in a garden

Aziraphale drags a weary hand over his face as he slowly makes his way down the hallway, soft slippers padding across the floor. He succumbs to another yawn, fingers lightly tugging on his hair as he attempts to tame its unruliness.It’s a soft spring morning, the setting room cast in warm hues amber and myrrh. Low murmuring from the sunroom pulls his attention, the white cliffs of the Downs stretching out beyond the window sill. His gaze falls upon Crowley as his strong, calloused hands tenderly caress the bundle cradled securely against his chest.  or, Aziraphale reflects as Crowley introduces their new addition to the world.