Nobody asked for it, but hell, here it is anyway: a little piece of the Mozzie/Neal fic I should have finished a month ago.

"This cold front has been all over the news for the past couple of days. I figured if you hadn't shown up by now you'd missed it." Neal watches as Mozzie sheds his hat, scarf, and coat, then nods in the direction of his TV. "I even laid in supplies. All of Stephen Chow's films."

"Tomorrow's Saturday?" Neal nods. "You don't have work?" He nods again. Mozzie beams. "Excellent. Marathon time."

They get situated on the couch with plates and glasses, and Neal cues up the first DVD. It's been years since Mozzie's watched God of Cookery-- in fact, the last time he watched it was with Neal, if memory serves, and that was a few years before Neal got caught... it's been a while, anyway, and it's just as funny as he remembers it being. Before they put on Shaolin Soccer, they clean up the dishes, and Neal sits closer when they settle down for the second movie. Mozzie lays his arm along the back of the couch and Neal takes that as an open invitation to snuggle in, commenting, "You're comfortable."

This is one of Mozzie's favorite movies, one he's seen a dozen times or more, so he doesn't mind too much when, half an hour in, Neal decides that cuddling just isn't enough and insinuates himself onto Mozzie's lap. "What are you doing?" he has to ask, even as his hands go to steady Neal's hips.

"I know you haven't had enough to drink to really be this slow on the uptake," Neal says, ducking his head to kiss Mozzie's lips, the tip of his nose, between his eyebrows and on the top of his head.

"Don't think this is such a good idea," Mozzie mutters thickly into the side of Neal's neck, but kisses the place just under his ear anyway.

"I think it's a great idea," Neal disagrees with a laugh catching in his throat, both hands splayed over Mozzie's back and meandering aimlessly. One fingertip catches the hem of his shirt and traces up his spine, and Mozzie shivers under that single touch. "Do I have to convince you around to my way of thinking?"

"I'd have to be stupid to say no to that offer," Mozzie says, "go ahead, convince me." As if that'll take much. Neal pulls back to look at him, blue eyes keen at such a close range, and the smile he flashes actually has nothing to do with his usual grifter's grin-- it's a slighter, softer thing with some honesty backing it up, the kind of smile Mozzie will admit he's missed seeing for far too long, the kind of smile he absolutely has to kiss away right now. So much for convincing him. He's always been wrapped around Neal's little finger, that's the worst-kept secret of their friendship.