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Needed Warmth

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In your mad dash for work that morning you grabbed the nearest pair of gloves you could find and didn’t think too much about what the temperature was going to be that day … it couldn’t be too different from yesterday, could it?

You regretted it once you were stuck walking outside for a decent amount of time. Your fingers were absolutely freezing – the gloves you had put on were way too thin. And your coat? Might have been fine yesterday, but today was much chillier than you expected. It just didn’t keep you warm enough.

Sonny catches up with you on the street.

“Hey there!” he greets you, bright and sunny as ever in the cold morning light. Why is he always so fucking cheerful in the morning?

Your teeth chatter. All you can answer with is an attempt at “Brrrr…”

“Whoa! Someone turned into a popsicle,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes at him, teeth still chattering.

“Is it your cold heart or do –“

“I dressed inappropriately for the weather,” you manage to growl.

“Oh, shit,” he says when he notices your insufficient outerwear. “You’re right.”

He takes your gloved hands in his. “Here, those look miserable.”

He rubs your fingers between his for a bit, but then rethinks and takes off both of your gloves. You wince at the sudden rush of cold air that bites into your now exposed fingers. “What are you do – ?“

He takes both of your hands into his, completely encompassing them.

“Come here,” he says, inviting you to stand closer to his chest, with just your hands between you, inside his coat. Damn, he’s warm.

He rubs your hands briskly and brings them up to his weather-chapped lips to blow on them from time to time. His breath is warm and sweet. As you look up into his baby blue eyes they soften. You know he loves you.

“Hands better now?” he asks.

“Yes, yes they are.”

“But you still look cold.”

“Brrr…  this jacket…”

And before you know it, he has you fully wrapped up in his big puffy coat. There’s room enough for both of you. You slip your arms about his waist as he pulls you in for a big hug, briskly rubbing your back, trying to get the rest of you warm.

When the rubbing stops he just holds you, placing his cheek on your head because you are so much shorter than him. You sway a little and breathe in a multitude of scents. The scents of Sonny. The aftershave from his freshly groomed face, the Old Spice deodorant, and a scent that’s uniquely … well, him.

“I think you’re going to need this today.” He says.


“My coat. I don’t think you’ll be warm enough without it.” He starts pulling it off.

“No, wait. What are you going to wear?”

“Yours,” he says simply.

“Mine? You can’t wear this Sonny, you’ll look ridiculous.”

“I can rock women’s fashion.”

“Is that so?” You give him a wry smile.

“Yes, give it here.” He’s already got his coat off, so you unbutton yours and exchange it with him.

You were right, he does look ridiculous. But you are also warm now, so you thank him instead of teasing him mercilessly. You successfully resist that urge.

“No problem,” he says cheerfully and leans forward to kiss you on the cheek. You can feel the smoothness of his skin and the lingering scent of his aftershave as he pulls away. “What do you think? How do I look?”

He’s modelling it for you – being a TOTAL goober. The sleeves are so short he looks like a scarecrow, and no amount of him “flashing” you with it makes it sexy.

“Go to work,” you groan and roll your eyes.

“On my way,” he says, salutes you, and starts to turn around. “Benson’s got me and Fin driving upstate today … it promises to be another long day.”

“Hurry home,” you say with a smile and a wave.

“I will. I have to. You’ve got my coat!” he says over his shoulder.

And oh yes you do. You find yourself putting it on at various times throughout the day at your desk, even though it’s plenty warm inside. You just like the secure feeling of being in his coat, his puffy coat . . . and the lingering smell of him. You keep crouching down in your seat, pulling it around you, the collar over your face to get the full experience.

The coat feels so nice … almost like he’s there with you. You really don’t want to return it to him at the end of the day - don’t want to surrender it.

And the good thing? He doesn’t make you.

“So it looks like you’ve become attached to my coat I see?” he says in jest.

“A little.” You blush and hug it to yourself, swaying from side to side, covering your red face with the collar.

“You know what?” he says, pulls down the collar, and touches the tip of your nose flirtatiously. “You can have it.”

You’re about to protest when he puts up a finger. “No, I’m serious. I have others.” 

And then with a wicked grin he says, “I think you just needed a little more Sonny…”