By all means, it should've been a peaceful Saturday evening.  It almost was — Virgil was snuggled up under a blanket with a mug of chamomile tea when he heard the heater make an awful clunking noise, then shut off completely.

"Goddamnit!"  He placed his mug on the end table next to him and rose to investigate, knowing that there was nothing he could do but wanting to see the problem for himself anyways.  "This is the second time this month," he grumbled as he pulled on the nearest pair of shoes he could find. Virgil marched down the hall of the apartment building, passing window after snow-covered window, wishing he had been able to find a bigger, better-managed complex.  Sure, maybe he wouldn't be able to chat with his landlord whenever he wanted, but at least it would be under more public scrutiny than the shitty six-unit brick monstrosity he found himself calling home.

Along with the tiny building came less restrictions on its tenants.  There was nobody in the front lobby to stop Virgil from walking down the basement stairs to look at the furnace.  Their front lobby wasn't even a lobby, it was what used to be a living room with a single, mangled couch and a TV from the 1980s.  It fit in well with the rest of the building.

After staring at it for at least fifteen minutes, Virgil couldn't find anything wrong with the furnace (which wasn't saying much, considering didn't have the slightest clue how it worked), and he knew his landlord wouldn't pick up his phone until tomorrow morning, so with a sigh and only a small amount of grumbling, he dragged himself back upstairs.

He was not expecting to find another resident at his door.

Roman Santos, in all his bedheaded glory, stood with a blanket around his shoulders and his forehead almost pressed to Virgil's door.  He didn't see Virgil approach, and turned at lighting speed when asked what he was doing.

His answer nearly blended into one word.  "The heat shut off and I don't want to bother Patton and everyone else is kinda scary and I'm cold but if two of us are in the same room there's more body heat can I please come inside I brought blankets?"

"Roman, I did not understand a word of what you just said, but it's late and I'm cold too, so yeah, sure, come on in."

"Thank you so much I-"

"I don't want to hear it."  Virgil stepped in front of Roman and opened the door.  "Go sit down, I'm making hot chocolate. My tea's probably cold by now."  

Roman shuffled over to the sofa, curled up in a corner, and began creating a nest from the mountain of blankets that he had brought with him.  As Virgil poured milk into the last clean mugs he had left, he heard Roman mumbling to himself — something about utility bills and stupid but at least-

The microwave beeped.  Virgil glared, silently cursing it for interrupting his eavesdropping session.  He dumped a lazy guesstimate of three tablespoons of hot chocolate powder into the milk and stirred, noting that Roman had stopped talking.

"It's Walmart brand, hope you weren't expecting better," Virgil said as he handed Roman the alligator-shaped mug.

"Absolutely not, thank you so much."

They sipped in silence for a bit before Roman noticed that Virgil wasn't cocooned in blankets.

"Aren't you cold?"

Virgil shrugged.  "Yeah, but not that cold.  At least it's like, 20 degrees, last year this happened when it was below zero.  And I'm cold all the time. This isn't that different."

Roman apparently didn't think that was an acceptable answer, because he kicked one end of his blankets over to Virgil.

Virgil smiled a small thanks.  "So," he continued, "What were you saying earlier? While I was in the kitchen?"

He wasn't sure if it was the cold or a blush, but Roman's cheeks turned a soft pink.  "Just — I think it's stupid we have to pay utilities when they don't even work half the time."

"Overthrow the bourgeoisie and then you won't have to anymore."  Virgil grinned, quietly hoping Roman wasn't a fucking capitalist, and for a second it seemed like maybe he was, but then:

"What the fuck is a bourgeoisie?"  

Virgil nearly laughed, but pushed it down because this was only, like, the third real conversation he had ever had with Roman and actually he's pretty cute and making cute boys feel stupid made Virgil feel bad.

"The upper class," Virgil replied, only smirking a little bit.

"Then hell yes, I'm willing to overthrow the bourgeoisie, let's go."

They stared at each other, smiling, for just a little bit too long, and Virgil got desperate and, only panicking a little, asked if Roman wanted to watch a movie.

"Only if it's Coraline," Roman decided, somehow smiling wider.

"Wait, you like Coraline?"

"It's my favorite movie!  The deeply rooted fear of dolls I have from watching it when I was ten makes it even better."

"I feel called out."  Turning to the end table next to him, Virgil asked, "Wait, where's the remote?"  Not waiting for a response, he groaned and went to look for it.

When he returned, Roman had moved himself to the middle of the couch.  He patted the spot directly next to him. "The closer we sit, the warmer we'll be."  When Virgil hesitated, he added, "I promise I won't fall in love with you or anything."  

