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“Don't fall asleep”
“'m not”
Crosshair hummed sceptically. Mayday was curled against his side, clinging to him as only regs do. It would help to keep them warm if not two sets of armour between them. The bodyglove provides good insulation, and the breastplate has some thermoregulation capabilities. But Crosshair already felt his hands and feet freezing, not to mention his now painfully naked head.
“Let's get going,” he muttered but Mayday gripped him even stronger.
“No, we wait here a bit longer. The storm is calming down. I can tell, been on this planet for a year. Let's spare our strength.”
Crosshair dully obeyed, looking doubtfully up at the swirl of snow over the edge of the rock they were hiding behind.
“Talk to me,” Mayday coughed. “Yes, I'm gonna pester you to keep myself awake. Or to bother you enough to drop me and continue on your own.”
Crosshair squinted angrily at yet another attempt at heroic sacrifice. “We got stuck like this with my brother once,” he started. “In the middle of the snowstorm. The shuttle couldn't pick us up. We were ordered to find shelter and wait out the storm. You're sleeping,” Crosshair added accusingly.
“No, no! Don't want to interrupt you. Finally got you talking about your squad!”
Crosshair was tempted to shut up or pointedly change the subject.
“Well, I know that you survived that time. Your brother?”
“He's fine… he was. We found some excuse for a cover. Took some armour pieces off to rub our hands and feet for proper circulation. Then he,” Crosshair snorted, but went on, “said that sex is quite an efficient warming activity.”
“Don't you stop just here.”
“I didn't do it with my brother, reg. But we debated all the pro and contra, and technical details, until we were, let's say, heated enough from the talk itself. Advantages of being an adolescent.”
“Not sure if thinking about fucking you would make me warmer.”
“Not sure if I should be relieved or insulted.”
“Do you have anything but bones under this armour?” Mayday nudged him. “You're skinny as a skeleton.”
“And I'm not thinking about anything even remotely sex-related with you before you at least have a proper shower.”
“Oh, our sonic broke three fivedays ago. Cog, our mechanic noticed that it sounds wrong and couldn't tune the old coil. Forbade us to use it completely. You want it to clean your balls, not scramble them, he said. And if you don't like the smell then just don't sniff them.”
“Right, sex is out of the question.”
The helmet dulled the sound of Mayday huffing, “Hexx died before he could use a decent shower for the last time,” he went silent. Crosshair decided not to elaborate on why it was so important to Hexx personally.
“When we get back to the base,” he suddenly promised, “I'm switching your coil with the coil from our shuttle's sonic. The lieutenant deserves his balls to be scrambled.”
Mayday huffed again. This sound against Crosshair’s shoulder was oddly comforting. He looked up into the storm again. Maybe it was wishful thinking but the blizzard did seem to subside gradually.
“You don't feel it?”
Crosshair turned his head, “What?”
“I've just pinched your ear?”
“What for?”
“Because you're already ugly enough, even without your ears freezing off.”
Mayday took off his gloves and began to rub his ears unceremoniously until Crosshair grunted and swore he could feel them, alright. Mayday gave his now throbbing ears a final tug, then traced Crosshair's temple. Fuck. Crosshair realised uncomfortably that he did feel warmer. And not only around his ears.
“A nasty burn.”
His scar. Crosshair pulled away.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Mayday shrugged, coughed and put his gloves back on. Crosshair felt his gaze through the visor.
“So, no sleeping with your squadmates. Who was it for you then? Girls, men, other brothers?”
“Girls,” Crosshair drawled a lie. Mayday's sceptical hum rivalled his own. As if from this short lie he guessed that not sleeping together didn't mean not wanting to. Didn't mean not letting yourself be fucked painfully in the showers by the broad-shouldered reg who happened to have a mane of long brown hair. Didn't mean Crosshair's heart did not jump when he turned the corner and heard that deeper than standard, rough clone voice. You got to be kidding me, was Hunter dumb enough to impersonate a clone commander on some remote outpost? But it wasn't Hunter's voice, wasn't Hunter's matted hair, and it won't be Hunter's face if he takes off this helmet. Despite the fear that gripped him that it would be exactly like this. This is Hunter, slouched against his shoulder, wounded and freezing to death, he just needs to take this helmet off…
“Crosshair! Don't you sleep, don't pass out!”
Crosshair jolted awake.
“You gave me a scare. Well, now I'm warm enough, thank you so much,” Mayday broke into a violent cough, wheezing and shaking. Crosshair reached and took his helmet off, watching grimly as Mayday coughed even sharper when he gulped freezing air, spat in the snow and panted, trying to get his breathing under control.
“It's you.”
Mayday stared at him, still shaking from his coughing fit.
“What? What's up?”
Nothing, Crosshair wanted to lie again but also didn't want to. Here was Mayday. Not Hunter. And he actually was glad it was Mayday here. Not because he preferred Mayday, not Hunter, to be stranded here, wounded, freezing and dying. No, not dying. Mayday was not dying, not on his watch.
“Well, yes, it's me,” agreed Mayday quizzically and then leaned forward pressing his forehead to Crosshair's. Crosshair held his breath, astonished.
“You are warm. Too warm even,” rasped Mayday. “You're running a fever. That's enough, you take my helmet.”
Crosshair run a hand through his matted hair, not Hunter's hair, through his beard which no one of them ever had.
“Your hair and beard are wet. You keep your bucket on.”
“Stubborn idiot,” breathed out Mayday. Crosshair didn't flinch when the wet beard pressed to his chin, chapped lips grazing over his own, fever or something else blazing in his gut.
“What should I do?” chuckled Mayday softly. “You're so skinny, I'm gonna have bruises from fucking into your bones.”
“Who says you're the one doing the fucking?”
Mayday drew back and glared at him. Crosshair gulped and lowered his gaze. Alright, Mayday would be the one.
“But only because you're such a wretched invalid.”
Mayday whooped and started coughing again. Crosshair tasted blood on his own lips.
“Let's get you to the base,” he said. “The storm is almost over.”