Quote:
Strange snow flurries have been blowing through town, frosting entire buildings. Sometimes they come out of nowhere--overnight, or in the timespan of just a few short hours. Snow falls rapidly and ice coats doors and window, sealing them shut. These snow flurries are knocking out power, and worse--trapping people in buildings and cars. If one of these flurries hits, where do you wind up?
She'd gone to his place after they'd both gotten off their shifts. Managed to make it through another night of holiday themed routines and outfits due to the amount of flu symptom meds she'd nearly overdosed herself on to feel up to snuff for the s**t. But soon as she got in his car when he came to pick her up--much to her objections via texts prior to this, as she'd been perfectly content grabbing the necessary two bus trip up to his neck of the city--Kailey'd begun to cough and sneeze.
Her condition had just gone down hill from there. By the time they got to his place her meds might as well have been nonexistent, and she'd begun to argue she should just get back to her place, get out of his hair.
Needless to say, that hadn't gone over well.
But she wasn't used to being around others when she was this sick and just wanting to curl up in bed or in front of a TV to rest. She was used to being home, in her own apartment, tending to herself and just... that was it. He'd objected profusely to her attempts to convince him she'd be better off home alone. At one point, he even pointed out the window at the heavily falling snow that would have immensely hindered her attempts to get back. Though she had a hell of an argument for why she'd be fine still going, even if the buses weren't working, she hadn't been comfortable to... uh. Go that route. Out loud.
Plus Morgan's uniform only covered so much, and she still would have been subject to the winter's harsh temperament.
She'd relented, reluctantly, angrily, and had curled up on his couch with a huff and a raging temper of her own. Not for his lack of ******** given. For the fact he did care. Because in her current state, having someone actually care about you and go out of their way to help you out was problematic and a hinderance.
Yeah she was definitely sick.
She watched the news in a grumpy mood, bundled up in one of his D.C.P.D. sweatshirts and a blanket he'd pulled out for her. Why he had so many, she had no idea, though by this point she'd at least stopped glaring at them or picking at the threading for the lettering when she wore one. Her skinny jeans and layered dark long sleeve and t-shirt didn't do much against the chill she felt was starting to infect her bones, so the additional layer of one off his large sweatshirts pulled over her head and wrapped around her form was a comfort she was reluctant to admit to.
Didn't keep her from occasionally rubbing her nose on it when the constant sniffling and blowing her nose started to irritate the sensitive skin.
Through the stuffed pressure in her nose, she managed to catch a whiff of something chicken-y and after a moment of debate, pulled herself off the couch. Keeping the hood of the sweatshirt up over her head, and the blanket wrapped around her, she padded over to the kitchen looking very much like a miserable spirit of winter flus. The sight she found made her lift her brows. There he was, at the gas powered oven, waiting for a pot of soup to boil. Judging by the smell, she wagered it was chicken noodle--and sure enough, when she crept over to lean against his side and peer into the pot as he stirred, noodles and chicken bits, and some random veggies, swirled around the broth.
Oh damn him.
She'd stayed there as long as she could, with him tossing an arm around her shoulders, thumb rubbing through the multiple layers of cloth against her upper arm. It was hard to be angry at someone who was willing to go through the effort of making you food. Never mind willing enough to put up with your bullshit.
When the broth began to boil, she slid away to grab the ladle, bowls, and spoons, silent and figuring she at least owed him enough to not be a lazy a**. He grabbed some Saltines, and she'd been a bit delighted by this addition as they filled bowls and moved to the table. The news kept playing, the constant talks about the weather taking priority over everything else. She could see the snow whipping outside the window, building up against the glass and forming ice as the warmth from inside fought against the attempted invasion of the cold. At one point, she'd gotten up from the table, leaving behind the blanket and the warm food as she headed for the bathroom. Not for the typical reasons, though. The weather warnings had made her uneasy, and she'd plugged up the bathtub and started to run the water. Leaving that for a moment, she zipped into the kitchen and pulled out a few clean pots, filling those with water as well, along with a kettle. He'd watched in silence for a bit before offering to help, which she'd shooed him away when he'd come into the kitchen, nudging him back to the table as she went to shut off the water in the bathroom before returning to bundle herself up in the blanket and return to her soup.
There wasn't much of a warning before the power got zapped. They'd both cussed, two cell phones with light apps activated soon out and he'd gotten up to root around for... something. She followed, trying to help where she could, soon finding herself carrying various candles and placing them around as directed. At least the oven was gas. And they had plenty of water for the bathroom and enough to heat up for tea.
It was... odd circumstances for their first little candlelit dinner, and it was something they'd both shared a laugh over--or well, her a laughing-cough but point was.
A bottle of Scotch was pulled out, after a couple bowls of soup each, and a relocation to the bedroom where it would be arguably warmer, what with blankets to cuddle under and another body to help warm the space. They'd both changed into nightclothes--her borrowing more of his stuff, even as she admitted to herself it wouldn't hurt to keep some spare clothes there. No, he didn't let her indulge--again, why--but the alcohol warmed her considerably inside and out, a new candle flickering on a safe spot near the bed, with her pressed against his side under his arm. Definitely wasn't in the mood for things to get more heated than that, which she whined about considerably--talk about a totally wasted opportunity, screw you too, sickness.
But they... talked. About anything, everything, and nothing at all. Safe topics, easy topics. Topics that wouldn't bring out tempers or ruin the warm mood. It was easy to reheat soup or heat up water for tea as necessary, checking news updates via phones and otherwise just... there. Warm. Together. It was a weird, sentimentality and sappiness that she usually tried to avoid, but it was hard to not notice and acknowledge that early morning, when he'd fallen asleep at her back, an arm tossed over her middle and warm breath ruffling her hair gently.
Jealousy for his lack of struggles to breath aside, she was... quiet. Hyper aware of their bodies, of the darkness broken only by her cell phone when she'd poke at the screen to check the time, of the wind and the snow still swirling outside. Her fingers laced with his, squeezing as she pressed herself back against him, eyes shutting tight against the inevitable glare of day and when they'd have to get up.
It wasn't so bad, having someone that cared. It was a strange sensation still, a strange concept that she felt the pull to someone outside her remaining family members. It was a different pull, very different, from Alex and her mom. It was a more dangerous pull, a pull that could far too easily turn into a noose or a bullet. Comforting and sweet, it could still form thorns, still form needles filled with venom waiting to catch skin and inject the burning, ripping pain.
She'd warned him that they would crash and burn. Eventually, it would happen. It was the inevitable. She'd no ghost of an illusion that it wouldn't come to pass, it was merely a question of when. But there in the darkness, amidst swirling snow and ice, white and crystal clear, so far away from the glare of day and the dirt and grime of the city below, she could push it away. If only for a moment, accepting the warmth for what it was, allowing herself to indulge in it, be grateful for the moments she could steal.
The day would come, the sun would rise, and on one such promised day, they would crash and burn. It didn't mean they couldn't enjoy the moments while they had them. It was a dangerous way to live, a dangerous way to go and she knew it would someday burn them both bad if they weren't careful. But nothing about this was careful.
She smiled against the pillow that smelled of both of them, a mixture of scents she was beginning to find familiar. She was standing on an edge. If she wasn't careful, she was going to go into a free fall. But there with him, warm and content, she wondered again if the pain outweighed the bliss.
{ WC: 1,570 }
