Chapter Text
Juno knew it was still early when he woke up.
The first giveaway was that Peter, an early-riser most days, was still snoring lightly behind him. Blinking away some crusties, Juno saw it was, in fact, obscenely early.
The Carte Blanche had an interesting function where the lights in the rooms would slowly turn on, simulating a “sunrise” even in the vast vacuum of space. Since there was not even a hint of outside light through the canopy of scarves that made their canopy, Juno grunted and snuggled in tighter to his pillow.
The movement jostled the mattress just enough to rouse his lover, the snoring coming to an abrupt halt as Peter inhaled sharply through his nose. There were a few moments of quiet before Juno heard Nureyev scrub at his face.
“Whu’time ‘sit?” Peter mumbled adorably as he rolled over to spoon up behind Juno.
A sigh tickled across Juno’s skin as he slid an arm around his waist and pressed his mouth sleepily to the back of his shoulder. It wasn’t even a proper kiss, just a damp brush of lips, but it brought a tired grin to Juno’s face nonetheless. Peter’s hand slid up until it rested in the middle of his chest and pulled him in tight.
“Too damn early,” Juno replied with a sigh of his own, tangling his fingers with Peter’s and giving his hand a soft squeeze. “G’back to sleep.”
“Whu’woke y’up?” Peter mumbled, and when a sudden yawn overtook him, his sharp teeth scratched lightly against the skin exposed by the wide neckline of Juno's sleep shirt. Goosebumps flashed across Juno’s skin and much to his frustration, he felt vague interest stirring in his gut.
A smirk spread the lips at his shoulder, and Juno rolled his eyes. It was definitely way too damn early for that .
“Dunno doesn’t matter,” was all he said before huffing and nuzzling into the pillow. “Go back to sleep, Nureyev. Seriously.”
“Hm, I don’t know if I want to,” Peter muttered teasingly, slipping his hand out of Juno’s loose grip and down the middle of his abdomen. “Do you?”
Juno shuddered lightly and bit his lip, knowing he didn’t actually want to go back to sleep, regardless of the time. Silently, as Peter’s questing fingers reached the hem of his sleep shirt and began to lift it a bit, Juno sent a silent apology to Jet.
And then Juno yelped. Well, it was more that he squealed and pulled away from Peter’s if he had been burned, but he would later insist it had been a perfectly reasonable sound of shock Jet had woken to.
“Juno!” Peter said with palpable concern, sleep completely leaving his voice as he sat up abruptly and turned on the lights in the canopy over their bed. “Juno, are you okay?”
“Do you have a freezer you put your hands in over there?!” Juno asked accusingly when he rolled over to look up at Peter, embarrassed by his overreaction but doubling-down on his indignance. He was nothing, if not a brat. “You could give a lady frostbite with those things!”
The flat look Peter gave him was almost enough to snap Juno out of his sulk, but he couldn’t react like that and give up such a good pout so soon. He barely refrained from crossing his arms over his chest petulantly, knowing that would be too childish.
“Please, Juno, it isn’t my fault you run about as hot as a supernova—”
“First off, I’m glad you think I’m hot—”
“Juno—”
“ Secondly , I run a normal human temperature!” Juno snapped, grabbing Peter’s hand and shaking it up at his lover. He was happy that Nureyev humoured him and let him do it. “The problem is that your fingers are made of ice !”
“You’ve never complained about them before!” Peter said defensively, wearing his own pout now.
He was beautiful, squinting down through the low light without his glasses, hair a messy halo around his head, and the strap of his camisole slipping off of his thin shoulder. Juno nearly reached to fix it, but that meant giving up ground on his annoyance. Especially since Nureyev was right; it was hardly a secret that Nureyev’s fingers always felt a bit chilled, and Juno truly hadn’t ever complained.
But holding hands was a bit different than having sleep-chilled fingers on his sleep-warm stomach.
“Yeah, well, you’ve never shoved your evil little ice claws up my shirt while I was barely awake before!” Juno finally said, and he actually crossed his arms.
“My ‘ice claws’ are ‘evil’, hmm?” Peter asked with a quirk of his eyebrow, and Juno felt something flutter excitedly in his chest. The question wasn’t even particularly suggestive, and if anything should have filled Juno with dread, but he always had trouble being properly afraid of Peter.
“Yes, when you’re accosting my poor tits with them at ass o’clock in the morning,” Juno grumbled, opening his legs without thinking when Peter rolled and positioned himself between them. The former detective realized the depth of his mistake when Nureyev laid out flat on top of him, effectively pinning Juno to the bed.
“I don’t believe I quite got around to accosting any ‘tits,’ with my evil ice claws or otherwise, my dear Juno,” Peter murmured, bringing his mouth close to Juno’s ear and biting the earlobe gently. Juno’s sigh was loud between them and he squirmed under the attention. “Is that where you wanted my evil ice claws, Juno?”
“It’s really early, Nureyev,” Juno whispered weakly, shivering when Peter lightly dragged the backs of his nails up his ribs under his sleepshirt. Already he was forgetting his annoyance, his arms no longer crossed so he could hold Nureyev’s trim waist.
“ Juno ,” Peter scolded lightly, and Juno felt his face heat a bit. Of course, the requirement for detailed and outright responses, Peter’s favourite way to torture Juno.
“It’s early ,” Juno repeated petulantly, turning his head to pout.
“And that isn’t an answer to my question, my love,” Peter replied cheekily, nibbling at the skin of Juno’s throat.
“Fine, Nureyev, yes I want you to play with my tits,” Juno bit out. “But at a reasonable hour , not the asscrack of dawn!”
“See, that wasn’t so hard was it, my lady?” Peter chuckled and then he shoved his hands up between Juno’s arm and ribs, almost up into his armpits, and held tight. His fingers were frigid, pulling another undignified squeal from Juno’s throat.
“Nureyev, you asshole , I swear—” Juno’s threat was smothered by a laughing kiss, which he returned eagerly. Despite his complaints, he made no move to escape the cold touch, only grumbled and accepted the kisses he was given.
TBC