The gate at the end of the garden had been creaky since Alan had moved into the little cottage, since just after he left the academy. He said it lent character to the place, though it was hardly lacking: there were little pictures from Grell's camera or various watercolours from talented mortals on each wall, and differently sized flowerpots - for the buds that were too small to yet be planted outside - occupying nearly every flat surface. It was charming, Eric thought. A portal to another little world.
He'd offered to fix the squeaky gate, but Alan refused each time. It let him know when he had a visitor, the brunette had protested, and so every time Eric came over, the gate would announce his presence and Alan would be waiting happily next to the door. Once or twice, he'd caught the petite reaper working in the garden, and he'd be so concentrated on the plants and the earth that he wouldn't've heard the gate creak. Eric took advantage of these occasions to gather Alan into his arms from behind and surprise him with soft kisses, making the smaller man gasp and start to laugh.
It was their world, that little cottage with the garden. The place where they baked together and listened to the rain and cuddled in front of the fire. Nothing worried them, there. To Eric, there was nothing better than coming through the noisy gate after a long day and being greeted with one of Alan's smiles.
Did someone say mush?