Work Text:
Zoya has seen several strange miracles in life, dead men being raised from their graves, the saints becoming flesh and blood, but nothing is like watching Mal and Alina work together in the kitchen.
They are sickeningly domestic.
They don’t talk to each other. Alina holds out her hand and Mal automatically gives her the ingredients and vice versa. Adoring smiles shared over their sliced apples, eggs cracked, batter mixed, and Zoya watches it all over the rim of her drink.
“Stop that!” she says. She swears she feels a cavity forming.
Mal tucks an apple blossom behind Alina’s ear.