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“I am charged with your care, you can not go out without me.” Connor intones
“You’ve been around me for a week solid. Sorry, it’s not that I don’t like you,” displacement gesture. He notes temp rises in her face. “I just need my own space,”
“Don’t burn the house down, I’ll be back shortly after midnight. I’ll keep my phone on. ‘kay?” Trying to shove things in purse and slip out door.
“I must insist th-“ Connor starts again
“No, I insist. It’s for my own good.”
Snippets of bar. (Hint of Hank)
Phone dies. All cabs taken.
“It’s only a 20 min walk. My jacket should do me good.” She thinks
Connor checking phone system. No calls or texts. Calls bar, closed.
Her, trudging slower than anticipated in the cold sludge. Snow falling thick, streetlights a fuzzy blur of orange
Suddenly, her foot catches something under the snow and she falls with a hard thud face down into the slushy street. Ankle throbbing.
Minutes pass. She can’t stand up. Hands freezing in the snow as she sits up
Time passes as she sits there, unable to move
“C-c-Connor...” Please
Back in the warmth of home, Connor is scanning the street and checking the weather network.
He scanned a heat source down the street, zoomed in.
Body core temperature below 35.0 °C (95.0 °F)
His carefully calculated footfalls, the only sound against the silent winter night. Loud jogging. Crunching in the snow
A message came to the forefront of his programming *Jarring movements can trigger dangerous irregular heartbeats causing heart attacks*
Tears frozen on her rosy cheeks, hair and eye lashes white with snow, lips blue as thirum.
As smooth and carefully as possible he scoops her up, her frail body falling limp against him.
A quick body scan:
- slow, weak pulse
- slow, shallow breathing
- core temp below 35.0 °C (95.0 °F)
- sleepy look on her face
- Expanded blood vessels near the surface of skin - she was drinking. As expected.
- Sprained ankle
A reconstructed scene determined the cause to be a slightly hidden pothole
“H-h-hi” sleepy, confused girl. Smiley green eyes and slow blinking lashes.
Bridal style carry, his heat turned up, her cold nose nuzzled into his neck, breath on his collar. Eyes fluttering, falling asleep.
Back home
Her quiet whimpering cracks his code as he sets her on the couch in the warm house.
Her hands and face stinging, tears fresh.
“It hurts,” she whines
“I know,” he says softly holding her gaze “I’ll Take care of you. Don’t worry”
Carefully loosen boots, take off wet socks. Unzip and set aside jacket. Towel wrap her soaked hair. Bandage wrap the hurt ankle.
Carry to bedroom, set on edge of bed.
“You need to get out of your wet clothes, I’ll put these blankets in the dryer” here’s some fresh warm clothes to change into.
He leaves. Time passes. He knocks and enters her bedroom again.
More tears “ah-I c-can’t. Mmmy ha-ands a-are too c-c-oh-old” She whimpers looking miserable, teeth chattering, body shaking. Skin flushed red. Hands curled uselessly, stinging in the warmth.
“If you’ll allow, I can assist you?”
“N-no!” she looks away, defiant yet defeated.
“I’m sorry, but time is of the essence. If it helps at all, I can close my eyes.”
Her frozen fingertips grasping his elbows as he helps her to stand.
Silently tugging off her shirt, quickly slipping on his warm oversized DPD sweater and unclamping her bra.
Lifts and holds her weight on one arm, careful of her throbbing ankle, pause on the button of her jeans. Her frozen hands attempting to steady her uncoordinated body and find heat by slipping under the helm of his cotton shirt at his hips.
Her face somehow gets more pink, sleepy eyes locking with his then a shy look away.
A confirmation
“Sorry.”
She holds her breath as he deftly undoes her jeans and slides them down her legs.
Melted snow glides down her thighs, skin bright red, quiet whimpers leaving her chattering mouth.
His warm hand briefly touches her hip and panties, checking if they too got wet. Thankfully no. Helps her into sweat pants.
Gingerly tucking her under the covers, his body hovering over hers for a split moment. Her shivers return ten fold.
The feeling in her fingers hurts so bad. Her toes so cold. Face the red of a radish. Sleepy sad eyes full of pain tinted tears.
He retrieves the blankets from the dryer, tucking again.
She’s shivering in her sleep, lungs wheezing ever so slightly.
She wakes. “I-I’m so-sorry. I sho-should-n-nt ha-ave”
“It’s okay now,” he calms her
Not hungry. No water. Won’t drink her sweetened tea.
Body core temperature still below 35.0 °C (95.0 °F)
He takes off his shirt, cheeks turning as blue as her lips were. Toned skin.
He crawls under the covers and tucks her under his chin, turning his heat up. His heated hands under the sweater, her shocked stiffness, take up her whole back. Her chilled breath puffing against his clavicle in such a way that causes error messages. His cheeks turning more and more blue. Hers, somehow redder.
She confesses to never have had anyone in bed with her before. He jokes that neither has he.
Once her fingers warm she sleepily caresses the curves of his neck, shoulders and chest.
Her breath becomes less shallow, temperature rising, heart beating quicker
“It seems you’re sufficiently warmed, I shall leave you to your rest”
“No!” A little softer she whispers, “Please stay, I like this.”
A different hue of pink touches her cheeks.