The kitchen filled with the rhythm of Gabriel's movements the scrape of the knife, the quiet hiss as onions hit the pan, the soft steam rising into the air.
He worked with focus, sleeves rolled up, every line of him precise.
Ethan, sprawled out on the blanket, watched with his chin propped on his hand. His voice broke the silence again.
"You know, it's weird. I never thought I'd end up here me, sitting on the floor like some stray cat, watching a guy named Gabriel make me dinner. Kind of feels… I don't know, divine intervention?"
Gabriel stirred the pan, not looking back. "Or punishment."
Ethan grinned, refusing to be ignored.
"Mm. If this is punishment, I'll take it. Good food, a roof over my head, and… an Angel in an apron. Honestly, heaven's been underselling itself."
This time, Gabriel's lips twitched just slightly but he kept his eyes on the pan, jaw set.
Minutes passed.
The smell of garlic and herbs spread through the room, warm and grounding.
Ethan's stomach growled again, loud enough to echo, and he groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back.
"Ugh, you're torturing me. I'm dying here, Angel. At least let me stir something, so I feel useful."
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, voice dry. "You'd burn water."
Ethan propped himself up, smirking. "True. But at least I'd look good doing it."
A sound escaped Gabriel then—not quite a laugh, more like a low breath that almost betrayed amusement.
He turned quickly back to the stove, hiding it.
Soon, he set two plates on the small table, sliding one toward Ethan.
"Eat. Quietly, preferably."
Ethan took the fork with a mock salute. "Yes, chef."
He took one bite, eyes widening. "Okay… wow. This is… amazing. Angel, seriously—you're wasted on the business suit life. You should open a restaurant. Call it…" He chewed thoughtfully. "Fallen for Gabriel's Kitchen. Perfect, right?"
Gabriel shook his head, sitting across from him, picking at his own food with more restraint. "Eat."
Ethan leaned closer across the table, grin wicked. "If you keep cooking like this, Angel… you'll never get rid of me."
Gabriel's eyes met his then, dark and steady.
For a beat, neither of them moved, the air charged with something unspoken.
Ethan's grin softened just slightly, less teasing, more real.
The fork clinked softly against the plate, the city's hum slipping through the window, and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt like home.
Ethan pushed his chair back with a scrape and gathered the empty plates like it was a royal task.
"Don't," Gabriel warned, already reaching to take them.
"Nope. Not this time." Ethan hugged the plates to his chest like a shield. "You cooked. I clean. That's how this works. Team effort."
"You'll break them," Gabriel said flatly.
"Excuse you," Ethan protested, marching toward the sink with all the confidence of a soldier heading into battle.
He set the plates down, rolled up his sleeves, and stared at the faucet.
His reflection in the metal blinked back at him. "…Okay. How hard can this be?"
The first gush of water splashed everywhere.
Soap slipped from his hands, skidding across the counter.
The sponge disintegrated under his grip.
"Seriously? This thing has one job!" Ethan muttered, suds foaming halfway up his forearm.
Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the spectacle with unreadable eyes.
"I've got this," Ethan insisted, his voice defensive. The plate nearly slid from his hands, clattering back into the sink. He flinched. "…I don't got this."
With a sigh, Gabriel pushed off the wall and stepped behind him. Without asking, his hand closed over Ethan's, steady, guiding.
"Like this," Gabriel murmured, moving the sponge in smooth circles.
For a moment, Ethan forgot the plate entirely.
The warmth of Gabriel's hand over his own, the calm certainty in the gesture—it all stole the air from his lungs.
He swallowed, leaning just slightly into the touch, whispering, "You make everything look easy."
Gabriel said nothing, only released him once the plate gleamed clean.
He set it carefully in the rack and stepped back, distance his only defense.
Ethan leaned against the wall afterward. His sigh came long, theatrical.
"So… Angel Gabriel saves me from thugs, feeds me like a king, teaches me how to wash a damn plate, and lets me crash in his home. You're spoiling me. Are you sure you're real? Maybe I actually died in that alley, and you're some celestial fever dream."
Gabriel dried his hands, voice even. "You talk too much for a fever dream."
Ethan laughed, genuine this time, the sound warm against the quiet. He tipped his head back, eyes fixed on Gabriel.
"You know… you could've left me there. No one would've stopped you. But you didn't. Why?"
Gabriel stilled, shoulders tightening. He kept his back to him, arranging the last dish. "Because I couldn't."
