Elsa awakes slowly, drawn unwillingly from dreams too sweet to come true in reality. Delicious warmth fans across her cheeks, presses into her back, braces under her temple, surrounding, all encompassing like angel wings. Still caught on the cusp of sleep, she wonders if she is dead. If this is death, she doesn't know why she once feared it. Remembering the terrible cold of last night, prodding, drilling, searing into their bones as they fled to shelter. Huddling against the walls on the half-collapsed justice building, daring a fire to warm their chapped fingers. She nuzzles closer into the warmth, splaying those chapped fingers across the steady solidity, running them up the thin fabric stretched taut across it. Curling into fists when they find a bunch in the fabric.

The warmth suddenly shifts, tightens its grip. Releases a soft, skin-prickling moan.

Every one of her senses heighten. Her eyes shoot open, instantly wide awake, fear spiking adrenalin straight to her heart.

Finding herself staring rapt at the very broad, very defined expanse of Tadashi's chest. A sliver of muscle is visible from rip in the sweater, falling open at his neckline. Her lips part in shock. Her eyes flicker, taking in the angular lines of his face. The adorably messy stands of overlong hair spilling across his brow. The pile of blankets, jackets piled atop them, cocooning them.

The muscular arms, cocooning her. The veil of sleep, cocooning him.

She can guess what happen and she curses her traitorous body for betraying her. They'd lain down last night, close to share heat, but not touching. Unconsciously, they'd pressed closer in sleep, yearning for warmth.

Tadashi shifts again, his sleep restless. One hand slides up to the nape of her neck and buries into her loose hair. Elsa gasps, mortified heat sloshing into her cheeks. The other draws her closer, until she's crushed against his chest. It rests in the curve of her waist. His forehead comes to rest against hers, silky black hair tickling her nose. She's finding it hard to breathe now, close to hyperventilating. Nervously she tilts her head back, to find a way out of the achingly heavenly embrace. His days-old stubble scratches her sensitive cheeks, his lips hover over hers, mere breaths away, unwittingly.

A groan parts Tadashi's lips, a dragged unwillingly from the innocence of sleep groan. Horrified, Elsa ducks, commands her darting eyes to calm, her shaking hands to still. Her heart flutters like a caged bird, ready to burst from her chest. She wills it to still, desperate. It gives her away. Flags down the lie of her feigned sleep like the scarlet sash of a matador. Her breath shallows when through her peeking lashes, she sees his eyes flicker open, deep and chocolately. She watches as they widen in shock before snapping her own shut. The hand tangled in her hair loosens, running gently along her neck, fingering stray tendrils. He pulls back, slightly, his chin prickling against the bridge of her nose.

And then, his lips, pressing to her forehead.

A whispered touch so not to wake her.

Innocent.