Author's note: This story is a stand-alone (for now), unrelated to any of my other Munch & Fin fics. I've always had a weak spot for this fictional trope ("huddling for warmth") and wanted to finally write one for these two. There might be a sequel in the works; if you enjoyed, feedback is always welcome!

The storm had come upon them entirely unexpectedly and out of nowhere, like a criminal lurking in the shadows waiting for the surprise attack. Only this time, their assailant was a heavy blast of snow and ice erupting from cloudy December skies.

"I thought they said nothin' but some flurries on the radio earlier," Fin complained as he struggled to see anything through the front windshield of their car. Even with the wipers going at full speed he found it difficult to maintain any visibility. "This is a damn blizzard!"

"I told you we should have waited until tomorrow to take a road trip to South Jersey," Munch replied. "You never can trust the forecast, especially this time of year. We might have received some useful background information on our suspect today, but it won't do us any good if we end up crashed and frozen to death in a ditch."

"We ain't gonna crash, and we ain't gonna freeze to death. Shut up so I can concentrate." Fin squinted and tried to ignore the gloom and doom from his partner to focus on the road in front of him. What he could see of it, at least, which wasn't very much at all. The snow was falling so hard at this point that they were in almost white-out conditions. What little he had to steer by was the matted-down tire tracks in front of him that showed where the road had to be—and that at least one vehicle had successfully made it this way not long before them.

Fin didn't want to admit John was right; they should have waited until tomorrow. But he'd been eager to make progress on this case and the forecast hadn't been anything nearly this dire last night when they'd made travel plans. Their primary suspect in a series of brutal rape cases in Manhattan had grown up in Salem County, had in fact lived here until moving to New York City five years ago. Several old, open cases in the system from this area seemed as though they might have been his doing, so they'd hit the road in the morning to talk to the local police, see if they could learn anything from them—and also from those past victims if they were willing. The details they'd gathered could end up being useful, but if they got stuck down here they would end up losing a lot more time than if they'd simply waited a day to make the journey.

Even so, Fin wasn't going to give Munch the satisfaction of admitting he'd been right. And so he was determined to get them back to New York City—and to civilization—by tonight, freak snowstorm be damned.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Munch bugged him again.

"Yeah. Sign 'bout a mile back said this way to the Turnpike. Long as we can get there, you know they'll have that plowed and salted and we can make it the rest of the way back to New York." Or at least to a more built-up part of Jersey where they could get a room in a motel until this storm passed and the roads were in better shape. Before this trip Fin hadn't even known this state still had counties so rural and remote, mostly large farms with the occasional small town that looked like something out of a 50s or 60s sitcom. Hard to believe they were only about a hundred miles from Manhattan, and yet it felt like a completely different part of the country.

"Still think we should have stayed on the main road we were on before."

"Told you this piece of crap car wasn't gonna make that hill! You saw those other cars up ahead of us sliding and getting stuck." Fin's old beat-up sedan was fine for city driving but it wasn't built for this kind of weather. Neither were most of the department cars…but if he'd logged one out for the day they'd at least have a radio to try to contact someone, and for that he did blame himself. He just hadn't wanted to bother on his way to pick up Munch this morning, and now he was cursing that decision.

"And how do you know we won't run into another hill this way?"

"I don't. But you goin' off about it is not helping me concentrate." Munch was a lousy backseat driver on a good day, but at a time like this he was making Fin practically homicidal.

Munch finally fell into a sulky silence, shrinking into his bulky winter coat and hat while Fin leaned over the steering wheel, praying silently for signs of civilization. Or at least, another sign directing them to the Turnpike. But unfortunately his—and Munch's—worst fear was realized as they came around a hard curve in the road: there was a big dip ahead and then what appeared to be a fairly steep incline on the other side of it.

"Shit," Fin cursed.

"What now?"

