Gabriel and Angel || Sunday Afternoon Activities

[x-firestar.livejournal.com]

Angel and Gabriel enjoy some private time.



"Let's just float for a while." Gabriel pulled his oars out of the water, resting them comfortably inside the rented rowboat that he and Angel were now sharing. "It's more peaceful anyway."

Boating on the East River had been his idea, and he'd sworn to Angel that he'd be fine shouldering the rowing burden. But even though they hadn't gone all that far, he was already a little winded. He supposed his muscles weren't used to whatever motion was required to propel a boat in what he thought of as New York's less glamorous river.

Still, Gabriel had his pride, and so he was trying his best not to show his fatigue. "Surprised more people didn't think to do this today. Pretty nice out."

Gabriel had his pride, and that was exactly why Angel was being a good friend and not laughing as she watched him huff along. Not that she would have done much better alone - she was a lover, not a fighter. Unless it was something she could set on fire, then she was a fighter all the way. They probably could have accomplished it together, but Gabriel and his damn pride.

So Angel lounged back, watching Gabriel work, and when he finally gave up under the guise of "this is a good spot," she simply grinned brightly and said, "Yeah, it's great," as she swept one hand through the water. Summer was almost over and she hadn't spent nearly enough time in the outdoor water. It was a damn shame.

"It's kinda weird, though," he shrugged as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I feel like I never wanted to do stuff like this when I lived in the city." He flipped open the top and removed a smoke from the package. "Now I'm like, get me on the water so I can look at the skyline." He turned to face Manhattan, squinting to see buildings in the distance; he hadn't realized just how far uptown they'd started.

After a few silent seconds, he slid the cigarette into his mouth and turned to Angel, a smile playing on his lips and in his eyes. "You mind?"

"Might be one of those don't know what you've got till it's gone type of things." Angel said as she absently held a hand out, a little flame ball flickering to life. "Hold still, I imagine a few boys would be disappointed if I burned those lips of yours off."

She held the flame ball out, catching the end of Gabriel's cigarette and holding it there until she was sure it was lit.

He waited until he saw the telltale glow before pulling away from her. "Thanks," he said, taking a drag and blowing the smoke back toward the city. Then, after a beat, he smirked. "Was that an innocent but decent kissing joke, or an incredibly funny — and yet just subtle enough — blowjob joke?"

"I'll leave that up to you to decide," Angel said as she leaned back in the boat again, watching the city skyline. This had definitely been a good idea.

"Uh huh." The smirk stayed on Gabriel's face as he took another puff. "My oh my, how this world has corrupted you."

"I'm getting cynical with old age, what can I say." Angel sighed dramatically. "Getting old is rough."

"Oh please," Gabriel snorted. "You're hardly—" He tilted his head, studying her and doing some math in his head. "Oh, yeah, okay," he relented, "I guess you are."

"Okay now that is just rude," Angel said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not denying I'm old but that is rude."

"I know, I know, sorry," he grinned. "I can't help it. My birthday's coming up soon enough, and this just makes me feel better about myself. I'm vain and petty, remember? You know this about me." He tapped his ash into the river.

"I do," Angel sighed dramatically. "I guess I can suffer if it means making you feel better about yourself."

"True friendship at its best." He swatted a gnat away from his face. They were quiet for a bit, the boat floating idly as Gabriel's cigarette burned down. "So," he said after a while, "since I haven't asked in a while, how's being a teen role model going?"

Angel snorted. "Most of them hate anyone over eighteen so as you can imagine it's going splendidly. They're good kids but I guess my cute face is losing its touch. How's spy life? Any double-oh seven action yet?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss." Gabriel did his best Sean Connery impression, which was to say, a terrible Sean Connery impression. "I dunno. Same number of martinis, but mostly I do errands and collect a paycheck. There are worse things, maybe."

It was indeed terrible. Angel chose not to comment. "I mean, as long as you have martinis you're probably good? You don't need all the near-death experiences, it seems exhausting."

"Well, we would know, wouldn't we? Although I guess it's been a while since anyone tried to shoot, shank or hurl a boulder at me."

"Do you guys have a sign like that in your office? Zero days since anyone tried to shoot, shank, or hurl a boulder at us? Because it's a damn shame if you don't."

"Eh, thinking that flies in the face of the whole secrecy thing." Gabriel's cigarette was almost burnt to the end. He dipped the burnt end in the water and, unsure what else to do, dropped the butt in the boat. "Sounds like some SHIELD shit, though." He paused. "Speaking of which"—he tried to make the segue sound as nonchalant and casual as possible, and not as if he were checking something off a friendship checklist—"how're things with Clint?"

"He might be dead," Angel replied simply. "Hasn't left his lab in three days." She knew this wasn't his favorite topic, and she was more than happy to gloss over it. And she wasn't even lying.

"Well," Gabriel said, allow himself a raised eyebrow and a small smirk, "all things considered, that joke's in pretty poor taste, isn't it?" It was a bad attempt to seem like he was totally over everything that had happened; that he wasn't still mourning what he'd lost. But it was humor, and humor was a mark of progress.

"Fair." Angel frowned. "Although considering he was willingly poisoning himself with his best friend's poison I'm not entirely sure it's a joke?"

"Oh lord." Gabriel snorted. "Honestly what is it with us that we surround ourselves with people who, like, do things like that?"

"It's gotta be something in our personalities," Angel said sagely. "We just...attract them to us like we're pollen and they're bees or something."

"We're anchors of stability in the turbulent water they call life." A pause. He shrugged. "I dunno, I think I read that in a book or some shit."

"That's super wise, though." Angel lifted her head to look at him. "You could probably market it if it turns out you didn't read it somewhere."

"Yeah, that's the start of my chapter of Chicken Soup for the Mutant Crusader's Soul. It'll end with a heartfelt poem, dedicated to you and all that you stand for."

"Truth, justice, and donuts?"

"Exactly." A mosquito flew into their boat, landing on the edge. Gabriel looked down at it and moved somewhat idly to swat it. "I don't know why we don't all live next to rivers or lakes, honestly." The bug came back toward them, and Gabriel watched it move. "There's something so —" his hands moved in a quick blur, clapping the bug between them in an instant.

"I like ones I can swim in better." Angel peeked over the edge of the boat, tilting her head. "I...probably can't swim in this one. It's nice, though. Very peaceful to float on."

"Especially when I'm the one who did the rowing."

"You said you could handle it."

"Yeah, well." Gabriel waved her off. "I say a lot of things. I'm covert ops now. I'm not to be trusted."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "So next time I should say screw your manly pride and grab the oar?"

"Ugh, no," Gabriel sighed. "It's mostly a desk job, so really, I need the exercise."