ātrying to hide a blush in the mornings because their morning/sleepy voice is a little too nice to listen toā for peterick :3
Thank you!! This one is so cute! š³ Also perfect for them, I hope you enjoy:
Pete wakes up a few hours past dawn when the world is still quiet.
He tries to go back to sleep for a while but gives it up for a bad job. The world is still and for once, his brain is quiet to match, so he decides to make the most of it.
He gets up, careful not to wake Patrick, who's dozing beside him. He'll be asleep for hours yet.
He's not sure when sharing a bed went from something they did occasionally when Pete was anxious or having trouble sleeping to something that was expected. He just knows that if he ever tries to sleep in his own bunk now, Patrick will ask what he's doing, or look at him askance, or toss and turn noisily in his bunk until Pete goes down and joins him, at which point he'll settle down and fall asleep within five minutes.
He decides to go and find breakfast. It's just gone eight, so he's sure something will be open. The bus is parked up for the day, so he pulls on his clothes from yesterday, wrinkling his nose at the smell, leaves a note for Patrick just in case he wakes up before Pete returns, and goes out to find coffee and pastries.
When he gets back, Patrick is singing.
It sounds absentminded, his voice still husky from sleep, crooning Elvis Costello as he washes his face in the bathroom. But Pete knows it's anything but.
Patrick doesn't sing for himself, on his own, absentmindedly. He doesn't even sing in the shower, not really. He's still self-conscious about his voice, even after years of Pete telling him it's golden, of commercial success.
But he sings for Pete.
He's singing for Pete. Pete ventures in further and puts the coffee and bag of pastries down on what passes for a kitchen counter on a tour bus. Then he just stands and looks at Patrick as he sings.
Patrick turns round and catches Pete staring.
"What?" he croaks.
Pete turns away to hide the smile too big for his face, the blush he's sure Patrick can see on his cheeks and neck.
"Nothing," Pete mumbles.
"You were staring at me," Patrick says mildly, turning back to the sink and lathering shaving foam onto his face.
"You were singing," Pete says.
"So? I'm a singer, it can't be that surprising."
Patrick has never considered himself a singer, and they both know it. He's gotten better at not letting himself get flustered by Pete over the years. That said, he's still not very good at it.
Pete's smile grows impossibly wider.
"You were singing for me," he says.
Patrick hunches his shoulders, frowning in the mirror. "Shut up, no I wasn't." He sighs and shaves a long stripe down his jawline. "OK, maybe I was. Not like that's a surprise though. I always sing for you."
It comes out more tenderly than Pete expects, more tenderly than he thinks Patrick intended, and Pete meets his eyes in the mirror briefly before turning to busy himself with breakfast.
"I got us pastries," he says. "I wasn't expecting you to be up when I get back."
Patrick doesn't respond for a long time, to the point where Pete thinks he's not going to.
Then he says, "I can never stay asleep after you leave." Pete turns to him just in time to see him shrug, like it's not a big deal, like that isn't the most heartaching thing Pete's ever heard, like Pete doesn't feel exactly the same way. "So I got up."
He washes the excess foam off the razor in the sink and turns to look at Pete. "Thanks for getting breakfast, by the way."
Pete smiles softly. "You're welcome."
He wonders if this man will ever stop doing things that make Pete fall in love with him more, without even noticing.
He hopes not.
