Disclaimer – Not mine, never will be.
Aziraphale maintained his cheerful demeanour throughout the short car journey, which was no mean feat considering Crowley's mood. Still, the angel refrained from acknowledging this, limiting his conversation to extolling the virtues of the seaside. It was very much a one-sided conversation but Aziraphale wasn't about to let that stop him. By the time the Bentley screeched to a halt in front of the little restaurant (amazing really, how the perfect parking space often simply appears as if from nowhere) the glower appeared to have got itself a mortgage and taken up permanent residence on the demon's face. Exiting the car, Aziraphale inhaled deeply.
"Ah, the sea air. Can you think of anything more wonderful?" Crowley, on the opposite side of the vehicle, narrowed his eyes as he looked at his companion from behind his trademark sunglasses.
"Well, the sulphur pits down in Hell for starters," he glanced up at the name above the entrance as he spoke. The angel followed his gaze, smiling as he did so.
"I thought the name was terribly appropriate, don't you agree?" A small smile fought its way onto Crowley's face. The sign was written in the elaborate script often associated with eateries of a certain level of pretentiousness. Amidst the curls and flourishes it was just possible to discern the lone word. Eden.
"Very appropriate," he murmured as the pair stepped inside.
Much to Crowley's chagrin, the interior of the restaurant considerably more...nautical than the exterior. It occurred to him that he really shouldn't have been surprised. After all, these places had to cater to the tourists but still, it was a little on the nose. The colour scheme was red, white and blue and the walls were adorned with what appeared to be a number of bits of boat. It was all so cliché, so Aziraphale.
It was also filled to the brim with people.
The angel sighed, giving Crowley a pointed look which was all too familiar. Two minutes later they were seated opposite each other, both studying leather-backed menus.
"You really could have done that yourself you know." Crowley studied his dining companion over the top of his menu.
"Forgive me my dear but I haven't got the foggiest idea what you are referring to." It was almost convincing but a telltale flushing in the angelic cheeks gave the game away.
"Of course not." The grin had returned, claiming triumph over the glower of earlier. The sight came as a relief to Aziraphale – dinner with a sullen demon was not his idea of a pleasant afternoon. Now he just had to figure out how to swing the conversation around to Crowley's loathing of beaches. Despite the apparent return to form, the yellow eyes kept shooting glances out of the window, and conversation was somewhat stilted as the demon appeared to be lost in thought. Still, Aziraphale pressed on.
"Marvellous view isn't it?"
"Mmmm."
"I mean, just look at that sea, how brilliant that shade of blue is."
"Mmmm."
"Oh and isn't that impressive – some dolphins appear to be performing a synchronised routine of some sort."
"Mmmm."
"Crowley, are you listening to anything I'm saying?" The angel's tone was exasperated.
"Mmmm...huh? Sorry, I'm listening." Jolted from his reverie, Crowley's words were rushed.
"Look, what is it that's got you so distracted? Just what is this big mystery about you and beaches?"
It was at this point that the waiter appeared with their food. The timing was conspicuous and Aziraphale couldn't help noticing the relieved look on Crowley's face.
However difficult the demon might find it to admit, the angel had been right about the restaurant. The food was exquisite and they had a nice line in fine wines. Crowley felt himself relaxing and the conversation began to flow much as it did back in London. Still, his mind kept pulling him back, kept pushing him to revisit that time, that place. Even when he wasn't looking at it, he could still hear the sea; the waves crashing onto the shore, and he could smell it too, that unmistakeable salty tang. He shook his head, forcing his attention back to the angel sitting opposite him.
"...Well I tried to explain that it was nothing more than fiction. Interesting theories, I'll grant you that but really, Christ and Mary Magdalene? Still, he was having none of it. He kept asking how I could possibly be so sure, and how was I supposed to answer that? I very much doubt he would have believed me if I'd told him the truth."
"That you were actually there? No, I don't think he would have. Maybe if you'd told him you were an inter-galactic traveller with the ability to move backwards and forwards through time?"
"Now I do believe he would have accepted that one. Almost a shame such behaviour is considered unbecoming for an angel." Aziraphale chuckled as he took another sip from his wine glass however, as he set it back down his expression became more serious. Crowley knew what was coming and yet couldn't see a way to keep it from happening. The angel was clearly not going to let this drop.
"Crowley..."
"Don't. Please don't. I've said it repeatedly. The subject is off-limits."
"Well I don't understand. What could possibly be so bad that you can't tell me of all people?"
"It's complicated and as I keep saying, I don't want to discuss it. Now are you going to leave the subject alone or are we about to fall out over it?" Crowley could feel his temper rising.
"Honestly my dear, you really are being quite defensive, I am merely showing some concern." Aziraphale now sounded disgruntled; the demon was really trying his patience.
"No, what you are doing would be defined as interfering, and I could do without it right now." People in the restaurant were now casting glances at the pair, whose voices were beginning to rise with each exchange. They were glaring at each other across the table, blue eyes locked on yellow.
"I really don't know why I bother sometimes. If it's that much of an issue, go back to London and we shall never speak of it again."
"Fine. I have no idea why I'm here now anyway!" Crowley shoved his chair back, creating an ugly screeching sound. He then rose and stormed out, muttering something unintelligible as he passed. Aziraphale grabbed his wine glass and slumped back in his seat, ignoring the curious glances he was attracting. Scowling, he glowered out of the window, watching the sunlight dancing on the waves and reflected on what had just happened.
This was uncharacteristic behaviour for Crowley, who was normally so laid-back he was practically horizontal. It had to be serious for it to agitate him in this fashion but Aziraphale couldn't for the life of him figure out what kind of situation would cause the demon this much grief. They had both had their share of horrible experiences during their lengthy existence but nothing had provoked this kind of reaction. As his thoughts continued to run along these lines, Aziraphale felt his recent anger ebb away as it was replaced by concern. He sighed and drained his glass of the remaining liquid, rising to his feet as he did so.
He needed to find Crowley.
