"That's because you're an idiot," Crowley mutters, but fondly so. He's leaning back into that gentle touch against his forehead, keeping his body between Aziraphale and the serpent with every word of the exchange.

The demon exhales a shaky breath, a release of the emotional tension that's been broiling up in him, comforted as he is by his partner in his arms. And he doesn't think 'I ought to give the same back to Aziraphale.' As is so often the case with them, he just wants to, so he does.

"I like that you're a self-righteous prig, you know. And judgmental, and stubborn." He gives the angel a gentle squeeze. "It's because you give a damn." And sometimes that helps him believe that 'giving a damn' isn't a disaster waiting to happen.