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The weather was rarely kind around Necropolis-on-Sea, and when it rained, it poured. Sheets of water were slamming against the siding, the wind was causing the entire building to creak, and for every window, there was a corresponding humid-to-the-point-of-moist draft sweeping through the rooms. It was raucous and cold and miserable.
It was nights like this that Merilwen was grateful for being close to a seven-foot-tall dragonborn who had the body heat of a roaring furnace. It was also nights like this that she was grateful to be the best tracker of their group because it meant she got first dibs.
After a few fruitless rooms, she poked her head around the doorway to the drawing room. There was the usual clutter of Dob’s art supplies filling the center of the room, loose charcoals and paint sets and half-finished sketches of nude figures. Most of them pirate-shaped, but not all of them. Merilwen was proud of Dob for expanding his horizons, even if just a little bit. The room was wreathed in flickering light, the lamps extinguished in favor of a fire crackling in the fireplace. It had a cozy effect, warm oranges bathing the room and illuminating the rotund form of a large seal lying against the fireplace bricks. Seal Gaiman seemed far too close for his health, but he had wiggled his way to safety from far more perilous situations than curling up on the hearth at home. Merilwen could overlook it. She was far more focused on the sight of her current prey, lounging on a couch that was dragged over so that he could watch the flames dance. She grinned, creeping into the room on silent feet.
Hunting had given Merilwen many skills, among them a light step. She wasted no time in crossing the room, stealthy enough to make Corazón cry in pride, and raised herself up onto the back of the couch. It was overly grand with a high curled back, had ornate decoration, and was tearing at the edges, and it let out a worrying groan as she lifted herself onto it. Egbert stirred at the sound and she pounced before he could look up, landing with a thump on his chest.
“What the-?! Merilwen, don’t do that! I almost flame breath’d you!”
Even in the brisk stormy night, Egbert was so warm. He was dressed down, wearing a thin linen shirt and loose soft pants, and his clothes allowed even more heat to radiate off his body. She melted into his side, barely paying attention to his words as she curled into him. “Hello to you, too, Egbert.”
He huffed in annoyance but didn’t push her way, letting her wriggle her way between him and the back of the couch. Getting between Egbert and a plush cushion felt like wedging herself in an oven, which would be a horrible idea in most situations, but was ideal when she had been shivering since leaving her trance early that morning. She let out a happy sigh, going boneless, and Egbert turned himself around so that they were facing one another.
“So it begins.”
“So what begins?” Merilwen asked, her words already edged with sleepiness, and Egbert rolled his eyes. She could tell it was fond from the way he rested his hand on her waist, surrounding her with a bit more warmth.
“You guys all suddenly wanna cuddle with me whenever the weather gets slightly bad.”
“Aw, Egbert, I wanna cuddle with you all the time!”
He didn’t bother responding to that, just giving her a disbelieving look, and she giggled. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking herself into the crook under his chin, and since she could no longer see his expressive eye narrowing, he heaved a weary sigh instead.
“I’m sighing. I’m sighing at you,” he said as if there was any way that she could have missed it. This close to him, she could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.
“Stop being so dramatic. You like cuddling.”
“You’re using me,” he grumbled.
“You like being used,” she shot back, barely managing to get the words out before breaking into laughter, and he retaliated by rolling them over and squishing her beneath his body weight. “Wha- Ah! Egbert! You’re suffocating me!”
“You wanted this.” He sat up just enough to assess how clear her airways were, then collapsed onto her again, effectively trapping her against the worn plush couch. He squirmed to loop his arms under her back, holding her closer to his chest. “You want my body heat, you’ll have to deal with all three hundred pounds of me as well. Cope.”
“You’re crushing me!” Merilwen whined while doing very little to free herself from Egbert’s grasp. For all that Egbert wasn’t too careful about throwing himself around, the weight of him on top of her body was much more comforting than it was painful, like piling too many blankets on in the midst of winter.
She knew full well that it was going to be too much to deal with soon enough and that she would have to physically wrestle him off of her. That was how it went when you regularly shared a bed - or a couch, as it were - with the dragonborn equivalent of a wolf who thought he was a lap dog. Even as hardy as Merilwen was, built much tougher than she looked, it couldn’t last forever.
It could last for now, though. At the moment, she was content to cocoon herself in his body heat. Her face pressed into his scaled skin, buttery along the hollow of his neck instead of the rough scales of his back. His scent mingled with hers, gunpowder and plant matter and the general musty smell that followed everyone in Necropolis-on-Sea. She could feel his heartbeat against her own chest, as steady as it ever was, and when she breathed in, he did as well.
“You’re so warm,” she murmured and when he laughed, it vibrated through her entire body.
“I know,” he replied simply.
“I love you,” she added, and Egbert’s arms tightened around her. He tilted his head down, nestling her closer to him.
“Love you, too.”