In Kate's defense, he hadn't exactly gone looking for her. He had a tendency to just take the Bentley out to the abandoned side of the island where apparently businesses just...didn't happen. She needed to stretch her...wheels? Not legs. And sometimes, he just needed to get away. Now was definitely one of those times.
A part of him, a very deep down hidden away from his feelings for fear of dealing with a weird little thing like 'hope' part of him, knew the angel had affection for him, too. Obviously love, Aziraphale was an angel, he loved everyone. But more. A deeper love, the sort that had been plaguing Crowley since about 4000BC. The problem was, he wasn't doing anything about it. If, by some small miracle, Crowley's feelings were returned, it meant nothing because nothing good was coming out of it. At home, he at least understood. There was Heaven to think about, and Aziraphale's insistence on worrying over Crowley with Hell's reactions. And of course Crowley didn't like the idea of Aziraphale falling just for being in love with a demon, but would She? All of the horrific things that had been said and done in Her name over the years, would she really punish a thing like love? But here, none of that seemed to matter. They had neither side. No Beauracracy. It was just the two of them and this rag tag group of strangers.
And there, for even just that brief moment, Crowley knew what it felt like to have someone love him back. Openly. And fuck, it hurt losing it.
"Like you could kill me." He'd heard her and yes, smelled her, long before he actually saw her. And, as Aziraphale as an angel could feel love, Crowley could feel fear and pain. And one angsty twenty-something. He waved his hand, grateful at least some of his more minor miracles seemed to work in this place. "Wine?" He pulled it down from the ether, presenting the bottle that would, ordinarily, be in his cabinet at home. 'Home'. Whatever.