“Stop moving,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep. “You’re letting the cold in.”

You huffed quietly. “I’m trying to get comfortable.”

“You were comfortable,” he muttered.

You smiled faintly, even though he couldn’t see it.

“You’re hogging the blanket.”

“Am not.”

“You are.”

There was a pause, then a quiet shuffle as he pulled more of it over you anyway.

“…There,” he said.

You blinked a little at that.

“Wow. Generous.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he murmured.

But his arm stayed tight around you, pulling you closer until your back was flush against his chest.

Warm.

Finally, actually warm.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The cabin was quiet except for the occasional shifting of someone in their sleep, the faint crackle of dying embers.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced along his arm, slow and light.

Travis exhaled softly behind you.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

His hand slid under the edge of your sleeve, fingers brushing against your skin. Warmer than yours. Always warmer.

“You should’ve said something, sweetheart,” he muttered.

You stilled.

He didn’t seem to notice what he’d said at first, his thumb absentmindedly moving against your arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“…Did you just call me sweetheart?” you whispered.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, a quiet, “No.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance back at him.

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You literally just—”

“Shh,” he cut you off softly, pulling you closer again. “You’re gonna wake everyone up.”

You narrowed your eyes a little, but let it go—for now.

“…Fine.”

Another stretch of quiet settled between you.

Then—

“You’re still cold.”

You sighed. “I said I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well, you’re shivering, baby.”

That made you freeze.

“Okay, you definitely said that one.”

Travis let out a low groan, like he was already regretting everything.

“Can you not make it a thing?”

“It is a thing,” you whispered, trying not to laugh. “You’re being… soft.”

“I’m not.”

“You called me baby.”

“I said you’re cold.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

He shifted behind you, pressing his face lightly into your shoulder, hiding a little.

“Just… shut up and come here,” he muttered.

“I’m already here.”

“Closer.”

You smiled softly and listened, letting him pull you in even tighter, his arms wrapping more securely around you this time.

There it was again.

That quiet, unspoken thing between you.

You felt his breath against your neck, slower now, steadier.

“…You okay?” he asked after a minute, voice quieter this time.

The teasing was gone.

You hesitated, just for a second.

“Yeah,” you said softly.

His grip tightened.

“Don’t lie.”

You swallowed.

“I’m just… tired.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

His hand found yours under the blanket, fingers lacing together in a way that felt almost careful.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, honey,” he said quietly.

That one hit different.

Not teasing.

Not accidental.

Intentional.

Your chest tightened, just a little.

“…You’re really bad at not being soft,” you whispered.

He huffed faintly.

“Only with you.”

You turned slightly in his arms, enough to face him this time. His eyes were half-lidded, tired, but focused on you in that quiet, steady way he had when everything else faded out.

“You don’t act like this with anyone else,” you said.

“I don’t want to,” he replied simply.

No hesitation.

No joke to cover it up.

Just the truth.

Your fingers tightened around his.

“…Okay.”

He studied your face for a second longer, like he was making sure you understood what he meant.

Then, softer, “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded a little.

“Only if you stop hogging the blanket.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“No promises, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t argue this time.

Instead, you tucked yourself back against him, letting your eyes fall shut as his arms settled around you again—warm, steady, grounding.

Outside, the cold still waited.

But for now…