If only Aziraphale could tell that's what he's worried about. He would be rushing to comfort him, soothe his mind, telling him there's really not much he can do wrong here, nothing that would scare him off now that he's here to stay.

But, alas, kisses call for his attention instead, and he's being positively spoiled with those tonight. So he closes his eyes, squeezes Crowley's hand again - held by their side -, other hand still holding onto his trousers and what's at risk of become a tripping hazard.

But if they were good at things and perfecr performers, they wouldn't be here to be having this experience together, now would they?