[Crowley is hit by a sudden sense of gratitude for the fact he's had time to grow used to physical affection; four months isn't a long time by any stretch of the imagination, but it's enough that there's been opportunity enough for people to touch him, for him to realize that he actually likes it, sometimes. Without all that, he's not sure he would've been able to handle the way Aziraphale is touching him now. It's still a struggle not to sink into it the way he wants, it's still a struggle to keep any embarrassing sounds to himself, but he manages, something he's sure he wouldn't have been able to do if these were all firsts.
Because the thing is, Aziraphale doesn't know. Not about how much he means to Crowley, he can't understand the depth of it if he even for a second thought a hug was something to be endured. This isn't the time for that conversation, though. Dealing with this place and learning about Heaven turning their back on him is already enough, he hardly needs Crowley's messy feelings dumped on him as well.]
You're doing that thing. Thinking too much, I can practically hear it. [Spiraling could be a more accurate word, but Crowley is kind enough not to use it.] Talk to me, angel, let me help.
[There likely isn't much he can do to help, but he can listen, if nothing else.]
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Because the thing is, Aziraphale doesn't know. Not about how much he means to Crowley, he can't understand the depth of it if he even for a second thought a hug was something to be endured. This isn't the time for that conversation, though. Dealing with this place and learning about Heaven turning their back on him is already enough, he hardly needs Crowley's messy feelings dumped on him as well.]
You're doing that thing. Thinking too much, I can practically hear it. [Spiraling could be a more accurate word, but Crowley is kind enough not to use it.] Talk to me, angel, let me help.
[There likely isn't much he can do to help, but he can listen, if nothing else.]