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One of the many reasons to adore this place was the smell, a certain ring of age and leather. This mingled with a gentle hum of oak, the flowery tones of warm afternoon tea, and a fraction of the outside world that lingered on perusers cotton coats. This bookshop to Aziraphale was purer than heaven. However, the angel could never deny that the sweetest scent of them all was a scent glittered with sin.
Crowley smirked as he held out the brown paper bag, Starbucks stamp pressed firmly in the centre.
“Oh...oh my” Aziraphale blushed “No, I can’t, I shouldn’t, it would be...very bad of me, very bad indeed!”
“Just a little indulgence angel, no one will know, I won’t tell a soul”
“But if the almighty-“
“As if the almighty cares about a bloody Danish pastry”
Aziraphale took a step back, a look of shock on his face.
“Crowley, we’ve talked about this” he said in hushed tones “I would appreciate it if you did not use that language in my shop”
Crowley tutted “What, Danish pastry?”
“No, that’s not what I-“
“If that’s a bad word maybe I should say some more”
The demon threw his arms out and his head back as he yelled “SCONES” much to the confusion of the man in the Dickens section. Aziraphale grabbed him by the wrist and moved in close, a look of serious worry on his face.
“The almighty” he paused to gesture up at the sky “has a very deep interest in this hobby of mine, they will know everything, every move, every step, every...” he looked down at the bag, a clear longing in his eyes “every crumb”
Crowley sighed, rolling his eyes as Aziraphale stepped away.
“No Crowley, I will not! I refuse!” he made his way further into the forest of books “I will not bow to your temptations!”
“Don’t be so ridiculous Angel” Crowley sauntered after him, skinny limbs barely holding the snake of a man together “you’re making such a fuss, I was just trying to be...” Crowley screwed up his face, thinking on his next word. No, he had to say it “...nice”. He grinned over at his angel. Aziraphale sighed.
“Well...it’s only...only a little bit of sin, isn’t it?” He tentatively stepped towards the demon.
“Oh angel, it’s the best kind of sin”
Crowley gently placed the package in Azirphale’s hands, a small smile forming on the angel’s face. Opening the bag, he found the pastry still warm and wrapped in a napkin.
“Thankyou, Crowley”
“Anything for you, Angel”