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What the hell were the scientists thinking?
It was one thing to test Reagents on their ability to adapt to the cold. Parval could handle the occasional burst of frost during a trial-he just needed to hold his coat a little tighter, keep moving, and grit his teeth. But heating these massive buildings while funding was already low wasn't a priority, and over the past few weeks, this so-called temperature testing had turned unbearable..
Even for Tarasov, this was becoming too much.
His bones ached constantly thanks to his untreated arthritis-every step a new, dull reminder of Murkoff's indifference to his condition. He had been told if it gets worse they'd do something.. that day was yet to come. But the cold... the cold made it so much worse. His joints felt swollen, grinding together uncomfortably as he walked, and his hands throbbed any time he dared move them. He was sluggish, miserable, shivering. Nearly hell. Russia was cold, but this? The air here seemed sharper, crueler, as though it wanted to peel his skin from his bones.
The worst part was that no one's home was safe from this. Coyle, Gooseberry, Franco-everyone's trial zones had suffered the same creeping frost. It was steadily getting colder, and the only relief would come when the scientists decided they'd seen enough of their Assets nearly freezing to death while reagents ran around wrecking their furniture. Until then? Murkoff was content to push them further and further.
The Military Training Center Parval inhabited was the hardest hit. That building had always been cold-steel walls and concrete floors swallowing any warmth whole. Now it was something else entirely. Parval had tried to keep moving, but his body was starting to fight against him. He knew the signs of sickness creeping in: the trembling limbs, the hollow ache in his chest. His solution? Bear it. He always had, and in his mind he also would. Murkoff's solution?
Drug him up and ship him away to bunk with someone else for a while.
That's how he ended up at The Docks.
———
The air here was brutal. Frigid wind cut across the water's edge like knives, sharp enough to bite his face and leave his lips cracked. Mist rolled in off the sewage-tainted water, a freezing dampness that crawled beneath layers of clothing and clung to his skin. The constant creak of shifting metal and the rhythmic slap of waves against rotting hulls was a grating soundtrack to his misery.
And then, of course, there was Franco Barbi.
Parval could have handled this miserable place alone. He would have preferred it. Instead, Murkoff had seen fit to drop him in Franco's trial zone-the Italian bastard with a mouth that ran faster than any Reagent he'd ever faced. Of all the Assets to get stuck with, it had to be the man who seemed to delight in pushing him past the edge. Why not Gooseberry? He liked that women-not this.. small man.
Parval gritted his teeth, his boots thudding rhythmically against the damp concrete as he forced his legs to keep moving. He drew his coat tighter around his frame, trying to hide his face within the fur lining along the collar. Running wasn't an option. If another batch of Reagents was dropped in for a test, he'd need what little energy he had left for those little scums.
Behind him, Franco's voice sliced through the dark, his tone as smug and irritating as ever.
"Come ooon, Hound," Franco drawled, his footsteps echoing off the rusted metal walls around the two.
Parval didn't stop, didn't turn, didn't answer.
"Really? Nothin'?" Franco pressed, jogging a few paces until he fell into stride beside him. He was dressed like he always was-pin-straight slacks and that matching tailored coat with a purple button up beneath. And, of course, the leather strap with the worn purple pacifier hanging from it. Somehow, he looked warm. Maybe it was just how smug he was, but Parval couldn't help but resent him for it.
Franco's Lupara dangled lazily in one hand, though his free arm stayed buried in his coat pocket. His sharp grin cut through the gloom as he tilted his head to study Parvals hunched frame. "You're really gonna ignore me all night? You know you're freezin'."
"I'm fine, Barbi." Parval's voice was a low growl as he shook his head slowly.
Franco snorted, unconvinced. "Oh, please." He gestured at Parval's hands with the barrel of his gun. "You're shiverin' like a fuckin' leaf, big guy."
That was enough to stop Parval in his tracks.
He whipped around, his shoulders squared, his looming height casting a dark shadow over Franco. His hands curled into fists before he shoved them deep into his coat pockets. Yes, he was shivering-obviously. But now that it was pointed out, he forced himself to still, locking his muscles until his body ached all over again. He grunted lowly as his gaze locked on Francos.
"I said I'm fine." His voice was sharp enough to cut.
