A/N: So this is... not my best. I'm not sure exactly what it is I don't like about it, it just seems a little... dry? Hmm. See what you think. oh, and I don't own anything. Maybe like a bit of ice or something, but not anything important.
...
It was cold.
Mimi realised this with the resignation of someone who has lived in crappy apartments all her life, but has always been surprised at how often the landlord turns off the heat when you don't pay your rent. She'd never liked the cold, and enjoyed it even less when she knew exactly who had switched off the power this time, and knew full well he had no reason to.
The dancer snuggled closer to Roger, breathing on her freezing fingers.
"Let me help you with that," Roger smiled, kissing her hand gallantly.
"Um… guys?" Angel called from the bathroom, where she'd retreated until her cheeks, flushed red from walking to the loft in the snow, had returned to normal colour. "I think your toilet's frozen."
"No way," Roger laughed.
There were a few chipping noises, and then Angel replied, "Nope, definitely frozen."
"Great," Mark muttered from his seat by the window, wrapping his scarf around his neck a few more times. "Now where's Mimi gonna throw up when Collins breaks out the Stoli?"
"Who says I was gonna give anyone any Stoli?" the professor pointed out, one eyebrow raised, at exactly the same time as Mimi demanded, "Who says I was gonna throw up?"
She lapsed into a mock sulk as Angel reappeared, sliding across the wooden floor of the loft in her stockings. The drummer gave a twirl as she reached Collins, before curling up next to him and using his discarded coat as a blanket.
"Wow, it's kinda chilly," she blinked.
"That it is," Collins agreed, totally deadpan.
"We have to get warm somehow," Mimi whined, tapping Roger's leg and expecting him to have all the answers.
"We could all dance," Angel suggested.
"No," all three boys frowned.
"We could light a fire, then," she tried.
Mark and Roger looked at each other, then across at Angel and Collins.
"How come we didn't think of that?" Mark laughed.
"Light a fire with what?" Mimi pointed out.
"Oh." Mark's face fell. "Well, there's always the hotplate."
"That thing gives me nightmares," Roger shuddered.
"It's evil!" agreed Angel, nodding furiously. "Once, I was in the kitchen alone, and I swear it tried to control my mind."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Mark shrugged. "It did come from my mother."
Roger's face lit up as an elusive idea finally took root in his head. "I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner!"
Ten minuets later, the five bohos lay in a heaving, giggling heap after an epic tickling battle.
"That," Roger gasped, attempting to work out whose leg was currently lying across his chest, "was not what I meant."
"At least we're not cold anymore," giggled Angel, who had somehow managed to end up straddling Collins despite being pinned under Mark two second previously.
"I think I know what he did mean, though," Collins grinned, extracting his arm from between Mark and Mimi to pull Angel down on top of him.
"Guys!" Mimi squealed. "Please! Other people in the room!"
"I say we leave them to it," Mark volunteered, picking himself up off the floor and Roger.
"Life Café?" Mimi suggested.
"Great idea," Roger nodded, grabbing the dancer and the filmmaker by the shoulders and leading them out the door.
The three of them got back an hour later to find Angel and Collins sitting on the couch, looking slightly sheepish.
"What happened?" Mimi asked, bemused.
Angel blushed, and Collins rested his head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. "It's cold."
...
Review please? I will give you... Mimi kisses.