Ethan's grin faded, replaced by something raw. He tilted his head, voice softer now. "Couldn't… or didn't want to?"
Gabriel finally looked over his shoulder, eyes steady, sharp, unreadable. "Does it matter?"
Ethan's chest tightened. For once, words didn't come easy. He whispering, "It matters to me."
The silence that followed was thick, almost fragile.
The city's hum outside seemed far away.
Gabriel broke it first, turning back to the sink, letting the water run.
Ethan watched him, eyes soft, his voice half-teasing but edged with sincerity. "You're impossible, you know that? Angel one second, stone wall the next. I can't figure you out."
Gabriel shut off the water, drying his hands with careful precision. "Don't try."
Ethan smirked, pulling the blanket up over his head like a child. "Too late. I already am. You're stuck with me, Angel."
Gabriel shook his head as he turned away, but the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
Then he cleared his throat, low and rough, breaking the quiet that had settled. "Go shower," he said, tone more command than suggestion.
Ethan hunched deeper into the blanket, clutching it close around his shoulders. "No way. I'll freeze. You want me coughing up my lungs tomorrow? Fever and pneumonia great combo."
Gabriel's brow tightened, but he didn't argue.
Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the silence, and Ethan shuffled from one foot to the other, restless.
When Gabriel came back, a towel slung around his neck, his hair damp and dark, he stopped short.
Ethan hadn't moved to the floor, hadn't even sat down just stood there, blanket still wrapped tight, eyes darting.
Gabriel sighed. "Go to sleep."
Ethan hesitated, then blurted, almost too quickly, "Can I… sleep with you?"
Gabriel froze mid-step, muscles locking at the words. His eyes cut to Ethan, sharp and unreadable.
Ethan lifted his hands, defensive, flustered. "Not like that. I mean… just beside you. On the bed. Nothing else."
Gabriel let out a long, controlled breath through his nose, the kind that sounded more like a warning than relief. "No." His answer was firm, clipped.
Ethan pouted, tilting his head like a stubborn child who already knew the answer but wouldn't accept it. "C'mon, Angel. The floor's like ice. My fever will skyrocket, and then it'll be your fault when I drop dead tomorrow."
Gabriel didn't reply this time. He moved toward the bed, deliberately ignoring the plea.
But Ethan wasn't finished. He stepped forward and caught Gabriel's arm, fingers warm even through the lingering dampness of Gabriel's skin.
His voice softened, no longer playful, almost earnest.
"Please… just let me stay beside you. That's all I'm asking."
The air between them tightened, the room suddenly too small for both silence and truth.
Gabriel's arm went rigid under Ethan's grip, every muscle coiled as though resisting the pull.
He didn't move, didn't speak, only stared at the blanket-draped figure holding onto him.
Ethan's eyes searched his face, earnest beneath the fever's haze. "I'm not asking for much. Just a little space beside you. I promise, I won't snore. I won't even breathe loud if that's what it takes."
A low sound escaped Gabriel, something between a scoff and a sigh.
He turned his head away, jaw clenched, as though refusing to let the moment sink its claws in.
But his silence said more than words.
Ethan pressed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's just… I feel safer near you. That's all."
Those words landed harder than the begging.
Gabriel's shoulders shifted, tension loosening in a barely-there exhale.
Finally, he muttered, "You're impossible."
Ethan grinned, triumphant but gentle. "I'll take that as a yes."
Gabriel shot him a look, sharp enough to cut, but he didn't shake him off.
Instead, he moved to the bed, sitting on the edge with deliberate slowness, as if giving himself time to regret it.
Ethan followed, still wrapped in his blanket, settling down beside him like a shadow too stubborn to disappear.
He stretched out cautiously, leaving a respectful distance at first, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gave him away.
Gabriel lay back, one arm folded beneath his head, gaze fixed on the ceiling as though the cracks in the plaster held the answers to questions he didn't want to face.
Ethan, unable to resist, peeked sideways at him. "See? Not so bad. You didn't combust."
Gabriel shut his eyes, voice dry. "Go to sleep."
Ethan smirked and pulled the blanket tighter, rolling onto his side so his back faced Gabriel. His voice softened into the dark. "Goodnight… Angel."
Gabriel didn't answer. But a quiet, almost imperceptible breath escaped him, not quite annoyance, not quite surrender.
And in the silence that followed, Ethan's lips curved into a sleepy, contented smile.