Staying Warm

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been.
Rating: PG
Summary: A spur of the moment camping trip.

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“I cannot believe we’re doing this.” Sands was doing his best to glare at El, who was busy setting up a tent was definitely not big enough for two grown men.

“We need to lie low for a while,” El said, driving the stakes home, “and besides, it will be a nice break.”

“El, I can’t see the inside of the damn tent, let alone the campsite, trails, or amazing vistas. What the hell do you expect me to do out here?”

“I expect you will constantly bitch and moan at me like you always do,” El sighed. Sands pouted silently while the other man finished pitching the tent and putting their gear inside. He would never admit it, but the blind man was actually enjoying the change of sound and smell that the secluded campsite offered. It was, however, rather cold. El had really picked a perfect time to piss off the cartels so much that they had to go this far into hiding. Sands rubbed his chilled arms and followed the sound of zippers to the tent.

“Are you done yet? I’m fucking freezing.” El poked his head out of the flap.

“You can come in now. But first take off your shoes. I do not want dirt inside the tent.”

“Yes, mother,” Sands sniped, sitting down to remove his boots. He cursed as the cold air hit his feet and pulled them inside quickly. He found one of the sleeping bags and scooted into it, removing his jacket. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Eight o’clock,” El replied, getting into his own sleeping bag, “and it has already been dark for half an hour.”

“Jesus. I haven’t gone to bed this early since I was a kid,” Sands said, wrapping his bag around him tightly. “But I’m not gonna mess with Ma Nature. Good night.”

……

Later that night, Sands woke up shivering.

“Asshole gave me the shitty sleeping bag,” he muttered. “Hey, wake up!” he demanded, shoving El none too gently.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” El mumbled sleepily. “What are you doing?” he asked as Sands crawled out of his sleeping bag.

“Move over,” Sands ordered. El shifted a little as Sands slid into the taller man’s sleeping bag. “Once again, I’m fucking freezing. You gave me the lousy bag.” El chuckled and slung his arm over Sands’s thin waist.

“More bodies, more body heat, I suppose,” he said, pulling the other man closer. Sands snorted.

“Right. Just try and keep your guitar-pickin’ hands to yourself, mariachi. I’d actually like to get some sleep tonight.” He stuck his cold nose into El’s neck and tried to fall asleep again. He was much warmer now.