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World’s Edge was a juxtaposition of temperatures. The cooling molten rock met frigid ice and snow. Both snow and ash assaulted the senses, only finding relief in the man made structures or the bright grassy land. Even then, it seemed unrelenting. There was always a chill in the air that smelt of fire and smoke, even despite the crisp air.
The worst of it came during the night. When the sun disappeared early in the evening, behind the tall craggy mountains, casting the sky in a light blue, before disappearing across the horizon until the next morning. World's Edge became unbearable. It was too cold to fight and too cold to sleep. The only person who could really endure it was Bloodhound, but even they opted for the warmth of the fire above anything else.
This landed where you were now.
Not near a fire with Bloodhound, but hidden in a freezing building with Caustic.
You wrap your shawl around you tighter, fighting off the shivers that wracked your body. Caustic paced the opposite side of the building, inspecting each of his independent variables thoughtfully. He went back and forth, making sure nothing was moved and no one was nearby. You could tell he was itching for a fight, the way he was vigilant and his hands clenched at his sides.
You knew no one was coming. No one ever did. When games ran long like this, people chose to hide and hope that they would wake up in the morning.
“In time, the strong will filter out the weak." He muttered whilst gazing out the window. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s paranoid. But you let him do his thing as you try to conserve any body heat.
“No ones coming, Caustic.” You sigh. He turns to you, and for a moment you think that’s the most you’ve spoken to him all day. He stares at you in the darkness, the only light being the moon that trickles through the window.
“We must be wary.” He responds gruffly. “Consider yourself lucky you’re on my team.”
You don’t respond, going back to trying to trying to warm up. As he stalked back and forth, you sat on the cold floor, trying to ignore the way you could barely feel your toes and fingers. You shuffled, trying to move away from the cold, but it never seemed to leave. Goddamn, why couldn’t they leave blankets or something?
“The morning will see to many results.” He says, unable to tear his eyes away from the hills in front of him. He sounds maniacal, but what’s new? It was just typical Caustic.
You sigh, leaning against the metal wall even as the cold seeps into your skin. You knew you weren’t going to sleep tonight. Not when you were like this, huddling for warmth, frustration edging in the corners of your mind. Caustic was dangerously optimistic for the morning, but you weren’t even sure if you were going to make it through the night. And even then, would you be in a suitable condition to be able to fight?
Then he looks at you. “Are you cold?”
You stare at him, unimpressed. “What do you think?” You snap, irritated. Truth be told, you didn’t want to be here at the moment. The cold was getting to you and the idea of being at home, warm in your own bed sounded far more appetizing. Not here with Caustic.
Your relationship with him was...delicate. He lacked much of the murderous attitude he had with people like Crypto, but his callous personality still remained. You’d say that you were a solid neutral party in his eyes. A good teammate, but someone he avoided outside of “work”. He got on your nerves, and you were sure you got on his. Unfortunately, due to the defensive nature of both of your abilities, you found yourself working together far better than either of you had hoped for.
You had grown closer to the man, but he was not even close to being considered a friend. Even acquaintance seemed too strong of a word. He was a coworker. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Come here.” He demanded.
You knew where this was going. You scoffed. “As if.”
He furrowed his brows and grit his teeth. “This is not up for debate. It would be greatly disadvantageous if you got hypothermia or frost bite.”
“I’d rather take my chances, thanks.” You snap.
“Suit yourself. Your foolishness will get you killed.” He shot back, finally leaning against the wall, stopping his pacing. You weren’t sure if you appreciated the stop in movement, because now it seemed like all he could do was investigate you.
You weren’t sure how he wasn’t cold. You knew men tended to run hotter than women, but even Octane and Mirage voiced their discomfort in the last trios game you had been in.
You wrapped your shawl around you tighter, trying to condense the heat escaping from your body. Like the last ten times you did it, nothing happened. You sat there, shaking and shivering, just wishing the night would pass.
Fucking pride.
You sat up with a growl. When Caustic saw you move, he looked pleased. Not because you were going to sit by him, but because you were relenting in his favor. It proved he was right, and Caustic loved to be right. You stand up, pinpricks in your legs, and walk to him.
“Move over” you murmur. “And don’t talk about this to anyone.”
“This is just as...disconcerting for me.” He says before coughing. You try not to worry too hard about that, but something about the coughing always made you cringe. Was he in pain?
You settle on the floor next to him and it’s embarrassing how much warmer he was than you. You could feel the warmth even through the fabric of his clothing. You try not to lean in too much, knowing that even this little bit of contact was too much for the scientist. He sits there, deadly still like moving will kill him. He does not look at you, and part of you wonders if he’s even looking anywhere. You get comfortable, folding your legs underneath yourself and leaning into his arm, pressing your cheek on his shoulder.
You told yourself that you were only doing this because it kept you warm. Because it prevented you from dying, thus getting eliminated. To prevent the scorn of Caustic.
But he was just so comfortable.
He didn’t smell like anything, despite your previous misconceptions. The toxic gas he utilized smelled acrid and sour and brutalized the senses, but his person was far different. He was clean.
You weren’t sure if anyone had ever been this close to the man except for perhaps his own mother when birthing him. That thought made you make a face, but you said nothing about it. Wattson seemed relatively close to him, but even their physical contact seemed few and far inbetween. Yet here he was, lying still so you could warm up.
You fold your arms underneath yourself, desperately trying to get some sort of color to them. They felt achy and difficult to move, the cold air making them nearly usable. Maybe next time you should bring some gloves. And a winter jacket. And a hat.
Who were you kidding, you’d look ridiculous.
“Move closer.” He grumbles.
“What?”
“I will not repeat myself.”
You do get closer. It makes your face flush red but you hoped the low light kept him from seeing. It felt weird to get too close to him. It was like curling up to a grizzly bear, except it was a grown man who had a god complex and the tendency to kill with his experimental noxious gas. Yeah, just like sleeping next to a bear.
The tension was just about the same though.
You were nearly in his lap when he decided you were situated enough. It took every ounce of you not to sigh contentedly against him. You didn’t think of Caustic as a cuddly man, and even worse, he would rather die than anyone perceive him that way. Maybe kill, actually.
You find yourself closing your eyes, trying to let the time pass.
Purely for survival, you tell yourself.