"Only my poor coat," Peter laughed, pulling it out from under his ass. "Which we've been having sexon."
"Oh! I thought the bed was suspiciously soft." Logan shrugged and pulled on hispants.
"I'm never getting rid of it." Peter shook out the wrinkled garment, and a white scrap of something fell to thefloor.
"I think... I think maybe I found Cupid's sock," Peter said, grabbing it from thefloor.
"Uh...That's good because one of mine seems to be missing," Logan told him, holding up one blue-striped foot. They locked eyes. Logan snickered, and Peter jumped to his feet, pressing a hand to that laughingmouth.
"Don't say it," he warned. "Saynothing. None of that ever happened." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at thedoor.
Logan nodded gravely, though his eyes were still dancing in the shadowed room, and he was so fucking handsome that Peter had to press his lips to Logan's right then and there. Logan wrapped his arms around Peter's waist and stepped forward, and suddenly Peter was right back on the bed, with the coat still under his ass and Logan on his front. And it was so right and soreal,Peter didn't care how the hell it had come about. He could only be grateful to fate, or destiny, or tighty-whitey-Cupid, or whatever mysterious forces had conspired to help him and Logan find their way back to eachother.
"I'm framing that sock," he toldLogan.
And one year later, on their first anniversary, that's exactly what hedid.