Franco didn't even flinch. If anything, he looked smugger. His wide eyes raked over Parval, cataloging every tell: the slight way he hunched inward, the stiffness in his steps, the sharp tremor in his fingers when he'd clenched them moments ago. The man wasn't fine clearly.
"...Sure you are," Franco replied smoothly, taking a step closer. "But I'm not. And I'm not spendin' the night freezin' my ass off while you pretend you're too tough to feel the cold."
"That's your problem."
Franco paused for just a second, his grin faltering as though the comment hit deeper than it should've. But the smug look returned almost immediately, this time with a sharper edge.
"Nah, Hound. You're my problem." Franco's voice dipped slightly, the words almost murmured as he took another step forward, his gaze never leaving Parval's. "'Cause if you freeze to death out here, who the hell am I gonna bother, huh?"
Parval's glare narrowed into a dangerous slit, his jaw working as he bit back the urge to snap something in return. He nearly did until forcing silence once again, instead cocking his head sharply in a silent reply.
Franco took advantage of the silence. "Listen, Cane," he murmured, stepping close enough that Parval could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and something dead clinging to him. "What's the issue with sharin' a little body heat? I won't even talk... much."
".. Hell No."
Franco's grin slipped away entirely. His tone dropped lower, smoother-dangerous in its quiet insistence. "You don't get to say no tonight, big guy. You're built like a truck, and you've got the damn jacket. It's only fair to share."
Parval blinked, momentarily thrown by the shift. Franco was close now-too close. Parval's nose wrinkled at the scent, his stomach twisting with a discomfort he couldn't place. He stayed still despite that, refusing to step back. He was always a defiant man.
Franco leaned in slightly, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye. "You need me," he said sharply. "You can act tough all you want, but I'm not an idiot. You're cold, you're tired, and you're hurtin'. I saw you limping earlier. What're you gonna do? Freeze out here just to prove a point?"
Parval's breath hitched. He didn't know if it was the words or the intensity in Franco's gaze that caught him off guard. Maybe it was both. Either way he didn't like it. He was a man trained for feeling nothing-and here he was, being put down by a man who acts like a fucking baby.
"..I don't trust you," Parval muttered after a moment, his voice a low rumble.
Franco smiled again-softer this time, though the flicker of triumph was unmistakable. "You don't gotta trust me, Hound. You just gotta deal with me."
Parval exhaled sharply through his nose, shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of him. His boots scraped against the ground, his gaze flicking away before locking back onto Franco.
"Fine."
Parval wanted to beat the stupid grin Franco flashed him right off his stupid face.
———
They sat wedged between two shipping containers where the wind didn't hit as hard. Franco had found a plastic tarp somewhere-its edges frayed and stained-and spread it across the damp, grime-coated ground like it was a luxury carpet. It was better than the damp concrete , at least. He settled himself down with an exaggerated sigh, leaning back against the cold metal, his legs stretched out like he had all the time in the world.
"Go ahead, take a seat," Franco said, grinning as he patted the space beside him. "It's nice and cozy, promise."
Parval remained standing, looming like a stone monument in his frayed coat, hands resting firmly on the buckle of his tactical belt. His piercing gaze bore down on Franco, as though considering whether to simply turn and leave. He almost did infact.
"C'mon, big guy. Don't make me beg," Franco teased, his grin widening.
"You already did," Parval deadpanned.
That earned a snicker from the Italian, who shook his head in amusement at his remark. Parval's jaw clenched as he exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a growl. He hated this-hated having to sit here and.. cuddle. But he hated the bone-deep cold more. His legs ached, and the idea of standing any longer was unbearable, no matter how much pride he swallowed.
Reluctantly, he lowered himself down beside Franco, moving with stiff, reluctant motions like every muscle in his body was screaming in protest. After a moment he was sat a few inches from Franco, his form still hunched even as he sat. He was rigid, his back just barely grazing the shipping container behind them. He didn't get a moment to settle before Franco's arm looped over his shoulders, tugging him in with an ease that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
"What the hell-" Parval grunted sharply, jerking against the hold, his muscles coiling like steel cables.
"Relax, Hound," Franco muttered, as though this was all perfectly normal. "You'll warm up faster this way."
"Don't touch me," Parval snapped, his voice low and venomous. "And quit calling me Hound. I've got a name, Barbi."
