Apparently, when you're recovering from injuries relating to the cold, you're supposed to use warm things instead of hot things. Something about not being able to tell if it's too hot, or it being overwhelming, or thermal shock, or something like that. With the actual physical damage from the ice, Ode was able to comply with that method. After the centuries of being alone, though, every little act of affection makes him feel like he's burning alive.
He thinks about this, as he lays pressed against the dear professor's side. It's something theoretically so simple, but it's so incredibly warm (Felix always does seem to be rather warm), and his chest feels tight, and he can hardly breathe.
He sits up, because he needs to be upright, being careful not to wake Felix in the process. Taking a deep breath, and then a second one, he steadies himself. Tries to focus. He doesn't actually know what he's trying to focus on, but he supposes something is better than nothing.
For a moment he considers just, leaving for the night, but he doesn't have a real reason to nor does he have a place he could leave to . Maybe that sea captain's boat, or the Marino? But, he decides against it. It'd probably just raise concerns and questions.
That wasn't what he was doing, though, he was trying to reorganize his thoughts. Right. He takes a minute, calming himself. He returns to where he was before, pressed beside his partner, though he's more prepared for it this time. It's still warm, of course, since neither of them lost absurd amounts of body heat in under five minutes, but it doesn't make him feel like his ribcage is closing in around his organs. It's just warm, in the simplest sense. It's nice, he thinks.
YOU ARE READING
Something About Ode And The Cold
Fanfiction(It's just a collection of, shocker, oneshots relating to both Ode and The Cold)
