Work Text:
Cecil’s hands were always cold. It didn’t matter how hot it was outside or how many ceramic mugs filled with hot coffee he’d hold, his fingers would always leave the warmth to be as cold as ice.
It was a circulation problem, Cecil told Carlos. He’d developed it a while ago and no, he didn’t remember how long ago. No, Cecil wasn’t worried about it. Not that worried about it. Sure, he could faint from it, but it’d been awhile since he’d fainted. Really, he was fine.
While the fact had worried Carlos, he soon got over the anxiety that the thought of Cecil fainting brought when he realized that it gave him an excuse to hold Cecil’s hand whenever possible. Body heat can stimulate blood circulation, he’d said. Later in their relationship Carlos realized that Cecil probably would have let him hold his hand that often anyway, and Cecil most likely saw through that excuse as it was, but Carlos’s little gay heart had been too nervous to do it without an excuse.
It wasn’t long after they’d moved in together that Carlos started to ask Cecil to use those hands to cool him down. Cool palms and fingers on cheeks flushed with desert heat was a very good feeling indeed. Those cold fingers over hands that were nearly burning up felt even better.
Cecil almost seemed relieved at Carlos’s reaction, although Carlos noted that he never touched bare skin while they were in bed unless Carlos was holding his hand.
There was this perpetual anxiety about Cecil that Carlos hadn’t quite figured out yet. Not that Caros minded, but it gave him the impression that he was only scratching the surface of something much larger.