Crowley shudders at that repetition of dearest, clutches at Aziraphale's skin as the word washes over him. Dearest. Unloved and unforgivable and unwanted in the eyes of God and Heaven and Hell, but dearest here.

Nothing has ever felt this perfect or precious.

But he's exhausted too, drained physically and emotionally. "Yeah..." It only sounds a little reluctant. He turns his face and steals another kiss, sweet and lingering, before sighing and bringing his hands back to Aziraphale's hips. "Yeah. So long as I still get to hold you while we do it." He smiles, his face tired but open, easy to read. "Been waiting for that darling, too."