I've always said that I hate WIPs and now I am committing one. Don't judge me! My consolation is that each 'chapter' is its own little vignette, so even if I never finish 'all' the kisses, I'm not leaving anybody hanging. So to speak.

As always, concrit is most welcome.

Sully lay there, taut as a bowstring, as far away from Dr Mike as he could get and still be out of the rain. His hand on her hip was the warmest part of him. It felt as though every sense he had was located there, on the rounded curve of her body where her fingers threaded through his. In front of him, her hair was a dark mass above her head. Somehow he could still feel it, soft as cornsilk under his fingers. The scent of her fancy soap mingled with the rain and made him want things he had no business wanting.

He tried to breathe deep and even and prayed she'd fall asleep quickly, or that the rain would stop. But it seemed the spirits weren't listening to him that night.

"You should come closer to the fire and get out of that wet shirt," she said.

"I'm fine."

She turned her head back towards him. "Sully, don't be stubborn. You're soaking wet. If you stay like that all night you'll catch a chill."

Knowing there was no use in arguing with her, he sighed and sat up, pretending he didn't miss the feel of her hand holding his. She moved back to give him more room as he tried to crawl to the fire without touching her. Stripping his shirt off was difficult; it clung to him like a heavy skin. Once he'd wrestled it off - feeling absurdly self-conscious the entire time - he held it outside the shelter and wrung it as best he could. Although it was no longer dripping, it would still take most of the night to dry.

As he crouched by the fire he admitted to himself that even though he was still wet he was warmer.

"Do you want the blanket?" Her soft voice came out of the darkness. When he looked over at her, she was barely visible, just the suggestion of a dark shape against an even deeper darkness.

He shook his head and felt wet rivulets snake down his arms and back from his hair. "No, you keep it," he told her.

"We could share."

It was an innocent suggestion, he knew. She was just trying to be helpful the way she always was. That didn't stop his pulse from speeding up or images from flickering through his mind that were best not dwelt on. But he knew he needed sleep; they both did.

She held the blanket open as he crawled back to where she lay. Now they were facing each other, her knees drawn up against his thighs. The blanket didn't quite reach all the way around him, but the fire at his back kept him from being cold. He was more concerned about her.

"Are you warm enough?"

She made a little humming sound, then yawned and closed her eyes. "Except my feet." Her voice had gone drowsy. "They're always cold. I miss my hot water bottle."

"Surprised you didn't bring it with you," Sully said lightly.

Her mouth curved into a small smile. "You would've made me leave it behind anyway," she retorted.

He huffed out a soft laugh. It was a nice way of saying 'I told you so' he guessed. Maybe he owed her something for making her leave the tent behind.

That's what he told himself as he reached down and took one of her feet in his hands. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. He waited for her to pull away or get mad, but instead she just closed her eyes again. "You're so warm," she whispered.

He felt her relax as he moved his hands gently against her stockings, careful not to touch anything other than her foot. It was so small he could almost hold it entirely in one hand. After a few minutes she wiggled her toes and smiled, and he switched to the other foot.

When it seemed she'd fallen asleep, he tucked her foot back beside the other. She surprised him by placing a hand over his and squeezing gently . "Thank you, Sully."

"You're welcome," he told her, though it felt dishonest, somehow, to accept her thanks for doing something he'd liked so much.

She shifted a little, trying to get more comfortable he supposed, and then grew still. He watched her face relax as she fell into sleep, remembering another night he'd done the same thing.

When he was sure she was asleep, he reached out to smooth away a piece of hair that had fallen across her face. Her skin was cool and soft against his fingers, exactly as he remembered. Unable to deny himself this one thing, he leaned over slowly and pressed his lips lightly against her cheek. He pulled back and watched her for a moment, feeling things he didn't want to name, then lay down.

With the sound of the rain and her soft breaths in his ears, he followed her into sleep.