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Losers Fic: Frigid (Jensen/Cougar) 1/1 PG
Title: Frigid
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
saone77
Summary: What, people from New Hampshire can't have thin blood?
Pairings: Jensen/Cougar pre-slash
Rating: PG
Fandom: The Losers
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
Word Count: 723
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: Written for the cuddling - hypothermia square on my Schmoop Bingo card.
"If my nose falls off I'm getting Lasik."
Cougar's response is not so much a sigh as an irritated huff of air that goes white and cloud-like as soon as it leaves his lips. Part of him is honestly surprised it didn't just freeze solid and hit the ground with a little clunk.
"Seriously," Jensen says from his position by the weather-worn gargoyle Cougar was using as cover, "I can't do contacts, man. Tried once, when I first enlisted, and my eyes were always so red and irritated I couldn't see shit. So, if my nose falls off and I can't wear glasses anymore, I'm getting Lasik."
"Your nose is not going to fall off," Cougar says calmly, never letting his gaze waver from what he could see through his scope. "Shut up."
Jensen shuts up. For about forty five seconds. "My nose could fall off," he says, "if the temperatures were cold enough. Humans can freeze solid, you know. And then you could just break little bits off, no problem. 'Course, if I was that cold I'd be dead, and thus the whole not being able to see clearly thing is... kinda moot."
Most of Cougar's attention is on the sixty-year-old warehouse three hundred yards to his south where a handful of known terrorists are meeting and where Roque is supposed to be sneaking into to place charges. He's aware enough of his current surroundings, though, to note the slight slur of Jensen's words. Hoping that Roque doesn't choose that very moment to make some daring move that would require cover, Cougar tears himself away from his duty and glances at his teammate.
Jensen had never been one to tan - his strange mix of Irish and Northern Italian blood usually resulted in a shade that was roughly equivalent to a bottle of correction fluid - but there was normally some rose in his cheeks and lips. Now, though, after being stuck on this godforsaken rooftop for over an hour he looked pallid and washed-out, like the cold had leached every ounce of vitality from him.
"You do not need to be here," Cougar says, returning to his rifle. "Go down and wait with Clay and Pooch in the van."
"Clay told me to watch your back. I'm watching your back."
"How can you watch my back when you're shivering too much to see straight?"
For a good minute there's blessed silence, broken only by the intermittent chatter of Jensen's teeth and the occasional angry howl of frigid wind. Then Jensen says in a soft voice, "I'm not useless."
"Didn't say that."
"It was implied."
"You have your uses." Cougar's definitely not going to get into all of Jensen's possible uses, though he supposes telling the blond about some of his more interesting fantasies might be a good way to warm the blood.
"I just have thin blood."
"Aren't you from New Hampshire?"
"People in New Hampshire can have thin blood. So, shut up. I shouldn't even be talking to you since I'm not entirely certain you're one hundred percent human what with your laying-still-enough-to-let-icicles-form-on-your-eyebrows thing."
This time Cougar does sigh. "I have practice controlling my instincts," he says, appreciating the double-meaning, even though he knows it'll be lost on Jensen.
In a move that totally invalidates his last statement, Cougar once again looks away from his scope and glances towards his paler than ever teammate. He curses under his breath. Jensen's lips have gone from barely pink to slightly blue. That's not a good sign.
"You will not go to the car?" Cougar asks.
"Clay told me-"
"Come here."
"Uh..."
"Is there a problem, Corporal?" Cougar's never pulled rank before. He kind of likes it.
There are some shuffling sounds, and then Jensen is lying down and saying, "I don't know-"
"Hush. And get closer." Cougar represses a shudder as Jensen's frigid body comes into contact with his own. "Put your face into the side of my coat."
"This isn't watching your back," Jensen says quietly.
"Do you want to watch my back or keep your nose?"
Jensen presses closer. "So, this is just about saving my facial features?"
Cougar takes a deep breath and centers himself. "I like your facial features."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
There's another moment of silence. Then, just as Jensen starts to say something else, their world explodes. Stupid Roque.
