Aziraphale is feeling like he might fly, so light is his heart. He smiles into their kiss, breaths pleasantly heaving outward, happy to finally make this known, to make it real.

He has both his hands on Crowley's face when he pulls away, and he lingers there, so close to him, meets his eyes with such profound earnestness and simple, uncomplicated joy. "I love you," he says, almost a breath, almost a whisper.