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“Only one room left, huh?”
“You’re not the first adventurers to seek refuge from the rain here tonight,” the innkeeper replies with a shrug.
Frieren turns toward Fern, and then Stark. “Well, I suppose that’s really all we need.”
“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Stark replies as he sweeps the wet hair out of his eyes. “Anything to get out of this storm.”
“Yes,” Fern agrees, holding herself and shivering. She sneezes, causing her body to jerk. “I just want warmth.”
“Right, then,” Frieren says, turning back toward the innkeeper. “We’ll take it.”
Later that night, Stark awakes to the sound of a faint whimper. He lifts his head off his coat-turned-makeshift-pillow.
“Fern?” he asks sleepily.
“Sorry,” she says shakily after a moment. “I - I didn’t mean to wake you, Mr. Stark.”
“No, it’s ok,” he says as he rubs his palm across one side of his face. “Uhm, are you feeling alright?”
She pauses again before replying. “I… haven’t been able to sleep much. It’s - it’s very cold.” She then sneezes - not once, not twice, but three times in a row. And then whimpers again, just like before.
Stark sits up and sighs sympathetically. Poor Fern, he thinks as he rises from his spot on the floor.
“Well, here,” he says, and he walks over to her bed to cover her with the blanket he had been using. “How’s that?”
Her face is turned away from him, so it is difficult to gauge her reaction. The tips of her fingers emerge from under the blankets to grasp them and pull them tighter around her.
“Are there any more extra blankets?” she then asks, and Stark can tell from her voice that she is still terribly cold.
“Uh…”
He’s pretty sure the answer is no (or else one of those would’ve been his pillow for the night), but can’t bring himself to tell her that when she sounds so miserable.
“Maybe I could move the lamp closer and you could re-light it?” he says instead.
This offer is met with silence, and then a drawn-out sigh. He can tell she does not think much of this idea, but waits, just in case. After all, with no other blankets available, what else can they do?
“Mr. Stark, get into the bed with me.”
“Huh?! You want me to what?!”
“Don’t make it weird,” Fern murmurs, head sinking further under the blankets. “I feel awful, I can’t sleep, and I need your help.”
Stark’s initial panic is overshadowed by her words, and the desperation in her voice. When she puts it like that, of course he’s got to do what he can to help her.
He listens to her uneven, shuddering breaths for just a moment and then takes a step closer and lifts the blankets.
Hesitating, he glances back at the top of Fern’s head.
“You’re sure about this?”
“Yes. Nothing else is helping, and you are the warmest thing in this room.” She shifts and adds, “I thought sharing a bed with me might be preferable to sleeping on the floor, but I won’t force you if you find it so objectionable.”
“No,” Stark says immediately. He lifts the blankets a little more and quickly scrambles onto the bed. “No, it’s not that I, uhm, object or anything…”
His initial nervousness returns as he slowly lays himself down, as close to the edge as he can manage. “I’ve just never been in bed with a girl before,” he adds quietly.
“You better not be thinking anything unseemly, Mr. Stark.”
“I’m not, I swear!”
It becomes quiet again, and Stark closes his eyes. He knows it won’t be easy to sleep like this but he’s got to at least try.
He then feels the blankets shift next to him and his nervousness intensifies at the reminder that Fern is just right there, so close.
“What are you doing?” she suddenly asks, startling him.
“Uh…” He blinks up at the darkened ceiling and then tilts his head to see her looking at him. “Trying to sleep?”
She exhales heavily, the way she often does when he’s done something wrong in her eyes.
“You’re too far away,” she murmurs, avoiding his gaze, “I can’t feel your warmth at all.”
“O - oh…”
He scoots himself a fraction closer. When his arm bumps up against hers, he figures that’s close enough and stops.
“Is…this ok?”
Another deep sigh. Which means no.
“You’re going to make me spell it out for you, aren’t you?” she says, and he can just imagine the pouty look on her face from that tone. “Just… come as close as you can get, and hold me. Please.”
As close as you can get.
Mind stuck on those words, jaw tight, heart thumping wildly, Stark scoots, scoots, scoots, until his chest presses up against Fern’s back. He gets a face full of her hair in the process and tries to sweep it out of the way.
“Ow - Mr. Stark, you’re on my hair -”
“Sorry, sorry…there’s a lot of it, so…”
Stark rolls off Fern’s hair and carefully picks it all up to push over her shoulder as she helps to pull it out of the way. Then he settles back in closely against her.
“Uh, Fern?” he whispers hesitantly after a moment, one arm raised awkwardly in the air, the other pinned underneath his side. “I…don’t know what to do with my arms…”
“Hold me,” she reiterates quietly. She then reaches in the air and pulls his arm down over her waist. His hand comes to rest next to hers on the other side.
“Your hand is so cold,” Stark observes, touching it lightly with his fingers.
“What? Did you think I was lying about how cold I was?”
“No.” He inches his hand closer to cover hers, and thinks he hears a quiet but approving hum in response.
“Just put your other arm however is comfortable for you, and I’ll adjust if I need to,” Fern says after another moment.
“Ok.”
Stark hesitates briefly, then tries sliding his arm under the pillow near her head. Fern wriggles a bit as she settles her head against his arm. Her other cold hand then creeps toward his. He covers it and gives it a squeeze.