"Nothing. Hold on." There was no turning around at this point; all he could do was hope that if the car had good momentum going down the hill that it would be enough to propel them forward up the other side. He kept a steady, slow speed so as not to slip and lose control of the vehicle, trying to stay in the grooves left by what appeared to be a heavy truck before them. The car made it down the slope all right and seemed to pick up some good momentum, giving Fin hope…

…but then they made it only a short distance up the other side before the vehicle came to a dead stop. Fin tried giving more gas, but all that did was make the car wheels spin harder, slipping and sliding in the snow.

"Son of a bitch!" Fin's worst fears appeared to be realized.

"We're stuck."

"No shit, Sherlock!" He was already in low gear so shifting down wouldn't help. He tried rocking the tires, reversing carefully a little and trying to move forward again, but nothing did the trick. The car simply wasn't heavy enough to get through this much snow on an incline. "Get in the back seat," he said to Munch.

"What?"

"Move your bony ass to the back seat! Need to see if that'll give us enough weight in the rear of the car to get out of this."

Munch huffed but did as he was told, quickly getting out and back in the car, in the rear seat. Of course it would be better to have that extra weight in the trunk, but Fin wasn't about to ask his partner to do that…even if it would keep him quiet. "All right, hold on." Fin turned the engine on again and tried to see if they got any better traction now…but nothing. The car still wouldn't budge; the wheels simply spun and made increasingly unpleasant noises as they failed to gain any traction in the snow.

Fin turned the engine off again and slammed his fist angrily against the steering wheel.

"I doubt that's going to help the situation any."

"No, but it felt good. Damn." Fin squinted out at the snow blanketing everything around them, seemingly coming down harder than ever. In less than an hour several inches had fallen and showed no signs of letting up.

"Want me to get out and try to give you a push?"

Fin contemplated that, but figured that would do no good, either. It wasn't that they were lodged in a snow bank; the car simply didn't have the power to get up this hill thanks to the wet snow. "No, that won't help. You can't push this car all the way up this hill 'n neither can I. Suppose we could bundle up, follow those car tracks before they disappear and go looking for help," he suggested.

"No, that's suicide," Munch said. "I can't remember the last house we saw, or even a barn or other kind of shelter. In these conditions it would be too easy to lose direction. We need to stay here in the car, try to stay warm, and hope that this passes over as quickly as it started. Someone will have to come down this road once it's stopped snowing."

"So you hope."

"Let's try not to get too negative, here."

"You're the one who was just bitching about how we're gonna crash and freeze to death, and you're telling me not to be negative?"

Munch only asked calmly, "You have any emergency supplies in the trunk?"

"Yeah, should be a kit in there, plus a couple tools 'n things."

"Get them out now, or give me the keys and I'll do it."

"Here," Fin took the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to his partner. "Help yourself." He was too pissed off to be of much use. Pissed off and…maybe a bit nervous, although he wasn't going to admit that to his partner. Being out of the city and in such a rural area already had him way out of his comfort zone. To now be stuck in a snow storm, in the middle of nowhere?

Phone, he thought, fishing his cell out of his coat pocket. Maybe they could call someone. He had the local police sheriff's number in his recent calls since he'd spoken to him by phone yesterday…but of course, he had no signal, whether due to the storm or the remote location. When he tried to make an outgoing call, he got nothing but the sad tone of a failed connection.

He tried a few more times before he heard the rear car door open again and Munch got in, bringing a blast of cold air with him. His hat and coat lapels were dusted with white, which he brushed off with gloved hands. "Okay. Fortunately you had a scraper and a brush in the trunk, that's good, but no shovel. Looks like we've got a few flares if need be, a flashlight, jumper cables, one blanket…found an old yellow shopping bag in there too, which I tied to the antenna as a signal to anyone who might come driving by." He picked up the newspaper that he'd been reading on the drive down, which had then been tossed into the back. "Wish we had more of these, we could use them to insulate the windows against the cold."

As it was he started taking some of the paper sheets, balling them up and shoving them onto the back window shelf, where it met the top of the seats. "Munch, what are you, some kind of boy scout?" Fin asked.

"As a matter of fact I was. You should get in the back here with me."

"What for?"

