Crowley's smile grows even more fond, more sweet. "You laughed with me," he returns. A laugh that eased the grief and loneliness he'd carried unspoken since the war in Heaven, a moment shared between them, the seed of the greatest joy he's ever known. "I've loved the rain ever since."

He cups Aziraphale's face in his hands, leaning in. Crowley is the taller of the pair of them, but not by much, it's not far to bend. "But not as much as I love you," he whispers, just before their lips meet.

The kiss tastes of rain and memory and delight, and Crowley drinks it in.