For the prompt thing, snowball fight/building snowmen or hot chocolate. c:
“Do you want me t’get you a cup?” Jesse murmured before raising the steaming mug to his lips. The tiny archer huffed, waving him off but the little man was shivering. Their adventure into the snowy forest to check Jesse’s rabbit traps had chilled them both.
“I got a timble in my sewing kit i think, for patching up m’serape.” Jesse rose from the polished wood table to go search his gear. They weren’t going to be going anywhere soon with the heavy snow blocking the mountain paths so they might as well be comfortable.
“If you wish to get it, I will not stop you. Perhaps in return, I can help you restitch your holister.”
“What’s wrong with my holister?” Jesse was glad the coms they both wore helped combat the smallness of the archer’s lungs.
“Bring it here and I will show you.”
Jesse rolled his eyes but fetched the little altoids tin turned sewing kit and his gun belt from the duffle. There wasn’t much else in the little cabin, everything crammed in one room minuse the bathroom.
Soon he was back at the table, pouring whiskey into his hot chocolate while the archer inspected his gear. Being so small, he was able to tug the heavy cord back through the stitch holes, muttering as he wrestled with it.
Jesse left him too it, watching the snow fall outside. He just hoped the power stayed on.
It lasted until his cup was empty and he was in his longjohns. There was a crackle of snow and ice higher up the mountain like thunder and the cabin went dark.
Jesse froze, blinking into the nothingness.
“Hanzo?”
“Jesse. don’t move.”
Jesse gulped, hand still on the table. He didn’t remember where Hanzo had been last. The quiet of the room was only accented by the steady rumble of wind outside.
“Forgive my invasion of your personal space.” The words were so quiet, just the lightest whisper as the com’s went out in the dead energy zone.
Jesse’s heart leapt into his throat, the hair on his arm standing straight up as tiny hands and feet patted on his skin. Hanzo was gentle, fingers finding holds without tugging on his hair, warm and whispering across his forearm to the edge of his shirt.
He could only feel a light pressure once Hanzo was on the fabric but Jesse’s head was spinning and cheeks flushed.
Hanzo settled under his hair, nestling against his neck. “You may move now.”
Jesse had to find his feet.
