Chapter Text
His hands now sit folded in his lap, you glance at them, remembering how cold they were. Truly how has this man stayed alive up here without you? Didn't he say he spent a lot of time on Dragonspine?
Of course you could tell him to put his hands up by the fire… but you'd kind of prefer to warm them between your own palms. How would his hands feel cupped between your own? Would he appreciate such a gesture? The absence of a clear answer to this question leads you to hesitate. You resist the urge for now- choosing secret option three: lead by example. Slipping your own gloves off instead. You flexed your fingers; stiff from the cold. You can practically feel them creak in protest as you move them, exercising the joints. You extended your hands out towards the fire, sighing in satisfaction as the flames thawed your frozen skin. It was the kind of cold thawing that made your flesh ache and tingle… the skin of your hands itchy as the nerves come back to life from their numb state.
You glance back at him, he still sat stationary; Simply watching you. You waited, seeing if he would join you in warming up in the flames. You sit in silence, he doesn’t move. Would you ever stop being surprised by him or should you just accept that he was absolutely insane and you could not predict his behavior like you could typically with other people.
You purse your lips for a moment, pondering your options. It couldn't hurt you supposed… Gently, with your palms now heated by the fire, you reach back to cup his hands. Muttering a small "Here…" as you do so. His hands feel even colder now that yours are warm in comparison.
Oh. This is nice, he decides. Though the decision is almost instant after he shakes off the surprise at your sudden grasp. All previous signs have pointed to you being off put but his touch, but now you're the one touching him. Unprompted at that. He'd like to analyze the implications this has for your developing interpersonal relationship but the feel of your skin on his is more than a little distracting, especially when you're so warm.. He resigns himself to pondering these things later as he simply watches how you hold him, icy teal eyes locked onto your hands-- which greatly contrast his. They hold a pink flush in the knuckles and finger tips, your blood pooling to the extremity in a struggle to keep it warm and functional. Various scars littered your fingers, weaving a story with each mark left on your skin. Perhaps you’d tell him about them if he asked?... His eyes follow you as your head ducks down to your cupped hands, blowing a hot breath into your palms- warming his frigid fingers. It's so warm- his eyes close for a second, too overwhelmed to handle visual stimuli as well as your overwhelming heat.
Your grip on his hands loosens, and he feels a certain tinge of disappointment rise in his chest. He chooses not to analyze that emotion as his eyes open again. It soon subsides anyways, as you don't pull away. Instead splaying his fingers out atop yours, inspecting them. Your eyes ran over the small wrinkles on his knuckles and the movement of his tendons beneath his skin as his fingers twitched. Not satisfied simply observing with your eyes, your fingers ran over the details so intricately crafted by his creator. Your touch is feather light, his eyes flicker up to observe your face, your eyes are gentle and your lips are slightly parted as you breathe. He can't look at you for long as the tickle of your touch on his skin draws his attention again. You had flipped his hands over, tracing over the lines in his palm. His eyes are locked onto the movements of your fingers. Though he was thoroughly confused at the motivation behind your touch, he was unable to gather his thoughts to form a proper theory, finding the stimulation far too distracting. Although your hands are undeniably warm, the warmth you provide on his skin pales in comparison to the heat that builds in his chest. What would have happened if his creator had revered him like this, is this how Rhinedottir inspected Albedo when he was created? Her Magnum opus, her Albedo, in her eyes; was her touch as gentle as yours? Why was he, who had no real heart, no real warmth of his own, why…how did he feel so hot right now? A small sound escapes him, unintentional, and he stands quickly. His body didn't do things without him willing it. He didn't do anything unintentionally, so- why. Your eyes shoot to his face and your hands retract quickly back towards your body. The offending limbs hang in the air for a moment before they lace together, fingernails picking at your cuticles.
"I'm sorry-"
"Please excuse me." His voice was monotone, as usual. So why did it sting this time?
