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A noise pulled him from slumber and Jonathan blinked his eyes open slowly. The light in his bedroom was scant, silver gray, as if it was not yet dawn, though it felt as if it should be later. The noise came again - a clap of thunder - and beside him Patrick murmured and turned over, pulling the pillow over his head as the lightning lit the dim room for a moment.
Craning his neck, Jonathan could see a sliver of the small window which was being lashed with rain. He laid his head down and let out a breath. A storm, then, and on a Sunday morning to boot. The household would be slow to rise. He could risk another hour or two of slumber before dressing and waking Patrick to quietly stumble to his own bed before his valet arose. It was rare that they were able to sleep together, truly sleep, and Jonathan wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.
Patrick had fallen still beside him, and his breathing was slow and even. Jonathan pulled his pillow nearer Patrick’s, and curved his body around his lover’s, placing his hand on Patrick’s hip. Patrick made a wordless sound and leaned back toward him. Jonathan closed his eyes and inhaled their combined scent, the sound of thunder accompanying him to sleep.