"And they call me a baby," Franco retorted with an exasperated sigh, not loosening his grip in the slightest.
Franco's arm remained slung lazily across Parval's broad shoulders, the pressure firm and unyielding. His other hand rested on Parval's upper arm, his grip deliberate-not hard enough to bruise, but enough to hold him in place. Parval stayed locked like a statue beneath the contact, every nerve screaming at him to move, to pull away, kick this little man's ass for even trying this-
But the warmth... goddamn it, the warmth was already seeping through the layers of their clothing. Franco ran hot, his body radiating heat like a furnace. Parval hated it-resented it-but the ache in his joints started to ease, if only a little. He swallowed hard and shifted in place, dropping his face into the furred collar of his jacket to hide how flushed his cheeks were starting to feel.
"You're so fuckin' uptight," Franco huffed, his voice close-too close. Parval felt the faint brush of his breath near his ear, the soft rasp of his words cutting through the quiet. There was a brief pause before he questioned- "Anyone ever tell you that?"
"Plenty of times," Parval growled back, not bothering to look at him. He cast his glare forward, focusing on nothing in particular, his jaw clenching so tightly it hurt. It didn't help that he was salivating more than normal from the combination of the cold and his hollowed out cheek. "You told me you'd be quiet. If you're so tired, go to sleep."
Franco snorted, clearly enjoying himself, but for once he didn't push.
"Fine, fine," he muttered, leaning his head back against the cold shipping container. "You're no fun, Hound."
Parval glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Franco had tilted his chin up, eyes closed, his breath evening out as he settled in against Parval's side like they were old friends-or something more, depending on whatever the hell Franco was thinking. Parval scoffed under his breath, shaking his head slightly.
"Parval. Not Hound."
It was quiet after that.
The creaking metal of the surrounding scenery and the distant sound of water filled the silence. The wind still bellowed overhead, occasionally slipping through cracks in the containers, but the little alcove Franco had found dulled its bite. Parval kept his gaze fixed ahead, trying to ignore the weight of Franco leaning against him, the pressure of his arm, and the warmth slowly bleeding into his aching muscles.
At first, Franco fidgeted-his head shifting against Parval's shoulder as though he couldn't get comfortable. Parval tensed each time, his instinct to shrug him off flaring up again and again, but after a while, Franco stilled. The only sound was the faint rustle of his breath-soft and steady, turning into the lightest of snores.
The bastard had actually fallen asleep.
Parval sighed, annoyed and relieved all at once. His body was still coiled, ready to snap like a trap, but exhaustion clawed at the edges of his mind. Sleep would come for him eventually, whether he wanted it to or not. For now, the warmth was enough. But a man can only put up a fight for so long, and truthfully, he was tired..
———
He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep.
Parvals senses returned to him slowly. He was groggy- frankly he wasn't used to sleeping this well for this long. He stayed perfectly still for a few moments, his concious returning to him slowly. And when it finally did, he snapped awake like a sprung trap-his senses firing all at once. Something was wrong.
He couldn't move.
It must have been a reagent! God, he was an idiot. Of course you don't fall asleep mid trial- and in an open place like this? He was practically begging for issues, from reagents or Ex-pop who were just feel adventurous. But.. No. He wasn't being attacked. It was too still to be an attack, too.. calm.
The weight was the first thing he noticed-a heavy, solid pressure across his chest and arms. Then came the warmth. His body was no longer cold, which, in any other circumstance, would've been a relief. But this warmth was suffocating, seeping into him like he'd been buried under a goddamn pile of blankets. Hell, he nearly felt like he couldn't breathe.
When his vision focused, Parval realized the weight wasn't just near him. It was on top of him.
This fucking Italian.
The bastard was sprawled across him in the most ridiculous, suffocating manner imaginable. His head rested against Parval's chest, just beneath his chin, while one of his arms was slung tightly around Parval's middle, holding onto him like a lover. Franco's other hand had somehow wormed its way between the layers of Parval's coat, fingers curled up in the fabric to pull it closer to the both of them.
Arguably, his legs were the worst part.
His damn legs were tangled with Parval's-one looped over his thigh like he was claiming him as some kind of makeshift lumpy mattress, the other shoved against his calf, keeping him pinned in place. The bastard had effectively latched himself onto Parval like a damn leech.
