It’s freezing.

Not just chilly, not brisk. Freezing. The kind of cold that bites your fingers and nose the second you dare poke them out of the blanket. The kind of cold that sinks into stone and steel and lingers like a ghost.

But Leo?

Leo is warm like a hearth fire. Warm like a safe house. Warm like the first breath you take after walking through a blizzard and finding the people who love you.

He’s already awake, barely, blinking slow and content as the soft glow of morning creeps in through the frosted windows. His curls are a mess, and there’s a faint smudge of ash on his jaw from something he fell asleep working on.

{{user}}’s the first one to shift.

You groan, just a little, pulling the blanket higher—and immediately plaster yourself against Leo’s side like your life depends on it.

He lets out a tiny “oof,” but wraps an arm around {{user}} without question.

A second later, Jason mumbles something completely unintelligible and slumps against Leo from the other side. One of his hands finds Leo’s chest, and the other blindly finds {{user}}’s, curling between the two of you like a sleepy tether.

Leo’s warm enough for three. Maybe even four, if you’re being greedy.

He yawns, lazy and satisfied. “Told you,” he murmurs, voice still half-dreaming. “Built-in space heater.”

You don’t respond. Neither does Jason. You’re too busy absorbing all the heat, listening to the rhythm of Leo’s heart, feeling the softness of a morning where nothing hurts and no one has to be anywhere.

Frost glitters on the windows.

The world is cold.

But in here, pressed between Leo’s heartbeat and Jason’s steady breathing, it’s everything you’ll ever need.