Don't own um.
AN: The boys, a Steve McQueen marathon, a little fluff…what more could you ask for?
the Tune Of: "Why Georgia" ~John Mayer
Just as the credits were rolling for The Magnificent Seven, Deaq looked down at Van. His partner/lover was fast asleep with his head resting in Deaq's lap, his breathing soft and even.
Actually, Deaq knew Van had fallen asleep somewhere near the end of Nevada Smith. He could always tell when Van got tired because that was the only time Van ever got quiet. Deaq just figured since Van ran on way more than six cylinders during the day, that when he was kept still long enough (like to watch five McQueen movies) even Van's energy had to wind down. And when Van finally wound down, Van usually fell asleep on some part of him. Deaq didn't mind-he liked these little domestic moments. He loved them. He liked sex as much as the next guy and sex with Van was amazing. But Deaq knew if sex was the only thing you had, you didn't have much.
And moments like these with Van, they were special. They were the moments when everything could be normal-no getting shot at, no constant worrying about keeping cover…
Deaq flicked the television off and picked Van up in his arms. He didn't worry about waking up the smaller man; Van slept through anything. Deaq knew the drill by now, he'd done this plenty of nights before.
Deaq walked to the bedroom and laid his lover on the bed. Van lay there in a tangle of tanned limbs.
"Ummmm…." Van mumbled when Deaq shifted him to a more comfortable position. Deaq smiled. An `ummmm' was the only thing he was going to get out of Van tonight. He pulled off his shirt, shoved Van over a little, and crawled into bed beside him.
Van never remembered anything the next morning, but Deaq did. He cherished the memories of those nights-they were what made it all worth while.