"omwh." A text from Peter announced. Jared glanced at it before throwing his phone back on the couch carelessly. It was short for on my way home, one of the many shorthand ways they texted; scrolling through their conversations, one would need a lot of guesswork to figure out what they were talking about.

Jared glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing 10pm. He personally had left work hours ago, having won a court case in the afternoon. He felt bad that Peter had to stay so late, but also definitely felt that he deserved a little downtime – he had spent an hour running after a last minute witness to try and convince him to stop the marathon and come to court. Late night cartoons and a beer were his reward, plus the gloat-worthy win he had pulled on Janie. And oh, he loved winning.

He had nearly completed a pyramid of red cups from an old party when he heard the bolt flip, Peter entering their house. "Hey," he greeted, carefully placing the last beer-stained cup on top before turning around to look over the back of the couch.

By the time his eyes locked on Peter he was already halfway across the room, dropping his bag on the floor and loosening his tie. Jared gazed at him, mildly confused until Peter approached him and leaned down eagerly for a kiss. The back of the couch was sandwiched between them, but Peter's hands were suddenly all over him, fingers skimming under the elastic of his pajama bottoms.

"Woah, what's this about?" Jared grinned against Peter's lips. His voice was dry, the slight crack in it somehow being playful, affectionate, and arrogant all at once. It was very Jared, and Peter liked it. He also liked how Jared ran his hands through Peter's hair, receiving his attentions with good grace despite being blindsided by them.

"Christina Maier… is a freaking… cocktease." He murmured between kisses, pressing a hot trail of them down Jared's jaw.

The shorter man made a sympathetic noise, and patted Peter on the nape of his neck. "What a bitch. C'mere, sit down. View my masterpiece." He invited, gesturing grandly at the Post-Party Pyramid. Peter snorted, vaulting easily over the back of the couch to sit next to him.

Jared casually plopped his feet up on the couch so that his legs were draped over Peter's. They had been friends so long that taking comfort in each other was only natural. They often maintained physical contact, whether through a prolonged hand clasped on the shoulder to a very many cuddle on the couch. When no one was looking, of course.

Jared would be lying if he said he hadn't given their odd relationship some thought, but they didn't talk about it often. At the moment, it seemed, their situation worked out perfectly for both of them. They fucked around with other people, and occasionally had mind-boggling sex together or in threesomes. Fidelity wasn't really an issue because they weren't technically in a relationship. (And well, if Jared got a jealous sometimes, he tried not to show it). Basically his stance was that he didn't want to ruin a fantastic thing by trying to discuss it. But in his head they would always be fuck-buddies, emphasis on the buddy part. That seemed to fit pretty well.

"Tell me what happened." He encouraged, leaning against the arm of the couch and turning the TV down a bit.

Peter grumbled, "She was giving me eyes in court all day, then drags me into a supply closet to give me some 'extra evidence', talking about how she'd seen some panties in her boss's desk drawer once and forgot to tell me earlier. I get that, but c'mon, a closet? That's cliché place to make out #45! Plus that dress she was wearing…" he whistled.

Jared frowned and nodded understandingly. "That sucks, bro."

Fiddling with the cotton of Jared's pajama bottoms, Peter nodded along. "Yeah. Hey, did you win your case today?"

"I totally did!" Jared enthused with a grin, accepting a satisfying high five when it was proffered. "Turned out there's no way the hickey could have formed quickly enough for Jen to be having an affair with the mayor. But I had to get an ex-boyfriend on the stand that unfortunately happened to be running a marathon today." He groaned at the memory. "Had to chase him for a couple miles."

"Damn," Peter commiserated, patting Jared's knee. Then he slid his hand down to rub a sock-clad foot. "Sore?"

Jared started to answer but gave up, resting his head back on the armrest and closing his eyes with a ohgodthankyou.

Peter grinned at his partner's euphoric face, digging his thumb into the arch of his foot and enjoying the uncontrollable groan Jared responded with. "I'll take that as a yes."

"You tried running three miles in your lawyer shoes? Now shh. You're ruining it." Jared chastised, eyebrows furrowed from the mix of pain and pleasure.

