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Eyes closed, savouring the delicious weight on his tongue, Aziraphale listened to the sound of the waves breaking on the rocks. As his teeth pressed down he moaned quietly, eyes flying open when Crowley squeaked. He swallowed down the oyster, once again appreciating how proximity to the sea heightened the experience, and raised his eyebrows questioningly at his friend.
“Gulls got a bit brave, nothing to worry about, angel.”
The angle of the sun made Crowley's glasses opaque, but there was a visible tension in his brows, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips.
“Indeed.” Aziraphale reached for another oyster, taking his time once again, watching Crowley through half lidded eyes.
“Casanova liked oysters.”
Swallowing, Aziraphale quirked one eyebrow. “I don't believe I ever had the pleasure of his acquaintance.”
Crowley muttered something into his wine class before taking a drink. “Used to eat about fifty a night.”
“No wonder he was such a ladies man.”
“Wasn't just the ladies, angel.”
“Oh?”
“Oh yeah, nobody could resist those big brown eyes, and eyed them all.”
“i thought he had blue eyes?”
“I thought you never met him.”
Aziraphale tilted his head in acknowledgement of Crowley's point. “These oysters are bisexual too,” he said, breaking the companionable silence that had settled. Aziraphale casually helped himself to another oyster from the plate, taking a moment to appreciate the stunning green of the malachite oyster plate. Crowley was still quiet so he went on.
“Scottish oysters, well, these ones at any rate, are “protandrous alternating hermaphrodites”, which means that they start off as males producing sperm then switch to egg producing females and can then switch back to being males again.”
“I know what it means, angel. Not sure when you became a malacologist though. Or how you became proficient in pronouncing quotation marks.”
“Well, you know what they say, “Know what you eat”.”
Crowley peered over his glasses at him. “I’m not biting.”
“Hmm?” Aziraphale asked innocently.
Crowley leaned in, wagging a finger. “Baiting me with malaphors. That one wasn't even good.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Hmmm.”
“It’s funny,” Aziraphale said. “I don't see any gulls at all.”
Crowley's lips parted, and closed, before he responded. “Well, scared them off, didn't I. Demon remember.”
“Of course, how silly of me.”
“Not that I actually needed to. Bet you'd fight a bloody cassowary if it was eyeing up your oysters.” The words could have sounded judgemental, but there was a restrained quirk to Crowley’s lips, and a tilt to his head that revealed the fondness behind them.
“Well, they are rather good oysters. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Crowley sneered, as Aziraphale had known he would. “Don’t thank me. Thwarting you, obviously.”
“By feeding me oysters?”
“Yep. Spreading malcontent, there'll be no oysters for anyone else the way you suck them down.”
“Well, in that case, I propose a toast,” Aziraphale said, grinning and raising his glass.
Eyebrow high, Crowley reached for his own glass, waiting.
“To malicious compliance.”
Crowley's lip twitched as his glass met Aziraphale's.
"To malicious compliance, and malacology "