... ]