Zevran shivered. Why did he take that job again? He made a mental note never to go on suicide missions or any mission in Ferelden again.
He laid curled up against the warden under the covers. Devon's warm breath brushing against his forehead gave him some comfort. The chirping of some crickets provided the only other distraction.
He let out muffled groans protesting the slightest movement of the other man's arms which currently remained firmly wrapped around his chest. Whenever the arm moved, a small strip of skin that previously enjoyed the other man's heat now experienced the cruel backlash of the cold Fereldan winter air.
He made another mental note never to visit Ferelden during winter. If he'd thought this blighted country felt as though it remained stuck in perpetual winter with terrible weather to boot before, this was now, well, proven wrong by introducing even more cold and even more terrible weather thus introducing an actual Fereldan winter.
"Ah..."
His body continued to shiver as though a mage had frozen him in a block of ice. He cursed up a storm in Antivan. The body lying down beside him sighed and started to move. It took Zevran a moment to realize that Devon was getting up.
"No...Warden." His voice came out whiny and the sound broke off at the end. Zevran blamed the cold.
Devon refused to listen, or even acknowledge his protest it seemed, and left the tent. The moment he held one flap of the tent aside to get out, a gust of cold air entered the tent and Zevran actually felt the few hairs he had on his elven body stand on end.
He quickly curled up and pulled the fur blanket around his body just so that the only opening was the one which left him breathing room. It was nights like these that really made him long for a glass of Antivan brandy whilst watching the sunset on a hot Antivan summer evening or something similar such as sweating doubly as much as usual during one of those crazy warm nights due to having just fulfilled some desires with a saucy minx or two under a cover made of more refined and light fabrics.
The warden sure took his sweet time doing... whatever it was that he was doing. Did he have to take a piss or something? Maybe re-adjust himself after another darkspawn nightmare? No. Normally he would have at least mentioned it if he'd had another one of those.
Or perhaps he'd sensed darkspawn. No, impossible. The only sounds outside were the rustling of some leaves being toyed with by the wind, the chirping of a few birds that had failed to find sleep and those damned annoying crickets. Darkspawn definitely needed some lessons in subtlety. Even the supposed rogues were audible once they came close enough. Hm, except if they were Shrieks. Then, perhaps. No, no. Impossible. If the warden has sensed something, surely he would have at least warned Zevran and then the rest of the camp. He would also have taken his sword and dagger.
At any rate, the warden's body heat felt like a smouldering lump of fire wood that was just warm enough to hold without burning him and Zevran wanted it back.
He yelped when the fall of something on his back pushed his thoughts away. Whatever it was felt relatively light of weight. He heard the warden sputter out a laugh.
"Did that noise just now come from you?"
Zevran pulled the blanket off just a little only to find that the weight dropped on him earlier had apparently been two more fur blankets.
"Do not scare a man like that."
Now that really set the warden's laughter off, though he tried to tone the volume down after the initial spontaneous reaction, likely so as not to bother the others at camp.
"This coming from you, the self-proclaimed 'master assassin'? You should have heard me coming ages ago. I'm not exactly the sneaky type, after all."
He hated to admit it, but the warden had a point. How did he get so deep lost in thought that he stopped paying attention to what his senses told him? Maybe it was this damned country... Or was he going soft? That thought sent chill of an entirely different kind running up his spine.
"It is this blighted Ferelden weather, of course, and I was just falling asleep too."
Devon pulled one eyebrow up and his mouth twisted in a way that Zevran had started calling the other man's 'bullshit face'. Yet he said nothing of it to Zevran's relief, this time anyhow.
"Where did you find these? Did we have extra blankets all along?"
"No, but I weaselled some of Bodahn for a relatively low price."
He had paid for these? What for? To what end? Wasn't it better to conserve their resources to fight the blight? Zevran really knew the answer, despite the pointless line of questioning in his head. Devon cared about his people and most of all, he cared about him and sometimes that scared Zevran.
"There is no need."
"No need? You've been lying there shivering and likely freezing your ass off for two nights straight. I did try to move the tent closer to the fire, you know, amongst other measures. Seeing as that's not working, time for more blankets."
"I-Thank you."
"You're welcome. Now scoot over and quit hogging all the blankets."
Devon crept under the covers himself, laid down beside Zevran and took the other in his arms again as usual. The first few nights after the start of their arrangement he had on several occasions tried to sneak his arm out from under the warden who's warrior grip prevented a quick escape. After a while he'd given up trying to get back to his own tent. It was warmer this way anyway and actually quite comfortable. Not that he'd ever admit this out loud. Just as he'd never admit that he enjoyed the feel of that hand running up and down his back or that the other man's smile did weird things to his insides or that his protection of the warden during combat no longer served merely to save his own skin.
Uh, right. It was warm enough to sleep now. Best get to that.
Also on: devontabris . devianart . *com* *slash* art/Cold-512893211
archiveofourown . *org* /works/3323342
(sorry, apparently fanfiction . *net* is a dick and won't allow me to post links properly. If you want to look at it on the other sites, just piece it together by yourself)