It was freezing. Not the ‘oh, it’s a little chilly’ kind of cold, but the ‘why did I ever think stepping outside was a good idea’ kind of cold. You sat stiffly on the steps of beckendorf’s cabin, arms wrapped around yourself in a feeble attempt to keep warm. It wasn’t working. At all.

Meanwhile, Charlie stood nearby, completely unbothered by the weather, watching you with what could only be described as a mix of amusement and judgment. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, looking cozy and way too comfortable in the unbearable cold.

“You could just admit you need a jacket,” he said, tilting his head like you were some kind of science experiment. “It won’t kill you.”

You scoffed, teeth practically chattering. “I’m fine.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because sitting there, shaking like a wet chihuahua, is totally the picture of warmth.”

He sighed dramatically, then before you could protest, pulled off his hoodie and dropped it onto your head like it was some grand solution to all your problems. The fabric was warm, slightly oversized, and smelled like him—smoke, metal, and something else stupidly comforting.

“Congratulations, you’ve just been saved from hypothermia,” he said, crossing his arms and giving you a gentle smile. “Try not to be too stubborn about it?”

You pulled the hoodie on begrudgingly, still trying to hold onto some dignity, but charlie just smiled, clearly enjoying the entire situation.

Screw him and that cute smile.

“Better?” He asked softly.