The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and Gabriel emerged, damp hair combed back, a towel slung over one shoulder.
His eyes scanned the living room, briefly catching Ethan sprawled on the couch, waiting with that expectant tilt of his head.
"I've got work to finish," Gabriel said without looking at him, voice even but carrying that subtle tension of focus.
He moved to the small desk, laptop open, fingers already flying over the keys.
The glow of the screen reflected faintly on his face, sharp, precise, almost hypnotic.
Ethan watched him, brows knitting. "Angel… aren't you tired? You just got back," he murmured, voice soft but carrying that unmistakable whine of someone who refuses to be ignored.
Gabriel didn't answer immediately. He paused, cursor blinking on the screen, then muttered, "Deadlines won't wait, Ace."
Ethan let out a small sigh, sliding off the couch with exaggerated care. "Then I'll sit with you. I'll wait until you finish," he said, perching on the edge of the desk, eyes flicking to Gabriel's screen.
Gabriel glanced up briefly, an eyebrow arched, before returning to his work. "You sure? You might get bored," he said, fingers moving again, drafting designs for the upcoming jewelry line—delicate necklaces, bracelets, pieces meant to catch light in the perfect way.
His world was sparkling gems and contracts, deadlines and luxury clients, and Ethan, somehow, had decided to plant himself right in the middle of it.
"I won't," Ethan replied quickly, leaning closer, voice dropping. "Besides… it's more fun seeing you focused. Like this…" His gaze lingered, soft and teasing, but careful not to disturb Gabriel's rhythm.
Gabriel exhaled quietly, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips.
He returned to the glowing screen, drafting an email to a high-profile client, inserting details about the latest collection. Gold settings, diamond cuts, custom designs for a gala next week.
Yet, even as he worked, the awareness of Ethan beside him—waiting, watching—made the edges of his world softer, warmer.
Ethan's fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the desk, a quiet hum escaping him. "You know… even jewelry isn't as beautiful as you," he murmured, just loud enough for Gabriel to catch it.
Gabriel froze mid-keystroke for a fraction, then shook his head slightly, muttering, "Focus," before resuming work—but the tension between them was undeniable.
Ethan leaned a little closer, patient, stubborn, and quietly thrilled by the proximity.
Gabriel's fingers paused mid-keystroke when he heard the soft scrape of paper beside him.
"Do you want me to sort these samples for you?" Ethan asked, crouching slightly to reach the small stack of gemstone sketches and metal swatches. His eyes flicked up, teasing, as if daring Gabriel to question him.
Gabriel froze, pencil hovering. "You… know how to do this?" His voice carried a mixture of surprise and disbelief.
Ethan shrugged, casually picking up the sheets. "I've watched you enough. Don't tell me you think I can't figure out which stones go with which setting." He grinned, sliding a delicate pearl swatch into the correct folder. "See? Easy."
Gabriel blinked, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You—how did you—" He shook his head. "Never mind. Don't answer."
He turned back to the laptop, letting Ethan take over the smaller tasks.
Ethan hummed softly, organizing, shifting tiny sketches into neat piles, talking the whole time in a steady stream. "If you ever get tired, I can take over. Not that I want to, of course not. But… you know. Teamwork." His hand lingered a little too close to Gabriel's papers, fingers brushing the edge of the desk, just enough to send a small thrill through Gabriel without breaking his focus.
Gabriel's typing slowed, eyes flicking occasionally to the motion beside him. "You're… surprisingly competent," he muttered, almost to himself.
"Competent, huh?" Ethan teased softly. "I prefer charming. But I'll take competent if it impresses you." He smiled, arranging a set of sketches with delicate precision.
Minutes passed, the quiet hum of the city fading into the background.
The glow of the laptop and the soft rustle of papers filled the space.
Gabriel worked, fingers flying across the keys, glancing occasionally at Ethan's focused expression.
Slowly, the hum of Ethan's voice softened.
The playful chatter dwindled to gentle murmurs, then he leaned back slightly, eyes closing. His head tilted, drooping as if gravity had claimed him.
Gabriel glanced sideways, a small, amused smile breaking through.
Ethan was dozing—mid-task, still clutching a tiny stack of sketches, as if even sleep couldn't make him let go.
Gabriel's chest softened at the sight, warmth spreading through him.
He carefully nudged a pillow beneath Ethan's head, letting him rest while he continued typing, eyes flicking occasionally to make sure the boy beside him remained comfortable.
The room held its quiet rhythm—Gabriel working, Ethan dozing, and the space between them glowing softly with something unspoken, yet deeply felt.
Gabriel's fingers hovered over the keyboard, the glow of the screen illuminating his face.
His eyes, though, weren't on the work—they were on Ethan, slumped slightly to the side, delicate head resting on the pillow he had propped for him.
For a long moment, Gabriel just watched.
The soft rise and fall of Ethan's chest, the way a stray lock of hair clung to his forehead, the subtle twitch of his lips as he murmured in his sleep—all of it pulled at something deep in Gabriel's chest.
A faint smile tugged at his lips, quiet, unacknowledged. "You're impossible," he muttered softly to himself, not wanting to wake him. "Completely reckless… and utterly impossible."
He leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the warmth of the room and the soft hum of the city outside fill the space.
He realized, with a slow, sinking clarity, just how much he cared.
Not the polite, fleeting kind of care, but something deeper—something tethered to every thought he had of Ethan, every time he caught himself wondering if he was safe, if he was warm, if he was happy.
Gabriel shook his head lightly, almost laughing at himself. "Stupid," he whispered, voice low. "I shouldn't… I can't… but I—"
He paused, letting the words trail off, knowing they didn't need to be said aloud.
Ethan shifted slightly in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible, and Gabriel's chest softened further.
He reached out instinctively, brushing a stray strand of hair from Ethan's face.
The touch lingered longer than necessary, thumb resting near his temple, just to make sure he was still real, still here, still his.
Gabriel pulled back slowly, heart thudding. He went back to his laptop, but his hands were steadier now, calmer, even as his mind kept wandering to the boy beside him.
A quiet realization settled in, gentle and unshakable: he would do anything to keep him safe, to make him smile, to see him—always.
And for the first time that day, Gabriel let himself truly believe he didn't mind at all if Ethan's reckless, stubborn, impossible self had stolen every corner of his thoughts.
Gabriel's fingers on the keyboard. His eyes flicked toward the clock—1:15 a.m.
"Just… fifteen minutes," he muttered under his breath, voice low, almost a whisper meant only for himself.
He leaned back, stretching slightly, then slowly lowered his head, careful not to disturb Ethan sprawled beside him.
He watched him for a moment—chest rising and falling in soft rhythm, hair tousled, expression peaceful in sleep.
That brat had claimed a corner of his heart he hadn't even realized was empty, and now there was no turning back.
Gabriel's lips twitched in the faintest smile, a soft exhale escaping as he closed his eyes, letting his face rest near the blanket covering Ethan.
"Impossible… impossible brat," he murmured softly, thumb brushing the edge of Ethan's blanket without thinking. "And yet… I couldn't care less."
Minutes stretched lazily.
The room was still.
The soft warmth beside him, the quiet presence, and the memory of the day—everything—pulled him into a rare, unguarded stillness.
And there, close to the boy who had somehow stolen a perfect spot in his heart, Gabriel finally let himself drift, eyelids heavy, desk papers forgotten, letting the gentle night cradle him into a brief, welcome slumber.