Peppy wasn't exactly a stranger to sharing a bed with someone. Had done it his whole life. Quarters had always been tight at home. His parents were staying in an apartment in his grand-mammy's attic when he'd been born, their first.
Could get pretty drafty up there, but it was something. They'd put him between the two of 'em, to keep him warm. Stayed there until his parents had saved up enough to buy their farmhouse.
There was more room there, but more kids followed to fill the space. A whole bunch more.
Was probably why Peppy was such a nag, as Pigma liked to tease. Was always having to tell 'em to do something: pick up your crap, brush your teeth, comb out your fur, and if he wasn't bossing them around he was feeding them, making sure they got their clothes on, that they took a bath every now and then, carrying them if he was feeling especially nice, more often dragging his little siblings along after him, and if all that wasn't enough, at the end of the day he had them curled up right next to him or gently snoring in the next bed over.
Then straight from his family bunks to army bunks, when he'd signed on for the Air Force. Actually felt kind of spacious, in comparison. At least he got his own bed.
This here though, was a bit different than all that. A different sort of ask.
Was Jim, after all.
Not his family, or somebody he'd gotten randomly assigned to room with.
Chewed on it for a few more days, and after only feeling worse, more run down, more on edge, more cold, he conceded that maybe'd he'd lost this battle. Had to go ask for some help.
Couldn't say he was totally confident about it, not completely on board with it, as he dragged his feet towards Jim's door, the scent of him getting stronger and stronger the closer he got, and he tried to tell that part of him to hush, he knew that already, of course it was going to smell like Jim, Jim slept in here, there really wasn't any problem here, but his hand was heavy, lifting it up to rap on the door frame.
Had the urge to bolt after he'd done it, what fool came up with this idea, but Jim answered, fast, had his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, had his sunglasses off for a change, and, this threw him, if he didn't know better, Jim looked like he was about to start snarling, had his fangs not quite out, but not exactly in either.
Looked pretty darned alarmed, and alarming actually, it sent a jolt through Peppy and gave him pause. He'd already been on the fence about this, and Jim's reaction was unusual enough that now he felt even more so. Wondered if he could somehow talk his way out of this, but didn't think there was anything he could say to Jim except the truth that he'd believe.
"What do you need? Medical?" Jim ground out as though it pained him, then, without waiting for Peppy's answer, grabbed the sides of his face, and the sudden contact sent another jolt through Peppy. Looked in his eyes, noticed Jim's gaze linger on his ears, had 'em folded down over his head a bit. They hurt after awhile, cramped under hats, sometimes the cold was worth it for a break for a little while – but Jim continued on, felt his forehead and it was all so strange. Really drove home to him, how they were the only two people here but they'd been spending less and less time with each other, to the point where it was actually shocking standing here this close to Jim.
They'd had all this space, and had spread out and drifted apart, but now they'd met up again, at this tight constriction of a doorway, like a bottleneck. More pressure, more tension than he'd been anticipating.
Had just assumed Jim was alright. Always was. Had always been a bit of a loner, all the time Peppy'd known him anyway. But maybe this place was getting to him too.
"Knew you weren't alright. Know there isn't a whole lot I can do." Jim ground out, and the continued pain in it made Peppy want to immediately reassure him.
"I-it's not all that bad..."
"It's this damn place, isn't it?" Jim went on like he hadn't heard him, though Peppy knew he had. "Thought of asking, but figured you'd tell me if you had to. Give you some space to work it out."
"Like the Arwing?" Peppy tried joking. Didn't really work, only got a quick nod of acknowledgment from Jim before he was back asking questions.
"What'd you need? I'll check what's in sick bay."
Yep, just as he'd figured, Jim knew he didn't come here just to shoot the breeze. His pride was squirming now, but here went nothing:
"It's… it's not that, I… oh, geez, this is real embarrassing Jim, but I'm freezing. I don't know what it is; I just can't shake it. Can I bunk with you?"
Jim didn't bother saying anything, his only acknowledgement of what Peppy had just said was stepping aside and opening the door wider, shut it fast after Peppy walked in, and he'd be darned if that wasn't bed looking a whole lot smaller at the thought of both of them getting in it, but that's exactly what they did, got under the covers. Wasn't pitch black, could see some light coming in under the door from the hallway, but it might as well have been for how little sense Peppy had of where he was, and he guessed it was all enough for the tide to finally roll over, for that shivering feeling that'd been creeping up on him for awhile now to come on out as actual shakes. Knew his system on the fritz, but like before, he wasn't entirely sure this cold had to do with the temperature in here.
Jim wrapped an arm around him regardless. Hated to admit it, but it helped, and he wasn't sure what happened first, it stopping or him falling asleep, 'cause he did fall asleep.
A whole lot faster than he'd been falling asleep before.
Jim wasn't there when he woke up. Probably for the best. Still, Peppy felt warm for the first time in a long time, didn't exactly hold through the day, but they didn't talk about it the rest of the day, and Peppy didn't go to Jim's room that night. Tried to weather it out again in his.
Slept bad.
Was real cold all the next day.
Enough so that that night, he beat down his pride and showed up at Jim's door.
Jim let him in.
He showed up the next night too.
Was a foolish kind of dance. Still wouldn't move in there. Kept his pillows and blankets in his room. Still laid down there during the day sometimes. But always ended up in Jim's room at night.
Just couldn't quite admit he needed to.
Jim let him work it out on his own.
Wasn't all sunshine and daisies though. Didn't solve all his problems. Still felt on edge. Now maybe even more so. Was just that now he wasn't so cold not to notice. And he hated to even think it, but a lot of that tension had to do with Jim.
They didn't actually spend anymore time together during the day than they had been. Did still go out to the hangar every now and then, to dilly dally around in there, and he wanted to say that Jim's presence was familiar, friendly, thought maybe he could will it back to that, but it wasn't working, just like his Arwing wasn't working, and he didn't have what he needed to fix it, 'cause he couldn't figure out why Jim suddenly wasn't registering as friendly, why he looked different, his fur a more startling orange-red, the triangle tips of his ears darker, his snout longer, those blue eyes of his sharper, when he saw them uncovered at night. Just some trick of the lighting in here? On this moon?
Except the more he kept looking, trying to figure it out, the more he caught things that weren't just his perception or his imagination, watching Jim walk around the hangar: his tail horizontal, fluffed out, as big as Peppy had ever seen it, his ears standing straight up, tall as could be, and pointing straight forward. Usually he had his ears more relaxed, pointing a bit off to the sides, and his tail he normally kept lower too.
Their scents were getting all mixed up too, bunking together. Confused the heck out of him, when he smelled a rabbit on Jim and too slowly realized it was him, and the same in reverse. Kept getting confused why he smelled like a fox.
Peppy also noticed he was jumping around way more than necessary. Hadn't done stuff like that since his younger years, when he'd been trying to impress Viv. Jumping up to the wing, just because he could, or moving his ears all over the place, just because he could. Periscoping them around when he heard something off, or one this way and one that way.
Mostly though, he was keeping them folded over his head a bit. Too cold, too cautious to keep them up straight, but not alarmed enough to go full alert, having them pointing up and forward. And wasn't relaxed enough to have them flat against his head, really he only did that when he was sleeping, had often had to bat his sibling's ears out of his face 'cause of that when they'd shared beds.
Didn't think about his tail as much. Wasn't as obvious as Jim's or even Pigma's. But he was keeping his low and close.
This darn cold.