[ You know how it is; he certainly does. Crowley's idea of 'having a wander' often translated to 'checking in on the angel and seeing how to bother him that day'... But for the first time in quite a handful of years Aziraphale couldn't muster any kind of irritation or frustration with how casual he was. Their Arrangement went back so long and had been so up and down over the centuries, but it was evident to him - without too much consideration - that he actually really, truly enjoyed Crowley's company.

They had said something of the sort, hadn't they? When they were stopping the whole thing from happening and getting themselves into all kinds of trouble while doing it. In fact, Aziraphale might go as far as to say that he had quite a fond spot for the demon somewhere in his heart, though he would never say it aloud. No reason to give him any more reason to be a pain, after all, he'd had enough of that for a dozen lifetimes.

It doesn't stop him smiling, even as he walks over and swats at Crowley's feet with practised familiarity, nudging them down and off the table with a small frown. He did it, every single time, almost as if he wanted Aziraphale to scold him as soon as he stepped through the door. ]

Stop making a mess of my lounge, please, my dear, while I make the tea.

[ A pause, and then - ]

Or something else, if you'd prefer, I think I have something from a few decades ago somewhere...