It was too cold, Alex decided.
It was too cold and too bright now that snow covered everything in sight. He was thankful that the sky was at least a nice dull grey, but considered that if the sun was out it might melt everything, and he wouldn't have to deal with his eyes hurting anymore.
It was making him tired and unfocused. So tired that he accidentally shoved a soldier so hard it killed the poor bastard, and he hadn't even realized what had happened until bullets were flying and Cross came to save his ass.
This is what led to where he was now, standing in an alley and staring at the Specialist's shoes while he yelled something—scolding him, probably. Alex wasn't paying attention. He couldn't, really. Each time he tried to focus on the man's words it just sounded like gibberish.
Cross must have noticed he wasn't listening, because he slipped his palms under the virus's jaw and angled his head up towards his own. Alex winced, light now hitting his eyes in a way it hadn't been before. He squinted in an attempted to block it out, but they slipped closed entirely when the heat from Cross' hands started to settle in.
They were unusually hot, like he had a fever, even through his gloves. (Which were really just more biomass, so of course they were hot, too.)
Cold air stung Alex's nose as he drew in a deep breath and sighed. He decided to focus on the warmth spreading through his jaw and the texture of Cross' voice—nice and rough, just like his hands. Just like everything about him, really.
The Specialist stopped talking, and soon after Alex felt breath on his face. He cracked his eyes open, and Cross was examining him; looking somewhat annoyed, but there was something else, too—concern? Confusion?—Alex couldn't tell.
Although there was some discomfort in being so close to the man, the virus was glad that he was leaning over him; he blocked out some of the light and made it bearable to keep his eyes open.
"Hey," Cross said upon noticing Alex was looking at him, asking for his attention. There was a long delay in his reply, but Alex eventually hummed a response.
"What's wrong with you?" Cross asked, rolling the other's head around in his hands until he pulled away, something Alex instantly regretted, already missing the heat cradling his jaw.
Without Cross supporting him, he let his head hang, staring at their feet once more.
"…It's cold." Alex mumbled and watched Cross step back, leaving imprints in the snow where he stood.
"That's why you're acting like this?" Cross questioned, raising his arm and gesturing with his hand.
Alex didn't respond, but grabbed Cross' hand and pressed it back against his jaw. He was surprised when the Specialist didn't pull away, or hit him, or… respond at all.
Alex lifted his head a bit, trying to get a glimpse of the man's face from under his hood. His expression was neutral as he stared down at the other virus, but looked away as he pulled his hand back.
He was disappointed at the loss of heat until Cross stepped to his side and threw his arm over the smaller man's shoulders, pulling him closer. Alex reached around the other's back and placed his hand on his shoulder, without really thinking about it. The smaller virus lazily rolled his head to the side to glance up at him.
Cross sighed before speaking. "Let's make a deal. I walk you home, and you stay bundled up and out of trouble. Alright?" He peered down at him and Alex nodded once.
So they began their trek to Dana's place.