Aziraphale listens, wide-eyed, first in trepidation, and then with overwhelming awe, and it's a good thing that Crowley keeps him silent with a kiss, one that he returns with fervor, because otherwise he'd spout off something soppy and ridiculous in return.

It's not about the tartan, obviously, but the fact that Crowley accepts him, all of him. He tugs a bit so that Crowley isn't simply bending down, but lying atop him so that he can hold him all the more tightly.

"I also love you an utterly stupid amount," he finally replies, voice thick with emotion. "Your dangerously fast driving and your bebop and even when you had that mustache, I wouldn't change a thing, because it's you."