[Good luck getting Aziraphale out of bed any time soon. When he does, it will be because he's feeling peckish. Besides, the bathtub isn't going anywhere.]

None of those would have scared me off, darling, although I admit the mariachi band would have been a mood killer.

[His tone is as light as Crowley's, although he's moved by the words that follow, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The depth of Crowley's love continually surprises him -- not because of Heaven's propaganda that demons can't love, but the fact Crowley thinks Aziraphale is worth so much of it. He takes the hand resting over his heart and brings it to his mouth for a fervent kiss.]

I love you, Crowley. I'll never stop showing you, I promise.