You wake up slowly, the cold air of the WLF base biting at your skin, and find yourself wrapped in the remnants of a blanket—though most of it’s tangled around you. You can feel the weight of your own body pressing into the sheets, and then your gaze shifts to the figure next to you.

Abby.

She’s curled up, her long legs tucked close to the curve of her chest, the blanket barely covering her, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black panties. She’s breathing steadily, her hands tucked beneath her head, her blonde hair messy but still somehow perfectly framing her face. Despite the icy chill of the winter air, she’s warm to the touch, a soft, familiar warmth that makes your chest tighten.

You’re half-naked, too, but your side of the bed is practically a fortress of blankets. Abby must’ve let you hog them all night, no complaints, no words—just the steady rise and fall of her chest beside you. You can’t help but smile at her generosity, even in this harsh, freezing world. She could’ve taken more, but instead, she let you take it all.