What they have right now is, in several ways, and always will be, only theirs. In the more technical manner, it's quite obvious, as they are only themselves and with only each other, and not even God herself could change that - probably. But there's also something to say about two celestial creatures, formerly from opposite sides, rejected and having denounced their former peoples, after orbiting around each other for thousands of years, finally joined together in an honest sharing of feelings, and an intimate embrace, quite in the fashion of the mortal's they've been watching over, but with the added gifts of their own brand of non-humanity.

The feeling of Crowley's breath against his neck is one of the many details that Aziraphale will remember for a very long time. The feeling of his body against the angel's, and, well, other ways in which they are making use of their vessels in this moment, are something he'd love to feel again and again and again.

"Crowley--" The name escapes him, strained, with no control of his own. Those waves are getting stronger, getting closer. His wings twitch and unwrap from around him, but stay curled upwards.