This came out of nowhere, it's short, and I just had to get on paper. It's nothing special.

I promise, there are a few more Thunder Claps to come, then maybe something big.

HAVE YOU BEEN READING THE AHS EXCHANGE FICS? NO? OKAY GO READ THEM RIGHT NOW. That's the real message here. Read them.

Sick with Sweat

He's still inside her.

When Violet returns from her post-orgasm haze, she realizes suddenly how goddamn hot she is. Tate's collapsed over her body, covering every inch, and she's impossibly slicked with sweat.

"Tate, Jesus, it's one million degrees, get off," she whines with a shove to his shoulder.

This is usually her favorite part of sex, the after, when she can reach out and touch the body that she has become so familiar with since she died. She knows Tate inside and out, and she thinks she might know herself too, because he knows her.

He won't move.

"Violet," Tate whines against her collarbone, "just let me stay for a bit."

"You're like a giant puppy. You're so cute, but it's so hot." She rolls him off and he flops next to her, naked and sprawled out and flushed everywhere and pure sex. His eyes are closed, so Violet watches him shamelessly.

His hair is soaked. It should be disgusting, but she figures she doesn't look much better. It had been record high temperatures in LA this past week, and everyone at the Murder House was living in a constant state of sweat-soaked grumpiness. To get away from the bickering, Tate and Violet had fled to her room hoping to cool off, but things heated up.

Now Violet can literally feel the sweat dripping all over her body, and she knows it's not just her sweat, it's Tate's. They'd fucked, Tate over her, and their sweat had mingled.

He opens his sleepy puppy eyes. He always gets this look when he sees Violet, like he is so unbelievably happy to just have her next to him, like he's a little boy and she's his favorite toy.

These days, they're just kids, in love.

Violet curls into him, resting her cheek on his ribs because she just wants to touch him all the time.

In seconds, wetness drips down her jaw and into her ear. She sits up, giggling and rubbing at the tickling sweat. Tate swoops up and hugs her playfully, squishing her head against his chest.

"Tate, stop! It's so hot," Violet cries and pries away from his sticky skin.

"Hey, Vi, I know, just come here for a second." He holds her cheeks with his fingertips and kisses the tip of her nose. "I love you, even when you're drenched in sweat and totally gross."

"I love you too, sweaty puppy."

"Is that your new nickname for me? Puppy?"

"Why not? You're cute, puppies are cute."

"Can't argue with that logic." He kisses her nose one more time, then falls back to the bed. Violet lounges next to him, smiling. "If it doesn't cool off tomorrow I'm going to kill someone. Probably Chad."

"Shut up."

"It's the heat talking. I'm delirious." Violet laughs, happy and loose, and in just a few minutes, she is asleep.