Fern hums happily again. “Your hands are warm,” she says. Despite that, a shiver runs through her body and she presses herself further into his chest.
“Are you still cold?” Stark murmurs in disbelief.
“It’s ok. This is much better than it was.”
“Hm…” Frowning, he racks his brain, trying to think of anything else he can do.
A memory of their time with Kraft suddenly surfaces and Stark quickly extracts his arms from around Fern and sits up.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, clearly surprised as she twists to look at him.
“Please don’t call me a pervert,” Stark says before pulling the hem of his shirt up. “I just - I wanna see if this helps at all.”
“Uh, what are you doing?” Fern asks nervously as he pulls the shirt off over his head and drops it to the side.
“My hands were warm because you could feel my body heat directly,” he explains. “And then I thought of that time when Kraft pretty much saved me.”
“If this doesn’t work, I’ll just put the shirt back on,” he continues, twisting his body to face her. “Unless it bothers you too much.”
“Uhm, no,” Fern answers in a small, kind of girlish tone as she turns her head and averts her eyes. “I - I wouldn’t say it bothers me. You just never - I’m not really used to - uhm, it just kind of surprised me,” she stammers as she turns her back to him and lays down again. “But, it’s…fine…”
Stark moves in close and reaches his arms around, under and over her, as he settles back in. Her hair is in his face again, but he can deal with it.
“Is this any better?” he asks, angling his face to avoid the hair. He finds her hands and covers them with his own once more.
Fern exhales deeply, and Stark wonders whether something is still not quite right. But then she says: “Yes. I’m so relieved. It actually is a bigger difference than I expected, and I…”
She presses herself into him and relaxes. “I’m not shaking, or so tense anymore.”
He smiles, cheek nestled against her hair as he too begins to relax. “Good. Night, Fern.”
“Goodnight, Stark. And thank you.”
The next morning, Fern awakes feeling warm, cozy, and refreshed. As she hoped, whatever had begun plaguing her the evening before seems to have been handled well enough with a good night’s sleep.
The thought has her recalling the events of last night, and a feeling like butterflies fluttering around her stomach arises.
She smiles, her cheek grazing the warm skin of Stark’s arm as she stirs. He is remarkably comfortable, and it makes her want to stay like this for just a little while longer. He is so still, probably not yet awake, so she might as well let him sleep anyway.
Fern’s eyes slowly slide open. Perhaps she will just enjoy the peacefulness of the early morning. She always loves the way the sun’s first rays look as they shine through the windows.
Instead, she blinks up at mistress Frieren standing over the bed, partially blocking her view of the window.
“Mistress…” All of a sudden, Fern jerks wildly as the full scope of the situation hits her. “Frieren!” she finishes with a yelp.
“Ah!” comes a pained gasp from behind her as her head makes contact with Stark’s. “Fern. What was that for?”
“Why are you standing there like that?” Fern asks her mistress, “Do you have any idea how disturbing it is to wake up to that?”
“Sorry,” Frieren answers, eyes widening just slightly as if surprised. “It wasn’t my intention to disturb you. I just…” She narrows her gaze and tilts her head as she holds her chin. Then she raises her other hand and points her finger, moving it back and forth between Fern and Stark.
“What exactly is going on here?”
Fern freezes.
“Uhm. I - I was cold,” she says weakly. Hearing it aloud, it sounds like a poor excuse for such a state, as if she’s just grasping for anything to say.
“Uh huh…” Frieren tilts her head further and raises an eyebrow. “And, Stark… are you wearing anything under there?”
“I’ve still got my pants on!” he cries out defensively as Fern’s face burns from the implication.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Fern moans as she pulls the blankets up to cover her face.
The three of them are extremely quiet as they move about the room, preparing for their leave. Fern glances toward Stark as he laces up his boots, then over at mistress Frieren.
She wishes she could say something to Stark. Everything ended so abruptly, and now it just feels…weird.
But she doesn’t think she can speak freely with mistress Frieren around, especially not after the embarrassment of what happened when she first woke up.
Fortunately, either the goddess smiles upon Fern that morning, or mistress Frieren has finally developed some tact. After closing her suitcase, she picks it up and heads straight for the door, saying that she’ll meet them downstairs.
Fern looks back over at Stark just as he finishes with his boots. He lifts a hand to touch his nose gingerly, and guilt weighs down on her.
“I’m sorry,” Fern says as she approaches him. She crouches in front of him and hesitantly reaches out. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah, it’s alright,” he says. “Just, uh, a bit tender is all.” He grins sheepishly and adds, “Your head’s a little harder than I expected, Fern.”
“Sorry,” she repeats, returning his grin. “And thank you, again. For last night. I feel much better, and I’m sure it’s because you helped me feel warm enough to sleep well.”
Her cheeks flush and she adds, “Also, uhm, I apologize for all of the…awkwardness.”
Stark looks down and gives a small chuckle. “It’s no problem,” he says before looking back up at her. “I’m just glad you’re doing better.” His smile broadens. “We've got each other's backs. I hope you know I’ll always be there for you when you need me, Fern.”
That fluttering feeling returns and Fern feels her smile grow to match his.
“Yes, I know you will.”