"Body heat," Munch explained. He unfolded the heavy wool blanket over himself once he'd used up all of the newspaper. "We can huddle closer to stay warm that way."

"I ain't 'huddling' with you."

"For fuck's sake, Fin. We're stuck in this car in a blizzard, and we can't run the heater constantly to stay warm. I'm not going to molest you. Just get your ass back here and we can share the blanket before you give yourself a case of hypothermia."

Fin bit his lip against saying anything more in protest. He knew Munch was right; sitting here for five minutes or so with the engine off, he could already feel the cold from outside starting to creep in through his own heavy winter clothes. And so with a sigh he got out and quickly got in the back of the car, on the driver's side. Munch only gave him a small, smug smile of satisfaction as he scooted closer, inviting Fin to share the blanket with him.

"This thing's barely big enough for one," Fin said about the blanket.

"Better than nothing. And see? This isn't so bad, is it?"

"Guess not," he grudgingly agreed, trying not to sound either too annoyed nor too pleased about this situation. Because what Fin didn't want to admit was that getting close to his partner like this was precisely what he'd secretly wanted to do for some time—just certainly not under any circumstances like these.

Fin had more than a few secrets he'd kept from his partner, even after several years of working together. Things like the fact that he was was more into men than women, and that was the real reason his marriage had failed years before—trying to force feelings that hadn't really been there for him, simply to try to live a "normal", expected life. And things like how he found John Munch inexplicably attractive even if he was nothing like the kind of man who usually caught Fin's eye. There was something about him that was strangely compelling, as much as he could be annoying and frustrating as Hell; something in his sharp wit and quick mind that captured Fin's interest, even when they held such differing views on almost every subject under the sun. Something in those dark brown eyes hiding behind his ever-present glasses that called to Fin, that spoke of a passionate and deep soul beneath all of his defensive snark and sarcasm.

But right now wasn't the time to think about those things. Actually there never was a good time to think about them, considering their work situation, so Fin usually did his best to keep his feelings to himself. Their cold weather attire did a lot to dissuade any potential environment of intimacy even as they sat close, a barrier which Fin was thankful for in this moment.

"This is crazy," Fin had to say as he shook his head in disbelief at their predicament. Of all the places he figured he might end up someday, sitting out an unexpected blizzard in a stuck car with his partner was not one he'd ever imagined.

"And I'm sure the captain and the rest of the squad will never let us live it down when they find out. But not much we can do except sit and wait. How full is the gas tank?"

"'Bout half. I was planning on filling up right before we got on the Turnpike."

"Damn. Well, hopefully that will be enough to get us through this." John pushed back his coat sleeve to check his watch. "We can run the engine and turn on the heat every hour for about ten minutes or so, as long as we keep the exhaust clear and crack a window. That way we can check the radio as well for news about the storm."

"Every hour? How long you expecting to stay like this?"

"I have no idea! I'm just thinking worst case scenario." Munch rearranged himself slightly, pulling the blanket higher up over his chest. With his heavy coat, thick scarf pulled up to his chin, and ridiculous-looking trapper hat down over his ears, only the front of his face was left exposed to the cold. Yet he still appeared as though the chill was getting to him already.

"You gonna be okay?" Fin asked, worry in his mind that he tried to keep out of his voice.

"For now. But as you say, my 'bony ass' doesn't have that much natural insulation against the cold."

Fin snorted at that. He tried to relax a little more, to enjoy this unexpected opportunity to be close to his partner if nothing else. "Still trying to picture you as a boy scout, man. Somehow the image don't fit."

"Yeah, well, neither did staying one for very long."

"You get booted out?" Fin could easily imagine Munch being a mouthy kid who didn't know when to shut up. Not so different from how he was today as a middle-aged man.

"No. Quit when I was thirteen. After my father died. My mother needed more help after that so I traded in scouting for a paper route to bring in some extra money. Plus I needed to take care of my little brother after school, since mom had to go back to work."

