Seeing such a genuinely happy smile on Zira's face is enough to halt the world for Crowley, who's been imagining what such a smile would look like for centuries, possibly millennia. There've been echoes of it during that time, hints, but never the real thing. Now that it's here, it's the loveliest thing he's ever seen.

Then Zira turns his head and kisses his fingertip, and Crowley's breath stops altogether.

It barely counts as a kiss, really. But it's more than they've ever allowed themselves, more suggestive, more intimate even than the conversation they've been having. Not words or something theoretical, but an action. Not just any action, but one that's unquestionably romantic.

Crowley's been so used to setting up paths of least resistance for his skittish fiend. Having Zira take a step towards a direction of his own initiative thrills him.

Silently, happily, Crowley continues the moment, brushing his finger more deliberately along Zira's lower lip. If he heard himself described as 'glorious' he'd snort and make any number of sarcastic comments, but there is something like a radiance to his unfettered joy.