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The tent was really only meant for one person, in an absolute emergency. It was definitely not meant for an average-sized human and a two-metre tall security droid. K-2 looked faintly ludicrous, crammed into the tent with his legs crossed and his head bowed, but Cassian couldn’t quite stomach the idea of leaving Kay outside in a blizzard. Even though he knew, logically, that it wouldn’t do too much damage to him.
“I just don’t want to hear your complaining,” he’d said, when arguing his case. “And you’ll help keep me warm.”
That had been the clinching argument, as Cassian had known it would be. He sometimes felt a stab of guilt when he appealed to K-2’s primary directive like that, but this time he felt justified. It was warmer with Kay in here.
Not that that was saying much, because Cassian still couldn’t get warm. He’d grown up on Fest, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to the cold, but Fest was mostly icy and mountainous; you didn’t get these freak snowstorms unless you made your way to higher ground, which no one did. Yaldir was a different beast all together.
Still, Cassian tried to console himself, at least they’d found some valuable information on the Empire’s secret vonium mines. With any luck, the Alliance could use the new intel to set up a strike team to take out the mining base. That should put a dent in the Empire’s plans to build yet more ships and weapons.
That was if they made it back to the shuttle to send the intel; the blizzard had descended frighteningly fast, and Cassian and K-2 had only had time to put up the small tent and have an argument before it had become impossible to see more than a few metres. Even now, huddled inside the shelter, he wasn’t convinced that the ferocious wind wouldn’t rip the tent to pieces. At least he’d remembered to pack the tent, Cassian told himself.
Now, if only he could warm up. The little ceramic heater was apparently useless, giving off only the faintest hint of warmth, and the space blanket around his shoulders didn’t seem to be helping. He’d lost all contact with his feet, and his hands may as well have belonged to someone else. He rubbed them together, trying to bring back some feeling to his fingers, but nothing seemed to work; his gloves had become soaked with snow while putting up the tent, and were now draped over the heater in an attempt to dry them. He could feel Kay watching him, his fans whirring as he processed something.
“Your attempts at warming up are ineffectual,” the droid said, raising the volume of his vocabulator above the howling wind.
“Yes, thanks Kay,” Cassian managed to force out through chattering teeth. “I’m doing the best I can, here.”
“Hmm.” Kay tilted his head in that smug way that Cassian found both infuriating and oddly endearing. “I believe I can do a much better job.”
“I’ll be fine when this heater starts working.”
“I doubt that. There is a three hour walk back to our ship, but this blizzard is unlikely to pass until morning. This heater is not meant for such a long period of use.”
“And what do you suggest?”
“Come here, in the first instance.”
There wasn’t much space between them to begin with, but Cassian shuffled closer to Kay, so he was sitting with his knees against the struts of Kay’s lower legs. The droid took one of Cassian’s hands in his, a surprisingly gentle gesture, and placed it against a vent on his lower torso. A soft gust of beautifully warm air stirred against Cassian’s palm, sending an aching pleasure-pain through his numb fingers.
“Oh, kriff,” he said, putting the other hand against the vent as well, almost without thinking. “You’re really warm.”
“I generate a great deal of excess heat,” said K-2 in a rather superior tone. “I will allow you to use me rather than that pathetic heater.”
“Are you competing with the heater?” Cassian asked, amused.
“Of course not. But if I were, I would be winning.”
Cassian laughed through his chattering teeth. He was still shivering, but the sensation was returning to his fingers in an aching flood of relief. The metal of K-2’s torso was deliciously warm from his processors and servomotors, and Cassian found himself leaning closer, needing to warm more than just his hands.
“Is this okay?” he asked after a few minutes, realising that he’d just been sitting there with his hands all over K-2’s vents for a good five minutes. The droid was usually fussy about people touching him, something Cassian understood very well, and just because he’d let Cassian take advantage for a moment didn’t mean he—
“I would tell you if it were not.”
Of course he would. Kay never turned down the chance to complain when something was making him unhappy, or even when something was making him vaguely irritated.
“You are still shivering,” said the droid after a few more minutes. “Your body temperature is thirty-five point nine degrees celsius. You need to be warmer.”
“I’m aware.” The shivering was getting annoying; his muscles were aching and tense, and his thoughts felt slow and foggy. K-2 affected an irritated sigh, which Cassian knew for a fact he had picked up from General Draven. Not that the General knew that, of course; he would be extremely unimpressed.
“We need to raise your core temperature, now that your fingers are not in danger of frostbite. You should move closer.” K-2 uncrossed his long legs so he was sitting with his knees at sharp angles.
