Открыть фик целиком в отдельном окне
“Making yourself at home?” Connor called from the doorway to the bathroom as he watched Peter immerse himself into the steaming, hot water.
“Don’t I always?” Peter answered with a sigh as the hot water soothed his muscles and found its way into his body, warming him in the coldest of places.
“Usually,” Connor conceded. “You going to be okay in there or is there a likelihood you’ll drown?”
“You wish.”
“Not especially, can’t afford flowers this week. Besides, again my housekeeper will kill me.”
Peter found a laugh bubbled up from deep within his chest. “I’ll be fine.”
“And we all know what that means.” Connor crossed his arms across his chest, taking a few moments to admire the heavy sculptured frame that sank in and out of the water before him.
“What what means?” Peter’s eyes were open and locked with the embarrassed brown of his friend, Peter frowned, seeing something flicker in the normally controlled and urbane man.
Embarrassed at being caught out, Connor coughed lightly. “Fine – Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional.”
“And that’s the technical term for it?”
“Generally.” Connor smiled. “You got everything you need? Towels, clothes?”
“Yeah, found them in the closet with your secret stash of comics.”
“I do not read comics.”
“Ah huh. Of course you don’t, Professor, they are illustrated technical journals of a scientific experiment gone wrong. I mean really cutting edge stuff you biophysicists go for; man gets bitten by spider, man gets weird powers and crawls over buildings. I am amazed.” Before he could continue the diatribe, he was hit in the face with a cold, wet wash cloth.
“If you’re done with harassing me, dinner will be ready in twenty minutes; if you can stay awake that long,” Connor called through the door, resting his forehead against the cool wood and willing his body to not recall so vividly Peter’s naked body. It had been a long time and now probably wasn’t the wisest moment to announce his desire for his friend. Instead, he focused on rebuilding what he had nearly lost and was grateful for the moment’s respite in the storm of their lives.
***
Gratefully, dinner had been a success and Peter rubbed his over-full belly as the cat leapt into his lap and he fed tiny scraps off his plate to her.
“You’ll spoil her.” Connor slipped his hands under the plates and rinsed them off before putting them in the dishwasher.
“Nah,” Peter answered as he scratched the gray blob again, her purring soothing fraught nerves. “Besides one of us has to.”
“Hey, she gets food to leave her fur wherever she wants. To have my entire attention and most of my bed. What more could she possibly want?” Connor rolled his eyes.
“Sounds like a perfect life if you’re a cat.” Peter chuckled as he dropped the animal back to the floor. “A name other than blob might go a long way toward appeasing her, Connor.”
“Okay, pick one then ‘cause I’m into Blob.”
“Sheesh, you have no imagination.” Peter looked down at the animal that was using his leg for claw practice. “How about Missy? Or even Shadow?”
“How about you sleep on it, unless, of course, you’re still hungry.” Connor came back to the table.
“No, you’ve managed to stuff me completely.”
“You’ve lost weight.”
“That explains the very long look you were taking in the bathroom.” Peter narrowed his eyes and caught the faint hint of flush gracing Connor’s face.
“I’m worried about you,” Connor answered, simply deflecting the observation.
“Look, I’m sorry. I’ve been tense and hostile and I’ve taken it out on you and you really don’t deserve it.” Peter hunched forward.
“It’s okay; would just help immensely if I knew what I was protecting you from.”
“I guess maybe me,” Peter mumbled.
“Yeah, well, there are more times than I can count when you are your own worst enemy. But you usually understand your motivations.”
“Usually a few seconds too late.”
“Usually. Jarrod thinks that you are running away again and that it would be detrimental to your health if we allowed that.”
“He always was overprotective.”
“I would think maybe he has had good reason.”
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