I had such a fun time writing the "Eva in Neil's clothes" fic, I decided I wanted one from Eva's POV too. Originally thought I'd tag something on and realized it was less stifling to have as a standalone.

Eva, in general, wasn't a fan of using other people's showers. On top of that, even though venting at Neil had made her feel better, she also felt uncomfortably open, like a raw nerve, and trying to ignore such a weird feeling was becoming annoying.

But mostly she was getting cold. Still she tried to patch up her fragile dignity.

"Neil, you don't– I can just towel off– I mean it's nice of you but–"

"No buts," he said as he walked away. "I think your lips are turning blue."

Despite probably descending into hypothermia, her brain latched onto that. By the time Neil returned with a pile of clothes she'd acquired a smirk and some sass ammo. "You been staring at my mouth, Neil?" She was shivering decently now, so the effect probably wasn't great, and yet.

"Please," he said with a snort. "I could tell from 10 feet away." He shoved the clothes at her, said something rapid-fire that she didn't catch because the more rational part of her was trying to parse where the hell she got the guts to say that, and why her chest seized at noticing a hitch in Neil's stride away from her.

She was really cold now, so she wobbled into the bathroom, stripped off everything (even, after agonizing, her soaked underthings) and piled it outside the bathroom– that was what Neil had told her to do, she realized belatedly. If she was lucky she'd have time to throw everything into the dryer herself.

She spent a blessed ten minutes under steaming spray, then grabbed the surprisingly, wonderfully soft towel and dried off, wringing out her hair. The towel was magical, apparently, because after all that it was still dry enough to wrap her hair in. But first, the clothes.

She pulled on the sweatpants, and almost laughed upon realizing they just about fit her. Comfy, too. She picked up the black t-shirt and unfolded it.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, and this time she did laugh, half disbelief and half mortification. How did he know?

Honestly, she should have expected this. With a sigh she put it on, eyed herself in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all. It was unnervingly similar to her own loungewear choices. Except. They were Neil's clothes.

Goosebumps and then warmth spread over her skin. She snorted at herself, encasing her hair in the towel. Stop it. You're a goddamn adult and these are extenuating circumstances. That's all. Even so, there was a spring in her step as she gathered up her wet things and went on a laundry excursion.

The carpet was thick, comforting her bare feet as she traipsed toward the living room. A lazy heat moved through her limbs, and she realized she could finally relax now that she wasn't cold. She watched Neil plugging away at his game, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms casually.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention."

He gave a glance– and then he started, and really looked at her.

Her pulse sped up. She could just make out some pink rising in his cheeks, and she carefully allowed her delight(?!) to manifest in a crooked grin that still ended up wider than she wanted. "I approve of your sartorial taste, Watts."

Five minutes passed in a slight blur, filled with banter made somehow easier by her fast heart. A survival mechanism, the thought registered distantly, so she wouldn't melt into the couch from endless replays of Neil's stare and the lava pit of feelings flowing in her veins. Stealing his controller for a moment helped. Throwing caution to the wind and side-hugging him briefly also helped, though she had to hide her face in the mug of cocoa he'd made her for several minutes after while her brain had technical problems.

Thunder crashed and she flinched, as much from the noise as from the ticklish wave of warmth down her spine. Her feet bumped his legs as she stretched out, but she forgot to freak about that, too busy directing Neil to more secrets in his game. He was actually listening to her. It was nice.

In fact, if she were to describe a perfect night (a silly, distant part of her brain mused)… This was pretty damn close.