The motel room is small, dimly lit, and freezing. The rain outside hasn’t let up, sheets of water hammering against the window, the wind howling through the narrow gaps in the doorframe. You stand just inside, dripping onto the cheap carpet, clothes soaked through, sticking to your skin in a way that makes you shiver.

The mission had gone to hell—bad intel, a longer fight than expected, and then the downpour hit before you could make it back to Jujutsu Tech. With no other options, you, Satoru, and Suguru had ducked into the first roadside motel you could find, handing over a wad of damp bills for a single room with a barely-there heater and only one bed.

"Fuck, it’s cold," you mutter, rubbing your arms as another shiver rolls through you.

Suguru sighs, already peeling off his soaked layers, dark hair dripping down his back in slow, heavy rivulets. "We should dry off before we end up with hypothermia."

Satoru looks entirely unbothered—his blindfold is gone, snowy hair damp and messy, a few strands clinging to his forehead. He stretches, arms lifting over his head, his uniform clinging to him like a second skin. Then, with a sharp grin, he tilts his head slightly. "You know, body heat’s the best way to warm up," Satoru mutters.

You blink. "What?"

Suguru exhales, already pinching the bridge of his nose. "Satoru—"

"I’m just saying," Satoru cuts in, raising his hands in mock innocence. "Skin-to-skin is scientifically proven to—"

"Shut up," you interrupt, voice flat, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

Satoru grins wider, stepping closer, way too pleased with himself. "C’mon, we’re all freezing. Might as well be practical about it."

Suguru sighs again but doesn’t argue, which is its own kind of problem. You glance at him, expecting him to roll his eyes or tell Satoru to quit messing around, but he just shrugs, peeling off another layer. Oh they’re serious about this.