LH! MiniFic: Shiver

[once_janus]

Elizabeth’s eyes snap open as consciousness surges back to her in one agonizing moment; her chest is on fire, her temples pounding hard enough to make her eyes ache inside her skull. For the first brutal moment, nothing makes any sense, and she hangs behind blurry vision in utter disorientation.

Then, she begins to cough up mouthfuls of water.

“There ya’ go sister,” there’s a voice in the distance, and Elizabeth thinks there might be a hand on her shoulder, bracing her weight as she shoves herself onto her side. Her nose and throat burn as more and more water is voided from her lungs; she doesn’t technically need to breath, but she can’t stay conscious through perpetual drowning, either. And if Hell is so bloody hot, why is she shivering.

“It’s alright, I gotcha’, you’re all good,” the voice speaks again, and she can hear it a little clearer as the water drains from her ears. There’s a solid repetitive pressure on her back, helping her heave the water from her insides. Finally Elizabeth manages to pull a rasping breath through her savaged throat, and immediately erupt into a coughing fit.

“Yeah, that’s it, cough it up. Means you’re still breathin’,” the young woman’s eyes sting as her makeup runs into her vision. The shivers are so powerful that it’s difficult for her to lift her arm and scrub away the offending chemicals.

“What happened?” she croaks, trying too soon to sit up, and losing her arm from beneath herself. She doesn’t fall far though, her form thudding against something (someone?) solid and warm. Cold… why is she so cold? When was the last time she’d been this cold? The answer comes to her immediately:

Just before she died.

“Hey, you’re shakin’ like a leaf, everything’s gonna be alright, Mini-DeWitt.”

“What happened?” she repeats once more, scraping as much demand into her voice as she can. It’s a truly pathetic attempt, but Hancock can appreciate her need to know.

“Button-eyed bastards chasing us up some tall ass structure; we got cornered, jumped in the frozen lake. Any of this ringin’ a bell?”

Elizabeth winces, pressing her palms flat to her eyes.

“Yeah, now that you mention it. How did we--?”

“Don’t worry, I handled it,” Hancock gives her a narrow eyed scan, something like concern ticking with the passing seconds behind his glinting featureless eyes. “No fussin’, hear me?” a bit of shifting, and Hancock drapes his worn red coat around the woman’s slight shoulders. For a few moments he fusses over a small fire, which flickers and hisses upon the damp ground. She can see that he’s already sweating— but for whatever reason, she can’t seem to shake the chill.

A few moments later, Hancock returns to Elizabeth’s side, and tugs her slight frame against his ribs. He curls one arm around her, idly rubbing her shoulder in an attempt to warm her up. They sit like this for a while, listening to the sounds of the hell-wilds around them.

“Could they have followed us?”

“Nah.”

“… Hancock?”

“What’s up?”

“Why…. Do I taste… peach whiskey?” The charming ghoul releases a crow of amused laughter.

“Well someone had to get ya breathin’, right?” The flirtatious smirk that forms so easily and confidently upon those seemingly scared and burned lips is not without tangible charm.

“I suppose,” it’s her natural instinct to respond dryly; when her defences kick up she can be rather stern, but… the look in those suddenly saucer-like baby blues is just too sweet to resist.

“Don’t worry, I was a total gentleman,” he grins, leaning in half a fraction, if only to goad her with his proximity (probably). What is he even doing?

What kind of question is that, he’s being himself, that’s what he’s doing. He’s not avoiding anything, and how dare you insinuate such! His chaotic feelings of loss and relief over his Christine and this Christine (who somehow naturally became his Sunshine) and what having one and missing the other means, do not require any sort of distraction. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting right? Right. Girl almost didn’t wake up. Probably needs some fun to lighten the mood.

“But I don’t gotta be,” he adds, burnished dark eyes peering from beneath the rim of his hat with an especially blunt kind of attraction. He knows he’ll only push the envelope so far; he loves Christine too much to go too far; but thoughts of which Christine, and his Sunshine’s cut short words meant for their supposed last moments, taunt him. She loves—what? Him, right? Why would she say it to him when he’s not…

Goddamn it.

“All ya gotta do ask real nice…” his smile is almost serpentine, his proximity sparking the smallest warmth beneath the trembling woman’s skin.

“Hancock…”

“Hey, don’t gotta get so serious. I’m just foolin’ around. But if you wanna fool around too, well... I could hardly blame ya.” It’s so easy to keep flirting, like everything is normal, even though nothing at all is. She won’t take him up on it, he knows that, and that’s why it’s safe to keep pushing. “I have been known to take requests, now and then…”

“Hancock, please,” and something in her tone instantly stops him from his steady inward looming. He sits back enough to get a look at her face, but keeps his arm around her to soothe her shivers. “I… I’ve never kissed anyone before. You… you’re not going to be my first.”

“Yeah… alright, I feel ya. Don’t mind me Liz, just fallin’ back on familiar habits.”

“I… actually know exactly what you mean.”

“Just a couple’a idiots, huh?”

“Well, at least one.”

Hancock gives a good humored bark of laughter, smirking at the ocean-eyed woman with an odd bloom of affection.

“That’s cold, Liz.”