He retreats quickly to another part of the cave, he's still within your sight where he comes to a stop at the edge of what could be considered your ‘camp’. Even so you give him privacy, it's the least you can do after fondling his hands like that. You run a hand over your face, a quiet groan rumbling from your throat. You were tired, really tired, and you hadn't seen another person for a few days, he was very pretty and- he had just touched your face so gently when he was cleaning your scrape! You rationalized the motivation behind your actions, but it still didn't excuse the fact that you clearly made him uncomfortable. You'll apologize again when he comes back. If he comes back… he’ll come back.
You stand, even with how exhausted you are you still need to eat… and you need a distraction from- whatever that just was. your heart was still racing with a surge of adrenaline at the mild confrontation. you hate confrontation, you hate doing things wrong- Perhaps having some food ready as a peace offering would aid your coming apology. You grab your rations, looking through the cured pork and bread, you'd have to split your portions in two to make them last with the extra mouth to feed, less was better than nothing. Even though the meat was cured and had no need to be cooked, there was something nice about eating something hot, especially on Dragonspine. It provided more of a true ‘meal’ experience, it boosted morale as well as up your internal body temperature. At Least- it did for you. You angled some sticks over the fire, using the snow to hold them in place, you draped some of the meat over. It didn't need to be heated for long, you weren't sure when Albedo would return to the fire. So you made sure to watch his portion carefully so it wouldn't burn.
Meanwhile, Subject One paced. He placed his hand on his chest, which felt... Felt something. Maybe if he could feel… touch- what was going on he could figure it out? With something concrete and tractile beneath his fingers maybe-
…
Nothing, though the heat felt so real and blazing inside his chest it did not radiate out to his skin. His brow furrowed, perhaps some of Durrin’s blood flowed through his veins. Or, perhaps this was some side effect from being around a human? Did humans feel this too? Was this a special trait you held? Something specific between you and him? You didn't possess a vision so it couldn't be an elemental influence… With the absence of your touch the feeling was quickly beginning to fade, his other hand came to his chest, pressing into the skin beneath his clothes. Maybe if he held on hard enough he could trap it inside. Maybe if he just gripped it tightly enough- maybe he could keep it from escaping and leaving him cold again. It didn't work, without you to tend to it, to him, the heat left him. No longer cupped gently in your hands while you blow gently on the tender embers of his being. He’s not even left to smolder, the heat is extinguished without you. You were the most likely cause of this, the only new variable- He’d have to test his theories to be certain.
You glance up as you hear the crunch of Albedo’s boots approaching in the snow. Wordlessly, you hand him his portion of meat and bread as he sits. Which he recognizes an appeasement gesture. You know simply feeding him was not enough to earn his forgiveness, You took that on as a responsibility when you ran after that shadow in the snow storm. Though it did 'help' by postponing having to speak as your embarrassment and nerves grow without bound in your stomach.
Subject One did not need to consume to remain energized but it would be unusual of him to not do so, so ‘Albedo’ accepted the food. He did not eat yet though, he could pretend-- but truly you were most often the center of his attention. His eyes traveled over your face, analyzing your expression. Your brow was furrowed and your lips were pulled taught in a thin line. You did not look at him and instead stared into the flames of the fire. You were upset, he had upset you by getting up, by leaving. Of course. Humans were very sensitive to rejection, he had rejected you. He had gone out of his way to tend to your wound to build your social bonds, and yet when you returned the effort he had accidentally rejected you- He needed to mend this immediately.
"I'm sorry, again." "I apologize."
You both spoke at the same time, your gaze shot to him with wide eyes. You quickly shook your head.
"No- no. It's okay, don't apologize to me. I'm the one that made you uncomfortable, I shouldn't have touched you without your permission. I'm truly, deeply, sorry Albedo. It was not my intention."
You bowed your head, putting yourself in a vulnerable position before him. He blinked. Oh, ok. Like a wolf rolling over onto its belly, you were submitting. Perhaps you had done something you deemed taboo in human society that he was unaware of. Well, he didn't mind, in fact he needed you to keep touching him so he could decipher that heat in his chest.
"I'll give you my permission then."
You raise your head from its bowed position, thoroughly confused. "Huh?"
"I give you permission, You may touch me. Whenever you’d like, please do so."
