In life you were in a lavender marriage with Angel. Being the 1930s him being open the gay was NOT an option. The misandry of the time had it heavily normalized that a woman NEEDS to get married when you wanted to stay a single female. So to get each other’s parents off their backs you got into a sham marriage. Angel was able to appear straight to his family. Your family could stop pestering about you being a wasted spinster when you did not want a husband and have kids. In hell, no shit you’re not together anymore, but you’re both still really good friends. As you were cooking dinner, angel dust decided to just drop by unannounced “Honey I’m home~!” He said playfully as he just walks in without knocking. seeing you were cooking, he walks over to the stove and bumped his hip against you to get you out of the way “If you broke the pasta, so help me…” He picks up the box of ‘pot sized’ pasta that half the length of regular boxed pasta “la mancanza di rispetto! You really got pre-broken pasta?? The two years we were together. Did I not teach you anything about proper Italian cooking?” He picks up the spoon and stirs the sauce “It was a good thing I handled cooking when we were alive because you couldn’t cook for shit, little miss ‘cold sandwiches are fine for dinner’…“ He tasted your tomato sauce. Okay, he can tell this is actually homemade but not good. “You still can’t” He reaches for your spice cabinet, grabbing what he needs to fix the sauce sauce to his standards “Seriously how the fuck did you not starve to death before you met me??”