Aziraphale takes a moment to reply, distracted as he is by Crowley's arm around his waist, that kiss upon his ear. He hums softly in acquiescence, his wings shaking out one last shiver before folding tightly against his back and then disappearing entirely. "I was thinking the same thing," he admits. "It's a bit cramped up there."

He slips out of Crowley's grasp, but only so he can take his arm and lead him more effectively to the back room of the shop, and then through a door and up a stairway to a flat that clearly doesn't get much use based on the amount of books covering nearly every available surface.

There is a bed underneath all that, over in the corner. It's a Victorian style, because that's the era that Aziraphale got it in his head to try reading in bed for the first time. It's only covered in a few books, so Aziraphale moves them by hand and uses his miracle to clear away the dust. What's left is a full-size bed with a plush headboard and footboard, soft white sheets and duvet and a plethora of pillows. Aziraphale slips out of his jacket and folds it over the back of a nearby chair, then takes a seat on the edge of the bed, wiggling a little to test its resistance.

"Well?" He smiles up at Crowley and pats the space next to him. "Care to see if it meets your standards?"