Peter had hesitated initially when Elizabeth suggested they should have Neal over for Thanksgiving dinner. There had been vague protests, muttered complaints, but he had given in quickly enough to indicate he didn't really mind the idea.

The day had been a success and Peter had enjoyed having someone to watch Football with who actually seemed to like the game. Or at least someone who liked shouting at the TV until falling into a turkey induced tryptophan coma.

Some hours later, after waking from restorative naps and enjoying a second helping of pumpkin pie, Elizabeth set the two men to work, hauling the big Scotch Pine she had purchased the day before in from the yard. There had been some yelps from Neal, who wasn't a big fan of sap and pine needles but between the two of them, they wrestled the massive tree into it's stand. After retrieving the boxes of decorations, Neal, with his sensitive, skilled fingers, was put in charge of unwinding the snarl of lights, while Peter changed the burnt out bulbs.

Between the three of them, the process of decorating the tree didn't take too long, but was quite fun. Elizabeth and Peter had years of experience and Neal an artists eye, which resulted in a very nicely turned out tree. Even Satchmo's attempt to steal the bulbs didn't create much of a lag in their speed.

Leaving the two arguing men to complete the task of adding tinsel (Peter believed in taking a handful and swiping it over the branches, letting whatever caught stay. Neal preferred taking one or two strands and placing them according to some plan only he could see), Elizabeth stepped into the kitchen to prepare coffee and cookies. She could hear the continued banter from the living room, the soft under score of holiday music and the crackle of the fire.

Laying the treats on a tray, she stepped back towards the living room but paused in the doorway.

Peter was standing by the tree, clump of tinsel still clasped in one hand. His eyes were on Neal, who was still fixated on the tree, placing strands of tinsel here and there. A single strand of the silvery decoration had found its way into Neal's dark curls and that was what had caught Peter's attention.

As Elizabeth watched, her husband raised his hand, fingers carding through the younger man's hair, retrieving the tinsel. Neal stilled under the touch, but let out a little noise that encompassed that nebulous feeling between a gasp and a sigh. Peter's hand lingered, long enough for Neal to turn his cheek into the palm, long black lashes brushing softly against Peter's thumb.

A soft huff of breath escaped Peter and Elizabeth couldn't be sure who moved first, but in the next moment, the men were in each other's personal space, something that wasn't exactly uncommon, but never before was the atmosphere so charged. It struck her how lovely they looked together, and how funny it was to think of two men as such.

Each was striking in his own way. Peter was a bit taller, a bit broader, skin touched a few shades darker by the sun. His comfortable sweater was a deep green shade, a Christmas present from several years earlier. Lean and slighter, Neal's fair skin was almost luminous in the firelight, against the black of his turtleneck and the rougher skin of Peter's hand.

For a split second Neal didn't move, then his finger brushed Peter's chest and they were moving together. Mouths fused and Neal brought one hand up to grip Peter's neck and deepen the kiss. It's clumsy, and their teeth clack together, but also perfect and undeniably hot. Peter reacted, wrapping an arm around Neal's waist and pulling their bodies flush together. Neal moaned and rocked his hips forward. Peter broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Neal's and as one they looked over at Elizabeth, who didn't hesitate to smile and say, "Don't mind me."

Their smiles drew her closer, but for the moment she was content to watch and she settled onto the couch.

The second kiss is gentle and slow and it's Neal who licks at Peter's mouth, causing a small moan to spill from Peter's lips. His big hands fell to Neal's waist, one working it's way under the black shirt. Elizabeth had a flash of longing for the conman's usual dress shirt and vest. She wasn't above admitting she'd like to see him peeled from that facultative armor, piece by piece…He could keep the hat though.

Next time, she thought as the boys broke apart to allow Peter to pull the turtleneck over Neal's head. Both men were breathing harshly, mouths kiss swollen and pink, hair mussed from fingers. Blue eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, flutter closed as fingers ghost over smooth, pale skin. As Peter's thumb caresses the prominent iliac crest, Elizabeth can imagine biting on that long line of muscle, can hear Neal's strangled gasp.

Her pulse rate shot up and she bit her lip, hard. Enough with the spectator shit, time to get in game…

"Elizabeth? You okay sweetheart?"

Elizabeth blinked and looked at her husband, standing by the tree wad of tinsel in one hand, the single strand he had pulled from Neal's hair in the other. Neal, fully clothed and composed, was regarding her curiously as well.

Mustering up a smile, she said, "The tree looks beautiful, boys."

They smiled proudly and she approached with the coffee. She'd finish her little mental movie later.