“You’ll get wrinkles frowning like that,” a smooth voice echoed from further within the room, where Gabriel disrobed beside a powder blue chaise.
“Don’t say things like that,” Jophiel gasped, slender fingers flying up to prod gently at his forehead, needlessly smoothing skin that had never seen a wrinkle or a blemish. “I have good reason to frown, thank you very much.”
“The soup,” Gabe agreed solemnly, gesturing at his own discarded, orange-stained shirt with a grimace.
“The soup!” Jophiel repeated, hands thrown up in a gesture of frustration. “And it’s not like I can complain to the Almighty for running up my dry-cleaning bill.”
“You could,” Gabe mused as Jophiel crossed the room to sink onto the chaise beside him. “Though you might be reduced to a smoldering pile of ash, so probably not worth it.”
He bent at the waist and leaned toward Jophiel, stopping within a few inches of the other man’s face, smirking. “You’re prettier in this form, after all.”
Jophiel smiled. “Even wearing soup on my Versace?”
Gabe settled on the lounge beside him, trailing a finger down the blonde’s chest to outline the splash of bisque. “I think the soup actually improves the aesthetic. Very Avant Garde.”
The blonde laughed, and Gabriel felt a strange twisting sensation in his chest. How odd, to feel genuine affection like this after so long. Jophiel draped an arm over Gabe’s shoulders, planting a kiss on his smooth cheek, then sighed.
“Do you think Michael and Uriel will be successful?”
The other man scoffed. “Maybe. I think it’s more likely they’ll betray us as well.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. They’re thorns in the side of Heaven. Nuisances to everything we hold dear.”
“You’rethe nuisance.” Jophiel smirked, leaning closer so his lips brushed Gabe’s ear. Gabe turned, twisting to face him with a look of mild amusement.
“Me? Never.” he grinned. “I just like to have a little fun now and then; I’m not trying to wreak havoc.”
“Aren’t you?” Jophiel teased, and Gabe frowned. “Oh, come on, Gabe. You’re the last person I’d expect to see looking so serious.”
He slipped from the chaise and turned to face Gabriel, offering his hands to pull the other man from the bench. Gabe arched a brow but slid his hands into Jophiel’s and allowed him to drag him up. With a grin, the blond yanked sharply and sent them both toppling into the bathing pool.
The water was warm, but the shock of being abruptly immersed was jarring enough to make Gabe gasp. “Joph what?—!”
“You like to have fun!” Jophiel grinned, water dragging his pale fringe into his eyes and making him slick it back. “Sometimes that means being spontaneous, Gabe.”
“I was planning on having a bath, but not with mywool slackson!”
Ice blue eyes seemed to darken. “You could take them off. I certainly wouldn’t complain.”
“No,” Gabe laughed. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
Jophiel grinned. “Can’t blame a guy for knowing what he wants.”
“Touché,” Gabe grinned back. He swiftly unbuttoned his fly, sliding the fitted slacks down his long legs before tossing them onto the tile in a sodden heap of black fabric. “Come on then, you next.”
He didn’t need to prompt him; Jophiel was already wiggling out of his own clothes.
“You’re very eager,” Gabe laughed, sweeping his own dark fringe out of his eyes.
“It’s not often I get you to unwind with me,” Jophiel reasoned, pointing an accusatory finger at the other man. “You’ve been so distracted lately.”
“It’s Foster,” Gabe admitted, sobering slightly. “He’s been going through some things, and Lucifer came to visit him a few days ago. It really upset him.”
“Really?” Jophiel asked, surprised. “Glory told me Luce banned them all from visiting him and hasn’t seen his son in years.”
“Fifteen, actually.”
