Cold out tonight

AN: A sequel of sorts to 'B.T.I'

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Thirteen-year-old Joseph Lamb groaned into his pillow, allowing only one eye to brave the darkness out of his warm cacoon to peek out at his bedside alarm. It was 3:20 in the morning and no sane teenager should be awake at this hour. Burying his face back in the pillow, Joe silently begged for this to be a bad dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Nope. Real then.

He threw back his covers, hissing when his feet hit the cold floor, and stumbled across the clutter and chaos that made this space so uniquely his. He made it to his window without any grievous injury and squinted out of the glass, not quite brave enough to let in the late autumn chill inside. A pair of wide blue eyes looked back at him pleadingly.

"Dammit Cary" he cursed as he swung open the window, gasping shallowly at the blast of frigid air rushing into the toasty warmth of his room.

"S-s-s-sorry, J-Joe. I d-d-didn't know wh-where else t-t-to g-go" Cary Adams shivered helplessly, needing Joe's help the clamber as silently as he could in through the window. He stood behind the taller boy, shuddering with the cold, as he shut the window. Turning around, he found Cary standing mere inches from him, so bitterly cold he didn't even notice he was in Joe's personal space.

"Jesus. What, d'they kick you out again?" Joe asked, moving past him to grab a blanket from the top of his bed and throw it around his friend's shoulders. He kept his hands on Cary's small arms, rushing them up and down in a desperate attempt to circulate blood.

"N-nah. J-J-Jessie told me to leave c-coz d-d-dad was looking for a p-punching bag. She's got mum and H-Hayley d-downstairs in the b-b-basement but I wasn't f-fast enough" Cary explained brokenly.

Joe bit his lip hard. He hated that Cary's family; him, his parents and his two sisters, one a year older, the other just three, was so messed up. The guy was an uncertified pyromaniac for a reason. In a poetic sort of way, he watched things burn because that's what he was used to seeing; his family burning in the haze of Peter Adams' drunken hatred. Ever since The Incident Cary had been increasingly desperate to escape his family. The Incident had messed with all of them on some level; Charles had even tried to make a movie about it, a documentary, but they couldn't do it. It was too soon, too raw. Hell, Martin was still limping after having metal plates put in on his shattered shin bone. Their hearing was still recovering after the bomb blast that had left their bespectacled friend with a compound fracture.

"Do you want me to call Dad?" Joe offered, eyes almost silver in the light of the full autumn moon outside. Cary shrugged.

"Neighbours called it in already" he said offhandedly, almost tiredly and Joe nodded.

"Okay. Come give me a hand to get the mattress. Dad's been on a 12-hour-shift, he'll sleep like the dead"

He made for the door, sweeping his foot to clear a path. Only when he realised that the other boy wasn't following did he stop and turn back, puzzled.

Cary was standing, not shivering as badly anymore with Joe's blanket wrapped around his shoulders, exactly where Joe had left him. He chewed on his bottom lip, metal flashing in the half-light. His braces were due off any day now and, boy, was he dying for it to hurry up and happen.

"Are you okay, Cary?"

The smaller boy swallowed and moistened his lips uncertainly.

"Uh, c-can I...never mind" he made to follow Joe out the door but was stopped by Joe's hand carefully on his shoulder.

"Do...d'ya just wanna sleep with me?"

Cary went as red as Joe and both of them decided silently that to even try and correct the unmeaning innuendo would be far too embarrassing. He nodded quickly, shyly, and let Joe lead him to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and threw his jumper on Joe's desk, pointedly not looking at the boy he could hear settling under the covers behind him, rearranging the blanket that had been around Cary's shoulders.

Still without looking at him, Cary slid under the covers. Joe hissed and Cary flinched.

"Sorry, I'll just-" he shuffled over as if to get out of the bed again, but Joe grabbed his arm.

"It's okay. You're cold, s'all" he explained quietly. Their eyes finally met and for a moment they seemed to consider one another carefully, almost warily. In unison, their memories flashed back to the bloody, smoky, desperate kiss they'd shared in the Visitor's cavern. They'd never spoken about it. Not once. There'd been...moments. Indecipherable looks they'd shot one another without really meaning to, but they'd never voiced any of the desperate emotions lingering in their eyes.

So Joe hesitated before he curved the arm on Cary's elbow around to the small of his back and pulled him a little closer. Even though it was Cary who'd kissed him first and he'd kissed him back because...well, at the time he really had no idea why. He'd just wanted to and with his life hanging in the balance, there didn't seem any reason to hold back. Things had gotten weirder ever since then. There were the random thoughts during class (I wonder what Cary's thinking about?, I wish Cary was here, what class is Cary in right now? Plus, in the case of this latter question, Joe knew. He knew Cary's timetable). There was the way he'd catch himself outright staring at Cary, whether it was in the cafeteria, in PE, when they were walking to the bus or to the store. Just watching him laugh or frown or tease Martin or fail miserably at flirting with girls. Of course, the fact that watching Cary flirt ineptly with those girls made Joe feel like he wanted to tear his insides out probably belonged on the list of strange behaviours too.

Then there were the dreams. He tensed at the thought. Fuck. Suddenly sharing his bed with Cary didn't seem like such a grand idea anymore.

"Joe?-" Cary muttered. He was half-asleep, lulled by the Joe's easy breathing and the warmth of the bed.

"-you 'kay?"

Joe swallowed hard and thought about what he'd said in the cavern.

"Uhh..."

Blinking heavily, Cary pushed himself up, shifting but not enough to dislodge Joe's arm which, he realised with a deep blush, was actually around Cary's waist. Or hips. Or whatever it was that boys had because did boys have waists? Shit...

"Sumthin' tha-mattr?" he slurred tiredly and Joe's heart melted. It was the only way he could describe the feeling of warm, soothing ooze spreading across his chest at the way Cary blinked at him, messy haired and sleepy-eyed like a child.

"No, it's fine. Go to sleep, Cary"

He grunted, burrowing into the blankets like a mole.

"D'n'mind'if-I-do"

Joe chuckled and wriggled closer to Cary, curving himself around the shorter boy's form before he could stop himself. He froze when he realised what he'd done and then basked in that weird, oozing feeling when Cary made a soft, contented little sound deep in the back of his throat.

Morning, for Joe at least, came far too quickly. He awoke first, to the sound of his alarm clock blaring out the rock channel. He fumbled for it blearily, struggling with the entanglement of arms and legs that couldn't have all belonged to him. Blinking, he turned his head and found Cary's mess of blonde hair curled into his chest, small nonsense sounds coming from him. Without his really meaning to, his hand crept into the air and gently swept the tangled mop of blonde away from Cary's face. The touch of Joe's warm hand caused Cary to blink awake. For a moment he stared at Joe blankly.

"Hey" Joe's gruff morning voice broke the quiet.

"Shit" said Cary, leaping up and throwing himself to his feet. Joe sat up quickly, feeling immediately uneasy.

"Shit-" Cary repeated, dragging his hands through his hair.

"-We, I, shouldna done that. This is bad, this is really-"

"Man, nothing happened, okay-"Joe tried to placate his friend, flicking the covers back and ignoring the cold floor on his bare feet.

"Well it wouldn't, would it? Because I'm not-we're not-"

"Then what are we?" and Joe's voice was quiet, almost pleading. Cary stared at him.

"I gotta go"