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The culmination of 6000 years of longing, but he just can’t say it. For him, the other, his other, it’s easy to say; he was made for this, Crowley thinks.
Aziraphale sighs softly, seeing him barely manage to get his words out. “Show me you love me without telling me, Crowley. You don’t have to tell me”
Crowley’s hands trembled, and his steps were shaky. He closed in on Aziraphale, ever so slowly, ever so deliberately. He could feel every particle of air that brushed over his face rolling gently, and he let them go one by one as he advanced towards his angel. Now he was close enough. Now he raised his hand. He cupped Aziraphale’s face gently, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. How impossible, to be holding him tenderly. How impossible to be holding him at all, after so many years. He had found himself a number of excuses over time and each was met with the same gentle approval, but he never got to hold him like this. Like he needn’t have any excuse to do it. His pupils were wide, looking deep into Aziraphale’s blue eyes. He leaned in and breathed softly.
Pressing a kiss on his cheek, he murmured: “I love you, Aziraphale”