"Sorry. Didn't know." As much as Munch loved to talk, he rarely said anything about his childhood. Then again it wasn't a topic Fin tended to open up about himself, either. "I never really knew my dad," he confessed, if they were sharing things never spoken of before. Safe things, at least. "It was always just me, my mom and my younger brother, so I spent most of my days trying to keep him out of trouble."

"Where's your brother now?"

"Doin' all right for himself. Did well enough in school to get a scholarship to Hudson, now he's teaching at Bronx Community College." Fin tried to remember the last time they'd spoken. Maybe his birthday? The obligatory phone call, the politely distant conversation of two men who'd grown up and grown apart as their lives took completely separate paths.

"And your mom?"

"She passed away a few years back…before I moved over to SVU. Cancer." She'd been the glue keeping their small family together, and once she'd been gone…well, nothing had ever really been the same.

"Sorry to hear that." Munch sighed and shifted in the seat, as if trying to inch closer into Fin's body heat. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about people dying right now."

"Thank you."

"So what do you want to talk about?"

"Why we gotta talk?" Fin asked. He wasn't someone who needed every second of his life filled with conversation and chatter, noise without purpose. "Can't we just…sit and conserve our energy by keeping quiet?"

"Fine."

And Munch managed to keep quiet, for all of what felt like no more than two or three blissfully peaceful minutes to Fin. And then, "So how come you never got married again? Did you decide you were one and done?"

Fin dropped his head back against the car seat. This was definitely not the conversation he wanted to be having right now. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't need to get married four times to realize marriage wasn't for me. What's up with that, anyway?"

He felt Munch's shrug against his own shoulder. "What can I say, I'm a fool for love. I love falling in love, being in love…it's the staying in love that always seems to be the hard part. Not so much on my end of the equation, mind you. But just like I can never seem to keep a partner on the job for long, no one wants to stay married to John Munch, either."

"We've been partners more than three years now," Fin protested.

"Yeah. You're on your way to being the record holder for dealing with John Munch on the job before retiring, transferring, or eating your gun." Fin was about to ask about the last when Munch rested his head against Fin's shoulder and teased, "Come to think of it, given our track record of successful partnership, maybe you and I should get married."

Fin was not going to reply to that, save to say, "Maybe I should take a nap."

Munch sighed, lifting his head. "All right. I'll wake you up if it stops snowing, or when it's time we should run the heat again."

"Right." Fin closed his eyes and tried to relax in peace and quiet, even if he didn't think he could actually sleep thanks to the cold, being stuck in this car…and having Munch right there next to him. With his eyes closed and his senses focused elsewhere, he found himself more keenly aware than even before of the man's body beside his own, his breathing, the smell of his cologne. To pass the time—and distract himself pleasantly—Fin tried to imagine their being close like this only in very different circumstances.

Like in his bedroom, beneath the covers, warding off the cold of winter but in comfort and far more hospitable surroundings.

It was a pleasant fantasy. Pity he knew it could never become reality.

Fin eventually did fall asleep, much to his surprise and something he only realized he'd done when Munch jabbed him with a hard elbow in the side. "Wha?" he sputtered.

"Nap-time's over, sleepy head. We should run the heat for a while but one of us needs to go make sure the exhaust is clear first."

"Still snowing? Damn." Snow caked the windows of their car now, so it was only when Fin opened the door that he could confirm it was indeed still falling. Judging by the snow on the top of their car roof, at least two more inches had come down since they'd gotten stuck.

He made quick work of brushing snow off of the exhaust and then getting back inside the vehicle, where Munch had the blanket now wrapped wholly around his body, even draped over his head. He looked frankly miserable, and Fin was getting worried about what might happen if they were stuck here for more than another couple hours. He was able to reach forward between the front seats to turn on the ignition, at which point Munch cracked the window near where he was sitting to make sure, even with the exhaust cleared, that they didn't run any risk of carbon monoxide poisoning.

It took a few minutes but blessed warmth began to fill the interior of the car as they sat there, Munch rolling his neck and wiggling his fingers within his leather gloves. Fin did the same, also flexing his toes inside his boots, shaking his arms out. The movement felt good and seemed to help raise his body temperature, keep the blood flowing.

