Work Text:
For the first time in what feels it must be years, Edward Little wakes up warm.
He is under blankets, there are thick, dry socks upon his feet, the hull of HMS Enterprise sure and solid against his back, and he is pressed, close as ever close can be, chest to chest with Captain Crozier.
The captain is warm, a solid, steady comfort. Still half asleep, Edward makes an attempt to cuddle closer, nuzzling as though he means to burrow his face into the warm hollow between the mattress and the join where the captain's neck meets his shoulder.
A low rumble of mirth bubbles up from the captain's chest and Edward freezes; he is about to pull back and apologize when he feels one of Crozier's hands come up to gently card through the hair at the back of his scalp, cradling his head and urging Edward impossibly, wonderfully closer.
"Steady on, Commander," Crozier says softly, and then, more softly still: "You're safe, Edward. We're on board Enterprise. You're safe, and you've done well."
Edward lets out a small, pitiful noise, basking in the warmth of his Captain's kind regard. To his utter bliss, Crozier continues gently, soothingly, stroking at his hair, and Edward feels that warmth slowly seeping down into the very marrow of his bones.
Lulled by that warmth, and by the blessèd rocking of the ship in liquid water, a feeling so yearned for these past years that Edward nearly weeps at it, he finds himself drifting back towards slumber.
There will be much to do, come morning. They will rise, see to the men and to their care; Crozier will consult with Ross and Bird about the ships and the ice and the future. There will be much to do, but for now Edward feels as though he is suspended in this unending stretch of warmth and closeness, the time marked only by his Captain's steady breathing and the distant tolling of the bell.