Once Aziraphale was blessed with the slightest of a tether and the angel took hold to slowly unravel the demons' defenses. Of course, the angel had a habit of taking things dreadfully slow that it was nearly torture. Made the serpent wonder just who was really tempting who?
Crowley watched as those gentle hands flattened out his lapels, his heart (or what passes for one) brimming with thrill and maybe a touch of fear? “Oh— Ah,” he stammered, his chest clenching.
“Our circumstances,” Crowley echoed. Not the eyes, angel the demon mentally chastised his partner. “Out with it, Aziraphale?” Trying to keep his voice collected and yet he is feeling the opposite.