"Guess you didn't hear or see signs of anyone comin' by while I was asleep," Fin asked.

"Nothing. Dead silence. In fact I can't recall ever being so perfectly surrounded by absolute silence before. At least until you started snoring like a band saw."

"Must've been the cold air clogging me up. Still surprised I nodded off so long like that."

"It's the cold." Munch put his hand to his mouth and yawned. "Put the radio on, let's hear if there's any news."

Fin did so, leaning forward to work the radio, trying to find any local stations not playing crap music or endless commercials. Eventually he gave up and switched to the AM, to see if they could get 1010 News from New York, but they were too far out of range. He gave up after a few minutes and said, "Forget it. Don't really matter, does it? We're stuck here one way or another."

"I know. I'm just worried about if it doesn't stop before it gets dark out here. It'll get even colder then and we'll be harder to spot."

"We can set off one of the flares then. Might actually make it easier for someone to find us then."

"You're right."

Ten minutes up, Munch told Fin to kill the engine. He lifted the blanket up to share with Fin, who this time didn't complain about getting as close as they could possibly manage beneath it.

"You want to take a turn getting some sleep now?" Fin offered.

"Probably, in a few." They were both quiet for a minute or two, before Munch had to try to strike up conversation one more time. "Kidding aside, Fin, I want you to know…you're the best partner I've ever had. I know I'm not the easiest to put up with even on my better days, but it's nice to go to work and not have to wonder every morning if I'm going to be facing someone new across the desk from me."

Munch's words made Fin feel flush, more warming than the blanket over them or the closeness of their bodies. "You ain't that bad," he tried to dismiss. "Had my share of problems with partners in the past. First guy I ended up with once I made detective? Was a racist son of a bitch who seemed to think his job was to make sure I never took any credit away from him on a case, even when I was doin' ninety percent of the work. Pissed me off so bad, that was why I left the force for a while, went into the military."

"I wondered how and why that happened."

"Yeah. Thought it might help me 'find myself', that usual b.s." And all it had ended up doing was filling his head with nightmares and lingering memories of a war zone that had made the rough streets of his childhood seem like a Disney playground. Coming back home and jumping into Narcotics and deep undercover work, losing himself in made-up identities? That had then been easier than facing what he'd learned about himself overseas. "You ever think about going back to Baltimore, being closer to your family?" Fin asked.

"Never. For one, the more distance between myself and my family, the better it is for all of us. And the last time I went down there for anything related to the job, it was to help investigate the shooting of my former C.O., Al Giardello. Seeing everyone again, from my old squad in Homicide…" Munch paused, then shook his head as if to ward off the memories. "Too many ghosts and too much bad mojo for me. Gee ended up dying right after we solved the case. After that…I never wanted to step foot in that city again."

"I get that." His last partner getting shot was what had led to Fin's departure from Narcotics. Some things necessitated moving on, letting go. Fin had sworn after that he'd never get close to another partner, not as a friend, certainly not more than that…and yet here he found himself, if push came to shove having to admit that Munch was probably the closest he had to a real friend these days. And he only wished they could be more.

The warm air from the car heater was already seeming like a distant memory. Fin felt a shudder pass through John's body and a protective instinct took over, against all of his reservations. He shifted even closer, lifting an arm to put around the man's shoulders, tugging the blanket tighter around them both. Munch gave him a quick sideways glance, slightly questioning, but no protest. He rested his head against Fin, and the silence that followed between them felt more comfortable and peaceful than before.

Fin blinked, for a moment disoriented and confused as he woke up out of a sound sleep and found himself surrounded by an eerie night-time darkness, light only seeming to come from the moon glow reflecting off the snow covering their car windows. Things slowly came into muted focus: the interior of his car. The cold…so cold now he could barely feel his toes. A somewhat warmer weight heavy against him, the smell of wool and leather and…

"John?" he said softly, but got no response. Shit. He remembered was supposed to stay awake while Munch took a nap, but apparently he had drifted off as well. Slept so long the late afternoon had turned into early evening and he had no idea how much time had passed.