Some time passed, Peter hiding snickers at the positively sexual noises Jared was making and Jared retaliating with playful kicks to the leg. Eventually Peter gave up and watched the TV quietly, slouched into the couch with Jared lying on him horizontally. Sometime during the silence Jared had curled away from the TV slightly, turning his legs to curl them in Peter's lap and rest his cheek on the armrest.

It was familiar, comfortable, and warm, exactly what Peter needed after a long day in court. He could smell the leather of their couch and the lingering soap from when Jared must have showered earlier. He didn't have to look at Jared to know he was dozing off—hundreds of sleepovers as kids made it easy to tell through body language. He fondly remembered them getting mad at each other when the other got drowsy, chugging Mountain Dew so they could finish this video game or that movie. Now that they were older (probably too old to be draped all over each other on the couch, but he ignored that fact) and pulling an all-nighter wasn't a new amazing thing anymore, they let each other sleep.

Peter actually kinda liked it when Jared fell asleep first, because he could run his fingertips lightly over the back of his hand, sometimes grasping it gently, just simple, lazy touches. He'd play with his hair if his head was close. Jared generally didn't like it when he got too sentimental, saying he was making it 'weird' or was being a girl. Peter had noticed that he would never pull away though, so he didn't think Jared actually minded that much—he was probably just deflecting. Sometimes Peter wondered if Jared did the same to him when he wasn't paying attention, which made him feel warm in a way he tried not to analyze.

Jared didn't know he had fallen asleep until he was startled awake by Peter chuckling quietly at the television a while later. He gazed blearily at the screen, recognizing an MTV drama. "That's a rereun." He said after about two seconds in a sleep rough voice. He stretched his limbs with a grunt.

"It's sad that you know that." Peter jibed, running one finger nonchalantly up a ticklish foot. Jared flailed away wildly, muffling a shriek. He narrowly avoided causing a cup avalanche.

"Not cool." He said, poking Peter in the chest belligerently. Peter hit him in the face with a throw pillow to retaliate. "Oh, it's on." Jared threw the pillow back at him and lunged forward, pushing Peter on his back.

They wrestled, falling back into old movements that they had been pulling on each other for years. Basically anything was game, so as they got older it happened to go from slapping and punching to somewhat aggressive foreplay. Jared could actually remember the day Peter figured out that one good way to flip them over was to distract him with a grope. Once they crossed that line they never went back.

Everything happened within the space of a few seconds. Peter wrenched the pillow out of Jared's hands, throwing it off to the side and getting a strong hand knotted in his thin cotton t-shirt. He stretched it out without meaning to, pulling it up to brush his fingers over a nipple, pinching it hard enough to make Jared gasp. He gripped Peter's hips tightly with his knees to stay on top, yanking his hair and leaning down to bite his neck. If Peter was gonna play dirty, so was he.

When Peter realized that not even a hand down the back of Jared's pajama pants was enough to get him to ease off (hey, the guy may be tiny, but he's solid), he had to resort to another tactic.

"Augh, fuck-! Stop!" Jared laughed, squirming desperately when Peter started tickling his sides. Peter flipped them over easily, grinding down and feeling Jared's half-hard dick press against his own. Jared choked out a groan, struggling for air between peals of laughter. It was loud enough to make Peter worry about waking Pindar and Carmen up, and in his moment of distraction Jared managed to knee him in the ribs. Peter fell off and landed on the floor with a soft thump.

Jared glared at him from the couch. He absolutely hated being tickled, which was why it was fun. "Doghouse'd." He panted sternly, looking flushed enough that Peter didn't take him seriously. They joked enough about being a married couple that sometimes the line got blurred.

Peter gasped indignantly anyway, playing along. "Aw, c'mon! I rubbed your feet." He gave some very persuasive puppy dog eyes when he wanted to.

Jared gave him a slow once over, eyes hooded, as if making a careful decision. "Okay, I'm going to bed. If you come with, you might get a BJ." Jared harrumphed, pretending to be very put upon but unable to stop a grin.

Peter's eyes filled with adoration. "I love you."

"Oh, stop it."