_____________
end
Author:
saone77Summary: What, people from New Hampshire can't have thin blood?
Pairings: Jensen/Cougar pre-slash
Rating: PG
Fandom: The Losers
Warnings: Not betad, grammarians beware.
Word Count: 723
Disclaimer: This is indulgent, cracktastic fiction.
Notes: Written for the cuddling - hypothermia square on my Schmoop Bingo card.
"If my nose falls off I'm getting Lasik."
Cougar's response is not so much a sigh as an irritated huff of air that goes white and cloud-like as soon as it leaves his lips. Part of him is honestly surprised it didn't just freeze solid and hit the ground with a little clunk.
"Seriously," Jensen says from his position by the weather-worn gargoyle Cougar was using as cover, "I can't do contacts, man. Tried once, when I first enlisted, and my eyes were always so red and irritated I couldn't see shit. So, if my nose falls off and I can't wear glasses anymore, I'm getting Lasik."
"Your nose is not going to fall off," Cougar says calmly, never letting his gaze waver from what he could see through his scope. "Shut up."
Jensen shuts up. For about forty five seconds. "My nose could fall off," he says, "if the temperatures were cold enough. Humans can freeze solid, you know. And then you could just break little bits off, no problem. 'Course, if I was that cold I'd be dead, and thus the whole not being able to see clearly thing is... kinda moot."
Most of Cougar's attention is on the sixty-year-old warehouse three hundred yards to his south where a handful of known terrorists are meeting and where Roque is supposed to be sneaking into to place charges. He's aware enough of his current surroundings, though, to note the slight slur of Jensen's words. Hoping that Roque doesn't choose that very moment to make some daring move that would require cover, Cougar tears himself away from his duty and glances at his teammate.
Jensen had never been one to tan - his strange mix of Irish and Northern Italian blood usually resulted in a shade that was roughly equivalent to a bottle of correction fluid - but there was normally some rose in his cheeks and lips. Now, though, after being stuck on this godforsaken rooftop for over an hour he looked pallid and washed-out, like the cold had leached every ounce of vitality from him.
"You do not need to be here," Cougar says, returning to his rifle. "Go down and wait with Clay and Pooch in the van."
"Clay told me to watch your back. I'm watching your back."
"How can you watch my back when you're shivering too much to see straight?"
For a good minute there's blessed silence, broken only by the intermittent chatter of Jensen's teeth and the occasional angry howl of frigid wind. Then Jensen says in a soft voice, "I'm not useless."
"Didn't say that."
"It was implied."
"You have your uses." Cougar's definitely not going to get into all of Jensen's possible uses, though he supposes telling the blond about some of his more interesting fantasies might be a good way to warm the blood.
"I just have thin blood."
"Aren't you from New Hampshire?"
"People in New Hampshire can have thin blood. So, shut up. I shouldn't even be talking to you since I'm not entirely certain you're one hundred percent human what with your laying-still-enough-to-let-icicles-form-on-your-eyebrows thing."
This time Cougar does sigh. "I have practice controlling my instincts," he says, appreciating the double-meaning, even though he knows it'll be lost on Jensen.
In a move that totally invalidates his last statement, Cougar once again looks away from his scope and glances towards his paler than ever teammate. He curses under his breath. Jensen's lips have gone from barely pink to slightly blue. That's not a good sign.
"You will not go to the car?" Cougar asks.
"Clay told me-"
"Come here."
"Uh..."
"Is there a problem, Corporal?" Cougar's never pulled rank before. He kind of likes it.
There are some shuffling sounds, and then Jensen is lying down and saying, "I don't know-"
"Hush. And get closer." Cougar represses a shudder as Jensen's frigid body comes into contact with his own. "Put your face into the side of my coat."
"This isn't watching your back," Jensen says quietly.
"Do you want to watch my back or keep your nose?"
Jensen presses closer. "So, this is just about saving my facial features?"
Cougar takes a deep breath and centers himself. "I like your facial features."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
There's another moment of silence. Then, just as Jensen starts to say something else, their world explodes. Stupid Roque.
_____________
end