Read my mind, love, read my heart

Warning!!! Explicit sexual content!!!

Aziraphale sighs in content as he turns the page of the leather bound book he's currently reading. It's an old one, one he collected more than a hundred years prior—signed by the author herself and stamped with the mark of authenticity—but never had the chance to sit down and properly enjoy. Through frosted windows, the sky outside is dipped in a deep navy blue, dotted with twinkling stars above and the air is as cold as one would expect on a mid winter night; which makes sitting in his comfy armchair, reading in his cosy bookshop and sipping on a steaming coffee the perfect activity for the current weather.

The climax of the story is rapidly approaching, as the main character finally realizes that the man she's been falling for has been lying about who he truly is this whole time. Maybe the plot is a bit cliche nowadays, but it was the peak of innovation when it was first published, and Aziraphale really regrets not picking up this book sooner. A sudden rush of cold breeze washes over the room along with the click of the front door and the jingle of a bell, but the angel is not surprised by this; in fact, he was starting to worry some since he had received the call a little over an hour ago.

"I don't understand why you keep ordering new books, angel, when this place is already overflowing with them."

The sound of a box being slammed unceremoniously onto the ground really should snap Aziraphale out of his story induced daze, that along with the arrival of his favourite demon, but for some reason he can't pull himself away from the tension filled scene.

It was some mix up with the addresses, Aziraphale has never really been good with technology. He doesn't really know why the website he was purchasing some old books from had automatically filled in the location of Crowley's flat—perhaps he had ordered something to his place using the angel's computer and it had retained the information—but he was filled with relief when the demon had agreed to deliver them to their intended destination on the day he received them.

Crowley would hate it if Aziraphale thanked him, or, even worse, pointed out how nice this was of him. So, instead, he keeps reading, engrossed in the story weaved through dark words printed on yellowed paper.

"I beg of you, sister, see this man for the heinous beast he truly is!" begged Eleanor with a desperately urgent elevation to her tone, prepared to supplicate for her beloved elder sibling if it would pull the wool from her eyes; make her realize how twisted and dire her situation really was. "I–" Charlotte's voice shook with emotion she severely needed to keep hidden. "I cannot, I cannot, it is easier to stay blind—!" Eleanor stepped forward, laying hands heavy on her sisters shoulders as if she could physically shake some sense into the poor girl. "Please, Char—" Charlotte cut her off whilst tears welled up by her delicate eyes. "He has made an offer! And—and I... Have already accepted his proposal..."

Hands come to rest on each side of the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled here a long while back when he first opened the bookshop. Familiar arms frame his face and it's a position he knows quite well, one he likes quite well, too. Aziraphale finally tears his eyes away from the book, satisfied having finished the chapter. Looking up to meet the (literally) shaded and recognizable gaze of the demon. He longs to see the real, honey-glazed, golden gaze currently hidden behind sunglasses. Belatedly, he realizes that Crowley had said something. Something he obviously didn't hear.

"What was that, dear?"

Crowley huffs out an endeared laugh. Tapping Aziraphale's chin with two of his nimble fingers.

"Just asked if that book really meant more to you than I do, and, y'know, from the fact that you didn't even hear me I'd assume that it does."

He knows the demons just teasing, but still lets himself feel offended at the notion. "What? Don't be silly, of course you mean mo—"