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Lin Ling likes winter.
Frosted mornings. Babies swallowed up by puffer jackets. Overpriced seasonal coffee he can’t really afford but treats himself to anyway. Winter agrees with him.
The problem is that winter doesn’t agree with his boyfriend.
Nice is already waiting for him outside his apartment.
Red-faced from the cold, Lin Ling pauses at the corner to catch his breath. He’d run here when he got Nice’s message that he’d wait for him after work. Lin Ling nearly ate shit a half dozen times on the icy streets — and once, terrifyingly, on the subway platform — and pissed off three drivers with his hurried jaywalking and disregard for traffic laws. He shaved fifteen minutes off his thirty-six minute commute.
Seeing Nice standing there, though, he knows he still took too long.
When Nice looks up from his phone, his face lights up with a smile as he catches sight of Lin Ling.
Lin Ling is, as always, helpless to do anything but smile back.
“Wow, miss me that much?” Nice teases as Lin Ling jogs up to him. “I wasn’t expecting you for a while.”
“I ran here, you jerk.” Lin Ling bites at the middle finger of his glove, pulling it off with his teeth. “And I know you know that, you can’t hide that smirk from me.”
“I said I was fine to wait for you.”
Stuffing his gloves into his jacket pocket, Lin Ling scowls and grabs Nice’s free hand with both of his.
“Shut up,” Lin Ling mutters, chafing Nice’s hand between his own, trying to rub some warmth into ice-cold skin. “You could’ve gone up to my apartment.”
“With what key?”
“You know how to jimmy the lock, I’ve complained about it enough, haven’t I?”
“Why, A-Ling, you may not care about your personal safety, but as your boyfriend it’s my duty to—“
“I don’t need a knight in shining armor, Nice. I need a boyfriend who hasn’t lost any of his fingers to frostbite.”
Nice’s smile turns sly. He pockets his phone and reaches over to cup Lin Ling’s cheek, drawing his thumb over the curve of a cheekbone. It’s cold the same way a stethoscope is cold, and Lin Ling bites down on his lower lip to avoid flinching away from Nice’s touch.
“You do enjoy my fingers,” Nice agrees, tapping lightly at the corner of Lin Ling’s mouth with his thumb. His smile widens as Lin Ling’s skin no doubt grows hotter beneath his palm. “But you’re exaggerating. I’m fine, it’s just bad circulation.”
“You’re not even wearing gloves!”
“I keep my hands in my pockets most of the time.”
“You were literally on your phone when I got here.”
“Most of the time, Lin Ling, I didn’t say all the time.”
“Nice,” Lin Ling all but whines. “I’m going to buy you stupidly expensive gloves for Christmas. Like, fur-lined leather or something. So you better wear them or… or I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll probably stare at my banking app and cry.”
Nice laughs and drops his hand from Lin Ling’s face. Lin Ling quickly snatches it up and tucks both of Nice’s hands to his chest.
He bends down, exhaling warm air over Nice’s hands. His pale, slender fingers twitch in Lin Ling’s hold, goose bumps rising in the wake of Lin Ling’s breath. They’re still notably cooler than Lin Ling’s, but they’re starting to thaw the longer he has hold of them.
“You gonna make me cry, Nice?” Lin Ling asks, looking up at Nice from under his lashes, pouting.
Nice’s grin widens, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You are very pretty when you cry” — he deftly ignores the look of disgust Lin Ling shoots him — “but I’d never reject a gift from you, A-Ling. If you really do buy me Italian leather gloves, I’ll happily wear them.”
“…Italian leather?”
“That being said…” Nice presses close along Lin Ling’s front, all four of their hands tangled together between them. “I think you’ll miss the excuse to hold my hands like this.”
Lin Ling rolls his eyes even as he feels the tips of his ears burning. “If you wanna hold hands, just ask. You’re the one who apparently needs an excuse, Elsa.”
“Hmm, there is a bit of a resemblance there… I’d just need some smoky eye shadow, a blue sequin dress…”
“Nice!” Lin Ling is not the one in need of getting hot and bothered right now, god.
“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll wear any gloves you get me, A-Ling. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Now that that’s settled, come on. The movie’s going to start soon.”
Nice turns to start walking and Lin Ling follows suit. He frees one of Nice’s hands but keeps hold of the other, stuffing it into his pocket and threading their fingers together. Nice laughs, pleased, and leans into his shoulder.
It’s only a few blocks to the theater from here, which is ostensibly why Nice suggested meeting at Lin Ling’s apartment in the first place. He’s heard it before, he’ll undoubtedly hear it again — this just makes more sense, A-Ling, trust me. I’d rather walk with you than walk alone, anyway.
As if he doesn’t always make the trek from his apartment to Lin Ling’s by himself.
Not that I’m much better, Lin Ling thinks, idly rubbing his thumb over the back of Nice’s hand.
Lin Ling likes winter.
Frosted mornings. Babies swallowed up by puffer jackets. Overpriced seasonal coffee he can’t really afford but treats himself to anyway.
What he likes even more is the perfect excuse to keep Nice close to him.