The smell of garlic and butter lingered in Gabriel's tiny kitchen as he stirred the pan, humming faintly under his breath.
Behind him, a familiar voice piped up, bright and insistent.
"You know, Angel, normal people don't look this good while cooking."
Gabriel didn't turn. "Normal people don't talk this much either."
Ethan grinned, leaning against the counter and watching him. "Don't pretend you don't love it. My voice is like… seasoning for your soul."
Gabriel sighed, shaking his head, but the faint curve of his lips betrayed him. He barely had time to react before Ethan slid up behind him, arms wrapping tight around his waist, chin pressing against his shoulder.
"Mm, you smell like heaven," Ethan murmured, deliberately dragging the word out. "Fitting, for an angel."
"You're going to make me burn dinner," Gabriel said, though his voice had softened.
"That's okay. I'm starving for something else."
Gabriel didn't look up. "Eat first. Then complain."
