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Patrick blinks his eyes open slowly, already sensing that something isn’t quite right. It’s still dark, though there is a faint glow of moonlight peeking around the edge of the curtains. He’s still snuggled under the warm blanket, but David’s side of the bed is empty. He sticks an arm out from his blanket cocoon to find the sheets on his husband’s side cold. Rubbing his bleary eyes, Patrick sits up and peers at the clock. 3:18 am.
It’s not all that unusual for David to wake up in the middle of the night. The anxiety and nightmares still make periodic appearances, though they are less frequent than they once were. Still, it doesn’t mean Patrick isn’t concerned.
The door to the en suite is open and the room is dark, so he knows David isn’t just in the bathroom. Patrick swings his legs over the side of the bed and slides his feet into the hand-stitched leather slippers that David finally convinced one of their vendors to let them sell and pads out of the master bedroom in search of his wayward husband.
David isn’t in any of the upstairs rooms, so Patrick heads downstairs. There’s a light coming from the kitchen and he follows its glow down the hallway. In the kitchen, David is sitting on a barstool at the island, phone in one hand and slice of leftover pizza in the other. Patrick smiles softly at the vision in front of him. It’s been years and he still finds himself thinking how lucky he is to have found this man. He sidles up behind David, wrapping his arms around his waist, and resting his chin on his shoulder.
“Hey,” he says.
“Mm, hi,” David replies around a mouthful of cold pizza.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
David shakes his head and sets his pizza down on the plate, dropping his head to rest against Patrick’s.
“Nightmare?” Patrick prompts. He presses a kiss to the spot under David’s ear that he claimed as his own long ago.
“No, actually I had a very nice dream about you and your glorious ass.”
“You’ll have to tell me more about that later,” Patrick chuckles. “So what’s keeping you up? Worried about that contract renegotiation with Chelsea?”
“No. I mean, yes, I am, because she makes me feel like Elle Woods in her first class at Harvard. But that’s not why I’m awake.”
“Aw, but you’d look so cute in Elle’s first day outfit.”
“Well, that’s a given,” David says, tucking a smile into his cheek. “That’s just how I look.”
“Oh, I know,” Patrick replies, kissing David’s neck again and dragging his teeth across his skin, just enough to make David gasp. “So if you’re not down here pondering the finer points of Canadian contract law, what’s going on?”
“I was just hungry, okay?” David sits up, tensing up slightly; it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else but Patrick has made it a point to study even the smallest changes in David’s body language. It’s the tension of expected judgment, a conditioned response Patrick hasn’t yet been able to train out of him.
“Well, you hadn’t eaten since last night, after all,” Patrick teases gently. He spins David’s stool around so he can stand between his legs, hands resting on his thighs. David’s arms automatically drape themselves over Patrick’s shoulders.
“You’re making fun of me.” David pouts adorably and Patrick can’t help but kiss it off his lips.
“Just a little bit,” Patrick replies. “But I saved that pizza for you.”
“You did?”
“You didn’t wonder where the pizza came from?”
David rolls his eyes. “I don’t ask questions when it comes to pizza. You know that.”
“Fair enough.” Patrick kisses him again. “There was pizza leftover from the local business owner’s meeting and Ray let me have it.”
“So you brought it home for me?”
“I know you get snacky,” Patrick says, shrugging.
“Mm, I knew there was a reason I married you.”
“I thought it was for my glorious ass.”
“Oh no, it was that, too.” David’s lips curve into a smile as he leans forward for a kiss that Patrick is all too happy to bestow. He loves every version of David, but this late-night version certainly ranks in the top—soft, unguarded, and a little bit silly. Patrick laughs against David’s mouth as his hands wander down to cup Patrick’s ass.
“Finish your pizza, David,” he murmurs.
David pouts again, but turns back to the counter and picks up his slice of pizza. Patrick wanders over to the cabinet for a glass which he fills with water from the fridge.
“If I’d known that Ray served Giordano’s at these meetings, I might have considered going,” David remarks, popping the last bit of crust into his mouth.
“How do you know that’s where it’s from?”
“I’ll have you know that I have a very discerning palate,” David huffs.
“And you’ve tried every pizza place in the Greater Elms.”
“That too.” David takes the glass of water that Patrick offers him and takes a sip.
“So are you going to come to the meeting next month? I hear Ray is bringing in an accountant to talk about changes to the tax code,” Patrick says. The effect on David is immediate, and Patrick laughs at the grimace that crosses his face.
He sets the glass of water on the counter and walks his fingers up Patrick’s arms to his shoulders. “What if I don’t go, and you bring me home pizza anyway?” he asks. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Truthfully, Patrick would bring David pizza every day of his life, no additional inducement required, just because it would make David happy. He told David he’d climb a thousand mountains for him, and he meant it. Even if that mountain is as simple as bringing home leftover pizza.
“Deal,” he says, letting David reel him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet and tastes a little bit like the garlic salt Giordano’s uses on their crust. “Ready to go back to bed?”
“Mmhmm, let me just get these dishes.”
“I’ll get them,” Patrick replies, gathering the plate and glass from the island and carrying them to the sink. “You go brush your teeth.”
Patrick smiles softly to himself as he rinses the dishes and David pads back up the stairs. It’s a life he never could have managed for himself but is somehow everything he never knew he wanted. He certainly never thought he’d get so much joy from watching his husband eat pizza at three in the morning.
By the time he gets back upstairs, David is in bed and waiting for him. He’s gorgeous, even in the dim light, and Patrick can’t help the fond smile that overtakes his face as he climbs into bed next to David, who wriggles happily as he snuggles into Patrick’s side.
“Goodnight, honey,” he says, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s bicep. Patrick kisses David’s forehead in return.
“Goodnight, David.”
They’ll be tired in the morning—Patrick’s alarm will be going off in a matter of hours—but it’s worth it, he thinks, to get to share these moments.