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It was probably almost time to open up shop for the day, but Aziraphale thought he might at least finish this chapter first. It wasn't as though he kept regular hours anyway; and there were certainly no would-be customers lined up outside his door. Not if they knew what was good for them.
He turned a page, hit the end of the chapter, and immediately moved on to the next.
At some point, the one glimmer of awareness still overseeing his surroundings was stirred by a noise: the front door opening, then slamming shut. Of course, he still hadn't opened up for the day, which made it just his imagination. Only one other entity could get in with the door still locked, and that entity wasn't supposed to be round until mid-afternoon.
"Aziraphale?"
He only half-heard the voice, not enough so that it was able to rouse him from his book.
"Come on, you daft — oi, there you are."
"Mmm." Aziraphale turned another page. That tiny part of his mind playing watchman was still alert enough to register the voice, and now a presence behind his chair, but it had no contact with the part of his mind which could actually process the input. All of that was still wholly focused on the words laid out before him. Might be good to answer, the mental watchman whispered, but nothing came of it.
Soft pressure leaned against both his shoulders. The watchman dutifully made a note of hands, too thin to be Aziraphale's own, dangling forward from his shoulders, comparatively pale against dark sleeves.
"Aziraphale."
A sharper pressure on the top of his head. Good lord, how can your chin be that bony, the watchman muttered to himself. Logged the visitor for someone with a higher pay grade to review later. One (1) demon's head, resting on top of mine and digging in really quite abominably.
"Aziraphaaale."
The arms and hands slid tighter around his shoulders, actually quite pleasantly other than the way they threatened to pull more attention from his reading. He felt the arms' owner shift to the left slightly, and then a gentle warmth against his temple, just beneath the corkscrews of golden hair.
The watchman frowned and picked up the logbook again. One (1) demonic kiss on forehead.
"Put the book down, angel, I am begging you."
"Mmm," Aziraphale replied again.
The soft warmth pressed itself to the rounded swell of his left cheek, then repeated itself a few more times. One (1) demonic kiss on cheek. Two (2) demonic kisses, corner of mouth. One (1) demonic kiss, side of jaw.
Aziraphale flipped another page, and for the first half-second couldn't remember how this paragraph had started. Ah — yes, that was it. He left the tiny aware bit of his mind to handle things, let the writing absorb him once more.
"I'm going to eat these chocolates myself just to spite you, you know. I don't even like ganache."
The area of contact slid around toward his front now, one — oh, arm, probably, still draped around his left shoulder, but there was a presence against his chest, too, forcing him to shift his hold on the book in order to keep line of sight on the page. One (1) demonic embrace. One (1) demonic hand tickling through hair, right side of head.
Aziraphale frowned, very slightly, as the rest of his mind began to notice the commotion.
"Last chance, angel."
One (1) demon, looking vaguely put out — oh!
Aziraphale inhaled sharply, letting the book fall to one side, although his forefinger kept his spot with the smooth unconsciousness of practice. "Crowley!" he announced. "Where on earth did you come from?"
"Oh, awake now, are you?" Crowley tightened his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders for a moment, lifting himself up to deliver a kiss square on the angel's mouth, before letting himself drop back down again. He had managed to coil himself around Aziraphale in a way that was probably not, strictly speaking, possible. His hips and legs flopped off the arm of the chair at a decidedly serpentine angle. His upper body was half in Aziraphale's lap, twisted about so that he could lay against the angel's soft belly, looking up into the angel's by-now-very-surprised face.
The sunglasses were off. One eyebrow peaked upwards, betraying the dry expression, as Aziraphale began to review mental logs from the last few minutes.
"You — you weren't supposed to come round until half past two!" Aziraphale felt his face warm. "I don't see why you feel the need to be so — so distracting, showing up early like this when I'm just trying to get in a little light reading —"
Crowley's mouth snarked up at one side. "Oho, so now I'm distracting?"
The heat in Aziraphale's face reached unbearable levels as the demon first leaned up for another kiss, then slithered more fully into his lap. "You are an awful distraction from a very good book and I'm sure I don't like you at all for it."
The book had been dropped on the table by his chair, though, and both his hands were tucked gently around Crowley's back. This time it was Aziraphale who initiated the kiss.
"Anyway," he went on, finally. "I'm not saying I'm unhappy to see you, only I was hoping for just a little more time to read before I opened up for the day."
Crowley's eyebrow took another trip up his forehead. "You know it's gone three already, yeah?"
"Don't be ridicu —" Aziraphale stopped. Noticed, for the first time, the angle of light he could see slanting against the shop floor. "Oh my goodness, when did that happen."
The mental watchman waved his logbook, full of a handful of entries timestamped throughout the day, and then rather a lot more in the last few minutes.
"Goodness," he said again. "I never opened up at all today."
"Well, after a long day of working very hard —" Aziraphale scowled at Crowley's sarcastic tone, but only for form's sake — "I think you deserve something nice. Hey? And, what a coincidence, I brought chocolates."
"Are those the ones you were going to eat to spite me?"
Crowley grinned. "Yeah, that's them. Lucky for you you got your nose out of that book in time. Otherwise, no chocolates."
"Ganache, you said?" Aziraphale bobbed a little in anticipation.
"Honestly, angel. Can't get you to pay attention to me if my life depends on it, unless I bribe you first."
"Well, I'm paying attention to you now, obviously," Aziraphale retorted. "You have my absolute undivided attention."
Crowley's grin turned soft around his eyes. "Do I?"
Aziraphale bundled the mental watchman off home with a nice overtime bonus for his work. He stroked one hand against a sharp cheekbone, paying careful attention to the sensation. To the warmth of the demon's body against his, hard bony angles against soft rounded curves. To the look in Crowley's golden eyes.
"Every bit of it," he answered. "Greedy old serpent."
Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Only when it comes to you, angel. I'm practically an altruist about everything but you."