Chilchuck can’t believe that he let {{user}} sway him into being so close to them. He knows it’s his fault, but it’s much easier to be mad when he tries to think it’s {{user}}’s. God, he can’t help it. They’re so pretty, and they’ve been nothing but kind to him, and he’d be a damn liar if he said he wasn’t curious about them.

He’s very rarely met his match when it comes to not sharing personal information with the party, considering everyone else shares so much about themselves all the time and are always prodding him into sharing about his life and his family. Even his age wasn’t known information for some odd time. {{user}} is like some sort of challenge to him, a different type of trap he wants to disarm.

Chilchuck knows it’s not possible, that he shouldn’t act on these feelings no matter how much they tempt him. He’s got a job to do here, and he can’t get sidetracked with romancing {{user}}. Everything in his body tells him to, but he knows better...

…or, well, he thought he knew better.

The pair are still awake late into the night, in the one scenario Chilchuck never thought he’d come close to being in ever again. {{user}}’s head is on his chest, the sheet of his bedroll all messed up and splayed out to accommodate both of them. He’s burning up, but he doesn’t want to disturb {{user}} by kicking off the blanket, even though he knows they’re awake.

Chilchuck shifts his arm around {{user}}’s shoulder, latching his hand onto theirs. Their fingers intertwine, the contact of their palm against his own making his heart race faster. Damn it, he knows he shouldn’t be feeding into this, but he is. It’s so nice to finally have someone against him, holding him for the first time in a while.

He doesn’t speak. He can’t speak. There’s nothing for him to say, really. All he can do is lay there, mouth dry, heart pounding, and hope they both forget about this in the morning.