He couldn't tell for sure without opening the door or window, but he had a sense it had stopped snowing at last. At least he certainly hoped it had. "John, wake up," he said. "Time to check outside, run some heat."

John's head rested against Fin's shoulder, and he was curled up as close as he could get in the awkward space of the car back seat. But he didn't respond when Fin called his name that second time, and that set off a wave of worry. "Hey, c'mon, wake up."

Finally, he got a slightly murmured response, but not enough to make Fin happy. "Cold," Munch mumbled, trying to bury himself deeper against Fin's body.

"I know, man, that's why you gotta wake up." Fin reached up with his free arm to feel John's face. His skin was cool to the touch; too cold. The danger of hypothermia seemed all too real at that moment and Fin fought off the urge to panic. He slipped loose from Munch to reach forward, turn the engine and the heat on as high as he could blast it, barely cracking the window enough to get fresh air in and confirm that indeed it had stopped snowing.

"John, come on. Gotta warm up and see what we can do to get out of this mess."

Munch blinked open his eyes but appeared confused, disoriented…putting the overhead light on inside the car Fin could see precisely how pale his face was. Fin cursed himself for falling asleep instead of guarding over them both the way he was supposed to. He moved in close to his partner again, wrapping him up in his arms, in the blanket, trying to gently coax some heat into his body.

He thought none of it was helping, however. Munch felt listless and cold still, and the fear of possibly losing him in such ridiculous conditions suddenly seemed a not so distant possibility. Fin yanked off his gloves, wanting to hold the man's face in his bare hands, try to warm him directly.

The touch did seem to help, a bit...but not sufficient to make Fin happy. And so he did the only thing he could only think of next, which if it didn't help warm up his partner it ought to at least shock him out of his disorientation.

He leaned in and blew warm breath on the man's lips, then followed it with a kiss.

John's lips were cold…so, so cold. That was the first thing Fin noticed, and all he wanted to do was warm them with his own. It wasn't sexual, or even sensual, not at first, more a desperate act to breathe and bring warmth and heat, to startle the man awake. Dealing with the fall-out afterwards was the last thing on Fin's mind at that time.

Munch made a small, startled sound in his throat but didn't move to push Fin away or resist in the slightest. In fact, after a long moment, Fin felt Munch reaching for him, trying to grab for him beneath the blanket and wrap him up tighter.

Fin didn't want to let go, and he wouldn't, but he finally broke the kiss to fill his lungs with air, to look into John's eyes. What he saw there, he couldn't quite understand, wasn't sure how on Earth to describe it or how to answer the question that seemed to be on the man's lips. He was tempted to lean in again and steal another kiss, to not stop until they were both as warm as they could get together.

But a sudden knocking against the slightly cracked car window startled Fin so much he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"You in there! Hey! You okay?"

Fin reached to wind down the window fully, and was nearly blinded by the bright flashing lights of the plow vehicle parked nearby. A man in a heavy coat, his face mostly hidden by a ski mask beneath his coat hood, peered in at them both.

"No man, we've been stuck here for hours!" Fin said.

"Just the two of you?" the man asked.

"Yeah. Not from around here, got lost and then caught in the storm."

"You're not the only ones. Hold on, let me radio for help. We'll have an emergency vehicle on the way as soon as possible."

"Thank you!" Fin sighed as the man ran off to his vehicle. "Gonna be okay," he said assuredly to Munch, though he was hesitant to let him go. In fact he decided he wouldn't, not until help had arrived. He would worry about the aftermath of his actions once that was the only thing they had to think about.

Fin walked down the empty hospital corridor, looking for the room where he'd been told he'd find his partner. The police who had come to their rescue, after the plow driver discovered them, had insisted on taking the two to the nearest E.R. to be checked out for exposure. Fin hadn't complained about that—not so much out of worry for his own health but for John's.

