How mankind survived the last Ice Age, Stephen would never grasp. Never in his entire life had he been so bloody cold; he hadn't even known it was possible to be so cold. Every step made his joints ache, his blood felt as though it'd crystallized in his veins, and he was quite certain his bone marrow had become permafrost. He was really starting to regret not heading back to the ARC for at least a little while, but after the anomaly had closed, all he wanted was to go home to his flat and get in a bath hot enough to thaw him out some. His fingers and toes were completely numb now.
He shivered again as the snow still clinging in his hair melted, icy water trickling down the back of his neck. He was grateful that he was getting home so late – he'd be hard-pressed to explain to his neighbours why his teeth were chattering and he was tracking snow when it was the middle of summer. It took him three tries to get his keys out of his pocket, which he promptly dropped. Another two attempts got the door unlocked, and he was shuffling into the flat, barely able to kick the door shut behind him. Scrubbing his hands together in hopes of warming them at least a little, he managed to slowly make his way to the bedroom.
The sight that greeted him was not one he expected.
Connor Temple was curled up on Stephen's side of the bed, lying on his side with his knees drawn up towards his chest in a semi-foetal position. Both hands were tucked beneath his head like a child, dark hair falling across his face, fluttering away from his mouth with each soft exhale. He was barefoot, wearing only his trousers and vest, the rest of his clothes scattered beside the bed.
Seeing him so peaceful, Stephen was abruptly too exhausted to even consider a bath, much less undressing. Rather, he staggered forward and crawled onto the bed, not even taking his boots off as he inched his way over to where Connor lay, flopping down beside him.
The shifting of the bed stirred the younger man, mumbling drowsy incoherence, but when one of Stephen's hands brushed against his bare arm, Connor jerked awake sharply. "Bleeding hell, you're cold!" he coughed, voice raspy with sleep. He scrubbed at his eyes with one hand, sitting up; Stephen noticed with faint amusement that Connor still wore his fingerless gloves. The young man looked down at him and frowned, noticing clearly now just how bedraggled his companion was. The tracker's hair was matted down with melted slush, his clothes were stiff with ice, his lips were faintly blue, and he had begun shivering badly. "What happened to you?" Connor asked, softer now as he leant closer, one hand lightly pressing against Stephen's cheek; his palm felt almost fever-hot on his chilled flesh.
"An-nomaly. I-Ice Age," Stephen got out past chattering teeth.
"Oh, hell." Connor shifted around, pushed the tracker over onto his back, then slid a leg over him so he straddled Stephen's hips, busily pulling off his jacket and then insistently tugging his t-shirt up over his head.
"D-don't really th-think I'm up f-for it, Conn," he mumbled thickly, now bare chested, as the geek lifted up and began unbuckling his belt.
Connor shot him a look. "Stephen, you have to get out of your half-frozen clothes before you get bloody hypothermia," he reminded in a firm yet patient voice, twisting around to pull off his boots before pushing his trousers down and off. Next to go were his shorts, and then he was entirely naked, his entire body shivering now. Connor grabbed the edge of the duvet and yanked it over them both, stretching his body out along the length of Stephen's, pressing as close to him as possible. Somehow, Stephen hadn't even noticed it, but the younger man had stripped out of his own clothes as well, only bare skin between them.
"Wh-what are you d-doing?" Stephen asked as Connor lay atop him like a great possessive cat, rubbing still-gloved hands up and down his arms, over his shoulders.
"Getting you warm again, you git. Why didn't you go back to the ARC and let them check you over?" Connor demanded, voice slightly muffled as his face was currently tucked in the crook of Stephen's neck.
"Tired. Home." It was getting hard to form complete sentences. Exhaustion had claws hooked in him, dragging him inexorably down to sleep. Still, he somehow found the strength to get his arms around Connor, who felt fever-hot against his chilled flesh, giving off heat like a fire. He yawned, lashes drooping.
"I know you're tired, but still, you could've at least asked for some hot chocolate. A thermal blanket, something," Connor murmured back, burrowing his head further against Stephen's neck.
"Don't need it. Have you," he said, squeezing him lightly. Connor was a very effective thermal blanket, and it was getting warm under the duvet. His shivering had slowed to the point of almost stopping entirely, and the pins-and-needles burning in his extremities meant he was no longer on the verge of frostbite or hypothermia.
"Git." The nerd nuzzled him affectionately, belying the insult, and curled his arms a little tighter around Stephen's waist. "Go to sleep, Stephen."
"Yes, mum," he replied, somehow able to dredge up dry humour, to which he received a sharp nip of teeth at his neck.
"Smart arse."
"You love it."
Connor chortled softly, breath warm on Stephen's neck. "You know I do."
"G'night, Conn."
"Goodnight, Stephen."