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You hated winters in London, you really did. The heater in your apartment was unreliable at best and nonfunctional at worst. Your feet were always cold, nose always rosy as you traversed the streets to get to and from work.
Things changed, though, when you met Speedwagon.
You had seen him around the neighborhood before, but you were always too afraid to directly cross paths with him and his Ogre Street gang. When he started coming into the restaurant where you worked, gang nowhere in sight, with two people in tow. The man was much taller than Speedwagon himself, so you could only imagine how much taller than you he was and a small blonde woman often joined them as well.
Over time, you felt affection bloom in your chest when Speedwagon would come in during your shifts, whether accompanied by his friends or not. He was sweet, almost bashful when you spoke, nothing like the image you had conjured in your mind when he frequented Ogre Street.
On this particular night, Speedwagon had drawn you out the moment your shift had ended, offering his arm to you with a simple argument of, “I’m walking you home. We wouldn’t want ya slipping and falling now would we?”
You gingerly looped your arm against his, hand resting in the crook of his elbow, “No, I suppose not.”
Most of the walk passed without incident, enjoying the quiet conversation you made with the man beside you. About five minutes away from the restaurant, you had caught on to the fact that Speedwagon was taking you the long way back to your building, taking the route that looped along the river. You supposed you could brave the chilly weather just for a few extra minutes if it meant you could spend time with him.
As a cold wind passed between the two of you, you shifted to walk a little closer to him, leeching off of his body heat.
Noticing the change in position, he asked, “Are you cold?”
Sheepishly, you offered a nod, “Just a little.”
“Here, take this.”
He had stopped walking, unlooping his arm from yours to tug at the scarf around his neck, quickly working to unfurl it.
“Oh, Robert, no. I couldn’t take that from you! You’ll catch a cold!”
“Better me than you,” he stated as he wrapped the scarf around your neck, holding the ends in his hands as he stared at you. The proximity had your heart skipping a beat.
Silence fell between you as you stared, watching as his eyes flickered from yours to your lips, fingers still gripping onto the scarf, keeping you close.
“I-” Speedwagon started, embarrassment only heightening the rosiness in his cheeks from the cold.
Throwing caution to the wind, you asked one simple question as you closed your hands over his.
“Can I kiss you?”
His response was immediate, leaning even closer to whisper, “Please.”
The kiss was clumsy, but everything you could have wanted. Sweet and soft, much like the man himself. As he pulled away, he pressed his cold nose against your cheek. You didn’t mind.
With one fleeting peck to the tip of your nose and a final adjustment of the scarf, Speedwagon pulled you close, “Let’s keep going. I don’t want to see you become an icicle out here.”
You followed along, face buried into the plush softness of his scarf.
As you approached your door, Speedwagon seemed reluctant to let you go, keeping his arm looped around your waist until the very last moment.
Before he headed back down your steps, you kissed him once more, cradling his face in your gloved hands, watching as his face and ears reddened again. Cute, you thought, tracing his scar with your thumb.
“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” He spoke, taking in ever little feature on your face, committing each detail to memory.
“I’m counting on it.”
He backed down your steps, glancing up at you the moment he hit the pavement.
“Robert,” you called, “your scarf!”
You watched a smile tug at the corners of his lips, “Keep it, dear. It suits you. See you tomorrow!”
With one final wave, he was gone.
When you entered your apartment, your body didn’t even register the dull chill in the air. Maybe winter wouldn’t be so bad with Speedwagon close by to keep you warm.