They'd both been seen to quickly, for there weren't many others at this small regional hospital on a night like tonight. Only a few unlucky individuals like themselves who had been found stranded in their cars, and several elderly people who had been caught unprepared for the storm in their homes.

Fin peered in the open doorway of the treatment room and saw Munch sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding his winter boots back on. His color was much better than before, which was a serious relief to see. He looked over at Fin and gave a small smile.

"Hey. They give you a clean bill of health?" Munch asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"Good to go, only mild hypothermia. Doc said another hour out in that cold and it might have been a different story, but, looks like you're stuck with me for a while longer."

"I ain't complaining about that." Fin was indeed relieved. He'd been told the same and treated with gentle warming, fluids and food, and cautioned by the doctor to take it easy and rest up as much as possible for the next few days. And as soon as they got home, that was exactly what Fin intended to do.

John slid off the bed to gather his coat and hat. "What now? What about the car?"

"Officer I talked to earlier said they got us off the road once it was plowed through; in fact he drove the car here for us so it wouldn't be in the way come morning, or where it might get plowed under when more trucks go by."

"Nice of them. Guess I can't complain about small town police any longer."

"Yeah, you and me both. Said the Turnpike should be good if we wanted to head home now, though it's going to be slow-going."

"Slow is better than not going anywhere at all. And sitting around a hospital waiting room until morning doesn't sound like a wonderful prospect."

Fin nodded. "We can get on 295 right down the road from here and then pick up the Turnpike. Saw there's a gas station across the street here that's open."

"Good. Gas up the car, and let's fuel up on some coffee and whatever they've got that's warm and edible to go." They walked to the elevators to head down to the main floor. John pressed the button and then looked at Fin, and in the quiet of the moment seemed ready to bring up the subject that Fin had been hoping to avoid, at least for a while longer. But maybe it was better to tackle it quickly, even if he didn't want to.

"Hey, so…" Fin began, and then stopped himself. He hated shit like this.

"So."

"Back in the car, what happened…I'm sorry 'bout that."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Fin. You didn't hear me complaining at the time, did you?"

"Maybe not, but it wasn't appropriate."

The elevator arrived and Fin followed Munch inside. He pressed the button for the Lobby, the doors closed, and Munch continued, "I do want to know one thing, if I may ask."

"'Course."

"Was it simply the circumstances, hypothermia, whatever...or was it something more than that?"

Fin took a deep breath. "It wasn't just the circumstances...though I would've done anything to make sure you were okay. But that...that was something I've been wanting to do for a long time."

"I see."

The doors opened up on the lobby and the two men headed toward the exit in silence. The parking garage was a short walk down a corridor connecting it to the hospital building. In his head Fin was already composing what he would say next, once they got on the road. How if Munch wanted a new partner after this he'd understand, he'd put in the request with the captain himself, he would…

…not be surprised about anything that happened next, except for Munch suddenly grabbing hold of him, pulling him close, and kissing him hard with lips now warm and yielding and fuck, Fin didn't want to let go or let this end.

But end it eventually had to, and Fin found himself blinking at his partner's bemused expression. "Appropriate or not," Munch said, "I've wanted to do that for a long time, too."

Fin didn't know what to say. But then, he decided that saying anything in response to that really wasn't very important, anyway. Not when he could be kissing John instead, holding him close without having to pretend that it wasn't something he desperately wanted to do. So that's precisely what he did, without a care as to who might see them or what anyone might think.

All that mattered was the person in his arms and realizing that this might just be the beginning for them, not an ending.

Finally he pulled away, feeling the grin spreading on his face and heat building within that could spell trouble if they didn't get somewhere more private soon enough. "Let's go find the car and try to get home before morning," Fin urged.

"Your place or mine?"

"Don't matter. One way or another I'm planning on calling in sick tomorrow and not getting out of bed all day."

"Sounds like a most agreeable plan," Munch said, slipping his arm into Fin's as they continued on to the garage. "Anyone asks, we can blame it on the hypothermia."