The whole time that Crowley took to clean up the mess, all Aziraphale could do was stand with both hands covering his mouth, staring down at him, but he instantly accepted the cup when handed it, not even phased by how it had been fixed.
His instincts told him to throw all caution to the wind and throw his arms around Crowley in a tight embrace... but he was still worried. Not about what Heaven would think, but how Crowley would react.
"Is that... really you? Oh Crowley! When did you get here!"