A/N: Hey, guys! I've been really enjoying writing these stories as my brief reprieve from my usual horror stories, so here's another one! I'm still playing with the hurt/comfort concept, which has always been one of my favorites, for whatever reason. I hope you guys like it and can give me some pointers! I've never written romance before and am still very new to this. Constructive criticism is always welcome! Either way, I hope you guys enjoy this!

Akihito lay in the warehouse, still feeling the claws of the cold air dragging into his skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that this was a good thing – his worries would truly start once the feeling seeped out of his limbs and the words "cold" and "hot" lost all meaning. In the front of his mind, however, all he could do was wish for exactly that loss of feeling, if only for a slight reprieve from the freezing cold.

Think warm thoughts, he said to himself, his teeth clattering painfully in his mouth. He could feel the skin on his hands beginning to crack, the tiny fissures filling with blood as he twisted and yanked on his restraints, the fight slowly dying down in his muscles. Warm thoughts, warm thoughts, come on, Takaba.

His thoughts went immediately to Asami: his broad back, his golden skin, the way he heated up the bed like he was a damn furnace. God, what Akihito wouldn't give for that heat next to him right now. His lover knew how to kiss away the cold – he'd done it before, when Akihito would come back from frigid, rainy stakeouts. He would kiss him and hold him and whisper to him until the bitter freeze in the air became a distant memory. He wondered vaguely if his lover could do it again.

Fortunately for Akihito, the answer was coming to him very shortly.

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It only took a few hours for Asami to find Akihito – the damn photographer had gotten himself in a little too deep and was being made to suffer for the loud click of his camera.

Unfortunately, a few hours in the summer and a few hours in the winter made all the difference. And it just so happened that it was winter.

The temperature wasn't just low: it was nonexistent, and still dropping rapidly. Asami had a good idea what Akihito was being made to suffer because it was exactly the fate he himself would have chosen for a pest in the past. That made him all the more anxious and angry, and as he and his men drove towards the warehouse, he made a mental note to leave hypothermia off his list of possible tortures in the future. Fuck, the kid was making him soft. But it was worth it for the warmth the boy gave him in return. He hoped that warmth hadn't been snuffed out by the icy breath of Tokyo's coldest winter in recent memory.

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Akihito felt himself drifting in open space, the cold air stabbing sharp into his lungs. He wanted to be confused but he just didn't have the energy… not until he felt a strangely familiar warmth burst into life around him.

He shuddered and struggled as much as his strength would allow. Fuck, it was so goddamn hot. TOO hot. He'd been cold for so long now that he forgot what it was like to be hot and it was AGONY. He moaned and felt his body shuddering violently. How interesting, he thought. The cold had long since stopped making him shiver – his body must have decided it wasn't going to do him any good – but the shaking was unstoppable now.

He could hear voices floating in the air around him and he tried to parse out what they were. One came through the crowd, a deep baritone, calm and in control, and his heart flew to it. He knew. He couldn't think of a name or a relationship or a person but he knew this heat and he knew this voice and it was his. And the voice was saying "hospital" and Akihito cried out.

No, no, that isn't what I want, that isn't what I need, he thought miserably. The pain from the heat was beginning to recede and was replaced, instead, by a craving for more. I need this voice, I need this heat, I need… I need…

"…Why don't you want to go to the hospital, Akihito?"

It seemed to Akihito that this question had been repeated multiple times and he had only just heard it. He forced open his mouth – he had to make an answer, had to give some kind of reason, had to make him understand…

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Asami knew unquenchable rage. He had felt it on a few occasions during his life: being betrayed by one he thought he could trust, being taught the meaning of a needless death, looking at the dark finger-shaped bruises on Akihito's neck as he screamed himself awake yet again in the middle of the night…

And yet nothing could prepare him for the moment he saw his charge shivering on the concrete floor, his skin turning a sickly blue color, his eyes half-shut and unseeing. It had taken all of Asami's control not to snap right then, but he didn't because Akihito needed him. The rest could be dealt with later, he told himself – Akihito could not wait.

