777 Abby Road, Sunday Evening (01/20)
Aziraphale was trying to take up a little more in the way of cooking duties, especially since he had only the one shift at the Leaf and no clinic shifts currently. So at the moment he was puttering around the kitchen, following a couple of recipes written on index cards in Wilson's doctorish handwriting: vegetable penne with tarragon-basil pesto, spinach and mandarin orange salad, and zucchini bread. He'd asked the young doctor to pick out a wine from the cellar, and there was Duke Ellington playing softly over the stereo.
The back door was open into the yard, as it usually was until the house was locked up for the night, and the quiet music and scent of fresh bread wafted out from the kitchen.
[ooc: For the fake mate mostly, but open to anyone who'd like to poke their nose in beforehand.]
The back door was open into the yard, as it usually was until the house was locked up for the night, and the quiet music and scent of fresh bread wafted out from the kitchen.
[ooc: For the fake mate mostly, but open to anyone who'd like to poke their nose in beforehand.]