Warmth — Hadrian (Patreon)

The stained window rattles against the wooden frame as if the glass is loose and tries its hardest to escape its confinement. You can hear the wind howling outside, with a voice so loud, that it slips through the cracks on the wall and fills the gloomy room that serves as your shelter.

A howl, enraged, and shouting threats in an ancient language that no mortal soul can hope to understand. As you watch the wind slam against the poor window, the glass struggling to hold form, you wonder if anyone could ever make sense of Nature's language. You wonder if it is the word of God in its rawest form.

"Lord, it's worsening." Hadrian's voice mingles with the howl, his silhouette stark against the moonlight as he peeks outside. His broad shoulders fill the entire glass, and he has to duck his head to avoid bumping it into the rafts on the ceiling. When he turns back to you, his face is dipped in shadows, but you can still see his eyes. Green and shining on you. "At least it's not raining."

Hadrian pauses and looks outside again. "Yet," he adds, grimacing.

You nod, hugging your coat tighter against yourself. The air is freezing with a humid kind of cold that doesn't chill your bones but hardens your flesh and makes your joints creak as if you've lived eighty summers. The old shed you found in the middle of a long-abandoned farm has a broken door and thin walls, and the ground is as hard as stone, but at least, you're guarded against the relentless wind.

And the dark clouds that slowly start to hide the moon.

"We'll be drenched," you say, looking up at the rafters. There are so many holes in the ceiling.

Hadrian's dark shadow hesitates before moving to sit beside you. You keep looking upwards, but you see him from the corner of your eye, and you hear his long exhale as he rests his back against the wall. "There's no helping that," he says, his voice sounding as tired as you feel.

Silence falls for a while. Your eyes sting with sleep, but you keep them open, staring at the rafters. Moonlight is fainter and fainter as the night grows deeper and deeper, and the shadows chiller and chiller. Your coat is too thin, and you clench your jaw because you feel your teeth want to start chattering against each other.

The wind keeps howling its anger at the world. It will be a long night. You can't keep your teeth from chattering any longer, can't keep your arms from shaking either. You can't keep-

You slump forward as something heavy falls on your shoulders. Heavy and thick and so incredibly warm. You instinctually grab it, your cold, stiffen fingers sinking into fur. "Hadrian," you hiss out, turning towards your companion. And it doesn't surprise you to see him stripped of his coat. "What are you doing? That shirt is thinner than paper."

You move to give the coat back, but the fool of a man grabs your arm to stop you. "No, I don't need it," he says, and it's so ridiculous, that you can only scoff. Hadrian smiles a strained smile, but his fingers keep holding your arm. And it may be over two coats, but you swear you feel his touch all the same.

The point of contact is warmer than all the rest of your body.

"I mean it, I'm like a furnace," he continues, letting go of you to scratch at the back of his neck. "I, uh. I noticed you were shivering so—"

"So you decide to freeze yourself to death?" you interrupt. He may say all he wants, no one can withstand a night this cold in just an undershirt. You go to remove his coat again, but Hadrian shakes his head and actually shuffles away from you.

"I don't need it," he says, having the decency to look away from your narrowed eyes. "You keep it."

Your fingers are grabbing the hem of his coat, and it's hard, you won't lie, to even think about parting with it. It's so warm, and its weight pulls you down like the covers of a fluffy bed and... and you don't want to take it off. But you're not about to let Hadrian freeze either.

"Fine," you say through clenched teeth.

"And I- oh," Hadrian blinks and then smiles wide. "Good. You should—"

You motion for him to come closer.

Hadrian blinks again. "What?"

You lift an eyebrow. "Come."

He stares at you, grabbing hold of his cross. "Uh." You can't see his face, not clearly, but you can see the moonlight reflecting on the white of his eyes.

"You want me to have your coat?" you ask, and then beckon him closer one last time. "Then come share it with me, or I swear on your angels, Hadrian, I'll toss it at your face."

A pause.

"Are you sure?" Comes his quiet voice.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm sure."

Hadrian hesitates for a moment longer before slowly, he crawls his way back to you. When he sits beside you, you open his coat and hold it over your head, inviting him to share your space. And your arm strains as he once again takes his time, but you bite your tongue...

And, eventually, Hadrian moves in. He ducks under the offered coat, his side just barely pressing against your own. You let out a breath of relief because if his coat was warm, it can't compare to himself. "I've witnessed your throwing arm," Hadrian mumbles with a small smile. He's not looking at you, however, his eyes are dead set on some point on the ground. "It's quite fearsome. I wouldn't want to be your target."

You laugh, shifting on the ground. You want to press yourself to him, to chase his warmth, but you resist the urge. "Good," you say, flashing him a smile. This close, you can finally see his face. His cheeks are red, as are the tips of his ears, and there's a new warmth now, blooming on your chest. "Because I wouldn't hesitate."

Hadrian's rumbling chuckle tickles your skin. His shoulders are half turned, and his neck is bent down in a position that can't be comfortable. It's like he's straining not to touch you. "I don't doubt that," he whispers.

You look up at him and, after a beat, Hadrian looks back, and time seems to disappear altogether. The wind howls against your ears, but you don't hear it as much as you hear his sucked breath. Moonlight slips away, the cold beam getting thinner and thinner, but you don't mind it as you study his gaze. Hadrian's smile slowly dies, his face assuming a seriousness you don't often see in him.

And his cheeks are red still, but your tongue is suddenly dry when you see him lean forward-

Blip.

A cold, wet touch on the tip of your nose.

You blink, looking up, and have to close your eyes when another droplet slams against your eyelids. The water slides down your face, slipping into your neck, and when rain starts to pound against the poor, decrepit window, you let out a breathless laugh.

"Bloody hell," you say, ducking under Hadrian's coat to cover your face from the falling rain. It leaks down from the ceiling, not like a current, not yet, but in big, fat, drops. "Guess what, Hadrian?"

He's laughing too. "It started to rain?" he replies, and you bop him on the nose. Hadrian ducks his head, his smile so wide, it reaches his ears, before he moves closer. And now it's your turn to hold your breath when his long arms loop around your back to press you firmly into him.

Warmth is all you feel as your cheek brushes his chest and your thighs rest against his own. You look up, heart slamming against your ribs, but Hadrian isn't looking at you. He's holding his coat above the two of you, his body closing around yours in a protective cocoon.

"Uh." The sound escapes your lips, and you want to say more, say something, but the words die on your tongue. It seemed to be enough to get his attention, however. Hadrian looks down, and the smile he gives you doesn't have the right to be so handsome.

"Just hold tight," Hadrian says. You don't know if the moon is finally covered or he pulled his jacket even further around you, or a mix of both, but darkness closes too. You can't see him anymore, but you can feel him, and you can feel his breath against your forehead when he speaks. "It'll be a long night, but we won't freeze."

Rain patters against your ears, followed by the wind and the soft, almost inaudible sound of Hadrian's heartbeat. You chase it, letting tiredness win as you let yourself fall against his chest. His arm tightens around you, and you close your eyes at the sensation.

Cold is but a distant memory because you've never felt so warm. And the ground is rough and hard, but all of you feels like melting because his body isn't soft, but it couldn't be more inviting.

The wind howls its fury in its most primal language, and you slip then, to the only place where you may understand it. The land of dreams.