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“For the record, this is all your fault.” Lyney hissed.
Wriothesley snorted as he pulled the grumbling magician closer, tucking him beneath his chin, and splayed his hand across the other’s arm to keep him from wiggling even further. This time, the older man gave in to the urge to roll his eyes. It was not like Lyney could see, eclipsed as he was by the Duke’s size.
“I was not the one that decided to shoot an arrow at a pyro barrel and cave in our only exit.”
“Well, if you did not dodge it, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess. You can’t even freeze the room for us.”
“Need I remind you that the last time we tried anything we made it worse?” This time Wriothesley snorted out loud. His grip tightened just enough in warning as Lyney dug his nails into his thigh. This damned magician was going to be the end of him. “Can you stop moving? I may have a cyro vision but that doesn’t mean I’m impervious to the heat.” Of both kinds. His grip tightened even more. Sweat beaded down the back of his neck and he cursed Neuvillette for giving him this task in the first place.
But like a horse baited by a carrot, the moment he knew Lyney would be his partner, he had caved.
Now he was trapped with a man he simultaneously wanted to strangle…with his hands and his lips. He breathed a sigh of relief as Lyney stopped struggling.
As the heat continued to rise in the room, Wriothesley couldn't help but notice how despite the sweltering temperature, Lyney's body still radiated an unnatural heat. It was like cuddling with a human-sized furnace, albeit a grumpy one.
"You're like a walking stove, you know that?" Wriothesley commented, trying to lighten the mood.
Lyney grumbled in response, his voice muffled against Wriothesley’s chest. "And you're like an ice-block on legs. So be a better ice cube and shut up?"
"Here I am, preventing you from succumbing to a heatstroke, and you have the nerve to tell me to be quiet?" Wriothesley replied with a smirk. His hand hovered, unsure, before settling across the other’s waist. "But if you'd rather sizzle than simmer, be my guest."
Lyney shot him a scowl that promised retribution once they got out of this mess. Wriothesley couldn't help but chuckle at the magician's stubbornness, even in the face of danger.
As they waited for rescue or for the heat to become unbearable, Wriothesley found his thoughts drifting to the events that led them to this predicament. It started with a simple reconnaissance mission, one that should have been quick and straightforward. Yet, here they were, trapped in a room slowly turning into an inferno. Fontaine may be located by the sea but the humidity of summer could become rather unbearable. He glanced down at Lyney, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. His own pinched in the middle. The other was rather quiet.
“Hey…you doing alright?”
"Just peachy," he muttered. Lyney shifted slightly in Wriothesley's embrace, his usual defiance muted by the wavering of his voice. The older man stilled, his neck ached as he craned his head to take a better look. A flush of red adorned one cheek and his eyes had a distant, dazed look.
“Shit.” The expletive spilled freely. “Hey Lyney, look at me. Focus.” Beneath Wriothesley's gloves, he could feel the heat coming off of him in waves. “Lyney,” he said sharply, grabbing the magician’s face.
“Why didn't you tell me?” he demanded, his voice laced with panic and concern. But the blonde stubbornly remained silent. Wriothesley cursed beneath his breath. Even now the blonde was doing it, putting up a wall, a mask of independence.Despite their tumultuous relationship, the blonde continued to erect walls of independence, even in moments like this when he desperately needed help. It was normally endearing but not like this.
His vision glowed as ice encased his hands and arm.
“You are an absolute menace, do you know that?” Gingerly, he shifted Lyney. The blonde’s head lulled against his head as he blinked blearily. There was a spark of satisfaction to be found in those lavender eyes. Of course he would find amusement in a moment like this. With a gentle touch, Wriothesley wiped the sweat off Lyney's brow, his movements careful.
Lyney let out a weak chuckle, though it was clear he was struggling to maintain his usual bravado. "What can I say? Just adding a little excitement to our adventure," he managed to joke, though his voice was hoarse and strained.
Wriothesley could not help but shake his head in exasperation. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, softening the stern lines of his face.
"You're a walking headache, you know that?" His palm may have covered the blonde’s eyes but there was a minute tug at the corner of his mouth. At least he had the energy to respond.
Despite the uncomfortable situation, Wriothesley couldn't help but enjoy the back-and-forth banter with Lyney. He wondered if he too found comfort in the familiarity of their verbal sparring midst the chaos. As he used his icy touch to cool down Lyney's heat, Wriothesley noticed the tension leaving their body as his head bobbed once and then twice. A flicker of realization crossed the dark-haired man’s mind as he considered the trust that must have been present for this action to take place. The comfort and familiarity between them had led him to feel secure enough to let his guard down and succumb to the drowsiness of a gentle doze.
On any other day, perhaps he would have let Lyney rest. But today was neither the place nor time to explore this new…development.
"You know," Wriothesley remarked with a playful smirk, "I think you might be enjoying this. Maybe you have a secret fondness for being trapped in sweltering rooms."
Beneath his palm, he could feel Lyney roll his eyes. "Oh, absolutely. It's my favorite pastime," he deadpanned.
Wriothesley chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the confined space of the room. "Or, perhaps could it be that you simply wanted to be held in my arms? You want me so bad.” He swiftly caught the incoming fist and grappled with it until his arms were locked around Lyney's waist again. "Oh look, the kitten is back and with claws.”
Wriothesley grunted as he felt a knee against his side. Lyney's legs were quickly pinned to the ground by much longer ones. "You're insufferable," Lyney gasped out.
Wriothesley's hold on him tightened slightly. "Ah, ah. Let's not risk destroying our—” The taller man's words were cut out by a sudden rumble. A loud banging sound echoed from the collapsed entryway. Both men tensed, snapping back to the reality of their situation. The Duke's grip on Lyney tightened instinctively as the door shuddered under the force of whatever was trying to break through. The door swung open. Two pairs of eyes soaked up the sight of long dark hair and dark purple eyes. Clorinde stood between the rubble, face blank.
"Should I come back later?"