Aziraphale returns the kiss, chasing Crowley's lips before laughing quietly at himself. They'll never lie down at this rate, but, God, he really needs to. "Of course," he replies, scoffing at the very idea that they wouldn't remained entwined with one another while horizontal. "Let me just --"

He rolls his shoulders and his wings disappear. He shivers a bit as Crowley's feathers brush his bare back and he murmurs, "Leave those out, if you like, darling." The logistics of two sets of wings out while lying down is too much for his tired mind to handle, but he likes the idea of remaining curled up in all that soft warmth.

With a soft sound of disappointment, he shifts up and feels Crowley slide out of him. As he lies down, he miracles away the mess, but not the ache that remains. Once he's settled comfortably, he holds out his arms, beckoning Crowley into them. "Anything else you've been waiting to be called, my beautiful treasure?"