AN - Hey guys, this is just a little side thing from when I'm a bit blocked about my stories in USM or I have inspiration for another project and it's just not working in context. This may be a little Temp/Sam generific but if any of you guys want me to write something for you, drop me a little note in the reviews or my inbox.

[ blessed warmth ]

Prompt: Imagine it's winter, and Person A of your OTP has just taken a long, hot shower. Person B is cold, and as soon as A exits the bathroom B clings to them and hugs them close for warmth. Even after A has cooled off B continues to cling onto them just because.

Pairing: Temp/Sam

Genre: romance/humor - AKA lots of really cliche and lovey-dovey kissing; beware.

Word Count: 1,443 (without above line break)

Freezing cold was not the correct word.

Her arms seemed to shake with the weight of the ice in them, her fingers were frosted at the bed of her nails and her teeth chattered, no matter how much she tossed and turned under the covers. Jokingly, she wondered if the ends of her hair were frosted over, tucked somewhere beneath her arm and further under the pillow of the mussed-up bed. But freezing cold was not the right word for this feeling.

The windows were slammed shut, and the heating was turned on full blast; yet the cold manage to crawl and tuck itself further between her collarbones, deeper into her chest and root itself, to the point where the only warmth she felt was around her toes, and it was a clammy, unwanted feeling, like a cold sweat. So she dug them out, like poking turtle heads, and pulled them back in when the cold dusted it's breath across them.

Sleep tugged at the corners of her eyes, but it seemed to crackle into spider-web splinters from the cold and Tempest groaned, soft and half a yawn, when she tossed again. Distantly, she could hear the water from the shower creep it's way through the pipes before it was turned off, just as she stood to grab a drink - hot chocolate, of course - that was perched on the bedside table before moving to tuck herself back in.

But the door to the bathroom, a few feet away from the door to the bedroom opened, and Sam wandered outside, shirtless in a pair of Nova pajama pants, rubbing a towel through the black mane that covered his head and Tempest felt her breath catch just a little bit, twigging on some undiscovered part of her. But behind him, heated mist angles up towards the ceiling, transparent fingers brushing the cheap wallpaper they'd bought months prior and suddenly, she notices the same mist rising from Sam's own shoulders as he wanders towards the room.

Heat. Tempest doesn't pause in the way she jumps upwards, like a child excited, and bounds towards him when he crosses the threshold into the bedroom. He falls back a few centimeters when a soft mess of brown hair lodges itself squarely beneath his chin, and small arms knot themselves around his waist, comfortable and content when she lets out a sigh when she presses closer.

His chest lurches with a surprised laugh and he tucks his own arms around her shoulders, one hand pressing down the stand-on-end hairs at the crown of her head. "What's this about? You're never clingy, you know, but if you wanna be..."

Suggestion lingers on his tongue as he angles her head towards her, only gaining the peek of a brown eye from her hiding space with a chewed-on smile. "Don't make fun of me, Sparky. It's freezing."

"Really? I can't feel it."

"That's because you're boiling," she sighs, nuzzling closer into the Hispanic boy's neck, savoring the heat that rises like mist off of him and he laughs again, pressing a soft kiss to her hairline. He ghosts a hand across the plane of her shoulders, down the valley of her spine, as if blessing her with warmth and she preens, pressing further into the touch.

Sam smiles at the normally touch-intolerant girl who is suddenly clingy, suddenly curling up to him like he's been jokingly whining for whenever they're on their own and it breaks his heart to try and pull out of the grip, even if just for a little while. "Babe," he says, and smirks at the annoyed wrinkle of her nose," I've sorted gotta get dressed for bed, but if you let me get dressed, I'll warm you up after."

He almost collapses at the uncharacteristic whine that reverberates through her ribs like a hummingbird; it vibrates through her into his own torso and he bites on his lip when she tugs closer, chipping away at his willpower. She peers up, innocent and so tiny, he almost scoops her up.

"Come on, let me just get dressed. It's only for a few moments. Get in bed, please."

She tries not to look at the worry that strains his eyes when he see's her own droop with exhaustion - she's known for not sleeping well, for having nights plagued with pulling up with a sob in her throat and Sam's always been the one to fold her into him and press her back into sleep with hands much kinder than the ones in her nightmares. So, reluctantly, she pulls away, practically flinging herself on the bed and diving under the covers, sighing happily as the leftover warmth envelopes her again.

Sam smiles and he winds around the bed to tug open a draw and pull out a shirt, but as his arms make their way into the sleeves, he hears a soft voice, muffled by a pillow. "Wait."

He pauses in his dressing and turns, almost choking at the sight. His tiny, frail little girlfriend, who was completely scared of even getting dressed around him is on her knees on the bed and tugging off her own shirt, pulling it up over her head and placing it by her side, now just in a small black tank top. Although she shivers against the bite of the cold, she holds out a hand, gesturing towards the shirt with pinked cheeks, bottom lip pushing into a stubborn pout. The boy swallows a laugh, and gestures for her to throw her arms up, which she does willingly.

He swoops in to place a kiss on her mouth before tugging the shirt around her tiny frame, and letting it fall down her arms. He smiles when her head pokes out of the neck hole, with a wide smile bleeding across her cheeks, pulling out the hairs that had gotten stuck inside. She sighs around the warmth and before he can protest, her hands are slotting themselves around his wrist, the long arms flapping lazily. They're tugged forcefully, though with the little strength she held in the palm of her hand, it felt just like a push from the wind in the right direction.

Sam was tugged onto the bed, and his legs, unbidden by him, slipped under the covers when she fell beneath them and soon, she was pulling the duvet over them both and pressing her face just over his collarbone, tapping a small rhythm against his heart, which Sam grabbed whilst sliding his own arm around her shoulders. He tugged at the few strands of hair that leaked like spilled chocolate against the covers, and a smile pulled up on his mouth.

"You've just got to have your own little way, haven't you?"

"Go to sleep."

"You steal my shirt, so I'm going to bed freezing cold, while you're all toasty and -" he's cut off when suddenly, from her perch against his chest, she lifts herself and balancing on one forearm, presses her mouth to his. The hand that had been in his grasp trails upwards, cupping his jawline before pushing it's way through the hair just above his ear, and Sam takes the opportunity. The hand that had snaked around her shoulders drips downwards, sliding around her waist and pulling her entirely on top of him, her small body fitting lightly.

She pulls back, and he can see the effect he's had on her immediately - she doesn't budge and smirks from beneath the mess of brown curls she holds, folding her arms across his chest and sitting her chin on them. Sam snorts, and tickles her side, letting Tempest dissolve into giggles against him and he picks apart pieces of her hair as she blinks up at him, sleep pulling her closer to it's embrace.

When her knees pull up and her head dips down, Sam sighs in contentment, and pulls her further up so he can press a lazy, sleep-filled kiss to her mouth and tug his shirt further down her thighs. "Just for future reference, that's the best way to shut me up. Always do it, especially in front of Parker; it'll really annoy him."

"Oh my god, warmth is not worth this."

Quickly, Sam pulls her up to place another kiss on her mouth, grinning when she tugs closer, sleep seeping into every corner as he yawns around his words. "But I am."

Freezing cold is not the right word, she concludes. Blessed warmth is.