Author's Note: Thanks again! Your reviews make me smile! This isn't as Christmas themed as the rest but it involves cuddling!

In the Aftermath

Song Inspiration: Sleigh Ride (specifically "snuggled up together").

There is part of him that feels out of place among her family photos and knickknacks.

He sits on the couch, his fingers drumming on his leg as he waits (he has never been the most patient of people in moments like this).

Even without tapping his vampiric abilities, he can hear the water running in the shower. She seems determined to drain the hot water tank. He can't blame her - she had been shivering and stank of the bayou when he finally caught up with her.

There had been a moment of sharp relief seeing her standing there, hair and clothing plastered to her skin. Her arms had been twisted tightly around her and her teeth were chattering - but she had been in one piece.

Of course that moment had passed quickly and he descended into near panic once more.

He had insisted they go to the Abattoir but she had wanted the familiarity of her apartment and clean clothes. Try as he might, he could not bring himself to argue with her in that moment.

So he sits, waiting (and replaying the night's events over in his head; almost wishing he could murder someone twice).

When Camille emerges from her bedroom, her hair is still wet but this time she is clean. Her sweater threatens to swallow her whole and she is already reaching for the blanket casually thrown over the end of the couch.

"Better?" he asks, feeling as if a lot hinges on how she answers.

"Better," she tells him quietly.

She doesn't sit like he expects her too. She has had a long day. How she still has the strength to stand is beyond him (but then there are many things about Camille that marvel him). He stays where he is, looking up at her. All the things that need to be said hang in the air for a moment; neither one wants to be the one to break the silence.

Finally, he has to. "You could have been killed."

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders squaring up underneath the blanket. "That was a very real possibility."

"You can't keep…"

"No," she says, her voice curt and echoing throughout the small apartment. Her eyes widen slightly at the sound and she draws a deep breath through her nostrils. "Don't tell me that I have to stay out of it. Don't tell me that I am supposed to hide away for the rest of my life - worse, wait around to be sure that everyone I…" She appears to draw back but then then she stands tall. "...love comes home safely. If I can help, I will. I helped today. Yes, I nearly drowned in the process but I helped. And if tomorrow I woke up to the same situation, I would do it again. Try and stop me." The last few words are thrown like a challenge at his feet.

He can't. More so, he knows he won't. He had taken her free will from her when his mind was clouded with ideas of power and revenge, and paid very dearly for that choice. He will never do that to her again. He will, however, do everything he can to ensure that if she decides to dive headfirst into a dangerous situation that she will have him as backup.

(there is something to be said to having an immortal hybrid in your corner)

Her shoulders fall when she realizes he is not going to engage in an argument (he wonders if she is disappointed in some way; if she had been hoping to burn off any remaining negative energy that has built up throughout the day's ordeal).

Perhaps it has no choice but to come out in another fashion.

"You're still shivering," he points out.

Camille tightens her grip on the blanket. "I can't seem to get warm," she admits.

He is no expert but he thinks a hot shower, a sweater and a blanket should do the trick nicely. There is something else going on inside of her. If the situations were reversed she would call him on it, demand that he face the near death experience head on. But he does not have her gift of words.

Instead, he shifts away from the middle of the couch. "Come here." He is voice is soft, almost pleading.

Thankfully, she does not dig her heels in. Instead she sinks into the space he has created. It is easy for him to pull her into his arms, to pull her entire body against is. He can feel her trembling all over and on reflex, his grip on her tightens. In the end, he falls back, taking her with him. She lays on his chest, her head turned. He likes to think she is listening to his heartbeat, grounding herself once more by it.

Slowly but surely, her body is under her control once more. She no longer shivers, instead she relaxes, her full weight coming down on him. He can't help but bring a hand up so his fingers can tangle through her hair. He realizes he needed this too. After everything.

"Are you warm now?" he asks quietly.

"Perfectly so."