orrr even a triple fill! haha. sorry, I couldn't resist the snowy cuteness ;_;
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"I don't like it," the sniper grouses, brushing a small pile of snowflakes off of his head where they had collected in the crease of his beret. "It's cold. And wet."
Arcade, on the other hand, can barely contain his elation. "You know, I've read about snow more times than I can count, but it's so weird actually seeing it in person." The doctor shakes his head playfully, puffs of snow falling from his errant blond curls. "Almost makes the grueling trek up here worth it. Almost."
Boone shivers, jamming his hands into his armpits. "Something's wrong with you, Gannon," he deadpans. "The cold is getting to your head." Arcade ignores him, too busy catching snowflakes on his frozen pink fingertips. He holds them up to his face, examining them closely in an effort to determine if they really are all unique.
"You idiot," Boone reprimands, reaching out to grasp Arcade's hands and covering the ice cold fingers with his own. "You'll get frostbite."
Arcade makes a soft noise of disappointment as the snowflakes dissolve into tiny puddles under the heat of Boone's grasp. "I'm a doctor," he huffs indignantly. "I think I would know whether or not I'm in hypothermic danger."
Boone rolls Arcade's fingers back and forth between his own, attempting to thaw them out. "Should've worn gloves," he murmurs, raising their clasped hands to his mouth and blowing warmly. And if his lips purse ever so slightly over Arcade's fingers, pressing the tiniest, softest of kisses to the other man's chilled knuckles, well. Arcade decided not to call the sniper on it.
Maybe the cold really was getting to his head.
"Hurry up!" The courier calls from far ahead of them, already winding his way around the bend of the mountainous path to Jacobstown. "I can see it just ahead!"
Boone drops Arcade's hands, and with a stern "keep 'em in your pockets" he jogs ahead of the other man, hurrying to keep up with the courier.
"Ok Mom," Arcade grumbles, though he knows Boone is already too far ahead to hear him.
Nuclear Winter 1
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"I don't like it," the sniper grouses, brushing a small pile of snowflakes off of his head where they had collected in the crease of his beret. "It's cold. And wet."
Arcade, on the other hand, can barely contain his elation. "You know, I've read about snow more times than I can count, but it's so weird actually seeing it in person." The doctor shakes his head playfully, puffs of snow falling from his errant blond curls. "Almost makes the grueling trek up here worth it. Almost."
Boone shivers, jamming his hands into his armpits. "Something's wrong with you, Gannon," he deadpans. "The cold is getting to your head." Arcade ignores him, too busy catching snowflakes on his frozen pink fingertips. He holds them up to his face, examining them closely in an effort to determine if they really are all unique.
"You idiot," Boone reprimands, reaching out to grasp Arcade's hands and covering the ice cold fingers with his own. "You'll get frostbite."
Arcade makes a soft noise of disappointment as the snowflakes dissolve into tiny puddles under the heat of Boone's grasp. "I'm a doctor," he huffs indignantly. "I think I would know whether or not I'm in hypothermic danger."
Boone rolls Arcade's fingers back and forth between his own, attempting to thaw them out. "Should've worn gloves," he murmurs, raising their clasped hands to his mouth and blowing warmly. And if his lips purse ever so slightly over Arcade's fingers, pressing the tiniest, softest of kisses to the other man's chilled knuckles, well. Arcade decided not to call the sniper on it.
Maybe the cold really was getting to his head.
"Hurry up!" The courier calls from far ahead of them, already winding his way around the bend of the mountainous path to Jacobstown. "I can see it just ahead!"
Boone drops Arcade's hands, and with a stern "keep 'em in your pockets" he jogs ahead of the other man, hurrying to keep up with the courier.
"Ok Mom," Arcade grumbles, though he knows Boone is already too far ahead to hear him.