The honesty of the sentiment catches him unprepared. It shows, too, by the way he stops smiling and looks almost startled.

The words they didn't say before. Well-- some of them. The ones going through their heads - at least, certainly through Aziraphale's - when the unholy flames were starting to consume the bar.

They don't have anyone else. They've never had anyone else, not in the way they have each other. There could never be anyone else.


He reaches a hand up, touches Crowley's cheek as gently as before.