Virgil sat down reluctantly, technically agreeing with the point but still feeling weird about it — probably for different reasons than Roman thought.  He opened Netflix, glad to focus on something that wasn't his adorable neighbor sitting inches away.

Which proved to be a challenge when Roman hesitantly slipped his arm around Virgil's shoulders.

"If this makes you uncomfortable I can-"

"No, you're fine.  You're right, we'll be warmer."  Carefully, he placed his head on Roman's shoulder as the opening credits played and he tried to ignore his rapidly beating heart.

By the end of the movie Virgil was nearly asleep and warmer than he had ever been in his life.  He looked over at Roman, who smiled back.

"Guess I oughta go home now," he said, beginning to stand.

"You can stay if you want," Virgil countered.  "You probably should so neither of us freeze to death."

"But where-" would I sleep.  Virgil silently finished the question as the realization hit Roman.  "Are you sure? Like, 100%, you're okay with cuddling with me all night to keep us from freezing?"

Using up all the courage he had left, Virgil said, "Yeah, sure."  And then Roman nodded, and they stared at each other for what seemed like eternity before Virgil stood up and led Roman to his bedroom.

He flipped on the light for a moment so Roman could find the bed, then shut it off again.

"Hope you aren't scared of the dark," Virgil said.

"You're here to protect me."

Virgil was glad the lights were off so Roman couldn't see his blush.

He laid down, turned towards Roman, and waited for him to do something.

He reached out and pulled Virgil to his chest, his movements slow and nervous.  Virgil slid his arm around Roman's waist and his leg over Roman's. He drifted off slowly, but surely, and just as he was on the edge of sleep, he felt Roman's face against the top of his head.  It wasn't necessarily a kiss, but to Virgil it felt the same.

Edér watched Aloth and the Watcher struggle with a few sticks in the desperate attempt to hang their pot over the camp fire. They did this every single day, no matter where they’d ended up. The only thing with the potential to stop them was unconsciousness. That meant a nearly endless source of entertainment and wonder for him. The creativity these two developed if they had to save their precious tea time from bad weather conditions was astounding. Not that he really understood their reasoning. Personally, he’d never gotten why anyone would want to drink glorified leaf juice, much less go to such extreme lengths for it.

The Watcher cheered when the pot was finally stable and Aloth pulled out his leather pouch with a pleased smile. A handful of herbs landed in the hot water and the two happily watched it boil. Edér found it hilarious. Two grown people staring at a pot of water like it was the most fascinating object in the world. Although... he was watching them do it, so maybe he shouldn’t be too cocky.

Suddenly something occurred to him. “What do you Aedyrans drink when it’s summer?” he asked, fearing the loss of his favourite evening pastime. The two Aedyrans stared him with incomprehension. “What do you mean?” the Watcher asked, while Aloth turned back and took the pot from the fire, shaking his head.

“Well, are you still going to drink tea?” “Of course,” the Watcher said, looking at Edér like he’d lost his mind. “But it’s hot...” Edér could only stutter. He was so befuddled he even forgot his earlier enchantment.

Aloth finished pouring the tea into two cups and handed the Watcher one. She took it, sipped the hot liquid and looked at Edér again, completely calm. So calm in fact, that she seemed almost the opposite. When she spoke, there was strange hypnotizing quality to her voice. “Only tea. There are no other drinks.” “Only tea.” Aloth added, with the same dry tone, taking a sip himself.

Desperate to return to a normal conversation, well, whatever could count as normal for them, he tried again, against better judgement. “And what if you don’t like tea?”

Suddenly the whole clearing seemed way too quiet. His companions stared at him. Nothing moved, not even the wind. Edér didn’t think there was wind before, but the point still stood.

Then, slowly and completely unblinking, the Watcher lifted her cup again and took a deep, long gulp. She let it sink with a content sigh, still staring Edér dead in the eyes. After a heavy pause she spoke with the same calmness as before, that made Edér’s hair stand on end.

“Then the weak die.”

The silence continued, because for the first time in a long time Edér didn’t know how to answer. Instead he turned to Aloth in the vague hope of something, though he didn’t quite know what, but the other Aedyran just continued to slurp his tea and only answered his desperate stare with a pitiless raised eyebrow. Edér was of course wrong in that regard, because Aloth would never slurp.

That was the point when Edér decided that any possible amusement wasn’t worth ominous threats of death and that he would annoy Durance a bit more, at least there wasn’t anything ominous about his death threats. He mumbled something incomprehensible even for himself and fled a bit deeper into the woods, where Durance had made his camp, loudly declaring that he refused to share a fire with a whore of the smashed dog. Never mind that he’d invited himself along and no one was stopping him from leaving.