"Yes," he says, his voice a little hoarse. "Thank you, love, much better. I was, er."

A handwave that Crowley can't see will have to suffice for the rest of that sentence. He's not sure he could accurately describe it, himself.

Aziraphael is still inclined to wrap himself as closely around Crowley as possible, but that's hardly unusual. His fingers linger in the sensitive area of Crowley's back, just below his neck.