Crowley would snort if he could hear that thought, because he's been warm and snuggly on any number of drunken occasions in the past and Aziraphale has resisted him all too well. But it's water under the bridge now. They have, thank Whoever, gotten to this point, against all expectation and despite all obstacles.

Crowley's not about to complain about how they got here so long as they get to stay. He lifts his head up to those kisses, accepting them like a human would accept blessings, eyes closed. He can feel Aziraphale tremble, and holds him tighter. "Dunno if She led you here," he says, unable to not be honest about it even now. "Don't much care. Even if She did, it was you who chose to walk the path. You chose. Not Her, you." His embrace is suddenly hard and fierce, his next words almost raw. "Thank you."