She lay, asleep in his arms, so close he could feel the beat of her heart against his own chest. Her breath stirred the tiny hairs on his neck and caused their counterparts down his spine to stand on end and tingle unbearably. She opened one blue eye, teasing, knowing that effect she was having on him with so little action on her part.
He kissed her, if only to stop her smiling so devilishly and she responded hungrily, her hands moving over his tingling spine; sliding inexorably towards his--
--O'Neill awoke, streaked with sweat, breathing heavily and extremely thankful that the subject of his dream remained asleep, close enough to him for the warmth of her body to be palpable all along the right side of his.
In situations like this back on Earth he'd have hastily taken a cold shower; here he simply walked outside into the freezing air to achieve the effect of diminishing the stark obviousness of his arousal.
Running a hand through his hair, longer than he liked to keep it but in a slightly softer condition now he only washed it with cold water rather than shampoo, he tried to concentrate on the stars rather than... anything else... and tried simultaneously to shed the feeling of guilt.
Tensions between him and Carter were far less strained certainly, and she reported some limited progress with her repair-work. He was adapting to life here, and felt fitter than he had for months with the extreme workouts required of him. Weight lifting here was not a precise art and was mostly driven by a macho desire to outlast the competition. Whilst it resulted in a lot of pulled muscles, it was doing wonders for the oft under-exercised muscles he tended not to favour in the gym.
It was no use. He could sleep no more this night, so instead he washed in literally icy cold water, he had to break the film of ice on the butt outside he had 'obtained,' not wanting to wake Carter by using the washstand. He dressed and began boiling the kettle.
Carter awoke nearly an hour later to be served a steaming mug of hot liquid by her CO. "Did I oversleep?" she murmured, voice cracked with tiredness and possessing an often unheard vulnerability that made O'Neill smile involuntarily.
"No. I just woke up early."
She smiled too. "Wake up early more. I could get used to this treatment."
"Yeah, well," he replied, suddenly gruff as she smiled at him dazzlingly, reminiscent of his dream.
She drained the mug and stood. "Just going..." she grimaced, gesturing to the privy. O'Neill drank down his own mug.
"Oh!"
"What?" he asked, standing quickly in response to her cry.
"It's snowing."
The white flakes were falling thick and fast outside, their garden already covered with a thin icing of white snow.
"So..." O'Neill said, "You reckon the worms'll give us a snow day?"
Carter couldn't quite surpress a laugh. "I don't know."
*
The walk to the village was brisk in the cold, Carter shivering uncontrollably, her clothes unsuited to the weather. The snow already lay thickly on the road into the village, unspoilt by footprints. Carter trod in O'Neill's prints in an attempt not to sink up to her ankles in snow. Her teeth chattered involuntarily as the icy wind knifed through her normal working clothes and the horrible sackcloth robe she had thrown over the top. Fresh snow settled on her hair and face, blinding her momentarily when it stuck in her eyelashes before melting away. Her fingers were curling automatically with the chill, the same rosy red as her nose and cheeks.
Footprints, already nearly erased by the flakes still falling, headed towards the village along the track as they passed their neighbour's houses. O'Neill himself fell into following them to try and move faster.
By the time they had reached the village both Carter and O'Neill had lost feeling in their hands and feet. No one was visible and O'Neill began to rue their stupidity at braving the weather in fear of punishment for lost hours. Carter was becoming more and more convinced the footprints they had followed were actually heading in the direction opposite to which they had come. In any case the village's public buildings for wont of a better expression were locked. Turning back towards home the sky darkened before them, clouds heavy with snow.
As thicker flakes began to descend; soft and floating, oddly silent death should they not find shelter soon, O'Neill caught hold of Carter's hand. "This was a bad idea!" he shouted over the howl of the wind, the snow taking the sound and deadening it.
"I know!"
"I can't feel my feet!"
Her reply was lost in a gust of driving snow and he let go of her hand in order to press forward. The cold was making him torpid and curiously detached from the grim reality of their stupidity.
He knew they were only feet away from home, invisible to them in what was now a fully fledged snowstorm, when Carter stumbled, falling to her knees.