As Kirishima reached down to cut Akihito's chains off, Asami removed his coat. Once Akihito was free, he wrapped the suspiciously still boy in the jacket and prayed to God that he was still conscious enough to feel it. He was terrified when, at first, Akihito made no move. He heard Kirishima make a call to the hospital and rushed for the door, holding his little kitten and praying, praying, praying…

When Akihito moaned in his arms, all the breath left his body in a sudden whoosh. Oh, thank God, thank GOD, thank whatever the fuck, but thank you, he thought, relief drowning his system in a flash flood. Akihito groaned again and tried to free himself from the coat, but Asami's grip tightened on him. Asami himself knew the horrible torture that was hypothermia, and he could tell what Akihito was feeling now. The warmth seeping back into his limbs would feel like fire and would burn its way through his brain. It would take a few minutes before the sensation would feel like warmth and not pain.

"Boss, we've confirmed the Kido group is the one behind the kidnapping. We can't say if the leader knows it was ordered, but the order definitely involved the wakagashira. What are your orders, sir?"

"Leave it for now," Asami answered calmly. He would deal with that scum later. "Get us to the hospital. I will instruct you further there."

"No!" cried Akihito. His eyes were open again, having slipped shut once he had found his way into Asami's arms, and although he couldn't see, his eyes were searching. It broke Asami's heart that they couldn't see what they were looking for, even when it was right in front of them.

"What's wrong, Akihito?" He asked. They were almost to the limo and then he could wrap him in one of the blankets they kept in the back, just a little further now…

"No hospital, no, no, don't, no…" He babbled. Asami paused for a moment and Akihito renewed his struggles. Asami made a quick inventory of the medical equipment he kept in the penthouse – it included an IV and the necessary accouterments, and if his private doctor could meet them there, he supposed there was no real reason that Akihito couldn't improve just as well at home.

Kirishima opened the limo door and Asami stepped in. "Kirishima, change of plans. Call Doctor Yamaki and get him to the penthouse. We'll treat Akihito there." The secretary barked his understanding and soon they were speeding off down the dirty Tokyo streets.

Asami turned the heat up in the limo and pulled out a thick blanket, swaddling Akihito as best he could. Akihito was still muttering, but Asami could no longer understand what he was saying. He cradled Akihito to him as close as possible.

"Akihito?" He asked. The boy didn't answer, but he pressed on. "Why don't you want to go to the hospital, Akihito?"

No answer. The boy had begun to shake. Was he going into shock? Asami swore silently to himself. This couldn't happen, not to his most precious person. His ONLY precious person, if he was being honest with himself, and why not? Now seemed as good a time as any.

Asami leaned down to whisper in Akihito's ear. His lips brushed the frigid flesh and Akihito's shuddered calmed just a little. Asami was sure to keep the concern and fear out of his voice, but it wasn't easy. He asked again, "Why don't you want to go to the hospital, Akihito?"

Akihito's eyes sparked with recognition as he heard the voice, and that gave Asami hope. Akihito's mouth worked itself open and closed for a few minutes as he thought.

Finally, he answered. "Our bed."

A tightening found its way unbidden into Asami's chest. He tried to shake off the feeling as he pressed, "What about our bed?"

Akihito's eyes slipped shut at this and he answered, "Smells like you."

Asami stayed quiet for a moment, not sure how to handle the different emotions welling up inside them. It wouldn't do to get sentimental, at least not right now, not when his kitten was in pain and afraid. And yet here he was, repeating those words to himself, locking them inside his chest like they were spun of gold.

He leaned down and responded, "Good boy. Don't worry, Akihito, I promise you. We're going home."

Akihito gave a soft sigh as he heard this. His body relaxed and he sagged into Asami's arm, resting his head against the older man's chest. Asami, for his part, wrapped Akihito all the closer and gave all his warmth to the small figure.

For now, it was the best he could do.

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Akihito didn't really feel cold anymore.

