#pronounced “tradge”

[bringinghometherain]

If you enjoyed this excerpt and you haven't read the OFMD Remington Steele AU stories Trag has already posted, you are missing out my friend.

I would loooove to know more about "remington steele au - hypothermia - and you won't give me a straight answer." You know how much I adore your Remington Steele AU <3

Ohhh hey buddy!!!! Yes!!!

Okay so the next few installments of the Remington Steele AU will actually have like, the barest amount of plot that isn't smut haha. This one is centered around Jim and Ed on a case somewhere in winter, and during a chase scene Jim goes through a frozen pond. Classic hypothermia h/c fic, but there will also probably be some smut and a lot of refusal to talk about their relationship even though Ed tries. (Does Jim even notice Ed calling them a pet name in the snippet below? No :3) I don't have a lot of it written yet, but I have Ideas!

Anyway here's a snippet for you!! (Featuring bad hypothermia care, it's fic set in the 80s, its fine lol)

If anyone feels like dropping me an ask for the WIP folder game, my long list of WIP titles is here!

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When he lowers them into the water it feels like they've been dipped in molten lava. It washes over them, enveloping them in warmth. Jim wants to start crying it feels so fucking good. Edward slips into the tub behind them, drawing Jim back until they're resting against him. His chest is warm at their back, and his arms around their waist feels even better than the lukewarm water.

"Fuck." Their voice comes out strangled and tight. Something hot streams down their face.

Lips press against their cheek. He holds them tight as they start shaking harder, body warming enough to try and regulate itself. "I know. It's a lot."

"Who fuckin' decided - to come up North for a case - in, in fuckin' winter." Jim squeezes their eyes shut and holds on tight to his arms. They let themself sink deeper into the water, letting the warmth leech into their bones. "Maldito idiotas."

Edward barks a laugh. "Hey, we were doing fine until you tried your hand at the ice."

Jim lets their head loll back against his shoulder and closes their eyes. They're still crying, a silent stream of tears. "Nearly won."

"No, love. You didn't." He exhales a shuddering breath, arms and legs around them squeezing tight like that'll keep them close to him. "God, Jimbo. I was so fucking scared."

They can feel it. And if they let themself, crack their ribcage open and let any shred of emotion come out - they'll know that they were scared, too.

"S'okay," they slur. They reach up and clumsily pat his face with one hand. "Takes a lot more than cold water to kill me."

A cold nose presses just behind their ear. "... I sure hope so."