She murmured something unintelligible, her face so cold her words were slurred as if she were drunk, and O'Neill knew his own words were as indiscernible. He hauled her back upright with arms that felt as if they were made of lead, lurched onwards a few more feet; their arms wrapped around each other and yet so cold they were unable even to feel the contact between them, and fell against their front door. Somehow Carter managed to manipulate the handle and they sunk inside. Collapsed on the floor and both breathing as if they had just given birth, O'Neill kicked the door shut.
The inside of their cabin was itself very cold, but after the temperatures endured outside it felt considerably warmer. They clung to each other, shivering so violently they felt physically sick. Eventually enough warmth returned to Carter to extricate herself from his trembling embrace and she staggered over to the fireplace. Her hands were still too cold to uncurl but she managed to ignite the fire with a *whumph* and gratefully held her hands over it, relishing the fierce heat. O'Neill pulled of his boots and socks, both sopping wet and pulled the dining chair over to the fire, sitting with his feet almost in the cinders.
"Let's never, ever do that again," she said, following suite.
Ever practical, O'Neill had something else on his mind. "We don't have that much fire wood," he stated bluntly.
"There's a far bit outside on the woodpile. We can bring it in and dry it off next to the fire before we put it on sir," she replied, closing her eyes with exhaustion.
"Hmm," he replied. "I'm going to get out of these wet clothes. Don't look," he added, almost slyly.
"I never do," she replied, glad that events were such that once more they could joke about such things.
She studied the wall minutely until he coughed, signalling he was done.
She turned and tried not to let the breath catch in her throat at the site of his shirtless torso, every muscle defined to a degree it looked as if it were carved in stone; the fierce training and low fat diet forced upon him by their circumstances strengthening his already hardy physique.
She forced her eyes to his face and a glimmer of mirth touched his mouth and escaped from his eyes, causing her to blush as she realised he was in doubt as to where her roving gaze had briefly rested. He pulled on his shirt.
"Don't *you* look," she said coyly.
Dressing quickly she hurried back to the circle of warmth radiated by the fire.
They were both dozing when a sharp knock at the door roused them. "Coming!" yelled O'Neill after a moment.
The caller was a vaguely recognised organiser, the woman who normally held the clipboard and told them what their assigned tasks were.
"The snows have come earlier than we expected," she explained, shaking the stuff off her snowshoes and brushing some flakes off her furry outer layers. "We would have provided you with these earlier had we known..."
She slung the large bag she carried over her shoulder to the floor. It clattered slightly.
"Snow shoes, furs and better boots," she explained. "You don't have to go down the village for you assigned tasks whilst the weather is bad but normal work continues. You must limit your firewood!" she added urgently, seeing their banked fire, "It may be some time until more will be available. Don't worry about food, there'll be deliveries soon enough. Soon as I've organised them in fact. Any questions, you know where I live!" She laughed; at what O'Neill wasn't sure.
After seeing her out he growled slightly. "I really hate that woman."
"We better let the fire burn down," Carter said sadly.
*
The snow had continued to fall all day, stopping briefly in the early evening as the sky cleared. The temperature had plummeted even further as a result and even dressed in their new furs and sitting close to their now smaller fire the two soldiers were shivering once more with cold.
O'Neill moved their mattresses close to the flickering flames as the moon rose, pale in the sky pin-pricked with tiny white points of light. The wind was howling mournfully outside.
"I'm going to bed," O'Neill said, voice cracked with tiredness. "G'Night Carter."
"I think I'll join you sir," she replied and he smiled slightly at her choice of words.
Carter faced towards the fire, trying to snuggle down inside her furs but it was impossible to be warm lying on a draughty floor with temperatures outside seemingly becoming glacial. Her teeth started to chatter again.
"Carter?"
"Yes?"
"You cold?"
"Freezing sir."
He paused. "Come here."
She shuffled closer and he threw his furs and cover around herself , pulling her close. She in turn did the same.
"Warmer?" he asked as she tucked her head under his chin, his voice noticeably strained.
She tried not to squeak as she answered. "Yes thank you sir."
"Good. Me too. Get some sleep."
"Night."
"Night."