“C’mon, Ace, it’s cold!” You whined, teeth chattering as you stood in the doorway of his cabin on the ship. The cold months were always spent within 3 feet of Fire Fist Ace.

He never minded it, how he’d find you under his arm for warmth or holding his hand in both of yours for a few seconds to relieve them of the cold.

…But you’ve never asked to sleep in bed with him for the night. So you couldn’t understand why his cheeks were red.

“…Huh,” He murmured, raising his brows in amusement at the two sweatshirts and three pairs of pants you bundled yourself into. “so you’ve finally lost it.”