[ There's a lazy chuckle from Crowley as he reclines with Aziraphale in their nest of pillows, stroking along the dip of his joint and over his hip. It's become the sort of petting with less intent to arouse, and more pacify. ]

I did mention something about those, yeah.

[ He kisses along Aziraphale's jaw, before finally resting his forehead against the angel's temple. His stroking has become increasingly slower, and his eyelids drooping. He tries and fails to suppress a yawn. ]

Tell you all about aubergines and doughnuts in the morning. Better yet; I'll show.