"Better than it could have," he agrees. After all, Aziraphale is still here, still touching him. Still warm and alive. The alternative is utterly unthinkable.

Aziraphale's thumb brushes over his fingers, and Crowley remembers that touch, on the plane, and again in the bar. How slowly they've moved from touches to feelings. He can't imagine going through this life without Aziraphale by his side. He never will, if he has it his way.

"I still think you didn't do anything wrong," he says. "In the scheme of everything. Being an angel---you were thwarting evil, protecting life, and being generally good. They don't have any reason to want to chase you down at all."