Crowley sighs and shifts, with only a twinge of reluctance at losing the lovely, lovely feeling of having his hair stroked. Later. "Nah, 'm good for now," he says, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Before he settles his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders he leans in, lightly kisses the back of the angel's neck. "Just want to be touching you."

And distracting him from invisible elephants, truthfully. So this works as a plan. Slowly he presses his fingers in, the pads of his thumbs immediately going to a place on either side of Aziraphale's spine, where tension often hides. He takes meticulous care in soothing the knots and muscles, there and everywhere, gradually working outwards and then down the back.