Work Text:
Arkham had been transformed overnight, blanketed under a thick layer of snow.
From the edges of the valley to the centre of town, the city awoke to a wintery landscape straight out of a Christmas card. Fresh, undisturbed snow glistened atop every street and rooftop, trails of smoke curling from chimney stacks on every street as the residents awoke to the biting chill and rushed to light their fireplace. Even the Miskatonic River was frozen solid, enticing ice-skaters to her banks.
Herbert had ascended from the basement in a reagent-fueled haze and regarded the sight with glee.
Despite Dan’s recent accusations of Herbert having so-called Scrooge-like and churlish behaviour, there were some things about the winter season that Herbert could appreciate; for one, deaths were far more common at this time of year.
Car accidents on the ice-slick roads, pneumonia, hypothermia, all sorts of infarctions; Herbert could get some of his best specimens at this time of year, and the frigid temperatures would help to keep them fresh.
To access those specimens, however, Herbert would need to be able to reach the hospital. A feat which seemed less and less likely by the second.
The car groaned and sputtered pathetically beneath Dan’s attempts to coax it back to life. Herbert considered pouring his reagent directly into the oil tank just to see what would happen; he doubted the condition of the machine could possibly worsen beyond it’s current state.
Eventually Dan conceded defeat; the car had met a chilling demise, time of death pronounced at 08:05AM. When they re-entered their home to call for a cab they noticed another effect of the recent snowfall: the phone-lines were down.
“I’ve changed my mind. There are no redeeming features to this season,” Herbert said, arms crossed.
Dan seemed far too relaxed about their current predicament, he seemed to be relating their situation to the ‘snow days’ of his youth, when the adverse weather resulted in school closure and the halt of all academic endeavors. Already his eyes were fixed on the sight outside their window, a small smile at the corner of his lips.
“Aw, it’s not all bad, Herbert. We weren’t even supposed at work today, you just wanted to check if there was anything fresh in the morgue. Why don’t we make the most of our day off?” Dan turned back to face his housemate, only to find that Herbert had already walked away and was descending back into their basement.
Herbert re-emerged from the lab after several frustrating hours of working with inadequate supplies. It wasn’t just the specimens; they were running low on chemicals, equipment, and even the cassette tapes they used to log their findings.
With nothing else to do, Herbert supposed he’d interrupt whatever kind of insipid Christmas drivel Dan had found to amuse himself with.
For the past few nights, Dan had avoided working in the lab to watch Christmas movies, or bake cookies, or decorate the house top to bottom with tinsel and tacky ornaments. Herbert was certain that he would find Dan engaged in some sort of Christmas ritual.
But Dan was nowhere to be found; Herbert flitted in and out of the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and both his and Dan’s bedrooms with no success in locating his housemate. It was only as he passed by the kitchen window once more that he spotted movement outside.
Of course.
Instead of joining him in their lab, Dan had decided to spend the past few hours constructing a ‘snow-man’. If Dan truly thought that his creation resembled human anatomy, he should probably lose his medical license.
Stood between two headstones were three spheres of tightly packed snow, two twigs, a hat and- was that his gray scarf? Herbert peered closer, the snowman was wearing one of his ties too, and a large pair of rectangular glasses that Herbert suspected were old sunglasses with the lenses poked out.
Herbert’s presence at the window hadn’t gone without notice; Dan met his gaze and smiled widely, shoulders dusted with snow, nose and cheeks ruddy from the cold. He waved one mitten-clad hand in Herbert’s direction, the other still patting down the snow on his creation.
A moment later, presumably finished with his snowman, Dan shuffled back inside through the back door.
“Hey Herb,” he said, slipping off his boots and removing his sodden outer layers.
“Dan.” Herbert acknowledged. “Who is your new friend?”
“Doctor Snowbert West, of course,” Dan said, grinning at Herbert as he struggled to shimmy his soaking wet jeans down his hips.
“Hm.” Herbert flushed almost as red as Dan’s cold-bitten flesh as each inch of Dan’s thick muscular thighs emerged from the sodden fabric.
Dan was as oblivious to his own appeal as ever, standing in their kitchen in his underwear and prattling on about what they were going to have for dinner later on.
“I was thinking chicken, what do you- Hey!”
Herbert pushed past him, grabbing his coat and gloves and exiting through the back door.
It was colder than he expected, a blast of brisk wind that cut through him, and was only marginally dulled by the diluted reagent in his veins.
He approached the snowman, a poor facsimile of its namesake. Though Dan had put some thoughtful detail into it. He could see a pebble imbedded into the snow of its face roughly where his own mole sat above his lip.
There was one glaring issue with it, however.
Herbert began rolling a ball of snow around the cemetery, building it larger and larger until he deemed the size appropriate. He did this twice more, carefully stacking the balls atop each other. He managed to locate two thick twigs for arms, and two round pebbles for eyes. With one finger, he carved a line in the snowman’s stomach in the same place that Dan still carried his scar from Peru.
There, that would have to suffice.
Herbert was panting with exertion when he was finished several hours later. He looked at Snowbert, who now stood beside a taller companion. Now it was perfect.