Chapter Text
It’s warm in his burrow. Warm, cosy and comfy, like snoozing in the afternoon sun on a particularly lazy day. It’s normal, preferred, Aster’s favourite conditions to sleep in.
But Aster can’t help but shiver. He can feel the boy breathe, feel it as his cool exhales ruffle the now drool-covered fur at the back of his neck. Jack is curled around him, one skinny leg thrown over his waist and an equally spindly arm wrapped around his chest. They’re pressing him completely against Aster, holding him so close that even the thick blanket between them is having a hard time keeping Aster warm.
It’s one of North’s; a gift, a blessing, given to Aster soon after him and Frosty had officially announced their relationship. It’s enchanted, Aster knows, each thread woven with love and magic strong enough to protect the pooka from Jack’s cold.
But he refuses to cover himself completely – he has to feel some part of the sprite, be it his nose, mouth, fingers or pale, bared legs. Jack’s breath is like having a chilled breeze whispering against him, not completely unpleasant but not completely comfortable either.
The boy’s out cold though. He's quiet and peaceful in slumber, so unlike when he's awake. Aster couldn’t imagine waking him over something so small. He can hear Jack’s heart beating. It’s slow and faint, like mice pattering around his warren, but it’s there. He can hear the little snuffles Jack utters when his dreams amuse him and the little gasps when they catch him unawares. Jack doesn’t wake though, no matter the hitch in his sound sleep, not until Aster pulls away.
Aster’s nose twitches as Jack murmurs against him, the words lost to him despite his large ears, as the boy’s lithe fingers find their way inside the blanket and clutch at the white tuft of fur on the pooka’s chest. Aster can’t help but quake; Jack’s touch burns, so cold against him that it feels as though he’s stabbed Aster. The heat he'd managed to gather inside the plush wool seems unsure whether it should fight for the space or flee completely.
Either way and with a sigh Aster pats at the hand, before regretfully tugging it away, nosing the palm affectionately and settling it on top of the blankets again. He shifts only to wrap the crimson and green fabric around himself tighter, before he settles in much the same fashion as he’s been settled all night. Jack’s grip tightens quickly, his heel digging into Aster’s tummy and his fingers groping at the material over Aster’s chest.
It’s no surprise the winter sprite always clings to him. Jack hasn’t hadn’t had much contact with anyone until recently and Aster likes to think that it’s comforting for his nip of Frostbite to wrap himself around him, to feel him. That he’s there with Jack, despite the risk of blackened limbs and bruised skin beneath thick fur.
Jack’s inability to control his temperature whilst asleep isn’t a secret. Aster had let him know right away that sharing a den would be difficult. But they’d worked it out, even if North had provided the means, even if he’d wanted nothing more than to through the soft blanket back at the big man because of that annoying, knowing twinkle in his huge blue eyes.
Aster can’t help the little smile tugging at his lips; Jack had been so stoked when he’d heard about the bloody thing’s capabilities.
And it hadn’t failed them yet.
Aster tugged on the blanket as Jack’s hand danced over his chest again, pulling it so he could grab the pale appendage before it could find it’s way inside again. He rubbed a thumb over the sprite’s knuckles, a pleased purr erupting from him when Jack immediately settled.
It was good to feel the boy. Even if he was going to wake up with a stiff, cold-threaded neck and a frozen paw the next morning.