Saturday // Peterick Oneshots

51. Pink Knuckles

I love the cold, I'm so fucking glad it's here. Pre-TTTYG era.

Pete wasn't shivering. He's from Chicago, he's used to the cold. It didn't matter that he was only wearing a t-shirt and a hoodie in thirty degree weather. His nose was running a little, but so what? He didn't mind waiting in the chilly passenger seat while Andy got them checked into the motel, especially since it meant saving the gas in the van.

But his hands were fucking freezing.

Everything else was fine: his legs were warm enough in his jeans, and his arms were covered by his hoodie. Again, he wasn't shivering, so he wasn't that cold. But his fingers felt like ice, and every time he tried to bend them they were stiff.

He rubbed his hands together, blew on them, wedged them between his thighs, and repeated the process. It didn't help.

Andy rapped on the window of the van. Pete looked up. Andy held up a key and gave him a thumbs up.

Pete turned around. Patrick and Joe were sitting side by side in the back, sharing a blanket. Joe had his head on Patrick's shoulder and looked like he was close to sleep. Patrick was staring out the window, and Pete could see he had an earbud in.

"Hey," Pete whisper-yelled. Patrick looked at him. "Andy got us a room, let's go."

Patrick shook Joe awake, and Pete gripped the door handle with numb fingers. He hopped out of the van and shook his arms out. He put his hands in his front pocket and clasped them together.

The group grabbed their bags and followed as Andy led the way to their room. Joe stumbled a bit, rubbing his eyes, and Pete patted his shoulder in sympathy. Andy unlocked the door and held it open while the other three filed in.

"You and Patrick take one bed, me and Joe on the other?" Andy asked.

"Sounds good," Pete said with a nod. Joe had already crawled into the bed closest to the door and burrowed under the covers. Pete smiled, looking over at Patrick. "How long until you think he passes out?"

Patrick grinned softly. "Five minutes, tops. He would've fallen asleep on my shoulder if we'd stayed in the van another minute."

They took turns using the bathroom and getting changed. After they were all ready, Andy turned out the light and they said goodnight. Joe was already snoring, and Pete's hands were still cold. When he looked at his hands in the bathroom, his knuckles looked pink.

Pete rubbed his hands together. He blew on them again.

"Pete, I swear to god you better not jack off while we're sharing a bed."

Pete snorted. "I'm not jacking off. My hands are just cold."

Patrick rolled over, laying on his side and facing Pete. His eyes were still shut. "Sucks for you."

Pete laid on his side too. "They've been cold since Andy went inside the lobby to get our room. It's getting annoying."

Patrick's eyes opened the slightest bit. "There's no way that's good."

"Probably not."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Well, I was trying to warm them up when someone's wandering mind got the best of them." Pete grinned, loving the way Patrick scowled at him.

"Well you weren't exactly being quiet." Patrick shifted. "Give me your hands, asshole."

Pete outstretched his arms, letting his hands lie between them on the bed. Patrick took his hands, cupping them in his. His palms covered Pete's fingers, and Pete could feel the difference immediately.

"Holy fuck, you're so warm," Pete said with a gasp. He shifted closer to Patrick on instinct.

Patrick laughed quietly. "Yeah, I'm guessing Joe thought the same thing when he almost passed out on me." Patrick moved, pressing their legs together under the covers. "Now go to sleep. I'm pretty sure it's your turn to drive tomorrow, and I don't want to die because you fell asleep at the wheel."

Pete smiled. "Please, like I'm going to kill my personal heater."