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A soft autumn breeze swept through the South Downs. Birds sang sweet music outside the windowsill, cheering and chirping as the sun rose higher into the sky. It was around 9:30, the perfect time between too early and too late for a certain angel to awake.
He turned to his side and watched as a tiresome demon sparkled, the sun hitting his eyelashes so beautifully. Gently, he played with his demon's hair, tucking a curl behind his ear.
“Morning, love,” Aziraphale whispered, his eyes half open.
Crowley groaned, though not unhappily. “Mm, mornin’ Angel.” A golden eye peaked open as a little grin crept onto his lips.
They stared at each other longingly, taking in each other's early morning gaze. So peaceful, something they never thought they'd experience together.
“Mm, want me to make tea?” Crowley mumbled, his face resting against his pillow.
“That would be splendid.”
The demon slowly rolled off the bed and stretched into the air, the back of his shirt sliding up to show his lower back. He picked at the side of his boxers as he headed out of their bedroom. Aziraphale thought he couldn't adore him more.
Every morning, Crowley made tea for Aziraphale. He didn't know why he did, he just knew he liked to give it to his angel. Maybe to make him smile.
Aziraphale didn't know why Crowley made it either, especially because they could both miracle a cuppa right into their hands. He was curious this morning, and wanted to see what the fuss was about.
Carefully, he tiptoed down the stairs and peered around the corner to spot the demon in the kitchen. Flipping a switch, Crowley turned on the small radio they had and played a station quietly. He hummed along to the tune, something from the mid 1950s, he could've guessed. Something blues-y.
Crowley pulled out his angel's mug and placed his favorite tea inside. He always did that first. Then came filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove. This always took longer than he liked, but the demon also enjoyed putting dry dishes away while he waited.
So that's how the counters were magically clean in the morning, Aziraphale thought.
With plates and glasses away, the water had finally boiled. Carefully, Crowley poured the water into Aziraphale's mug and twirled the teabag around. He set a five minute timer on their cooking timer and waited patiently. After the timer had gone off, he took the teabag out and set it aside. Aziraphale was not one who enjoyed taking a sip and being met with a soggy bag of tea; Crowley knew better than to leave it in.
With a dollop of cream and a spoonful of honey, the tea was finished. Aziraphale watched carefully to see if there was any sign of a miracle. Nothing. Nothing!
The angel stepped further down the staircase after Crowley had finished, looking proud of what he had done for his partner. Aziraphale crept up behind him and sifted his arms around his waist.
“Do you do this every morning?” he asked softly.
Crowley chuckled. “You know I do, Angel. Practically beg me to.”
“No, I mean, without any miracles? You take the time to make it all yourself?”
The demon turned his head a little to Aziraphale. “Why wouldn't I?”
“You make your coffee with a snap of your fingers!”
“Coffee ‘snot as fun to make, is it?” the demon shrugged. “I don't know how a keurig works, bloody weird thing.”
“But you… you make my tea all by yourself?”
“M’yeah…?”
“You’ve never once miracled a cup of tea for me?”
Crowley spun slowly in the angel's arms and looked at him gently. “I like… making you things,” he admitted softly.
“Oh, Crowley.”
“M'not cute, don't ‘oh’ me like that.”
“Oh, you most certainly are cute, my dear.”
An array of kisses were placed all over the demon's face as he softly protested the affection he was getting. Even though he loved it, not so secretly. They then properly kissed, swaying slowly in the middle of their kitchen.
Crowley gently pressed his hand to Aziraphale's chest to push him away. “Now, drink your tea, it'll get cold fast,” he insisted with a smile.
Aziraphale smiled back, taking the demon's hands into his own. He squeezed them gently. “As you wish.”
They sat down together at the dining table, drinking tea and coffee while glancing at the meadow of flowers outside. The window was cracked to let in the soft smell of leaves, a warm wisp of air softening inside the cottage. Aziraphale was writing a grocery list as Crowley gave him suggestions, figuring that they needed more milk and eggs for desserts that the angel planned on baking this weekend. They laughed about old memories they had while sipping their morning beverages, recalling messes they had made in the kitchen together.
The only memories they recalled were the ones they made together, there in the cottage. The careless memories that held no negative feeling, only the love they shared together.