A/N: Written for a prompt sent to me on Tumblr by michaelcrawfords, requesting Christine to take Erik out for a walk by the sea for the first time.
He has been to the beach many times, of course. It is a little difficult to avoid beaches and ports when one has travelled as widely as he has. He even (briefly) took in the beach on that one visit to Perros-Guirec, before the whole mess truly came about. And in all of his experience, he cannot say that he has ever particularly enjoyed visiting the beach. The water is usually too cold, and the sand just filters through his clothes and grates his skin. Not to mention the fact that there are always too many people about which necessitates the mask or at the very least the false nose, and then people stare at him and it is an unpleasant experience for all involved.
But going to the beach with Christine is different. She insisted, and being unable to disappoint her he acquiesced, though grudgingly and insisting that they only stay a short time. Just long enough for a quick walk around and maybe to collect a few shells before retiring back to their rooms. It is their honeymoon, after all. Being around other people is not exactly why they are here.
He should have had more faith in his Christine. Instead of bringing him to the proper beach where they would have had to face down everyone, she brings him to a little beach-cove that she discovered while he slept over his newspaper. They set down their blanket and picnic basket, and there is nobody else around. She very nearly convinces him to dispense with the mask, but on that subject alone he stands firm. There may be nobody here now but that does not protect him from discovery. She kisses his cheek, and assures him that he is perfectly safe so long as she is with him, then links their arms and insists on walking along the shoreline.
"There might be pretty shells," she says, and though beauty has always held a deep allure for him he could not care less right now about shells, not with his lovely wife on his arm. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature to have ever graced these sands. If he could preserve this moment forever, in music or on canvas, he would, the way she looks at him, the way her eyes dance, her fingers entwined with his own.
And though the beach has never been one of his favourite places in the world, when she lays him down on the blanket and kisses his now-bare cheek and smooths back his hair, he decides that maybe, just maybe, they might have to visit here a little more often.