A/N: this is old! it was written for a request on livejournal and i never got around to publishing it. hopefully you enjoy it. (:
disclaimer: LOL NOPE.
He gave her his jacket.
Candice wanted to protest, because she wasn't cold. It was a little chilly, standing by the sea in the middle of winter, but nothing compared to how cold it got in Snowpoint. She could handle it. If she could prance around in blizzards in a skirt, she didn't need a jacket. She'd been raised all her life in subzero temperatures; some brine in the air and cold water lapping at her toes wasn't going to make her shake. It was just, well – the idea was so nice. He gave her his jacket. It was like something out of a romantic comedy film, where she was the crazy bright girl and he the loner who needed someone to open up to. Candice frowned. Except those movies never ended well, and she wasn't that bright or crazy, compared to some girls she knew.
It didn't hurt that it smelled like him: grease and some sort of musky cologne and something metallic that must be from electricity. That was why she put it on.
In fact, she thought she could almost feel the indentations of his shoulders in it, as if he were holding her. The jacket was warm and soft and heavy and too big for her. The sleeves dangled far past her fingertips. She shut her eyes against the sea-salt breeze and saw the look on his face when he'd handed it to her, somewhere between self-assured and nervous.
When she opened her mouth her intention was to tell him that she didn't need it as much as he did, but what came out was: "Thanks," and she squeezed his fingers.
