The angel looks up at him in almost a daze, somehow aware that Crowley isn't vocally asking, but getting the message all the same. And, for a moment, his reaction doesn't have much to it. Frozen in thought again, feeling too much again, and he doesn't know where to start.

But Crowleys arms are around him, and they're pressed together so close. They've been through so much, and their surprising freedom was taken away by forces outside of them again. It is unfair, and they deserve to be free.

He can't help but to glance at Crowleys lips for a moment, close as they are, and thinking about what they've already shared. About the closeness and intimacy. About all of this, how they got here.

So his answer comes after a moment of silence, until a snap decision, - impulses, his crowning achievements, or extremely the opposite - leads him into kissing the demon again, perhaps with a touch more fervor, gripping the fabric over his shoulders.

Forget that voice. Forget whatever is out there. Forget it all except this.