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The water splashed against the sides of the boat as the chill wind burrowed under Aziraphale’s scarf to nip at his neck.
“Really Crowley, is the blindfold absolutely necessary? We're obviously on a boat.”
“Crack detective you are. Tell me, angel, have you deduced where we're going on a boat?”
Aziraphale pouted and adjusted his scarf. “Maybe if you told me why we're out on a lake I'd have a chance of figuring it out.”.
“Not a lake,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale could hear the smirk.
Aziraphale listened to the sounds around them, considering Crowley's frustrating words. Geese calling, and the rush of wind through trees. In fact, there was a sweet purity to the air, and a distinctive scent. Pines! “A loch then?”
“Bingo!”
“Are you going to tell me more?”
“Nope,” Crowley said gleefully. “Wait and see.”
Trying not to smile, Aziraphale stayed quiet. Since that incident with the photo a few years ago, the one currently hidden in the inner pocket of his coat, they'd spent a bit more time together, and he enjoyed seeing more of Crowley's playful side.
They sat in companionable silence, listening to the oars slicing through the water. Aziraphale was rather enjoying the rhythmic pull and drag of the rowing, and the small grunts of effort Crowley was making. Then there was a thud and a jolt.
“We're here,” Crowley said.
“Yes, well, I'd rather assumed that.”
He heard Crowley's snort and his feet hit the ground as he jumped out of the small boat, before he felt long gloved fingers wrap around his own.
“Trust me?”
“Never,” Aziraphale replied, letting Crowley assist him out of the boat onto the unseen shore. Gravel crunched underfoot.“Can I take this blasted thing off now?”
“Soon, angel,” Crowley said, resting a hand on his back and gently pressing him forward.
The sigh he released could have been from exasperation with Crowley, or from the soft pressure at the small of his back. They walked quietly, Crowley guiding him. The smell of pine trees was even stronger now, mingling with other delightful, herbal smells. He could hear the rustle of creatures moving in the undergrowth. Sheep? But that didn’t seem quite right.
“We're here, quiet now,” Crowley whispered. Moving behind him, Crowley carefully untied the scarf covering Aziraphale’s eyes. He had removed his gloves to do so, and Aziraphale let out a silent, shocked exhale at the brief, glancing touch of those fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck. The blindfold was lifted away, and Aziraphale squinted in the sudden restoration of his sight. Luckily for him, the sky was overcast and gray. He looked down at the dark glossy green plants by his feet. Bog myrtle! What a beautiful fragrance. As his eyes adjusted, he looked up, and saw that In front of him, at the edge of a patch of woodland, small, strangely shaped animals were hopping around, nibbling at the vegetation and generally giving the impression of being entirely at home on this tiny island in the middle of a loch. Confused, he turned to Crowley.
“Crowley, why are there wallabies in Scotland?”
“The Countess put them here. Mad humans. Can't wait to see what she does next.”
“Yes, I'm sure you had nothing to do with it.” They watched the animals for a moment, marveling at the ingenuity and whims of the humans they lived amongst. Then a thought occurred to Aziraphale. “Why did you blindfold me?”
Crowley turned, grinning, and winked at him. “Just wanted to see if you'd do it.” As he met Aziraphale's gaze his lips softened, and he lowered his voice. “If you'd trust me.”
“And I did,” Aziraphale said, and they both quickly looked back at the wallabies. Beside him, Crowley swayed, his hand brushing against Aziraphale's — almost nothing, but it stayed there, little finger alongside his own. He shifted his weight, pressing back gently. From the corner of his eye he saw Crowley's lip twitch, hiding a smile.