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Finally things had quieted down. Everyone from kooks to pogues to tourons had been in and out of Barry’s trailer all day, to the point you had barely said 5 words to your not-boyfriend since you had arrived there at 9 that morning. Barry was almost constantly up and down getting coke or weed for his customers, stopping to speak to them and catch up about their families and mutual friends. It was now almost exactly 12 hours later and the last customer of the day had rolled out of the property in his large, beat-up truck.
When you and Barry had started… seeing each other I guess you could say, he made a rule with his clients that they weren’t allowed to come looking for a score after 9pm. He told them it was for privacy reasons and to set boundaries, and while that was it partially, it was also so you and him could have some uninterrupted alone time.
He watches the truck pull out of the yard and then turn onto the road before finally looking to you, where you sit next to him at the firepit.
“Hey, baby,” he murmurs, smirking and leaning to press a kiss to your lips. You happily reciprocate it for a few moments until he pulls away, taking your hands in his.
He looks surprised when he feels how cold your hands are, and looks down at them with a small frown, “Your hands are cold, darlin’.” He wraps your hands in his, allowing the natural body heat from them to warm up your much colder hands.
“A very astute observation, Sherlock.” You tease, smiling at his faux offended expression.
He rests a hand over his heart, “I feel like you’re teasin’ me.”
You gasp, shaking your head and mocking him by placing your hand over your own heart. “No! I would never!”
“And now you’re mockin’ me?!” You shake your head adamantly but you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling, giving yourself away. “Why you little-” He growls, face turning from amused to mischievous.
You squeal, taking off towards the inside of the trailer. He chases after you, gaining on you quickly and catching you in his living room. He scoops you up, surprised when he feels the lack of heat coming off your arms or middle. “Damn little one, you’re freezin’.” He turns you around, fixing you in place with his signature disappointed frown.
You avoid eye contact, shrugging. Suddenly the chipped and peeling wallpaper is very fascinating. “I don’t know, you were just busy and I didn’t want to bother you-”
He scoffs, suddenly lifting you up and startling you as he just as quickly drops you on the couch. He pulls the blanket off the back, tossing it at you so it hits your face.
“Hey!” you exclaim, ripping it off your head, but he ignores you, disappearing down the hallway towards his bedroom. He returns just as you’ve situated the blanket on your lap, and dumps the pile of blankets he’d collected next to you.
“Can’t take care of your damn self,” He mutters while one by one he lays the blankets over your lap, then climbs onto the couch next to you and slides under the blankets. “I should just keep ya here,” he continues to mutter as he pulls you into his lap and snuggles you up under his chin. “That way I know you’re safe.”
You chuckle, shaking your head the best you can with the limited space, “I am safe, Bluebarry.”
He smiles to himself at the nickname but continues to chastise you anyways. “You ain’t gonna be safe if you get pneumonia and your damn fingers fall off- why are you laughing, this is a serious possibility, angel-”
You reach up, cupping his face with your now much warmer hands and make him look at you, “Pneumonia wouldn’t dare fuck with me.” You drop your voice, making the environment much more intimate, “Not when I got you around to kick its ass.”
He lets out a sound not unlike a purr and crosses the distance between you to kiss you hard on the mouth, fully enveloping you in his warmth.