#Has Luther ever partaken of a snowball fight? Of snow angels? Probably not. which is tragic

[angst-fairygodmother]

Omg if you're open to requests!! I always kinda imagine Luther (TUA) as the best hugger? And like his s/o could just probably slide into his sweater and fit in there and whoaaa warmth. Could I mayhaps request some warm dorky fluff with the big monkey boy? (人*´∀｀)｡💕

A/N: I took “warm” a bit literally, Nonny. Hope that’s alright. Enjoy! Word Count: 1336

“Can you believe we’re actually going to have the whole day?” you said excitedly, sipping your coffee and never once taking your eyes from the window. 

Most of the time, sleeping over at your boyfriend’s mansion, with its steady flowthrough of siblings, friends, and other unusual guests and its imposing, lofty decor made you feel awkward and out of place. But today, it turned out to have been the perfect choice. The grounds and gardens would be perfect for epic snowy battle, or the construction of an army, or...maybe the house was getting to you a tiny bit as your mind swept through epic dramas played out in snow. 

“It’s Saturday,” Luther said in confusion, watching you from his seat at the kitchen table. “We always have the whole day on Saturday?”

“No I mean out there,” you gestured to the lawn. “Everything is fresh and pristine, we have plenty of space. It’s perfect. The only trouble will be deciding where to start.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“I’m talking about a Snow Day, Luther. Obviously.” You turned back to him to see him frowning. 

“Yeah, it’s snowing today, but I don’t understand what that has to do with anything…”

“No. Not ‘it’s snowing today.’ It’s a Snow Day. There is a distinct difference. It means going out and playing. Building snowmen or igloos and having a snowball fight. You know, fun kid stuff.”

“Oh.” 

He looked mildly uncomfortable. And that’s when it dawned on you. Of course he didn’t know what you meant. Luther, and all his siblings, had grown up under the oppressive thumb of Reginald Hargreeves: home-schooled, home-trained, and every detail of their lives regimented to the second. He had probably never been out to play in the snow. Maybe train in it, to prepare for any inevitability, but not actually enjoy it. 

You crossed the room to sit beside him, laying your head on his arm, smiling at the fact that he didn’t tense anymore when you did. 

“Trust me, Luther,” you said, plucking a slice of bacon off his plate and breaking a piece off to pop in your mouth. “It’s going to be so much fun. And if for some reason, you hate it, we’ll come in and bake cookies and drink hot cocoa instead.”

~

Several hours later, your face hurt in equal parts from the cold and from joy. You and Luther had built snowmen, his significantly larger but yours more decorated. You had shown him about snow angels, to which he responded with a cheesy line about you being one, and thankfully the cold and wind had covered your blush. And now, you had finished constructing barriers, trenches, and walls, preparing to wage war against one another. 

“You know,” you teased, “I think I have the advantage here.”

“You? But I’m the one who’s actually fought before,” he countered.

“Ah yes, but I’m smaller, faster, and cuter.”

“You are the cutest,” he agreed with a grin. “But I don’t get how that helps.”

“Because you can’t hit this face.” You gave him your most adorable pout.

The expression was quickly wiped off your face with a “thomp” and a shower of powder as Luther pitched the first snowball at you. You shrieked, darting behind one of the snowy ramparts, chased by his laughter. 

The sound was enough to wipe away any annoyance you might have had at the cheap shot. It wasn’t often that you got to hear him laugh, or see him smile as freely as he was when you peeked over your shelter wall, as if he had finally let go of the weight of the world and of his father’s sins he had imputed onto himself. 

“How dare you! This means war Hargreeves!” you called, pitching a blind shot in an arch over your head toward him. 

The courtyard rang with the sounds of your snowball fight. You were soaked to the bone and couldn’t feel your fingers and toes, and the sun was starting to sink low behind the surrounding building. On one pass, as near to melee as you got, he noticed the bluing of your lips and how badly you were shivering. His powers included an increased durability and resistance to the elements, and the mutation from the serum had only increased that, so he hadn’t noticed just how cold it had gotten, or how long you had been out. Now, it was all he could think about, overwhelmed by concern that you were going to get sick. 

Throwing up his hands, he called for a truce. Reluctantly, you agreed, teeth chattering. 

“It is getting kind of late…” you admitted, looking up at the deep blue creeping across the sky. 

“You should go take a hot shower and get warmed up,” he insisted as he ushered you inside.

“What about you?” you asked, tone suggestive. 

“I don’t get as cold. I’ll just throw on a dry shirt, and then I’ll get something started for dinner. Do you want tea?”

“It’s a Snow Day, Luther,” you said with a dramatic roll of your eyes, trying not to pout that your subtlety was lost on him. “The only acceptable drink is hot cocoa.”

He laughed, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and nudging you toward the bathroom again, half tempted to just pick you up and carry you there. 

~

As you exited the shower, you realized that you had no dry clothes to put on and frowned. You supposed you could go raid Allison’s old closet, or Klaus’s and find something in your size if not style. Then you had a better idea. Wrapping in one of the large, fluffy towels he had set for you, you stole back down the hall to Luther’s room, rooting through his dresser until you found what you needed. 

There were very few people in the world Luther wasn’t larger than, but as you pulled his sweater over your head and were immediately dwarfed by it, you were reminded just how much larger than you he was. It took a little tweaking, but eventually you had a satisfactory new dress. 

Despite steaming up the bathroom and soaking as long as possible, and wrapping yourself in the soft, warm wool that smelled blissfully like your boyfriend, you were still cold as you padded down to the kitchen to rejoin Luther. You giggled as he looked up from setting the table and flushed bright red at the sight of you in his clothing, your legs exposed. 

“You...you’re wearing…” he murmured, gaping at you.

You smiled, leaning on the door frame in a way that you hoped was seductive but was probably more likely awkward. “Wearing your shirt? Yes I am.”

“Why?” you loved the way his face scrunched up when he was confused. 

“Do you not like it? I thought it would be a nice surprise,” you purred before shrugging sheepishly. “Also I didn’t have any dry clothes.”

“Oh. Right. I didn’t think of that. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, I didn’t think of it either. And your sweater is like super comfy, anyway.”

A chill breeze whistled through the empty mansion from some missed open window, brushing against your back and making you shiver again. Luther crossed the room, his long strides making it take no time at all before he had you wrapped tightly in his arms. You buried your face against him, smiling at the sure, comfortable way he hugged you, another change from the fearful and uncertain way he had done...everything to be frank, at the beginning of your relationship.

“Are you still cold, Y/N?” he asked, voice heavy with concern. “What can I do to warm you up?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, finding him staring softly back.

“Hm...you could start with a kiss?”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled before leaning down to press his lips to yours. As you brought your hands up to curl around his neck, you sighed contentedly.