It was warm. For Propeller Knight, the blanket was so warm and soft, oh so so soft. It was almost like it was manufacturing its own heat.

He opened his eyes. He was facing the window, and the sun was already up and shining, although the many clouds in the sky muted its brightness. He saw the flakes of snow fall down from the sky, and he saw them swirl around in midair. To him it was much like petals of the sky dancing to the melody of the wind. He pulled his warm blanket up to his chin. The dark blue color of it caught his eye, and he glanced sleepily at it. It glowed dimly, its light a wonderful gold color. He closed his eyes, and turned to his side to reach his lover and wrap his arm around him.

"Mm, morning." Propeller Knight said, expecting a warm body beside him, still asleep, or at least still lying down. His arm settled on a pillow carefully placed there, and so he sighed. He willed himself to sit up, and once he did, he rubbed his eyes and blinked to clear the fog of drowsiness.

His mind ran through the areas of the ship where his injured beloved could be as he stood up to get dressed for the day.

He could hear the strong soughing of the wind, and Propeller Knight grabbed one of his scarves and wrapped it around his neck. He pulled his lover's warm cape from the bed and grabbed a small bag, and then he walked out to look for him.

But first, he would go to the greenhouse and personally pick a few chrysanthemums.

He found Phantom Striker seated on the deck of the ship, seated on the bench by the door. He didn't have his helmet on, although the cloth masking the lower part of his face was up. His arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, and his right leg was curled up. His left foot rested on the floor, thick bandages hastily and sloppily wrapped around his ankles and knee.

The captain approached, gaze fixed on his injured beloved. He noticed the slight shiver and the empty stare upwards to the skies. The stormbringer didn't even notice him approach closer and sit on his side, and only responded when Propeller Knight wrapped his glowing blue cape around his shoulders and cup his face.

"Il fait froid, mon cher." He crooned softly, pulling down the mask and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

The injured one gasped in surprise, his cheeks turning pink, and then red. His right leg unfolded and rested on the snow-laden floor.

"It's cold, my love. Why are you out here?"

Still, no response. Striker looked down forlornly, his sighs forming vaporous clouds.

"This weather is your doing, isn't it? And that," the captain pointed to the haphazard bandaging, "is also you, right?"

"... yes. But I did not want anyone to see me here, hence the unpleasant weather. I am vulnerable, pathetic-"

"Ssh." The knight pressed his index finger on his lips. He embraced his lover and rested his chin on his shoulder. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes. I can."

"Now, can you hear me say that I love you and I'm hugging a handsome man who just happens to powerful, determined, and righteous?"

"My foe almost killed me yesterday. He was a scum of the earth, and he had captured my left leg and injured me so. I was caught off-guard. I must have been a pathetic sight, that even if I had resorted to desperate tricks he still won over me. My honor as a bringer of justice and a tester of strength has been tarnished, and my pride has been shattered."

"Are you really going to let someone stupid let you down?" Propeller Knight snuggled closer. "Evil people, even if they win in fights with you, don't exceed in your good morality."

He remained silent, but leaned his face onto the other man's hair and returned the embrace.

"Do you think they think you're not strong enough?"

"Yes. I must be a laughingstock to them."

"Do you think you can't beat them next time?"

"Yes…"

"Do you think it means the end? Because I don't think so." He gently lifted his head up. His amber eyes met his partner's golden ones. "This is just a setback. Something you can still get out of. It's for your growth, too."

"Perhaps my emotions are getting the best of me."

"Emotions are things that happen. It's okay to feel like the worst now, especially that you're physically hurt and it's one of the only times you got defeated."

"These will pass."

"If you want them to pass. Do you want them away?"

"I do not want to… be someone they consider as weak. I cannot be weak."

"Then, heal." He took his hand in his palms. "I've got something for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

Propeller reached into his bag and took out chrysanthemums, colored red, violet, and white. Their stems were cut short. "Cher, what do you think these flowers represent?"

The stormbringer only gazed at the flowers quietly, and then shook his head.

"White stands for purity and truth," he tucked the flower behind Striker's right ear, "and they also signify devotion in love and cause. You're a pure, honest man, my love, and I know you're devoted."

"To you. I am devoted to you."

Propeller blushed. "Then we have a red one. It symbolizes… guess what?"

"Deep passion and love, much like roses?" He answered as the red flower was tucked behind his right ear.

"Mhm. And the violet chrysanthemum… it means I wish for you to heal and get well." Propeller tucked this one over his chest, behind his medallion with an engraved lightning bolt. "Please heal."

Striker reached up to the violet bloom, his fingertips ghosting over his lover's hands. "I will."

"And they normally don't grow in winter. They remind me of you when I see them in the greenhouse."

"How thoughtful."

Propeller Knight smiled, and kissed him lightly. "So, heal for me, and then you can venture out again and teach that oyster dick a lesson in pain and morality."

Striker snorted in amusement. "Why would you use such a… creative insult such as 'oyster dick', my love?"

Propeller shrugged. "I'm French."

He chuckled more. To Propeller it meant the world to see his wide smile and hear his laughs.

"Let's get to the infirmary and have that checked, too." The captain suggested, and with that, Striker finally agreed.

"I am in need of medicine, yes..."

"I'll carry you." Propeller Knight said, and then placed his arms on Phantom Striker's back and legs, carefully heaving him up. The latter wrapped his arm around his neck and snuggled close.

"This'll be the one time I'm the one carrying you to safety, mon cher."

"I am beginning to understand why you feel happy when I carry you. It is a lovely position. I can move without walking or flying. I am being carried by a handsome and strong man."

"You're making me blush! Stop it!" He joked, and Striker poked his cheek.

"I always do. Heh."

"I won't drop you."

"I trust in you, my beloved."

They turned around a corner and entered the crisp and clean infirmary, and an idea struck Propeller's mind. He gently put him down on a bed and soon a nurse arrived to check on the injured leg.

"So whenever you feel down, I'll just say 'oyster dick'."

He chuckled again. "What if I grow used to it, and no longer laugh? I may need more jokes."

The usually composed and polite captain smirked, and then let out a few more creative curses. He poked on the chrysanthemums on his hair and then planted a tiny kiss for every insult he could come up with.

"Shit sausage. Fly fucker. Dickwaffle face. Asscrack piss-"

At this point, the usually stoic Phantom Striker let out a mirthful laugh, and Propeller Knight soon joined in the laughter.