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“Y’know, when I said I hoped we got snow this year, this isn’t exactly what I meant.” Tim huffed.
He tapped his fingers against the wheel, loud enough to drag Bernard's eyes up from where he was sitting in the passenger seat, stomach churning, to watch Tim glare at the frosted over windshield.
For the third time in as many minutes, Tim tried the door handle. It was no closer to opening than it was on the first.
The hollow click of the handle just made Bernard’s heart sink.
He held in a shiver and reached out one tingling hand to grip Tim’s.
“You think the Bats know yet?” He asked.
“Yeah.” Squeezing his hand, Tim said, “B has scanners in place for any sudden cold spots, he’ll have gotten an alarm. They’ll be on their way soon.”
Swallowing the next obvious question, do you think we’ll make it that long, Bernard turned the heater up a little bit higher.
Tim sighed.
“I have some blankets in the trunk for stuff like this. Probably some food, too. I’ll see if I can get to them."
He leaned his seat back and clambered over it, leaving Bernard to check his phone.
Again.
And just like the last four times, it had no signal, cut off by the ice surrounding their car.
If Bernard ever got his hands on mr. Freeze, he was gonna throw a rock through that stupid helmet.
The one time Tim and Bernard’s schedules lined up perfectly for a real date, and mr. Freeze just had to go on a rampage.
Worse than that, it had to be when they were still inside the damn car. Not once they were in the restaurant, not just out in the road, but inside the car.
Sure, it was probably better than the quick death that would come from getting hit point-blank by Freeze’s gun, but there were plenty of ways that the car was worse.
And Bernard’s brain wouldn’t stop spinning them all around.
The risks of frostbite, the dangers of hypothermia, how quickly they could get carbon monoxide poisoning from being locked in a closed car.
He couldn’t help but debate which would kill them faster, turning the car off and freezing or leaving it on and choking.
They'd already been in there for a while. Who knew how long it would take the Bats to show up.
And in the brief seconds where his thoughts gave him a break from the onslaught of you’re gonna die, it just swapped to a slideshow of mental images of Tim, killed in worse and worse brutal ways.
Even if they got out with their lives, carbon monoxide poisoning was harmful to the lungs and hypothermia could weaken people’s immune systems.
Tim was already at risk thanks to his spleen. He could die from the littlest cold on a good day, but adding to that…
It would be bad.
Bernard blinked harshly, rubbing his arms.
“Bear,” Tim said, and Bernard glanced back to find Tim holding up two thick blankets. “Got ‘em.”
He spread one of the blankets out over the backseats and flopped down, gesturing for Bernard to join him.
It only took a second for Bernard to get his slowly-numbing fingers to cooperate enough to unbuckle himself and push his seat down, then he maneuvered over it to thump into place beside Tim.
The second blanket was immediately dragged over both of their shoulders.
Tim pulled Bernard close against his side and huffed playfully at his face, the warm air soothing Bernard’s icy nose for half a heartbeat.
“No snacks?” Bernard asked.
“Nope. Just an expired pack of gum.”
“Bummer.” He licked his lips, trying to warm them up a little. “Could’ve just had our date right here.”
Tim laughed, quiet and soft, and hooked his ankle around Bernard’s. “Still can. I mean, what’s a better date night than getting locked into a small box with you?”
A little thrill of panic ran down Bernard’s spine at the word trapped, but he swallowed it to shift closer to Tim.
They were trapped. Getting anxious about it wasn’t gonna help anybody.
And this was nothing like the altar.
“I can think of a few,” Bernard said. “Like a nice dinner, or going to a bookstore, or sitting by a fireplace. Pretty much anywhere with a bigger heater.”
Pressing his nose to Bernard’s hair, Tim shook his head.
“Sounds lame.” He joked.
Bernard huffed, half-laugh, half-attempt to get rid of the icy feeling beginning to cling to his lungs.
It just made him shiver harder.
His teeth were chattering so badly he thought he might snap one clean in half.
As distracted as his sluggish brain was with his mouth, Bernard only realized Tim was sitting up further when he nudged Bernard’s side. “Hang on a sec.”
Begrudgingly, Bernard shifted, allowing Tim to adjust himself. He glanced towards the front seat and saw that the car’s temperature warning was displayed in bright red.
Helpful.
The heater was fighting for its life, but it was no match for the sheer power of Freeze’s gun.
He couldn’t even begin to see through the windows anymore. It was almost like the ice was growing on itself instead of melting away.
How the Bats were gonna save them, Bernard had no idea, but he suspected Bruce probably had something for a situation just like this.
If Bernard was a few years younger, he'd be busy thinking up wild ideas on just how he'd manage it. Now, he just shivered.
His attention was dragged back to Tim a long minute later by a warm weight being draped across his shoulder.
For all of a second, Bernard basked in it, sinking down.
Then he realized.
A rush of ice snapped through Bernard’s already freezing veins, his stomach dropping, and he shook his head vehemently. “No.”
“Take it. You’re already shivering, it’s better if we moderate this.”
“Tim, I can’t—”
“Bruce taught me breathing exercises and stuff to stay warm,” Tim said, smiling weakly. “Take it. You can give it back when we get out of here.”
