Monday's are easily Patrick's favorite day of the week. The entire day always carries a soft laziness. They don't intentionally spend them holed up in Patrick's apartment, it just seems to happen that way. Monday's are for rest and recharging and resetting.
Monday's are the only day of the week David usually wakes before Patrick. Not by much, though, since he's more often than not woken by David with warm hands, warm lips or warm words.
This one in particular was no different.
"Morning," he mumbles into David's hair.
"Hi," is David's quiet answer, lips pressed to Patrick's collarbone. Patrick's brows draw together a little of their own accord hearing the disquietude in David's voice.
Patrick brings his arm up around David's shoulders, trying to smooth the slight tension he can feel along David's spine. "You okay?"
David nods against him, "Just a...weird dream."
"Okay," Patrick says, "do you wanna tell me about it?"
This time he shakes his head, "I don't remember a lot of it. I just feel... weird from it."
David pulls away enough to bring them eye to eye and Patrick turns on his side to face him. David gives him a weak smile and Patrick returns it, nodding. "'Kay," he says, bringing a hand up to lay against David's cheek, stroking his thumb over David's dimple. It has the desired effect of widening David's smile. "What do you want to do today?"
"Well," David starts, "I need to brainstorm some ideas for displaying those gorgeous handmade frames that we're getting this week and you need to figure out how I managed to completely screw up our books last night when I closed." David's face twists a little bit in frustration at himself.
"Honey, I told you yesterday," Patrick says, "you put everything in right. There's a glitch in my spreadsheet somewhere." David bites back a grin at the little wrinkle that appears between Patrick's eyebrows as he says it, as if the mere idea of it irritates him. David squeezes his side in support.
Eventually, they migrate from the bed, David heading to the couch, Patrick to the kitchen table.
An hour later David's circled by sketches of possible displays and the measurements he'd taken yesterday of potential wall space and tables to be used. He's startled out of cleaning up a sketch of a third wall arrangement by Patrick's adorable little "Aha!"
David turns to ask him if he found it when Patrick mutters, "There you are, you little bastard."
David tries to swallow his laugh, but it bubbles out of him. Patrick whips around to grin at him. "One stupid little zero in one stupid random box," he says scornfully.
"You show him, honey," David says around his giggles. Patrick waves a hand at him haughtily, but smiles, turning back to close the fixed spreadsheet and opening up the first draft of the employment ad they've been contemplating putting out.
They work for another hour or so, absentmindedly asking each other questions; Patrick's about correct verbage for a local business ad, David's wondering if Patrick remembers how many of the marble wall clocks they had left in stock.
David's able to ignore the lingering discontent of his dream until he has two well-planned concepts, one a wall configuration, one a table arrangement. He sits up from where he'd been hunched over his notebook, stretching.
He turns to find Patrick intent on the computer screen, tapping away diligently, and suddenly he needs to be closer to him. A lot closer.
He approaches him quietly, and then slips himself under Patrick's arm, which Patrick lifts to accommodate him, and straddles his husband, wrapping his arms around his middle, pulling their torsos together.
Patrick is unfazed, only a slight twitch of the lips gives him away as David tucks his face into Patrick's neck, rubbing his palms up and down Patrick's back as the tap tap tap of the keys continues behind him. Much better, he thinks, soaking up Patrick's warmth, feeling it wrap itself around his heart.
David shifts slightly, sending his breath to tickle down Patrick's neck. Patrick scrunches his shoulder up instinctively, turning his head slightly to exhale a little giggle into David's neck. David presses his smile into Patrick's shoulder. Their movements rock them until they settle, both of them reveling in this simple feeling, this comfort.
David sighs, feeling his breath push and pull Patrick with him. Nothing will ever comfort him, warm him, from head to toe, like holding Patrick does. He feels Patrick hook his chin over his shoulder. He types for another few minutes as David just breathes against him contentedly.
At last, he leans forward enough to close the laptop, David clinging to him as his weight is shifted. He puts his hands on David's back and snuggles his face into David's shoulder.
"You're cute," he mumbles around a smile.
He feels more than hears David giggle against him. "I needed a hug."
"Well, I'm glad you know I'm always available for that." Patrick squeezes him. "Did you figure out the frames?"
David nods, "I think I can work them in on the south wall with the clocks. If not, I have a table plan drawn up."
Patrick pulls back and David lets him. He gazes up at David. "Good," he says softly and presses a kiss to David's chin, love in his voice and his lips and spilling from his eyes.
David smiles and lets his head fall back, moving his arms up to rest on Patrick's shoulders. Patrick grins at the sheer bliss on his husband's face.
"Let me know when you can't feel your feet," David remarks as he dives back into Patrick's neck, kissing his favorite spot right above his collar.
"I'd rather they shrivel up and fall off than make you move," Patrick says, his hands going to David's hips and squeezing.
"Ew. That's a visual I definitely did not need, thank you."
"You won't care for me when I'm sad and footless?" Patrick teases.
"No, you're on your own with that whole situation."
Patrick grins, pulling back again, "Then I suppose we should relocate. Don't wanna lose my husband."
David starts to get up, squeaking indignantly when Patrick can't help but give his ass a tiny smack.
Patrick laughs at his expression as he stands, "C'mon, show me your plans. You know I love to see your sketches."