Ace Up My Sleeve
Written in response to this prompt from @infinimay:
Nobody ever said that ‘Ace up my sleeve’ should be literal, and yet here we are! -Fin🐌
Wordcount: 1.3 K
Summary: being small means you get cold faster.
[More stories]
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“Patton?”
Patton looked up from his book at the sound of his name, but for a second, he couldn’t place whose voice it had been. Nor could he see anyone in his immediate vicinity. Luckily, the speaker spoke again.
“Patton.”
This time, Patton both recognized the voice and was able to tell the direction from which it had come. He looked down to spot his smallest friend standing on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Hi, Logan,” Patton greeted happily, setting his book down on the cushion beside him.
“Greetings.” Logan shuffled his feet, looking away for a moment.
“Do you need something?” Patton prompted gently.
“Indeed,” Logan admitted. “I— With the change in the seasons, the ambient temperature has lowered drastically, and I do not have enough body mass to independently retain a healthy core temperature. Given that you are so much larger than I am, it is reasonable to assume that you would have less difficulty creating and retaining body heat, and I wished to request that you share some of it with me so that I do not contract hypothermia.”
Patton perked up. “You want to cuddle for warmth?”
Logan looked hesitant, but he nodded. “That would be one solution to my problem,” he said, eyeing Patton’s hands warily. Patton kept them to himself for now, knowing just how intimidating Logan found him, even though they were friends now.
“How would you like to warm up?” Patton asked instead.
Logan was silent for another few seconds, looking embarrassed. Patton waited patiently, not wanting to risk scaring Logan back into the walls where he might freeze to death.
“Direct skin-to-skin contact would be ideal,” Logan said at last, not meeting Patton’s gaze. “The heat transfer would likely be most efficient were you to hold me against your chest under your sweater, but I am not entirely comfortable with… with the level of…” He paused again, clearly searching for words, and his eyes darted up to Patton’s face for a moment. “It is not that I do not believe you to be trustworthy,” Logan assured, “but I still feel a certain amount of trepidation at the mere idea of permitting you to hold me in such a way, where I am vulnerable and entirely dependant on your goodwill and mercy in order to depart.” He looked down at his feet again. “I… I apologize. Perhaps I ought not to have made this request when I am not capable of carrying through with the necessary actions to optimally complete it.”
“It’s okay, Logan!” Patton whispered. “You’re allowed to be scared of me. I know I’m huge compared to you.”
Logan didn’t say anything, only hugged himself and nodded slightly.
Patton thought, trying to come up with another solution. “What if you climbed inside my sweater sleeve?” he offered at last. “That way I’m not actually holding you at all, and I’ll stay on the couch so if it becomes too much, you can get out and away on your own.”
Logan’s gaze snapped again to Patton’s hands. After a few seconds, he mused aloud, “The heat transfer would be less than optimal. However, I would be far more comfortable.” He nodded. “Yes. I agree to those terms, so long as you will promise not to handle me directly.”
“I promise.” Patton smiled. “May I set my arm beside you?”
Though he looked nervous, Logan nodded again. Patton leaned forward, placing his forearm on the coffee table beside the tiny man. Logan approached it slowly, hesitating once more at Patton’s wrist. With another glance up at Patton’s face, Logan reached out and grasped the cuff. Cautiously, as though worried that something bad might happen at any second, Logan lifted the fabric. Patton held carefully still as Logan crawled onto his inner wrist and under his sleeve. It tickled, and Logan was certainly cold, but Patton managed not to twitch. Finally, Logan poked his head back out through the cuff, looking over his shoulder up at Patton.
“You- you may resume your previous position now,” he called.
Moving slowly, Patton lifted his arm from the coffee table, sitting back on the couch again. He didn’t quite go back to how he had been sitting before, instead turning sideways and letting his arm rest across his lap. “How’s this?” he asked when he was settled.
Logan was quiet for a moment, glancing around him. “It is— it is acceptable.”
“Good. Feeling any warmer yet?”
“Indeed,” Logan answered, and Patton could hear the relief in his tiny friend’s voice. “The air within your sleeve is considerably warmer than the air outside it.”
“I’m glad. Stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you.”
Patton grinned. “Of course. Can’t have my little buddy freezing.” Suddenly, he thought of a pun, and his eyes lit up. “Hey, Logan?”
“What?”
“Nobody ever said that ‘having an ace up my sleeve’ should be literal, but here we are.”
There was silence, but Patton could swear that he could hear Logan’s confused frown.
“I get the distinct impression that you are making a play on words,” the tiny man said at last. He did not ask Patton for the explanation, probably embarrassed to directly admit that he didn’t understand. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Patton almost shrugged, but thought better of it at the last second. It might jostle Logan. “Having an ace up your sleeve is an idiom,” he said. “It usually means having a secret plan that you wait to reveal. I think it came from cheating at cards by hiding the ace card in your sleeve for later. But an ‘ace’ can refer to other things as well. For example, someone who does not experience sexual attraction. You said you’re like that, right?”
“Yes, that is accurate,” Logan said after a few moments. “I recall having a conversation about… attractions, or- or the lack thereof, during which you said that the word ‘asexual’ could be applied to me.”
“Yeah, so ‘ace’ is short for that.”
“I see.” Logan seemed to be processing that, and after a bit he said, “The phrase came from people hiding an ‘ace’ card in their sleeves?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Logan hummed. “So it was literal, at least in the original usage.”
“Hm?”
“You said, ‘Nobody ever said that “having an ace up my sleeve” should be literal,’” Logan quoted. “And yet, by your own admission, the phrase was originally meant to be literal.”
Patton blinked. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I got distracted by the pun I was about to make. Point to Logan.”
“Why are you instructing me to indicate myself?” Logan asked, clear puzzlement in his voice. “You and I both know where I am.”
“Not that kind of point,” Patton said. “A point like… like on a scoreboard in a game. I’m conceding victory to you, because you were correct.”
“Ah.” Logan was silent for a moment before asking, “Is there any significance to this point I have received?”
“Not really. It’s just another idiom. Like saying touché when someone makes a good counter-argument.”
“I see.”
After a few moments more of silence, Logan pulled Patton’s cuff over his head again. He shifted about under Patton’s sleeve for a few moments, which was a very odd feeling but Patton refused to let himself so much as twitch, and then settled down again.
Patton smiled fondly down at where he knew his friend was, though he barely even made a visible lump under the cloth, feeling incredibly touched that Logan had trusted him this much.
“Hey, Lo?”
“Yes, Patton?”
“Okay if I go back to my book?”
“Certainly,” Logan replied promptly. “However… please do not forget that I am here. I would not like to be accidentally crushed or flung out of your sleeve.”
Patton nodded, even though he knew Logan couldn’t see the gesture. “I promise.” He picked up his book again and, careful not to move the arm Logan was using as a heated mattress, resumed reading.