Well, he did, but it was muted because everything around him was so warm now. He could still feel the aftereffects of the frost biting into his skin, as though it had coiled deep in his belly like a parasite, but it was manageable. At least, compared to the rest of it.

His head throbbed and he was sick to his stomach. If there'd been anything to throw up, he probably would have, although perhaps he didn't even have the strength to gag at this point. His whole body felt unbearably heavy and he couldn't stand to move, simply from the idea of the pain it would cause.

He was aware that he wasn't moving anymore. In fact, he was lying down. He steeled himself and took a deep breath. It was hard – he didn't really have the control right now for deep, controlled breaths. But he did it and immediately the scent of his lover filled him, pushed deep into his lungs and cleansed him. He relaxed as that comforting spell enchanted and overtook him. He felt a brief sting in his arm, but it only lasted a minute, and once it was over the pain began to diminish and he found that he could feel again.

Everything was fluffy and warm and soft. After so many hours of ice and hard and pain, it was like heaven. He wondered for just a moment if, perhaps, he was in heaven, but his lover's murmur reached his ears and he immediately understood where he was.

He wasn't able to think of the word just then. It wasn't until a few minutes later, when he felt the bed dip and warm, strong arms encircling him that it sprung into his head.

Home.

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After Asami agreed to take Akihito to the penthouse and not the hospital, Akihito became quite docile. He relaxed into Asami's arms, let him soothe and pet him in a way he would never allow were he conscious. Asami, worried as he was for his little lover, somewhat enjoyed the ride back to the penthouse, able to shower Akihito with unrestrained affections as the boy snuggled up to him in his arms.

Doctor Yamaki was already waiting at the penthouse when Asami strode in, having been shown in by Suoh. It was a quick examination and diagnosis – fortunately, Akihito was suffering only from hypothermia, no broken bones, no beatings to add to his misery – and it only took a moment to slip the IV into the boy's veins, as the machines had already been set and calibrated.

Asami watched intently as Akihito shifted in their bed, seeming to come to terms with his surroundings. At first, he had placed the boy on Akihito's side of the bed, but when the little photographer failed to relax, he shifted him over to Asami's side. Akihito took a deep breath and heaved a little sigh, sinking visibly into the mattress and allowing Asami and the doctor to fidget over him undisturbed.

"He's going to be quite sick for a while, I can assure you. As I'm sure you'll remember from your own experience, hypothermia can leave a person quite weak and incapacitated. Takaba-san should remain in bed for at least the remainder of the week, depending on his recovery. I'll see him again when the week is out to make another assessment."

The doctor instructed Asami on how to care for his little charge, and Asami listened intently to every word, never straying more than a few feet from Akihito's side. Once all of the instructions had been relayed carefully and the doctor shown out, he slipped in to bed next to Takaba and wrapped him in his arms.

The pain medication in the IV had made quick work of the miserable little boy in his bed, and soon Akihito's breathing seemed less labored and the lines of pain creasing his face began to smooth. Asami watched, never taking his eyes off his lover as Akihito relaxed into his arms and snuggled closer to him. Asami let out a soft sigh as he pulled the little photographer closer.

"You brat," he muttered into Akihito's mop of blonde hair, kissing the top of his scalp as he did so. "Do you have any idea how precious you are to me? What hell you put me through on a daily basis?" Akihito's only answer was his continued breathing. The boy had fallen into a deep sleep that the doctor had warned might take him more than a few hours to wake from. "Maybe I should just lock you up in here all the time," Asami grumbled. Although he didn't mean it seriously – of course not, how could he? – the line of thought continued unbidden in his head.

Keep him tied up inside me, my little light to light the darkness that surrounds me, so no one could take him, no one could hurt him, so he wouldn't ever be able to be corrupted and embittered like I was. Bind him in unbreakable chains so he won't leave ever again. Because I can't lose him. If he dies, I die. There will be nothing left to call a life.

Of course he could never actually tie his Akihito down.

Could he?

The question was left unanswered and he ignored it for the moment, content instead to continue to observe his little lover recovering slowly in his arms.

It was going to be a long week.