It was a hot, lazy Sunday afternoon. The patio doors were open, a soft breeze was rolling through bringing the hum of the city in with it.. Peter had stripped off his shirt and now lay bare chested on the bed on the brink of sleep. Neal was lounging on the couch telling him all about this art show that he had gone to a few weeks ago. He was in the middle of telling him how the artist was inspired to create the collection by a flock of pigeons that perched on his patio every morning, when he noticed that Peter was asleep. He was snoring quietly, a sound that Neal found quite adorable.
"Peter..Peter, wake up." He said softly as not to startle the man. It didn't phase him. Neal rose from the couch, shedding his own shirt and letting it drop to the floor behind him.
"Peter." He called his name playfully as he crawled on to the bed next to him. Peter groaned sleepily as Neal nipped at his collar bone.
"We finally have a Sunday off. It's nap time." Peter mumbled, gently pushing Caffery's head down on his shoulder.
"I don't think so, Gramps." Neal laughed and pushed himself up on to his hands and knees, hovering over his partner. Peter gazed up at him silently for a moment then brushed Neal's hair back, his hand lingering on his cheek for a few seconds. With his other hand he patted the spot next to him. He held Neal's gaze for a little longer. A hint of mischief glinted in the younger man's baby blues, but Neal relented, leaned in for a kiss and flopped down next to Peter. Peter stretched his body and wrapped an arm around Neal's shoulder. Neal wound his fingers through the ones on his shoulder and tucked his head under Peter's chin. They were like this for a few minutes, just long enough for Peter to be practically asleep again, until Neal began to get fidgety. He shifted his hips, curled and uncurled his legs, threw an arm over Peter's chest.
"Are you done?" Peter asked. Neal smiled and offered a quick apology before settling again. This time on his stomach with his arm still on Peter's torso, head on his shoulder. It wasn't five minutes later that the restless young man sat up.
"I'm not tired, Peter." He said scrubbing at his face.
"What are you, five?" Peter grunted, propping himself up on his elbows. Neal shot him a look that said he wasn't amused and crawled off the bed.
"You go ahead and take a nap. I'm gonna read on the patio." He plucked a book from the night stand and turned to leave. Peter grabbed his wrist.
"Thanks." He smiled and kissed his knuckles.
When Peter woke up he was feeling more rested than he had in days. He wished Neal would have stayed with him, because he was a little lonely and cold with out a shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed and stretched, his back popping when he arched it. He looked around the apartment, it seemed to be about dusk judging by the dim lighting. He pulled on his shirt and ventured out on to the patio. There was Neal sitting in one of the chairs around the table, feet up, book on his chest, fast asleep. Peter grinned and shook his shoulder gently.
"Neal, wake up." he cooed. Neal shook is head slightly.
"Nap time." He drawled. Peter chuckled to himself.
"Alright, I can work with that." He took the book from Caffery's chest and set it aside. He scooped the sleeping man out of the chair carefully and carried him inside to the bed and settled him under the blankets. He grabbed the news paper from the table and settled down next to him. Neal roused long enough to scoot closer and wrap his arms around the older man's torso. Peter draped his arm over Neal's shoulder and kissed the top of his head.
"Sleep well, kid."