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The snow falls heavily around them, adding to the white blanket already covering the ground. They had been sent to some remote country in Europe to gather information, and discover the source of recent bioweapon attacks on local villages.
After taking care of a small group of bioweapons, they make their way through the snow, searching for a cabin to hole up in until the storm passes. They spot a small, wooden cabin just across the way—a frozen over lake between them.
They start their unsteady journey over the ice, going at a moderate pace. When they're almost to the other side, the ice starts cracking. Leon manages to make it over in enough time, but Claire falls through just a step before.
Her head slips under the water for a few moments, though she resurfaces without issue. She's lucky the ice so close to land is thinner, and that she can just break her way through it—pulling herself out of the water. Her clothes are absolutely drenched, and she can't even feel her fingertips anymore.
Leon helps her up, wrapping an arm around her, and helping her towards the cabin. He pushes the door open, guiding her to the sofa across from the fireplace. Taking a blanket and draping it over her shoulders. They're lucky that the cabin is all but abandoned, not a soul in sight.
"Hey, you still got your lighter?" He breathes out, his gloved hand rubbing her shoulder gently.
She nods, her teeth chattering. Her hand goes towards her pocket, her fingers stiffening up a bit from the cold. She pulls the lighter from her pocket, and hands it to him.
He takes the lighter, going to crouch in front of the fireplace; he brings the lighter to a piece of tinder, watching as it lights. The fire, once stoked, spreads to the other logs. It crackles nicely behind the protective grate. It's already helped provide warmth to the both of them—but, as for Claire: she's still having a hard time warming up.
Leon takes that as his cue to stand, and come back over to her. He places her lighter on the small table in front of the couch. She's curled in on herself, blanket clutched close. He removes his gloves, reaching out to touch her cheek.
"You're freezing sweetheart," he frowns. She leans into the touch, nuzzling against his palm much like a cat seeking affection.
A soft hum passes her lips. Her movements languid despite her constant shivering. "So warm…" she mutters. His hands are a bit cold too, but they're much warmer than hers.
"Hold on just one second, ok?" He glances around, finding an attached room. His search of the room is quick, and he manages to find an extra two sets of clothes for them to change into.
Claire glances at him as he re-enters the room, feeling a modicum of relief at the sight of the clothes in his hands. She can no longer feel her hands, and is starting to lose feeling in the rest of her limbs. "Leon…'m cold," she shudders. "Can't feel my fingers anymore."
He curses softly, setting the clothes down. "You're going to continue to be cold until I get those clothes off."
She huffs a quiet laugh. "Trying to get down my pants, Kennedy?"
"If I were trying to get down your pants I don't think I'd do it like this," he chuckles, shaking his head.
"No, I just know that your clothes are dripping wet, and you'll be much warmer once you get out of them and dry out. Plus…" he leans a bit closer, a sly smile pulling at his lips. "They say skin-to-skin contact is the best way to retain body heat, and warm up."
She nods, moving to pull of her many layers. He stops her, helping her pull her jacket and shirt over her head; then, helping to pull her pants and boots off. His hands are warm on her skin, goosebumps prickling at the back of her neck, and over her skin. Not just from the from the cold, but the feeling of his hands on her body. They're rough, and calloused—yet his touch is almost…reverent.
He pulls the new, warm set of clothes onto her body. Then, wraps the blanket back around her shoulders. She watches as he changes into the other set of clothes he had brought. Their clothes sitting in a shared pile on the floor. He joins her on the couch, wrapping an arm around her, and pulling her against his side.
She leans her head against his shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. Some warmth has started to return to their bodies. But, it'll be a little while until it completely does. Claire knows that one of them will have to take watch until the storm has passed, and they're both ready to keep moving. Yet, at the moment, all she can focus on is how she feels pressed against his side.
There's quiet for a moment, the sound of the wind whistling outside—whipping snow through the air, and the fire crackling are the only things filling the air. She has one hand snaked up under his shirt, resting on his abdomen. The feeling of his skin against hers, and the way his body rises and falls as he breathes lulls her into a bit of a calm state.
He draws mindless circles on her shoulder, turning his head slightly to press a soft kiss to her cheek. "You're truly living up to the standards of being a redhead with how pale you are right now," he teases. "Can see your freckles."
"Hush," she scolds, rolling her eyes. "You're pale too, don't just tease me about being a redhead."
He smiles gently. "You like when I tease you. Gives you a chance to whip me back into shape."
A small snort escapes her. "I'd take you up on that if I felt up to it." She groans, feeling the ache in her bones. "I just know I'm gonna be sick for like a week after this."
"I wouldn't doubt it," he murmurs. "It's okay though, I'll see if I can swing for a few vacation days when we get back."
She gives a wry laugh. "Yeah that's a pipe dream. I'll work through it, I've done it before."
"I don't like that you've had to," he grumbles, leaning back against the arm of the couch, pulling her on top of him.
She's startled for a moment at the change in moment, but quickly sags against him. A quiet sound of contentment gets muffled from the way she has her nose buried in the crook of his neck. His face is pressed against the top of her head, his arms resting low on her back.
"God, I can't believe it's this close to Christmas and I haven't even done anything festive," she says, her eyes drooping shut. She knows she can't rest for long—that one of them will have to move soon—but the warmth is making her sleepy.
He grunts in acknowledgment, holding her as close as he comfortably can. "Well, add that to the list of things we can do when we get back. You know I'll do anything with you."
"Cheesy Christmas movies, and cookies?"
"Yep."
"Making snowmen, and throwing snowballs if it snows?"
"Mhm."
"Make Christmas dinner with me?"
He chuckles warmly, nodding ever-so-slightly. "Yes, angel. I'll do anything you want. You know that."
Her heart swells at his words. "I know. I love you. You know I'd do anything for you too, yeah?"
"I love you too," he admits, his own eyes shutting. Unable to help succumbing to the peaceful atmosphere. "I don't think any number of Christmas gifts will show how much I do. But, I'm still gonna get you anything you want."
"A man after my own heart," she slurs sleepily. Her words getting softer, and softer.
He watches her fondly. Pressing a kiss to her forehead when she finally drifts off. He remains alert, letting her rest as long as he possibly can before he has to get up and keep watch. All his thoughts are focused on her, and how much he wants to make her happy. And, the things he would do to make her happy.
The feeling of the woman he loves in his arms—despite all the horrors out beyond the safety of the cabin—provides him with a sense of fulfillment. He knows with certainty that he would do anything to protect her, and vice versa.