This is just an indulgent, fluffy little thing. :)
~~~
Peter picked up the remote to fast-forward through some commercials and looked over at Neal where he sat on the couch. “Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic about this?”
“I can’t help it that I’m cold.” Neal pulled the afghan tighter around his shoulders and shivered like he was making a point.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry I made you go on a stake-out in the cold.” Peter sighed. “But we’ve been inside for half an hour, and you’ve had hot coffee. Plus, I gave you both of the afghans El’s mother sent us for Christmas. How can you still be cold?”
Neal shivered again, looking honestly miserable. “I can’t help it; when I get cold I stay cold.”
“Forever?”
“Feels like it.”
“Well, I can’t imagine why you like New York so much then. I mean, the winters.”
“I usually found a good reason to be somewhere else during the winter. The Mediterranean, the Caribbean, the South Pacific. Texas. Whatever.”
“And now you’re stuck here with me instead of in a nice, warm prison. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Neal shook his head. “God no. Prison was f-freezing.” He frowned and shivered again. “I couldn’t get warm for days sometimes.”
“I guess that’s what happens when you try spending your winters in the Mediterranean once too often.”
Neal just shrugged and drew his feet up onto the couch in front of himself. He adjusted the afghans to make a cocoon around himself and shivered again. Peter tried to stifle the twinge of concern and unreasonable guilt he felt, but it wouldn’t leave him alone to focus on the game he’d recorded, so he got up, found another blanket and took it over to Neal.
“You’re not getting sick are you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Neal looked paler than normal, so Peter reached into his cocoon to feel his forehead and found his skin cool to the touch. “How can you still be this cold?”
“Just another one of my special talents.” Neal flashed a weak smile, but it didn’t make him look any less miserable.
“Okay, give me a minute here.”
Peter dug in the hall closet until he found the little heater fan he and El had used to heat the bedroom when the furnace went out a few years earlier. He plugged it in and put it a few feet away from Neal, cattycorner to his end of the couch. Before turning it on, he sent up a quick prayer to the gods of electricity that it wouldn’t blow the circuit, but a moment later the lights were still on and warm air was blowing from the fan. Since he was already comfortable with the temperature, Peter pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving just his t-shirt and jeans, and started loosening Neal’s bundle of blankets.
“Hey,” Neal complained.
“Relax, you’ll be warmer in a minute.”
Peter sat down next to Neal, crowding him into the corner of the sofa, and pulled the covers around to enclose them both. He wrapped one arm around Neal’s shoulders then turned up the TV so he could hear it over the hush of the fan. Neal held himself stiffly for a minute, as if he were fruitlessly trying to avoid touching Peter when they were sitting hip-to-hip. Slowly, he relaxed and grew heavier against Peter’s side.
“How are you so warm?”
“I’m just a warm-blooded kind of guy, I guess. Are you defrosting any?”
“I think I’m starting to get warm.” Neal stifled a yawn. “And sleepy.”
“Go ahead and nap if you want. El told me to make you stay for dinner anyway.”
“Mmm, thanks,” Neal hummed groggily, and when Peter looked over he was smiling. Neal let his feet drop back to the floor and balled up a corner of the blanket to serve as a pillow.
“Do you want me to move so you can stretch out?”
“Stay,” Neal said, and then he was out. Peter shifted a little and decided his spot was perfect for watching the game. He didn’t mind being Neal’s electric blanket, not just this once.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: Afternoons and Afghans (1/1)
Date: 2012-07-23 05:05 pm (UTC)~~~
Peter picked up the remote to fast-forward through some commercials and looked over at Neal where he sat on the couch. “Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic about this?”
“I can’t help it that I’m cold.” Neal pulled the afghan tighter around his shoulders and shivered like he was making a point.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry I made you go on a stake-out in the cold.” Peter sighed. “But we’ve been inside for half an hour, and you’ve had hot coffee. Plus, I gave you both of the afghans El’s mother sent us for Christmas. How can you still be cold?”
Neal shivered again, looking honestly miserable. “I can’t help it; when I get cold I stay cold.”
“Forever?”
“Feels like it.”
“Well, I can’t imagine why you like New York so much then. I mean, the winters.”
“I usually found a good reason to be somewhere else during the winter. The Mediterranean, the Caribbean, the South Pacific. Texas. Whatever.”
“And now you’re stuck here with me instead of in a nice, warm prison. Is that what you’re telling me?”
Neal shook his head. “God no. Prison was f-freezing.” He frowned and shivered again. “I couldn’t get warm for days sometimes.”
“I guess that’s what happens when you try spending your winters in the Mediterranean once too often.”
Neal just shrugged and drew his feet up onto the couch in front of himself. He adjusted the afghans to make a cocoon around himself and shivered again. Peter tried to stifle the twinge of concern and unreasonable guilt he felt, but it wouldn’t leave him alone to focus on the game he’d recorded, so he got up, found another blanket and took it over to Neal.
“You’re not getting sick are you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Neal looked paler than normal, so Peter reached into his cocoon to feel his forehead and found his skin cool to the touch. “How can you still be this cold?”
“Just another one of my special talents.” Neal flashed a weak smile, but it didn’t make him look any less miserable.
“Okay, give me a minute here.”
Peter dug in the hall closet until he found the little heater fan he and El had used to heat the bedroom when the furnace went out a few years earlier. He plugged it in and put it a few feet away from Neal, cattycorner to his end of the couch. Before turning it on, he sent up a quick prayer to the gods of electricity that it wouldn’t blow the circuit, but a moment later the lights were still on and warm air was blowing from the fan. Since he was already comfortable with the temperature, Peter pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving just his t-shirt and jeans, and started loosening Neal’s bundle of blankets.
“Hey,” Neal complained.
“Relax, you’ll be warmer in a minute.”
Peter sat down next to Neal, crowding him into the corner of the sofa, and pulled the covers around to enclose them both. He wrapped one arm around Neal’s shoulders then turned up the TV so he could hear it over the hush of the fan. Neal held himself stiffly for a minute, as if he were fruitlessly trying to avoid touching Peter when they were sitting hip-to-hip. Slowly, he relaxed and grew heavier against Peter’s side.
“How are you so warm?”
“I’m just a warm-blooded kind of guy, I guess. Are you defrosting any?”
“I think I’m starting to get warm.” Neal stifled a yawn. “And sleepy.”
“Go ahead and nap if you want. El told me to make you stay for dinner anyway.”
“Mmm, thanks,” Neal hummed groggily, and when Peter looked over he was smiling. Neal let his feet drop back to the floor and balled up a corner of the blanket to serve as a pillow.
“Do you want me to move so you can stretch out?”
“Stay,” Neal said, and then he was out. Peter shifted a little and decided his spot was perfect for watching the game. He didn’t mind being Neal’s electric blanket, not just this once.