From The Dining Table [H.S]

White Winged Dove

A/N: 10K READS ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!? IM SO THANKFUL OH MY GOD THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL

Primrose's POV:

My eyes reluctantly squinted open, as the dim morning sun washed through my curtains. Stretching my arms above my head, I rolled over to look at the small clock on my bedside table.

8:11am.

Sitting up, my ears chime in to a faint banging from behind my bedroom door. My eyebrow cocks up slightly, so I swing my legs over the side of my bed, slipping my feet into my slippers and standing to go and investigate.

The door creeps open as I slowly shuffle my tired body down my hallway into the main bulk of my house. Another crash shook my eardrums, causing me to gasp slightly in shock. Peeping round into my kitchen, my eyes met Angel, covered in flour, attempting to make pancakes, cook bacon, and juice an orange all at the same time.

"Angel?"

"Son of a bit-," He yells out, his hand slamming to his chest in shock. "Mother fucker." He exhaled, dropping his hand down to the granite surface. There was a few seconds of silence between us, until Angel suddenly stiffened his posture, his eyes going wide when they look at me.

"Primrose!" He wines, rolling his head back.
"You weren't supposed to see any of this." He complains, running on the spot and fanning his face with his hands in some sort of melodramatic, flustered state.

"What is all this?" I yawn, walking round the island and looking at the smoking pancakes. Taking the spatula, I scrape the disc of burnt batter from the un-greased pan, pulling open my bin hidden under the sink and slapping the pancake down into it.

Angel hurries round the kitchen, taking a plate of the few pancakes he managed not to fuck up, tossing the practically raw bacon on top of them, and pulling the half full glass of orange juice out from under the juicer. Holding the glass in one hand and plate in the other, he smiled weakly, almost disappointingly.

"Happy birthday..." he said, blinking quickly and struggling to hold his fake smile.

"Angel..." I begin, holding back my laughter. "You did all of this, for me?" I ask, turning off the hob now burning the bottom of the empty frying pan.

"Yeah." He huffs, giving up the act and placing the ruined meal down. "Was gonna surprise you with breakfast." He huffs, beginning to clean up his mess.

"You didn't have to do this for me." I place a sympathetic hand over his shoulder. "And, why are you so glum?"

"Feel like I ruined your day before it even begun." He mumbled, tossing the array of dirty appliances into my sink. Angel shuffles over to behind my sofas, bending down and pulling out a small, baby pink present bag, with fluffy white tissue paper poking out the top. Placing it on my coffee table, he looked up to meet my excited eyes.

"It's for you." He says quietly, tucking his long, dark hair behind his shoulder. Noticing his sad expression, I walk up next to him, wrapping a supportive arm around his shoulder. Angel smiled slightly, resting his head on mine. "Sorry." He murmurs.

"For what?" I ask, bringing him to sit down with me.

"Ruining your day." He sighs, holding his arms over his stomach and hanging his head low.

"Don't be ridiculous!" I scold lightly, resting my head on his shoulder. "I love you for trying, Angel."

Angel looks up at me through his hair, smiling at my compliment. "What else do you love about me?" He asks childishly, which I just laugh and shake my head to.