Ethan shifted in his sleep, the blanket slipping as he inched unconsciously closer, his breath warm and steady against the night's stillness.
Within minutes, the fever-flushed face softened, lashes resting like shadows on his cheeks.
He was gone to dreams before he realized he'd all but curled into Gabriel's side.
Gabriel lay rigid, eyes on the ceiling, every nerve aware of the faint weight pressing nearer.
He told himself not to look, not to give in—yet his head turned, slow and unwilling, until his gaze settled on the man beside him.
Ethan's features, stripped of their endless chatter, were disarmingly quiet. Too quiet.
Vulnerable in a way that made Gabriel's chest tighten against his will.
He caught himself staring, tracing details he hadn't meant to notice—the curve of a brow, the soft parting of lips, the way exhaustion smoothed out all sharp edges.
Then, unexpectedly, a hand shifted.
Ethan's fingers brushed Gabriel's back, light as a whisper, before settling there like they'd found a natural place to rest.
Gabriel froze. Heat flared under his skin where the touch lingered, an unwelcome awareness pressing into him.
His thoughts spiraled dangerous thoughts, ones he shouldn't have.
He's just a fevered stranger. He'll be gone once he's better. Don't… don't get pulled in.
The voice in his head sounded firm, but the weakness was there the hesitation.
And that frightened him more than the touch itself.
With a sharp inhale, Gabriel shut his eyes, forcing the thoughts back into the dark corners where they belonged.
His body remained tense a moment longer, caught between resistance and surrender, before exhaustion finally claimed him.
And so, side by side, with Ethan's hand still resting against his back, they drifted into the same fragile sleep.
Morning crept in slow, pale light spilling across the room, brushing against tangled blankets and the faint rise and fall of breath.
Gabriel stirred first. His eyes opened to the muted glow, mind heavy, body reluctant.
For a moment, the night blurred into a haze the rain, the fever, the pleading voice asking to stay close.
Then reality sharpened.
A hand. Still on his back.
He stilled, gaze lowering. Ethan lay inches away, face half-buried against the pillow, lips parted in a quiet rhythm of sleep.
His fever had broken; the flush was gone, leaving only the soft warmth of rest.
Yet his fingers remained curled against Gabriel's shirt, clinging as though even dreams weren't safe without the contact.
Gabriel's chest tightened.
He should move should slip away before Ethan woke and made some reckless remark that would unravel the fragile boundary holding them apart.
But his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot, caught between discomfort and something he refused to name.
Ethan shifted with a small sound, brows knitting as if sensing the absence of warmth. His hand gripped tighter.
Gabriel swallowed, caught in the subtle pull of it, and finally eased a breath through his nose.
Carefully, deliberately, he pried Ethan's hand from his shirt, fingers lingering just long enough to betray the hesitation.
He laid it gently back against the blanket.
But before he could retreat, Ethan stirred again.
His lashes fluttered, and then hazel eyes cracked open, hazy with sleep.
"Angel…?" His voice was low, rough, still tangled in dreams.
Gabriel straightened instantly, his tone clipped, steady. "You're awake. Good. Fever's gone."
Ethan smiled faintly, voice softer. "That's because you didn't leave me."
Gabriel ignored the words, pushing himself upright. "You should eat."
But Ethan only lay there, still watching him, as though the daylight hadn't dulled the magic of the night before.
Ethan lounged against the headboard, blanket bunched around his shoulders, grin lazy as dawn.
"Morning, Angel. You know_waking up to your face is starting to feel like a habit."
Gabriel, already moving toward the kettle, didn't look back. "Bad habits end quickly."
Ethan chuckled, the sound light but insistent, filling the small kitchen space. "Funny thing is… you keep saying that, but I'm still here. Still fed. Still alive. Still… under your roof." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mock thoughtfulness. "Almost like you don't actually want me gone."
Gabriel's hand hesitated midair. Just a flicker, barely a breath. He covered it quickly, pouring water with clipped precision. "Don't flatter yourself."
But Ethan leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Too late. I'm already flattered."
Silence stretched, sharp as wire.
Gabriel set the kettle down harder than he needed to, jaw tight. "Eat something before you talk nonsense."
Ethan softened, his grin slipping into something quieter. "It's not nonsense, Angel. It's gratitude. And maybe… a little hope."
This time, Gabriel did turn.
His gaze caught Ethan's, steady, unflinching, but there was something raw flickering there something he didn't mean to show.
His voice came low, rougher than usual.
"You've been through enough. I'm not about to throw you back into the cold right now."
For a beat, Ethan forgot to breathe.
The words landed heavy, warm, curling somewhere deep in his chest.
Then Gabriel blinked, shutters slamming back down. He reached for a bowl like nothing had been said. "Eat. Then rest."
Ethan, smile returning but gentler now, sank into the blanket. "You keep making it harder not to fall for you, you know that?"
Gabriel didn't answer. But the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed him before he turned away.
The kettle hissed, steam curling through the kitchen.
Gabriel poured the water over oats, the scent of warm grain rising with the steam.
He set the bowl on the table, wordless, then added a drizzle of honey almost unconsciously before sliding it in front of Ethan.
Ethan peered into the bowl like it was some holy offering. "Angel Gabriel, feeding me honeyed porridge… this feels biblical."
Gabriel shot him a look, sharp but lacking any real bite. "Eat before it gets cold."
Ethan scooped a spoonful, blew on it theatrically, then tasted. His eyes widened, lips curving. "Mmm… did you put actual care into this? Careful, Angel, I might mistake this for affection."
Gabriel sat across from him, coffee cup in hand.
He didn't answer, but his fingers tapped once against the mug before stilling.
Ethan leaned forward, spoon dangling between his fingers. "You keep saying I should leave. But you keep feeding me, tending me, watching me sleep…" He paused, eyes searching Gabriel's face. "You sure you're not secretly enjoying my company?"
Gabriel's eyes lifted, steady, cool. "You talk too much when your mouth is full."
Ethan grinned. "Deflection. Classic. Admit it—you'd miss me if I walked out that door."
For a moment, Gabriel said nothing.
The only sound was the quiet clink of spoon against bowl.
Ethan's gaze softened, searching his face, but Gabriel finally exhaled, gaze sliding to the window.
"You need to finish recovering first. After that… we'll see."
It wasn't much. But to Ethan, it was everything.
He leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"'We'll see.' That's practically a love confession coming from you."
Gabriel shook his head, muttering into his coffee.
But the faintest flicker of warmth lingered in his eyes when he looked at him again.
Ethan finished the porridge in contented silence, stealing glances at Gabriel between bites.
The morning light caught the sharp line of Gabriel's jaw, the way his fingers curved around the coffee cup with unconscious grace.
This, Ethan thought, watching him, this is what I was running toward all along.