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A love that's so divine

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It's early. Too early to be awake, that's for damn sure.

Henry doesn't know why he's not still sleeping. He wants to be.

Except Pike's hand is on his chest. His big, beautiful, beloved hand and Henry almost never gets a chance to watch him like this. Even after all this time, Pike is still painfully shy, and he doesn't like Henry staring at him. Won't hold still for it.

Henry's fingers itch for a paintbrush. He settles for stroking them over the back of Pike's hand instead. Pike twitches, moves his hand up a fraction. Henry's heart aches under the heavy weight of it.

No matter how many times Pike tells him that it's alright to let it go, he still mourns for all the years they lost. All the years he was pining after his best friend, too blinded by his own obsession to see the way the perfect man was right there in front of him, pining for him.

Pining for him.

Wanting him.

How did he get this lucky?

Francis jumps up on the bed and pushes her cold nose against Henry's foot. Henry jerks - he can't help it. Pike groans and begins to stir.

"Henry?" Pike asks, soft and gruff.

"Shhh," Henry says, pressing a soft kiss to Pike's temple. "I'll take her, you sleep."

Pike smiles, that genuinely surprised one he saves for whenever anyone does something nice for him. It breaks Henry's heart a little.

Pike turns over onto his stomach, the sheet dipping lower against his back. Henry pulls on his jeans and grabs a shirt - Pike's, it turns out - and stuff his feet into his sneakers without bothering with finding some socks first. He's not planning on being gone for long anyway.

Henry lets the dog out into the back yard and starts brewing a pot of coffee while he waits for her to finish her business.

It's not long before he hears Pike whistling for Francis at the back door. Man never could stay put long enough for Henry to bring him coffee in bed.

"Come on, girl," Pike calls. "Let's get some breakfast, honey."

"Can I get some too?" Henry asks.

Pike dips his head, the one corner of his mouth curling up before he leans in and kisses Henry good morning.

"Sure, if you help."

Pike's been teaching him how to cook, or trying to anyway. Henry tries his best, but he'll never have the same knack for it Pike does. Pike always eats his over-salted burnt-up offerings without complaint though, proudly beaming at Henry with every bite.

Henry breaks some eggs in a bowl, beating them together while Pike pops a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. As he pours the eggs into the hot pan, Henry feels Pike sliding in behind him, reaching round to close a hand over the one Henry has clasped around the spoon. He guides Henry's hand, the simple act of scrambling eggs not diminishing his usual intensity. Henry relaxes his arm and leans back against Pike's chest as he lets Pike work his magic.

"You're not helping."

"Sure I am," Henry says, tilting his head to sneak a little kiss to the bottom of Pike's jaw.

"Mmm," Pike says and turns off the burner.

He turns Henry around in his arms, and sets about kissing him properly, coaxing Henry's mouth open with his sweet tongue and nipping at his lips. Francis jumps up against Henry's legs and gives a sharp yelp. Henry tightens his arms around Pike for a second and then lets him go.

"Let's eat."


~ Never the end.