It was absolutely freezing outside, and considering the state of the ministry, inside wasn't much better. There was no such thing as heating in the old building. Why? "Historical value." Yeah, because electric guitars were totally historical.

So, you resorted to other methods of getting warm. Mainly burrowing yourself into your boyfriend's bed until he got back from his office.

The door swung open around six, and it was already dark by then. Copia flicked a lamp on, and you heard him huff as he ditched his jacket on the floor. "I'm sick of these uniforms, bambina. I feel as if I'm being baked," he huffs, tossing himself onto the bed beside you, resting his leg over yours. Your skin was icy against his, and he glanced over at you in slight surprise.

You, who looked like you were about to latch onto him like some kind of heat-seeking chigger.