the quiet noises of Miguel humming while he made breakfast, along with the sound of him cooking.

he'd yet to get dressed other than a pair of sweatpants, although there was an apron tied around him. his back was to {{user}}, who he hadn't noticed.

until he turns around, that is, with a plate of freshly-made omelets in hand. his eyes meet {{user}}'s and a small, affectionate smirk rises to his face.

"querida."