The first real frost of the year falls on a day when Seto has to work, and he spends all day worrying. Before he left that morning he'd dragged their little space heater into the girls' room and turned it on full blast. There's not much else he can do, not without waking Kido and getting a scolding. After hovering in the doorway for a few seconds, he hurries off to work.

Hours later, he arrives home, around late afternoon. It was a short day today, and he's nothing but glad as he jogs up the stairs, his breath puffing out in little white clouds. He's not surprised to find the door unlocked; everyone's probably home, hiding from the cold outside. There are several empty mugs abandoned in the sink, but the first few rooms are totally deserted. Seto pokes his head into the room he shares with Kano first. The other boy is nowhere to be seen, though his side is as much of a baffling mess as always. Seto's side is even barer than usual, however; someone's taken the covers from his bed. He has a pretty good feeling who the culprit is.

Just a few more steps, and he opens the door to the girls' room. A wall of warmth hits him in the face. The space heater is still on and glowing brightly. There's a little nest of blankets in the corner, and he feels a smile make its way onto his face.

"Mary?"

The pile of blankets unfolds like a flower and Mary's head pops up, her hair a veritable bird's nest. He crosses the room to reach her and she blinks up at him sleepily.

"What time is it…?" The end of her sentence stretches across an enormous yawn. His smile becomes a chuckle against his will.

"Almost three. Did you sleep all day?" He kneels next to her little blanket fortress and she starts unwinding the layers until she gets to the center of the tornado, a shabby quilt that he realizes is his. Why she took his blankets when Kido's are right there, he'll never know. At her unspoken invitation he joins her in the nest.

"No way," she mumbles, pouting a bit. He can't bring himself to tease her. He knows cold weather is hard on her, with her cold-blooded genetics and tendency to sleep the winter away. But what fun would there be in a season without Mary to share it with? Something cold touches his wrist, and he jumps before realizing it's one of her hands, which are like ice. He takes them in his, marveling for a second over how she seems to get tinier every day. Or is he growing again? Damn.

He kneads her fingers for warmth, but she makes a grumpy dissatisfied noise and clambers into his lap instead, tucking her head against his shoulder. Her hair is in his face and tickling his neck now, and he sometimes wishes he could convince her to cut it. But she seems content now, judging by the little sigh she lets out that brushes against the skin by his collar. He feels goosebumps of his own on his back, despite the warmth.

"Going to sleep?" he asks, half-kidding. There's no telling how much she'll sleep in a day when she's like this.

She mumbles unintelligibly for a few moments, pressing her cheek into his shoulder to express her intent to stay here. "Now that you're home," she adds. She's so tired, she doesn't even have the good grace to blush before she falls asleep on him.