Illyana wakes to the sound of Kitty's teeth chattering. They're clicking together so violently that it almost sounds like there's a jackhammer chipping away at the metal floor of the room they share. Those same metal floors are what keep the halls of the New Xavier School at temperatures Kitty continuously complains must be in the negatives. They may as well be outside in the snow, she says. The only thing the walls save them from is the freezing wind.
Kitty isn't used to the cold, and if her constant complaining is any indication, she's far from its biggest fan. They had snow back in Westchester, of course, and sometimes Kitty will recount the snowball fight she and Rachel had against Emma Frost this one time, but she says that is the only fond memory she has of snow. That's a slight exaggeration, Illyana thinks, but she lets her whine.
Illyana knows a cold greater than this one. She knows the cold of loneliness and of harsh Russian winters that go on far longer than they should. She also knows the heat of Limbo's very air, and so is no stranger to extreme temperatures. Not that she would call Canadian winter extreme. Not even close. That's why she can happily waltz around in minimal clothing, her midriff and back exposed while Kitty has to pretend that she can still feel her nose when she walks around in full-body, insulated spandex.
She's not wearing that spandex now, only an oversized Beatles shirt that Illyana remembers from their childhood, and a pair of black tights. She's huddled under the blankets, only the outline of her body visible under the lumpy quilt and some hair that is splashed over the pillow.
The mattress groans when Illyana rolls over and wiggles over to her. She can't tell how Kitty's body is positioned until her chest is pressed against her back. She can feel her ass against her crotch, the smooth plane of her back against her breasts. Kitty's teeth stop chattering when Illyana ducks her head underneath the covers to kiss the back of her neck through her hair.
Kitty murmurs something in her sleep, shifts backwards so her shivering body is pressed tightly against Illyana's and the blonde feels the iceblocks she calls feet brush against her shins. It's stuffy under the covers, so Illyana pulls them down away from her face and is chastised with an irritated mumble when that causes a rush of cool air to enter the warm little bubble Kitty has wrapped herself in.
Illyana puts her arm around her waist, feels the rise and fall of Kitty's chest when she breathes, wants to tease her for being weak, but abstains because she thinks the love of her life has returned to that deeper state of sleep. Instead, she tucks Kitty's head under her chin and wonders if she has ever felt more at home.
