Arranged Marriage (BoyxBoy)

A Little Swab of Sweet

A.N. Again another half chapter. I just wanted to give you a little taste of sweet after that bitter dark chapter.



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*Gabriel*





I saw Kit on the soccer fields as we left. He, being the freakish superhuman he is, actually saw me through the tinted black windows as we pulled out of the desolate parking lot. He stared at me in shock. I laughed as one of his jock friends threw a soccer ball and hit him in the side of the head.

Yep, I, Gabriel Arel, good boy galore, was cutting class, all of them. Playing hooky. And I obviously wasn't even sick. XD

[A.N. Sorry, I just thought the smiley fit.]

All the world to see and only a few hours left for it to be naughty as hell, and where do I want to go...home. Specifically, to go cuddle up in bed with Micah's delicious arms around me again, but I'm not admitting that to him. Instead, we're going home to make sandwiches for a picnic. And if we end up cuddled up watching a movie...

Never before have I actually wanted to watch a thriller. It would give me a nice excuse to sit on his thighs and curl up feeling all precious and secure. Maybe I could even pretend to have nightmares. It would make a nice excuse to join in the puppy pile again. Maybe they wouldn't even be pretend, knowing me.

Oh My God! What am I doing?

Plotting ways to use the delicious hunk, obviously!

What the hell's wrong with me?

Nothing, he's ours anyway.

I blushed at my own internal dialog, glad Micah was a safe driver who kept his eyes on the bloody road.

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Breaking the good boy rules for the first time in my life and where do I want to go: home. I want to go run and hide under my duvet as I wait for the cataclysmic events sure soon to unfold. But that would be cowardly. So, instead, we went home so we could make sandwiches for that picnic, and hopefully get distracted by the TV and end up staying home for the night.

Hello, I'm Gabriel Arel. Nice to meet you. I'm as boring as Pamela Anderson without boobs.
And it has been about three hours since my last act of extreme cowardice.

I looked at the mess on the counter in front of me.

Five minutes since my last act of stupidity, I amended my thoughts gruffly.

Chicken salad. How the hell do you screw up chicken salad? Apparently, by trying to take short cuts via food processor.

Micah had been the one to find all the ingredients we had available in the fridge and out in the garden. He was the one to list off possible meal choices and the advantages and disadvantages of each on a picnic. He even harvested the celery from the green room and poached the chicken for me. Then he made the mistake of giving in to my demands to help. Not only that, he went to pick up the kids and left me alone with the damn things. Asked me to chop them up. Unsupervised!

I, being the ingenious child I am, got the brilliant idea that instead of using the cutting board and enormous vegetable knife I'd been given, I'd tear everything into small enough pieces to let the food processor turn them into mulch. I even drained the grapes!

None the less, my crafty idea had landed me short of every ingredient with a far too sweet stew-ish thing.

Maddy found me behind the couch where we kept the extra blankets for sleepovers. My favorite place to hide, since no one ever thought to look in such a thin space and no one ever hid there - if you mussed the blankets you had to refold the entire pile. She tattled on me, the traitor.

"Gabriel," Micah exclaimed with relief. "What's wrong?"

I frowned at my knees. With Micah's culinary expertise, surely the evidence on the counter was enough to tell him exactly how I'd screwed up. Or had Micah never made those kinds of mistakes learning how to cook? Had his mother taken the time to teach him? Had he been learning the trade since he was thigh high? Surely that was too young considering how fast Micah must have grown. He was probably one of those eight or up plus babies. You know the ones that took twenty four hours to deliver, a stark contrast to my four hour pop at six pounds nothing.

I felt a hand caressing my hair, the voice cooing to me was fighting back waves of relief to try and emanate concern. What, had they looked at the mess and thought I'd been kidnaped or something?

Maybe they had, I'm sure none of them had ever seen such a mess in their kitchens before. Wait a minute; didn't Maddy say Gad had too cook for them a lot? My jaw dropped in horror at my own internal dialog. Surely Gad couldn't be a better cook than I was?! Maybe just not as messy? God, please let him be just not as messy. I don't know if I could stand for Gad having culinary skills. A bully with homemaking skills...I'd laugh if that didn't leave me in an even more deficient position.

Oh! Somebodies calling my name. Must have spaced out again.

"Ttttt-tu-ut-tt-ta-too swa-swe-sweet," I stuttered out at him. "I ruined it," was my suddenly coherent wail. I hadn't even added all the mayo. Cuz that would just make it sweeter, wouldn't it?

Suddenly, the couch was flying across the TV room carpet as if I had suddenly developed some formidable telekinetic power. A superpower which suddenly decided to wage war against the cowardly essence of its craven host.

I overbalanced and toppled over into the cleared space, lost in my own thoughts.

It had taken two hulking mammoths to heave the hundred pound couch into the entertainment room, and, apparently, one hulking Pericles to shove it halfway across the room. Hadn't there been a coffee table in the way?

I blinked up at him, tantrum curtailed by a moment of complete and utter shock.

"Oh no you don't. You may have gotten away with staving me off until we had minuscule chaperones, but no way are you getting off completely. Today is early fright night, and you're coming. It was your idea. The brats like you better anyway." He huffed and I could see that little smear of actual dejection underneath all that comical blustering. It almost made me laugh. He was cute when that little green monster tweaked his tail.

Before my smile had a chance to fully form, thick jungle vine fingers wrapped around my right bicep and all the sudden I was on my feet - sorta - being dragged towards the kitchen. Leaving me to find my balance against the kitchen island, Micah rubbed his hands together in that let's-get-to-work motion. I crossed my arms and sank my chin into its baby fat fold to sulk. Tucking my chin in to get enough flesh for an almost decent fold, tilting my body down to frown cross eyed at Maddy and Kennedy. I nodded my satisfaction as the girls giggled. Abby slapped her hands together disjointedly, laughing too. It was a good atmosphere, the warm kind that made you smile just because everyone else was. I soaked it up. It was hard work to get that kind of atmosphere with just my parents, and I don't know if Maddy had experienced something like this at home at all, considering...

Speak of the devil and his henchmen shall appear. Or something like that.

That jerk they called my cousin, sometimes known as Gad Arel, personally secretly dubbed MADarel, walked into the kitchen and sneered at the mess I'd 'Jackson Pollocked' all over the counters and cabinets - A spot or two may have found its way on the ceiling. There was plenty on the floor, but those are easier to clean and don't matter as much. Everything knee high up though, that my mom might forget how much work it was to bring my big baby brown eyes into the world, and take me right back out of it again.

I heard the front door squeezing open ominously.

OH MY GOD! MY MOM! Maybe if I got on all fours and broke down crying with big wet cartoon puppy eyes she wouldn't kick my trussed up body up a mountain and leave me in a cold dark cave somewhere for a Sasquatch snack.

Gad's smirk turned full evil Cheshire cat on me; my diaphragm collapsed.

"Hey, Aunt Martha, come take a look. Gabriel made lunch!"

I gasped in horror, eyes wide enough for white to show all the way around. My life passed before my eyes. Every beautiful moment of my immature youthful existence.

NO! I'm too young to die!



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