You blink at him, the rosy color in your cheeks (which you swear is from the cold, ok?) grows much deeper in shade. Oh sweet Barbatos You feel light headed-- You're dying, you're dead, you clearly died at some point on your journey up the mountain and your poor, deeply confused, spirit is making up random visions from the last of your firing synapses. Simply making sense of random patterns-- He reached his hand out to you and cut off your racing thoughts, palm up. An offering. You swallow, clenching and un-chlenching your fist at your side. Cautiously, you accept. Reaching out to him again by gently placing your fingertips on his own, your eyes twitch to his face, watching his reaction for any discomfort. Instead he gives you a smile, one that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. Was that the first time you’ve seen that? It's the first time you’ve noticed that at least.
You can feel yourself sweating, you're freezing and you're sweating. Surely this wasn't good for your health. Your eyes glance down to where your hands rest between the two of you, not even interlocked, your hand simply placed on top of his and yet- Your chest felt like it could burst open at any moment… is this the conclusion he came to while he left to think? That… he wanted you to touch him more? That he likes it when- oh Archons- Your stomach grumbles cuts off your thoughts, causing you to remember the food, you turn to face the fire, which was dwindling slightly at this point. That didn't prevent your piece of pork from burning though.
"Oh!" You startle to attention, willingly letting the distraction pull you from the tachycardia inducing situation that skin to skin contact with Albedo was causing, giving your heart a much needed break.
Jolting forward you pull the stick and the crisp slab from the flame.
"Shit…" you deflate, letting yourself forget about Albedo's hand on yours and his words from moments ago to avoid any awkwardness. (For now.) You sigh through your nose, resigning to only eating bread tonight; you grab your hunk of bread and take a bite, visibly sulking a bit.
"Here." Albedo offers you his portion of pork, holding it out for you to take.
You shake your head, moving the bite of bread to your cheek so you could speak.
"No no- that's ok. You keep it."
"Please." His hand remains extended.
"No it's fine- I'm fine I promise, it's yours. I should’ve watched my piece closer-"
He places his piece into your hands.
"Albedo!" You chastise "I said-" As you speak he grabs the burnt hunk, placing the whole thing in his mouth.
You stare at him, wide eyes, mouth slightly open. He stares back. And then, you snort. Turning away from him as it turns into a full belly laugh, your hand comes up to cover your mouth, attempting to muffle the sound and hide the half chewed bread contained in your cheek. You glance at him from behind your hand- and as you look at him, eyes crinkled into joyful crescents, Subject one feels that spark light in his chest again. You're like flint, and he's your tinder. The sparks you cannot help but emit are lighting his body to smolder. He didn't think he would like being laughed at, and thinking of anyone else in your place he confirms he in fact, wouldn't. But... if it's you…
"Ok ok- I guess I have no choice now." You smile, your voice full of mirth.
Your worries eased that he held a grudge or any discomfort with you. You eat in silence, alternating bites of pork and bread. Subject one finds the corners of his mouth lifting, unintentional, uncalculated… a small modest smile. One he doesn't even notice himself, and If you notice it, you don't say anything. After you're done eating, you stand, gathering the hilichurls’ wooden tools and masks and throwing a few onto the fire to keep it burning.
When you return to his side you simply sit at first. Now, without the distraction of hunger and warm food- your mind wanders back to Albedo’s earlier words. He wants you to touch him. Not only that- he encourages it. Slowly, your hand finds his again, hooking your pinky with his in a shy gesture. His hands are still so much colder than yours… You don't look at him, at least not directly. You certainly steal glances at him every so often, but that's nothing new. Neither of you comments on it. With your stomach now full and the warmth from the fire providing comfort, you feel your eyes finally drooping out of your control. Normally you'd hop right into your sleeping bag and snooze without hesitation. packing around 25 pounds of gear while trudging up in the thinning air of Dragonspine really wiped a person out…but this time your sleeping arrangements are… abnormal. You decide you're too tired to care- also you're a grown adult, in a dangerous survival situation! You should be worrying about frostbite and hypothermia, hilichurls and falling ice! (Which you were, but the point still stands! The issue/non-issue of the single bed roll was low priority)
You stand up and start pulling out your gear. You start by rolling out a mat woven from thick plant fibers to keep out the moisture of the snow and then place your sleeping bag on top. You go through your nightly routine wordlessly, Making sure all your items are accounted for. Afterwards, you place your pack in the foot of the sleeping bag, which makes it more difficult to steal. Sitting on the bedroll, you take your cold, wet, boots off. Then set them by the fire to dry. Subject one watches it all closely, you've grown so accustomed to his gaze on you it hardly feels like you're being stalked anymore.
