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“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” Philip asks, staring at Trevor, who’s sitting on the couch, tying up his boots.
“What do you mean ‘what’s wrong with us’?” Marcy’s voice crackles over the comm. There’s amusement in her voice, and there’s no doubt she’s grinning, too. “It’s snow, Philip. Something none of us have experienced.”
“We spent our entire lives living in domes that were covered in ice,” he reminds everyone. “The world around us was literally frozen to death. After that, how can you be so excited about snow?”
Trevor stands and walks over to the desk where Philip is sitting at, hiding behind his computer monitors. “Snow is far different from a nuclear winter, Philip. I know you know that. C’mon, buddy. Let’s go outside and have some fun.”
“Don’t act like you don’t need the fresh air, Philip,” Carly chimes in, making him roll his eyes. “We all know how much time you spend in that garage compared to anywhere else. Trevor, drag his ass outside if you have to, just make sure he’s ready to go when Marcy and I get there.”
The Engineer laughs and grins, and Philip fucking hates it because if anyone can convince him to go play in the snow with the other two, it’s him. Tapping his neck to turn his comm off, Philip shoots a half-hearted glare at the other. “I hate you.”
“What did I do?” Trevor asks, still grinning and well aware of what Philip is referring to.
He doesn’t even have to say anything. Philip knows what’s coming, and he knows Trevor’s going to win, so he’s already relenting without another word traded between them. Pushing up out of the chair, he goes to change into something warm before the ladies show up.
—
He’s still grumbling when Marcy and Carly make it to Ops, but he’s at least already standing outside with Trevor, arms wrapped tightly around his middle in an attempt to stave off the cold. “It’s fucking cold out here, so you better make this worthwhile.”
Before anyone else can respond, or react in any way, a handful of packed snow hits Philip square in the chest. “What the fuck?!” Arms drop and it takes a moment for him to spot Carly, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, snow clinging to the glove on her right hand. “What the hell, Carly?”
“It’s called a snowball fight, Phil. Something that’s pretty normal in this time,” she explains through her laughter, motioning towards the street where a group of kids are running around, laughing, and throwing snowballs at each other.
“You’re going to pay for that,” Philip warns, hunching down to gather up a handful of snow, packing it tight, before throwing it at the Tactician. And missing.
A brow raises. “Nice shot.”
“Shut up.”
Another snowball comes flying out from behind him at Carly, this one hitting her on the shoulder. They both turn to stare at Trevor, Philip impressed with the sneak attack, Carly almost looking insulted. “What? You think the 18-year-old isn’t going to go full force in a snowball fight?”
The other three laugh, and minutes later, a full blown fight breaks out, snow flying every which way as they run around, targeting each other. Nearly an hour later, the four of them are leaning against various objects, catching their breath during their silently agreed upon truce. They’re all exhausted, but smiling and laughing.
“Was that worth it?” Marcy asks, turning her head to look at the Historian sitting next to her.
Huffing, he bumps his shoulder against hers. “Maybe a little bit.” Gaze shifting over to Trevor, then Carly, he takes another moment for his breathing to even back out and his chest to stop heaving so much. “I guess I did need this. Thanks, you guys.”
They all smile back at him and Marcy pats his knee. “Anytime, Philip.”