It's been a while since my last Imagine your OTP drabble, and this was written in a spur of the moment because gah, Peter and Neal dressed like their prom picture. Don't wonder too much about details, I took small liberties with the prompt in itself. 6. Imagine your OTP arriving home from a party or some type of formal event, and then cuddling on the couch in their formal wear.
XXX
The Good Life: Of you and me in formal wear.
XXX
Neal is usually predictably careful with his suits, painstakingly so at times when all Peter wants to do is tear at it. But Neal is also unpredictable at worst, unexpected at best, and that, Peter also knows just as well.
So when their undercover operation finally wraps up at two in the morning, with their perp in holding until their agents get more than 2 hours of sleep to drag him out for a full confession, Peter drives them both to his house (closer of the two options and at that point, no objection has been made. Though afterwards, Neal would like to point out that he has been buttering up the mark for a good week or so, he can take Satchmo's bed and be grateful).
They stumble through the door with rattling keys and half-on suit jackets already working their way down a shoulder.
"Bed."
But the two of them turn to the stairs and simultaneously decide that it is simply too much effort. Neal tosses his waistcoat on what could have been the banister of the stairs and asks, eyes already drooping closed. (They will end up finding it over the vase in the hall.)
"Couch?"
"Couch is good."
Peter nods in reply and walks the two of them over to it, falling halfway down into the cushions before Neal is dragging the duvet over them.
The two of them fit together in an unspoken unison, rearranging limbs blind as he works an arm around his waist and his hand reaches halfway to work at the fancy bow tie around his neck. He sighs as he rests his head back and his eyes close in exhaustion, their legs stretching out to touch the coffee table, knees bumping along the way.
And, it is bliss when complete darkness hits them both.
.
It is early in the morning when Peter wakes up with his black bow tie still half undone around his neck, a sense of pins and needles making its way up his left arm. Bleary eyed, Peter turns his head to find Neal, in what remains of his crumbled suit, deep asleep, and their hands still loosely interlaced between them.
XXX Kuro
This is my best attempt at fluff, I am not cut out for this.