You slip your legs into the soft and welcoming fabric, feeling the familiarity of the material that your body recognizes as a safe place for you to rest, making you even sleepier. You turn to Albedo, clearing your throat to capture his attention. An unnecessary action, as his eyes are already focused on you.
"Uh- I'm gonna sleep, you can join me whenever you're ready! I guess."
Your sleeping bag was bigger than a typical one, to make room for the puffy down feathers that filled the lining, you wouldn't be packed in like plump sausages but you'd certainly be… touching. Ok, whatever. You're tired, you're going to sleep, no need to think about that. You turn your back to him, snuggling into the fabric and trying to clear your mind. Think empty thoughts…
Subject one’s eyes were on you and he could feel his fingers twitch, hesitating and yet wanting to move. While sleep wasn't something that was necessary to him for survival, it was helpful to compartmentalize events; and if there was any day where he needed a long period of respite to sort out his thoughts- it was today. His testing with you seems to be going well, you trust him, he thinks. Perhaps he'll move to asking you things out right instead of just observing, you seem to be quite the conversationalist. It seemed to be human nature to prattle on. An annoying- perhaps minisculely charming- trait. His brow furrowed slightly as he pondered you, he couldn't ignore the possibility that perhaps you were turning out to be a bad control for a human subject, and that you were an outlier. The ways he felt himself react to you were… highly abnormal for what he knew his constitution to be. Maybe you were a catalyst of sorts, enabling… enabling whatever it was that formed in his chest when you touched. His focus moved to your jacket, Still resting on his body, long since devoid of its owner's warmth as it now sat on his icy form. I was thick and fur lined, if he produced body heat there's no doubt this coat would keep it insulated from the elements. It was a valuable resource for a warm blooded mammal like you… yet you gave it to him before even knew his name. Or.. the name he told you at least
he’d have to remember to thank you. Even if he didn't truly need it, it's not like you knew that. Or needed to know. He approaches the bedroll where you rest as he thinks. You had practically disappeared into the casing of fabric around you. He wondered if you were asleep yet. He copied your action from earlier, taking off his boots and setting them next to yours by the fire. Each movement he made was deliberate, slipping into the sleeping bag next to you carefully to avoid disruption. Oh. It was so warm in here. Warm in here with you. Your body radiated its usual heat, the fabric trapping it inside the bedroll like a Dutch oven. It was…nice? Your warmth was definitely pleasant, that he knew, but it stirred up a churning mess of emotions that were far too convoluted to untangle. You brought them right up to the bubbling surface where they practically demanded his attention. He laid still, stiff as a board. He looked at you, or-- the back of your head, really. You were breathing so softly.
He wondered if he could… A hesitant hand reaches out, grazing over the tufts of your hair. Soft. He pinched one of the wefts, feeling it between his fingers. His other hand went to his own hair, comparing the textures. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, he just simply… wanted to do it. Curious. That's all, he was curious. Feeling more daring, he ran his fingers through your locks. You let out a small sigh through your nose in your sleep, shifting around to lay on your back. What did that mean? Was that good? Bad? Neutral? Was that… pleasurable for you? Perhaps he would ask you in the morning… he repeated the action.
After your shuffling, he could now see your face-- which was completely relaxed, your lips slightly parted as your soft breaths blew through them. His eyes flit down to your neck, he can see your pulse thumping lightly in your jugular vein. One of his cold hands slips down from your hair, resting on your throat. He can see the goose bumps that automatically form on your skin in response. It would be so easy for him to-- no. Not yet. He wonders if others have seen you like this, at your most vulnerable and unaware. He doesn't think observing others sleeping is a very common activity among humans. He's a bit glad for that fact, there was something in him that wanted to be the only one…