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It's difficult to call anything in Crowley's flat comfortable, but if one was forced, one would have to say the bed. It's large, almost too large, with a hybrid mattress and black silk sheets. The first time Aziraphale entered the bedroom (the night after they saved the world), he remarked on how cold it looked, and the second time (the night after they saved themselves), a thick goose-down duvet had materialized. So, being the bounciest, silkiest, and warmest place in the flat, it is by default the most comfortable.
At this point (several months later), Aziraphale has been in this bedroom far more than two times, and has slowly been adding his own bits of plushness, mostly transplanted from the bookshop. He is sitting on the bed, reading while propped up on a mound of tartan pillows, when Crowley crawls into the bed with him and proceeds curl up in his lap.
Aziraphale puts his book down on the nightstand. "Everything all right, dear?"
"Mmm-hmm," Crowley says.
"Just wanted a cuddle?"
"Mmm-hmm," Crowley says again.
"Are you just saying 'mmm-hmm' to everything I say?"
"Mmm-mmm." Crowley shakes his head as best he can against Aziraphale's stomach.
"Ah." Since Crowley is entirely in the way of where his book would go, Aziraphale snaps his fingers and Brahms1 starts playing on the stereo system. Then, feeling Crowley's face pressed into him and thinking back on the conversation he had with Gabriel when the world was about to end, he asks, "Do you think I'm...soft?"
Without moving, Crowley says, "Mmm-hmm."
"Oh." Even though he's never exactly been a model angel, he was hoping he'd overestimated himself a bit. Apparently not.
And then, as if he is directly responding to the disappointment in Aziraphale's voice, Crowley pipes up again. "'S good," he murmurs.
Aziraphale tries to sound incredibly nonchalant (although he feels almost entirely the opposite) when he says, "What's that, dear?"
"Sssoft," Crowley hisses, shifting slightly. "Warm," he continues, settling. "Good," he concludes, curling his fingers and grabbing a fistful of shirt in the process.
Aziraphale sighs, putting one hand in Crowley's hair and the other on his thigh, and thinks that yes, this bed is definitely the most comfortable place in the flat.