His breath hitched, his mind cycling through every possible reaction in rapid succession. Shove him off? No-too risky. Franco might get startled and he knows damn well that Lupara is somewhere nearby. Try to move? No-Franco had him locked down tighter than a goddamn vice.. plus, again, the Lupara..
Stay perfectly still?
...Yes. That seemed the least embarrassing.
Parval stared up at the grey sky above them, his face heating in ways that had nothing to do with Franco's body temperature. His pulse thumped in his throat, hard and uneven, as though his own heart was conspiring against him. Angry bubbled up within him, not so much at Franco strangely-more at himself.
What the hell is this..
He grit his teeth, his jaw flexing as he clenched his fists tightly at his sides. His entire body was stiff, every muscle tense and uncooperative. The soft weight of Franco's head against his chest felt impossibly intimate-his brown curls brushing against Parval's chin every time the man shifted. And God, he wouldn't stop shifting.
Franco let out a soft, sleepy groan, his face scrunching up slightly before he relaxed again, nuzzling closer into the fur-lined collar of Parvals jacket.
Parval's entire body locked up. His eyes widened slightly, breath freezing in his chest as Franco's nose bumped against the fabric of his collar. He could feel the bastard's breath through the layers-soft and steady against his throat.
"...This is not happening," Parval muttered under his breath, his voice a low, strained rasp.
Franco didn't respond. Of course he didn't. He was still deep in sleep, his breathing soft and rhythmic, rising and falling with Parval's chest. He looked completely at ease-like this was perfectly normal. God knew it wasn't- at least for Parval.
Parval scowled down at him, his brows knitting together in frustration. His glare flicked over Franco's features, taking in the subtle smugness of his face even in sleep. His mouth was parted slightly, his lips curled faintly at the edges like he was dreaming something pleasant. Smug even unconscious, Parval thought bitterly, though the unfiltered softness of Franco's expression made something twist in his gut. Maybe anger- anger that this bastard could lay here sleeping all smug-like..
"Barbi," Parval growled softly, testing the waters.
Nothing.
Franco just snored faintly in response, his grip tightening around Parval's torso.. It was like his subconscious knew Parval was trying to escape.
Parval swore under his breath in Russian, his patience wearing thin. This is ridiculous. He couldn't stay like this-pinned down, trapped beneath Franco's ridiculous octopus-like hold. His pride was already battered enough without this indignity. Besides, he had a job to do. Fresh reagents would be coming in soon, no doubt—
He shifted slightly-just enough to wretch his arm free, intending to shove Franco off.
Biiiiig mistake.
The movement caused Franco to stir, a deep, contented grunt vibrating from his chest. Before Parval could react, Franco's arm flexed, tightening like a damn python around Parval's torso as he adjusted his position.
"Mmf."
Parval's face burned.
He swore again, this time louder, though it came out as more of a strangled grunt than anything coherent. Franco still didn't wake-he just sighed softly, clearly content with his human furnace he was forcing Parval to be.
Parval's glare flicked toward the empty space beside them, eyes narrowing sharply as though he could intimidate the situation into fixing itself.
This isn't happening. This isn't happening.
Yet no matter how much he repeated it in his head, the weight of Franco's body on top of his was undeniably real. The bastard was heavy, and yet somehow, the steady warmth radiating from him had managed to lull even Parval's aching muscles into temporary relaxation. It was humiliating.
For several agonizing minutes, Parval stayed still, his breath shallow and measured as though Franco might explode if he moved too suddenly. His heart thudded in his chest, each beat like a drum in the silence of their little alcove... Finally, when it became clear that Franco was out cold-and was not going to miraculously wake up and let him go-Parval let his head drop back against the cold metal wall with a heavy thud.
"...Fucking idiot," he muttered, his voice low and rough, though for once there was no venom behind it.
He stared up at the ceiling once more, his expression a mix of frustration, exhaustion, and-if he were honest-reluctant resignation. Franco wasn't moving anytime soon. And as much as it pained him to admit it, the warmth was helping.
So he stayed put, face flushed, glaring at nothing as Franco snored soundly against him, his arm still wrapped snugly around Parval's hips like he'd won some kind of twisted prize.
Parval cursed one last time, though this time it was quieter-grumbled under his breath like a man who had truly accepted defeat.
He reluctantly closed his eyes. He'd let Franco sleep.
Just this once..