Chapter Text
The shitty motel room in the cold ass North offered no protection from the freezing weather. It hadn’t even gotten as bad as it could be; the winter still had a month left to get especially bitter and attempt to freeze the world and devour it. A fact that Numbers was quite unhappy about, but relatively grateful for. He didn’t particularly want to stick around for severely below zero temperatures with wind chills that could freeze your blood in mere moments.
It was definitely time that he and his partner go on vacation somewhere warm and sunny; somewhere he could sprawl out and enjoy heat washing over his body in waves of comfortable hot air. Way past due, he thought to himself as Numbers pulled the blanket a little closer to himself.
Wrench stepped out not long ago to go run down to the corner store to pick up some supplies for the night. Numbers insisted he go with him for nearly ten minutes, but was shot down each and every time he tried to argue his reasoning. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Wrench. Numbers didn’t trust other people. Especially when Wrench couldn’t hear if anyone was sneaking around in the dead of night, looking to mug a perceivably easy target.
The fact that they hadn’t yet caught the guy they were in town for made Numbers uneasy. For some reason, not knowing where this man was made Numbers beyond uncomfortable. To be fair, the weather had made it very difficult to search for more than a few hours at a time, but even then they still had usually at least put a location on their target by now. The small hit man fidgeted with the loose threads of the tattered and worn blanket. How many disgusting scenes had this thing witnessed? His skin crawled as he noticed every potential bodily fluid stain on the patchwork cover.
He had to chill the fuck out and soon.
Wrench finally threw open the motel door with the same loudness he did almost everything else. How it was possible the giant bear of a man could possibly sneak up on someone so quietly when he spent ninety-nine percent of his time slamming shit and stomping around like everyone else was deaf, too, was beyond Numbers. No less, the noise was something he found a deep and disturbing comfort in; security that he would never be willing to admit to Wrench or anyone else. Hell, he really didn’t even want to admit it to himself most nights.
Numbers pushed the blanket a little ways away from himself as if it was offensive and had crawled up on him without his permission. Any little sign of weakness or discomfort could be used and exploited by Wrench to tease him and put him in a foul enough mood to rot plants in his wake. Yet, the undeniable pleasure of Wrench smoothing it over and telling Numbers to calm down and take a joke, his hands loud and cheerful laughter stalling the agitated signing just might be worth the sky rocketing of his blood pressure.
Perhaps the quote he’d heard many times about love was the exact opposite for him; you have to love something before you hate it.
Numbers was pretty damn sure he have to hate something before he loved it; or maybe someone.
Wrench stomped the snow off of his boots and kicked them off as he set down the groceries he’d bought. He shrugged quickly out his jacket but frowned as went to slide off the horrendous sweater he was wearing. Is the heater busted? he signed to his partner.
I think so. I don’t know. It always feels this cold to me, Numbers replied, trying to control the shivering in his body that caused his hands to shake.
The frown on Wrench’s face deepened a little. He walked over to the thermostat, completely neglecting the groceries he’d just purchased. At this rate he wouldn’t even have to stow their perishables in the tiny mini-fridge. He flicked the meter with his fingers, the snap sounding loud to Numbers’ ears. Wrench opened up the tiny box and looked and attempted to fiddle with the dial. He shut it and turned back to his partner.
Yeah, it’s broken he signed to Numbers, watching his eyebrows arch upwards a little. The facial expression seemed to be a mixture of concern over the falling temperature and being completely unamused by yet another shitty hotel room. He supposed by now he should really be used to it.
I’ll go down to the front desk and see if anyone’s around Numbers sighed and started to get to his feet. The blanket fell around him and onto the bed. It would not serve as enough protection against the cold should there be no one at the front desk. Wrench nodded at him and began to put away the minimal amount of food he’d bought. They were still playing it by ear, but both the hit men estimated the potential of spending weeks here if things kept up the way they were going right now.
Wrench hoped that was not the case. But it wasn’t exactly like they were making progress and it had already nearly been a week so far. The cold cereal, left over take out and cheap, shitty pizza was starting to get to the both of them and the hours spent in the confines of the tiny motel room wasn’t exactly helping them either. If they weren’t arguing, they were stuffing their case files in their own respective faces trying to figure out exactly what they were missing.
Wrench missed the laid back, easy going days they’d been having for a while. The days where he could spare a thought to lazily take in the way Numbers’ hands formed words or the way his expressions hardly ever matched what he was saying but nonetheless pleased Wrench deeply. Watching the way Numbers’ hand would draw up and smooth fingers through the thick, unruly, and beautiful hair made Wrench yearn to do the same. He was overly curious as to how it felt. It looked as though it was coarse but soft, and would leave his hand tingling from where a million little strands would brush the nerve sensitive tips of his fingers.
With a single glance back at his partner, he wondered if his body would feel as cold as Numbers complained to be if he wrapped his own around him. Perhaps he might find out some day. Numbers pushed his arms through the sleeve of his coat and quickly wrapped a scarf around his throat, despite the walk being under a minute. Wrench snickered to himself, ignoring the highly offended glare that shot from the frustrated eyes of his partner.
No.
Wrench bet that Numbers felt much warmer than he seemed. His insides couldn’t possibly be frozen over with ice; not with that much red-hot anger burning all the time.
No less, he wanted to feel it pressed against his own warm chest. He wanted to feel Numbers heart begin to beat quickly, so quickly, the way his partner made Wrench’s heart race. For just a moment, even if it was just a minute or two of the time left in his world. He wanted that.
He needed that.