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For their Friday dinner that week Crowley chose a new restaurant. One that neither of them had been to before. Aziraphale had been reluctant when the demon had first suggested it but had agreed eventually. The restaurant, while still in Soho, was closer to Crowley’s old flat than it was to Aziraphale’s bookshop. The space it occupied was part of a collection of shops that lined the street, and the building that had been there before it had randomly disappeared in the 1920s had originally housed a toy shop. It had been rebuilt in the hundred years since then and now the front was painted white and had the restaurant’s name emblazoned across it in silver script.
The two took their seats at a corner table.
Aziraphale opened his menu…and promptly felt his corporation's stomach drop as he read over the options it contained. Through the entrées, then the mains, and even the side dishes.
There was nothing on this menu that he wanted to eat. That he could eat.
Every single dish was, objectively, delicious. But each had too many flavours packed into them that made a shiver of displeasure tingle down the angel’s spine. Too many contradicting flavours and textures that he couldn’t be certain of what they would be like together.
A small handful of dishes caught his eye. Ravioli, for one. That seemed alright…until he read through what it contained, and its citrus-based sauce. None of the meals or dishes Aziraphale could order and be sure that he could eat. There were simply too many things that he could not control. And no ‘safe’ option.
“Angel? You good?” Crowley asked, watching him through their sunglasses. They had noticed that he hadn’t been reading the menu any more and had been blankly staring at the folder containing it for the last five minutes.
“Fine, my dear boy,” he answered, ignoring the unpleasant tingle in his corporation that telling such an untruth caused.
Before Crowley was able to say anything more, a waiter approached them to take their drink orders. This was fine, aside from the more unique options the drinks section of the menu was fairly standard. They got a bottle of white wine to share. The angel knew what flavours to expect from the wine as it was one that he had shared with Crowley often. But the distraction of drink orders didn’t last forever and then it was back to staring at the menu and pretending to be still considering the options.
“Know what you’re gonna get?” the demon asked.
Aziraphale opened his mouth, only to have the words die on his tongue, he shut it and tried again.
“Not yet…” he trailed off. “…I’m afraid that there doesn’t seem to be anything that takes my fancy,” he explained.
Shock-horror flashed across Crowley’s face as he spoke. They had heard what he hadn’t said.
“Somebody, Angel,” they breathed. “I should’ve checked better before bein’ so insistent on us coming here,”
Aziraphale shook his head.
“It isn’t your fault, love,” he corrected. “It’s mine…for being so picky,”
“Hey, no. It isn’t your fault either,” they said, sitting up straighter — or what could be considered straighter for the serpent. “It happens, yeah? Should we finish our drinks and find somewhere else to eat? Or do you wanna try a dish from here?”
Another shiver of displeasure ran down his corporation at just the suggestion of ordering and eating a dish off of the menu.
“Finishing our drinks and having dinner somewhere else sounds lovely,” he deciced.
With the matter settled, the two finished up their drinks and the bill found itself miraculously paid for when they went to leave.