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“I am an angel of the Lord.”
Sam fights not to roll his eyes. While yes, that was technically true, what was also true was that Gabe liked to spend his downtime floating in the two to five range. Not that he’ll mention that, though. Not when Gabe is just-coming-out-of-his-headspace cranky and defensive from Sam accidentally letting a “sweetheart” slip.
“I said I was sorry.”
Gabe narrows his eyes. “We both know you’re not sorry, Sam.”
It’s true; he’s not. And he thinks Gabe’s overreacting. But is he going to say any of that? No, because the last thing he wants is to make Gabe even more upset.
“What can I do to make it up to you?”
Gabe’s eyes cut to him, cloudy with suspicion. He tries anyway. “You need to stop treating me like a little kid.”
This time Sam can’t stop his eye roll. “Gabe, you asked me to treat you like a little kid.”
“Well, that was before you started talking down to me out of playtime. It’s a risk I can’t take with my image.”
He can’t be serious. He’s really not throwing away an entire coping mechanism because Sam kind of embarrassed him, is he? Because that’s a whole new level of over-the-top, even for Gabe.
“Fine.” Sam throws up his hands, because he’s never been too proud to implement some good old-fashioned reverse psychology. “I’ll get rid of all your little stuff.”
Gabe’s eyes flash to him. Sam knows he’s being sized up, to see if he’ll make good on his threat. “Good.”
“It’ll take a while to get all those stuffed animals out by myself, but I wouldn’t force you to look at them.” Sam loudly slides back his chair and stands, but he makes no move to leave the kitchen yet. He has a bad habit of caving, but so does Gabe, so it’s only a matter of who will cave first.
While he twitches slightly, he still doesn’t give up the act. “Awesome.” Gabriel deflates. “Imagine what Michael would say.”
Of course. “Is that what this is about?”
“I can hear the psychoanalysis now. ‘Here’s the baby of the family that never got enough attention using his newest ploy for attention. Let’s ignore him until he stops.’” Gabe folds his arms and musters his biggest frown, which isn’t impressive, seeing as it comes with a trembling lower lip. “Bastards.”
“Oh, Gabe.” Gabe thrashes away when Sam puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t patronize me.” Gabe snaps.
“Okay.” Sam takes a step back, knowing he’ll sweep Gabe into a hug if given the chance. “Would you want to be patronized tonight, though? Maybe in time for a new episode of that cartoon you like?”
Gabe scowls. “That sounds lovely.” He stands and trudges toward the library, but before he can leave, he turns on his heel and says, “And don’t you dare think about touching my stuffed animals.”