He put his hands on Bernard’s shoulders, smoothing his own jacket over them.
The sting of tears in Bernard’s eyes made him drop his head, not wanting Tim to see, and he pressed his face to Tim’s side.
Tim kissed his head with a little hum and dragged the blanket back over both of them, forcing a very willing Bernard to cuddle up close.
“I love you.” Bernard choked.
“And me, you, mon amour.”
He swallowed hard, turning his face into Tim’s chest.
“Breaking out the French, now? Well, that’s a way to tell me we’re gonna die.”
With a little protesting sound, Tim said, “that’s not what I meant. I won’t let you go out like this, sunshine.”
“You don’t—you don’t have much of a choice.” Bernard shivered. “I don’t blame you. Even Robin couldn’t have planned a way to escape a frozen car.”
Tim hugged him tight.
“I should’ve,” he said.
______
Thirty minutes in, Bernard decided the cold was gonna kill them faster than the carbon monoxide poisoning.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wasn’t. He couldn’t really be bothered to care anymore, not when his entire body hurt, not when he felt like he was going to shiver himself right through his skin.
He was pretty sure his limbs weren’t supposed to feel hollow from the cold.
And more than that, he was confident his old scars from the Children of Dionysus weren’t supposed to be aching and stinging, and that his skin shouldn’t have felt pulled taught over his muscles.
He made a mental note to buy a warmer jacket for the Winter when—if, a quiet part of his brain whispered— when they got out.
Then he glanced at Tim and swallowed hard.
If his scars were hurting, he couldn’t even imagine how Tim was feeling. So much of his skin was marred. Even his neck had three long scars and the remains of a burn, with absolutely nothing to protect them from the frigid air.
Just another reason Bernard wished Tim would’ve just kept his jacket. It had a higher collar, could’ve protected him better.
Carefully, slowly, Bernard shifted his head up and pressed a soft kiss to the scar from that awful night where Tim had been shot at the Flugelhelm Gala.
He had to angle his head weirdly to get at it from where he was sitting pressed against Tim, but it was worth it for the soft look he got in return.
“Bear?” Tim asked quietly, threading his fingers through Bernard’s hair. They were so much clunkier than normal. “You doing okay?”
“Mhm.”
Tim tipped his head forwards. It thumped against Bernard’s gently. “We’re—we’re gonna get out of here, okay? We’re in this together.”
Bitterly icy arms slipped around Bernard’s waist, and then he was being tugged into Tim’s lap.
His jeans were cold, seeping through to chill Bernard’s legs, but his chest was still warm enough for Bernard to lean into it. The blanket began to slip, so Tim caught it and tugged it up to burrito them together.
“M’ sorry.” Bernard mumbled.
Tim’s hands slipped up and down Bernard’s waist. “Why?”
“B’cause we’re here. ‘Cause you’re a self sacrificing idiot. Dunno.”
That earned him a huffed laugh, Tim’s breath ghosting over his ear. Bernard couldn’t hold back his frown when he realized that it was colder than it had been earlier.
“B and the others—they’ll be here.” A sharp shiver made Tim curl into Bernard. “They’ll be here.”
Bernard just hummed, head lolling in the crook of Tim’s neck, and tried to take a deep breath of Tim’s shampoo.
He always smelled good. Like honey and coconut and that fancy flower-scented body wash he used. Like a smoothie, almost.
Now, all Bernard could smell was the heater faltering and the way it was filling the car with something like burnt hair. It did nothing to comfort him, not like Tim did, but Bernard’s chest felt too hollow for him to be bitter about it.
_____
Bernard blinked sluggishly.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
Tim was still beneath him. The car was still painted a dark blue from the ice piled up outside.
What was new, though, was a weird noise. It must’ve been what woke him from that weird, half-sleep, because it was really, really annoying. Loud. Echoing.
An abrasive scraping, coming from outside.
Sounded like…ice.
Oh.
Bernard shook his head just a little, nearly knocking himself off Tim’s lap.
The Bats were supposed to be coming to help.
“Tim.” Bernard mumbled, words slurring. He forced his tired eyes to flutter open. “Company.”
Another, closer scraping sound.
Part of Bernard wanted to sit up, to try and look out the frosted window to see if he could tell who was there, how much longer it would be.
But he was so tired.
So deeply, achingly tired.
It felt like his entire body had been zapped of all of its energy, leaving him a brick weight of a man.
His fingers were still entwined carefully with Tim’s. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull himself free with how numb they were.
Was definitely sure he didn’t want to.
And laying there, pressed against Tim’s chest, was comforting. The familiar shape of it. The warmth, even if it was slowly seeping away. Being able to hear Tim’s heartbeat.
Another sluggish blink. Bernard let his head slip into the crook of Tim’s neck.
He’d been able to hear Tim’s heartbeat before, anyway.
Now it was drowned out by the ringing in his ears and the muffled shouting of whoever was outside.
And Tim’s pulse…it was still there, Bernard was just too numb to feel it.
Yeah.
It couldn’t be gone.
Bernard still had to give him back his jacket.