Cassian swallowed, instincts warring. He wanted to get closer to Kay’s warmth. The idea of Kay taking care of him like this was both terrifying and deeply comforting. But if he let this happen, let himself cross this one small boundary… a tiny little spark of want flared in his chest, escaping his usual iron control.
“I—”
“Cassian, if your body temperature drops by another degree, you will be in great danger of hypothermia. And then what do you suggest we do? This is the logical course of action.”
He was right, of course. Damn him.
“Damn you,” Cassian said, but he shuffled closer, letting himself sit with his back to K-2’s chest. The droid directed more excess heat to those vents, and the sudden warmth at Cassian’s back was a beautiful relief to his aching muscles. He sighed out, unable to stop himself.
“There,” said Kay, in an exasperated tone. “Was that so difficult? I don’t understand why you must be so stubborn. You insisted that I would help keep you warm.”
Cassian hadn’t meant for that to include this level of closeness, but he couldn’t exactly argue. Kay reached one long arm over Cassian’s shoulder and dragged the little ceramic heater closer; it had picked up a little now, and was soon warming Cassian’s front rather better. Then Kay retrieved the space blanket and draped it over Cassian, tucking it around his shoulders rather fussily.
“Leave off, Kay,” Cassian muttered, batting his hands away. “You’re not my mother.”
“I certainly am not.” Kay tugged the sleeves of Cassian’s coat down to cover his hands. When both blanket and coat were arranged to his satisfaction he settled down with his long arms loosely around Cassian. That was fine, Cassian told himself. It was the most obvious way for Kay to hold his arms in this position. It wasn’t really a hug. They didn’t do that sort of thing.
The wind continued to rage outside, buffeting the little tent. The canvas snapped and creaked. Cassian closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, so his ear was pressed to Kay’s chest, cushioned by the fur of his hood. He could hear the hum of Kay’s fans like this, and the regular, soft tick of his chronometer. It was nice. Like a heartbeat.
“Your temperature is thirty-six point four degrees,” said Kay, sounding pleased. “Another point six degrees and you will have reached the optimal body temperature for a human.”
“Great,” mumbled Cassian. His eyes felt very heavy. It occurred to him that he should be doing something useful with this time; starting his report, perhaps, or developing plans for the best ways to take out the vonium mine. Kay began to run one huge hand up and down Cassian’s arm.
“I thought I would have to fight you a great deal more on this. Should I be concerned?”
“Mmph. I’ve had hypothermia before. Wasn’t fun.” Cassian forced his eyes open and tilted his head to look up at Kay, who angled his head to peer down at him. “How long can you generate heat like this?”
“For seven point four hours, if necessary. I will need to use a higher percentage of my processing power to ensure I am creating enough waste heat, but I have a great deal of analysis I could run. It will leave me with twenty-two percent battery power, which will be sufficient to return to the ship and take off.”
It seemed a bit close for Cassian’s liking, but he trusted Kay’s calculations. “We can take a few hours for you to charge, before we leave.” And a few hours for him to sleep, too. He couldn’t imagine he’d rest particularly well propped up against K-2 like this, however warm he was.
“That would be advisable, yes.”
Kay was still stroking his hand up and down Cassian’s arm. The gentle rhythm of it, combined with the familiar mechanical sounds of Kay’s internal components, made something heavy settle in Cassian’s chest. When Kay curled his other hand over Cassian’s hood, cradling his head against his chest, Cassian had to swallow past the sudden tightness in his throat.
“Thanks, Kay,” he forced out, hoping his voice sounded normal, and not like he was being slowly taken apart by his own stupid longing.
“You are welcome.” Cassian felt Kay’s thumb sweep over the fabric of his hood, and wondered what it would feel like in his hair. “My manufacturers certainly never imagined that I would be utilised this way.”
Cassian laughed. “No,” he agreed. “It probably wasn’t in your manual.”
“I do not mind adding it to my behavioural parameters.” Kay paused, and if he were organic Cassian would have called it a hesitation. “Only where you are concerned, though.”
“Of course,” Cassian agreed, his heart suddenly pressing against his ribs. “And… same. I’d only want this from you.”
“Yes, because you are ridiculous,” said Kay, something unmistakably fond in his voice. “This would be much more efficient with another organic.”
Cassian shrugged, tucking his knees up so he could huddle closer to the steady thrum of warm air. “That’s not the point.”
Kay’s arms tightened about him. “No,” he agreed, so quietly that his voice was almost lost in the howl of the wind. “It isn’t.”