Cole was wearing more than bedsheets, but barely. This was not unusual for this time of day, though. He stirred in the bed and finally mumbled, "I'm all yours, come on in." And then he sat up and rubbed his eyes, sheet falling down around a bare chest and black silk pajama bottoms.
Patrick stared, completely drawn into Cole's eyes. He hadn't felt this way in .. in such a long time. It was like coming home, like the first time he saw his wife.
He wet his lips, and moved further into the room, keeping his gaze on Cole. "...Clothes? Clothes. Yes. What would you want?" His lips curved up. "For clothing."
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"All right - let's get the day ..." His eyes locked on Cole's, and his words died in his throat.
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Those eyes. Yes, he'd known that Patrick's eyes were gorgeous, but today they were like the brightest blue of any sky he'd ever seen.
He suddenly found himself wishing that Daniel Jackson would mysteriously drop dead. Though to his credit, he felt guilty immediately.
He licked his lips, finding his throat suddenly dry, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Would you hand me some clothes, darling?" he asked.
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He wet his lips, and moved further into the room, keeping his gaze on Cole. "...Clothes? Clothes. Yes. What would you want?" His lips curved up. "For clothing."
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