By: TooniverseTraveler
The storm outside showed no sign of stopping for two days, its relentless winds howling through the cracks in the cabin's walls, making the cold seep further into the small room. The fire provided only so much warmth, and the sinking realization that they were stuck for an indefinite time began to set in. The food supply was limited, and the sink had given out, leaving them with no running water.
Loid leaned back against the wall, watching the fire flicker, his mind working through the practicalities of their situation. He could feel Yor's presence next to him, her breathing steady, though her movements were more relaxed than usual. They had found some provisions in the cabin, including a small stash of whiskey. At first, it had seemed like a good way to pass the time, a way to take the edge off the biting cold.
But as the nights wore on and the whiskey flowed more freely, Loid began to notice a change in Yor.
She wasn't usually the type to indulge too much—always so careful, so controlled. But the storm, the isolation, and the alcohol had loosened her restraint. She giggled softly, her body swaying slightly as she leaned against him, her shoulder pressing into his arm.
"Loid," she slurred, her voice warm and affectionate in a way that caught him off guard. "You're so serious all the time. It's... cute."
Loid blinked, his normally sharp mind feeling a little slower than usual, thanks to the whiskey warming his system. He wasn't used to hearing her speak like this, so open, so unguarded. He glanced down at her, noticing the flush on her cheeks, the way her eyes gleamed in the dim light of the fire.
"You've had too much to drink," he said, his voice soft but firm. "You should rest."
Yor shook her head, her hair falling loose from its usual neatness, spilling over her shoulders. "Nooo," she drawled, her lips forming a playful pout. "I'm not tired. Besides, it's cold... and you're so warm."
Before Loid could respond, she scooted closer to him, her body pressing against his side. Her clothes, already light from earlier, had become more sparse as the night wore on. She had shed her outer layers, leaving her in just her undershirt and pants, and now, as she leaned into him, he could feel the softness of her skin through the thin fabric.
Loid tensed, his instincts screaming at him to pull away, to create some distance between them. But the warmth of her body, combined with the heat of the whiskey in his veins, made it harder than it should have been to think clearly.
"Yor," he began, trying to maintain some semblance of control, "we need to—"
But before he could finish, she shifted again, turning toward him with a clumsy but endearing smile. Her hands found their way to his chest, resting there as she looked up at him, her face inches from his.
"You're always so... distant," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... you're a good person, Loid. I'm glad I have you."
Her words, though slurred, were filled with sincerity. Loid's heart beat faster, a strange mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He had spent so long keeping his distance, maintaining the careful facade of their relationship. But here, in the isolation of the cabin, with the storm trapping them and the whiskey dulling his usual resolve, the lines between what was real and what was pretend were blurring.
Yor's gaze softened as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against his cheek. Before Loid could react, her lips brushed against his in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. It was unexpected—messy, unpolished, but undeniably tender.
For a moment, Loid froze, unsure of how to respond. The kiss wasn't part of the act. It wasn't part of the mission. It was... something else. Something that felt dangerous but also tempting.
Yor pulled back slightly, her eyes wide and a little unfocused. "Oops," she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "I didn't mean to... I just... wanted to kiss you."
Loid stared at her, his mind racing. His usual clarity was muddied by the alcohol, by the warmth of her body so close to his, by the way her lips had felt against his. He should have pulled away, should have stopped it before it started. But he didn't. And now, sitting here in the dim light of the fire, with the storm outside isolating them from the rest of the world, the distance he had worked so hard to maintain was slipping away.
Yor, oblivious to his inner turmoil, leaned her head against his shoulder, her body relaxing into his. "I'm sorry if I'm being too much," she mumbled, her voice soft and sleepy now. "I just... I like being close to you."
Loid exhaled slowly, his chest tight. He couldn't deny the truth of her words, even if they were fueled by alcohol. She wasn't pretending, not in this moment. And for the first time, he wasn't sure he wanted to keep pretending either.
But he knew that whatever had just happened would complicate everything. Tomorrow, when the storm finally passed, they would have to go back to their carefully constructed roles—husband and wife in name only, partners in a mission that had no room for real emotions. And yet, as Yor nestled against him, her breathing slowing as she drifted toward sleep, Loid couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just for tonight, they could let the walls fall down.
Just for tonight.
He sighed, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, offering her the comfort she seemed to seek. He didn't have to make a decision now. For now, he would let her rest, and he would let himself feel the weight of her warmth against him.
The fire crackled softly as the cabin sank further into stillness. Outside, the wind continued its icy assault, but inside, the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. Yor's breathing grew slow and steady, her body relaxed against his, and despite the strange mixture of emotions swirling inside him, Loid found himself slowly drifting into sleep as well.
