Aziraphale knows. Of course he knows, it's such a terrible open secret between them, has been for years. And before, heaven and hell would've intervened. And now... now, is there any reason he's holding back from just saying so? Aside from playing this endless six thousand year old game of chicken.

He caresses Crowley's cheek in the dim light, looking on at him with utmost affection.

"Alright," he says. "I won't sing anymore." But he hardly is paying attention to the words he's saying, instead focusing on this long, lingering look he gives Crowley.

Finally, he leans forward, and presses a curt kiss to his lips.