Gabriel's hand stayed at the small of Ethan's back as he guided him toward the bedroom.
The storm outside hadn't let up, but in here the air felt warmer, steadier, almost hushed.
He opened the wardrobe, rifling through neatly pressed shirts until he tugged one free—a crisp white button-down. Without ceremony, he pressed it into Ethan's hands. "Change. You'll catch a fever if you stay in those wet clothes."
Ethan held it up, the fabric slipping through his fingers like silk.
The shirt looked impossibly big against his frame. He glanced at Gabriel, lips twitching. "Angel, I think this could fit me and three other people."
Gabriel arched a brow, deadpan but with the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. "It'll do until your things dry. Just put it on."
Ethan obeyed, tugging off his drenched shirt and sliding into Gabriel's.
