His own name had never sounded so sweet to his ears, nor had Anthony's smile ever looked so magnificent. Cheeky, warm mirth bloomed across the other man's face and painted joyful lines around his eyes and mouth. Aziraphale drank in this smile, savored and indulged in the fact that it was his alone to see.

He leaned into the touch, dropping his gaze coyly. The kiss did feel momentous, but he wasn't sure if that was the culmination of nerves and confusion here now, or because of some weighty residual pining from the memories. Or if perhaps that elusive first kiss had already happened, in another time and place not yet remembered, and this was a long-awaited reunion.

"Oh? And here I thought you'd perhaps had a rather enlightening vision," he teased after giving it some consideration, taking pity on the green polo to brush out some of the wrinkles left under his grasp.