Disclaimer: Still not mine, definitely not – I've checked.

Heavenly Words

Crowley occasionally found himself despising driving in London. Mortals could be terribly incompetent at times he thought, as a wave of his hand ensured him a clear pathway through the traffic. Honestly, they had no consideration for others; a thought which cheered the demon up immensely as the Bentley screeched to a halt outside Aziraphale's book shop. A smile settled itself on Crowley's face as he extracted himself from the car with an almost inhuman gracefulness. He liked the shop, though naturally this was another of those titbits of information which he chose to keep to himself. It had a certain cosiness, which Crowley would never allow himself to be found inhabiting, but it worked for the angel and it did make a nice change sometimes.

Upon trying the handle, Crowley found the door to be locked. This was not an uncommon state in which to find the book shop, as Aziraphale was incredibly keen to avoid selling any of his precious books. Besides, a mere lock was not going to stop this demon and the door swung forth unresisting before him. Smirking, Crowley stepped inside. Considerately, he thought to announce his arrival.

"Angel, I thought you might want to take me out to lunch so I am hereby placing myself at your disposal."

Silence.

"Angel? Aziraphale? Are you here? Lost in book I'll bet. Honestly, I don't know what you see in those things - no pictures, just a lot of boring words."

Crowley strolled through to the back of the shop, firmly expecting to find Aziraphale with his nose in a book. However, the room was empty, the angel nowhere to be seen. This was a most unexpected development and Crowley hated when his plans didn't work out as they were supposed to. He marched back through into the shop, now thoroughly disgruntled but at the same time thinking about plan B.

Plan B involved going to a nice wine bar and drinking as much fine wine as possible. However, Crowley was not entirely sure how he could pass that one off as work. He would have continued to ponder that one as he got steadily more inebriated he decided. It was at that moment that something white on the shop's counter caught the demon's eye.

Upon closer inspection it transpired that it was a letter.

A letter addressed to him.

It was from Aziraphale; the florid handwriting on the envelope was a dead giveaway and really, who else would be leaving him a letter in that particular location? He tore it open and began to read:

Crowley my dear,

In the very likely event that you should find this note, I want you to know that everything is fine. I am terrible sorry that I am not available for lunch (at least I presume that is why you called in) but you see I have decided to take myself off on a little holiday. The reason I did not mention it sooner is that, well it really isn't your thing is it? I didn't want you to talk me out of it, as I really did want to get out of London for a bit, but I know you are much happier in the city. I will be gone for a couple of weeks – do try not to cause too much mayhem in my absence won't you?

See you soon,

Aziraphale

P.S. On the off-chance that you want to join me, I enclose the address of the cottage I am staying in. Feel free to come along.

So the angel had made plans without telling him? Crowley scowled as he pulled a second bit of paper from the envelope. Of course he wasn't thinking about joining Aziraphale, he was merely curious as to where it was the angel thought would be so offensive to him. A quick glance at the details revealed all. It seemed Aziraphale was in Wales.

Now, Crowley had nothing against the Welsh, nothing whatsoever, but he knew for a fact that this particular village was located on the coast and if there was one thing Crowley hated, it was the beach. No wonder the angel hadn't mentioned it earlier; for it was a subject on which the demon had been incredibly vocal in the past. Not that he had ever explained why, oh no. The very thought of it made Crowley shudder and not very many things made him do that. Therefore, it was with an incredible reluctance that he pocketed the details and left the book shop.

He supposed it might be possible to get a decent lunch somewhere on the Welsh coast.