The hours passed quietly, the storm outside unrelenting. Loid woke intermittently, his instincts honed by years of being on edge, but each time, he found Yor still nestled against him, her warmth grounding him in a way he hadn't expected. She didn't stir, her sleep deep and peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
Morning came in a slow, dim light, filtered through the snow that covered the cabin's windows. The storm had finally quieted, but the cold remained. Loid blinked awake, his muscles stiff from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in, and realized that Yor was still curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her arm draped across his chest.
For a moment, he didn't move. The closeness between them felt fragile, like something that would shatter if he shifted too abruptly. He hadn't expected to wake up like this, with her body pressed so gently against his, her warmth still lingering from the night before. The kiss she had given him, sloppy and alcohol-fueled, replayed in his mind. It had been so out of character for both of them—spontaneous, unguarded, real.
He glanced down at her. Her face was peaceful, her breath soft and steady, and Loid found himself hesitant to disturb her. But reality was creeping back in, pulling him away from the moment. He needed to move, to start figuring out how long they'd be trapped in the cabin, and to check on the state of the storm outside. His mind was already shifting back into mission mode, though something in him resisted the return to normalcy.
Carefully, he shifted his body, trying to disentangle himself from her without waking her up. But as he moved, Yor stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly, still hazy with sleep.
"Loid?" Her voice was groggy, soft, as she blinked up at him.
"Morning," he said quietly, trying to keep his tone neutral. "You fell asleep."
Yor sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand, and then paused as the events of the previous night seemed to filter back into her mind. Her face flushed instantly, her eyes widening in realization. "Oh no... I—" she stammered, her hand going to her mouth. "Did I...?"
"You were drunk," Loid said, his voice calm and measured. "It's fine."
Yor's blush deepened, her gaze darting away in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, Loid. I didn't mean to... I mean, I wasn't thinking clearly, and... oh, no."
Loid placed a hand on her shoulder, a gesture meant to reassure her. "It's alright," he said again, his voice softer now. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Yor looked up at him, her expression still uncertain, but there was relief in her eyes. "I didn't make things... weird, did I?"
Loid hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "No," he said finally. "It's not weird. We've both been through a lot, and last night was... different. But it's okay."
Yor exhaled, clearly relieved by his words, though the blush remained on her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap. "I just... I don't know what came over me."
"It was the whiskey," Loid said with a small, almost amused smile. "And the storm. We're all a little out of our usual element."
Yor managed a small, sheepish smile in return, though her embarrassment still lingered. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, suddenly aware of her disheveled appearance and minimal clothing. "I... I'll get dressed," she said quickly, standing up and moving toward the small pile of her clothes in the corner.
Loid watched her go, the awkwardness between them palpable. He wasn't sure what to make of it all, either. The kiss, the closeness, the way she had leaned into him... it wasn't something he could just brush aside. But at the same time, he couldn't let it complicate things, not when their entire relationship was built on a delicate balance of pretense and necessity.
He stood up as well, stretching his stiff muscles before moving toward the window. The snow had piled up high against the cabin, almost completely blocking the door. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon. The storm had passed, but they were still very much trapped.
"We're snowed in," he said, more to himself than to Yor, as he examined the situation. "It'll be a while before we can dig ourselves out."
Yor, now dressed again in her usual layers, came to stand beside him, her expression thoughtful as she looked out at the snow-covered landscape. "I guess we're stuck here a little longer, then."
Loid nodded, his mind already calculating their next steps. They had enough firewood for another night, but they'd need to be careful with their food and supplies. The whiskey would have to stay untouched for the rest of their stay.
"We'll manage," Loid said, his voice steady. "We just have to be smart about our resources."
Yor nodded in agreement, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. "Loid... about last night. I—"
"It's fine," Loid interrupted gently, not wanting her to dwell on it. "We were both tired, and the situation... it was what it was."
Yor bit her lip, looking unsure, but she nodded, accepting his words. Still, something unspoken lingered between them, an awareness of the night they had shared, of the warmth and the closeness that had passed between them. It wasn't something that could be easily forgotten.
For now, though, they both agreed to let it lie. The storm had left them with enough practical concerns, and there was no room for confusion or complication.
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Anya turned her attention back to Bond, petting him as she leaned down to whisper in his ear. "We'll wait till later, Bond. We'll find Papa and Mama."
Bond barked softly in response, his tail wagging slowly.
The day stretched on, tension mounting in the hotel as the storm outside showed no sign of clearing. Frank's nerves were shot, and Anya could sense his mounting frustration. But for now, she would wait. Wait until the moment was right to put her "rescue plan" into action.
She was, after all, a master spy like her Papa—or at least, she liked to think she was.