Page 42 of Cold Comeback
"No," Gideon agreed. "It's not."
We eased the baseboard back and bled the valve for good measure. The radiator coughed up a thread of warmth before turning stubborn again.
"I'll bring the wrench set tomorrow," Gideon said. "Extra quilt tonight."
When we returned to the living room, they'd landed onThe Shiningas the compromise. My teammates packed the living room.
Pluto had claimed the recliner with his infamous hot sauce popcorn. Bricks wedged himself into the corner of the couch, already jumpy during the opening credits. Knox sprawled on the floor with a pillow, muttering commentary that was funnier than the actual movie.
Linc and I shared the main couch, with enough room for one more person if they didn't mind being cozy.
When Gideon appeared in the doorway, scanning the room for available seating, Linc immediately scooted closer to me. "Cap, there's room here."
Gideon hesitated. At that moment, I saw him weighing the optics—sitting against me in front of the entire team versus finding somewhere else to watch.
"Unless you want to sit on the floor with Knox," I said. "He's been saving those complaints about property taxes for a special occasion."
"I heard that."
Gideon settled onto the couch beside me, close enough that our thighs touched. He sat carefully at first, maintaining a perfect posture, as if he were attending a team meeting instead of watching a horror movie.
As the movie progressed and Jack Torrance slowly descended into madness while the Overlook Hotel revealed its secrets, Gideon relaxed. His shoulder rested against mine, and his breathing slowed.
Somewhere around the moment Danny discovered REDRUM written on the bathroom door, I realized Gideon had fallen asleep.
His head had tilted sideways. His face was relaxed in sleep, free of the tense control he wore like armor during waking hours.
I sat very still, afraid to move and break whatever spell had allowed him to trust me this completely.
A sudden flash lit the room. Grimmy stood in the doorway in full mascot gear, with a Polaroid camera in hand.
"Don't mind me," he stage-whispered, holding the photo like he was documenting evidence.
"Seriously?" I hissed.
"For the archives." He tucked the photo under his arm.
Linc's hand shot out. "Archives means Bone Yard, not Instagram." Grimmy saluted before vanishing back toward the kitchen.
Around us, my teammates provided running commentary on Stanley Kubrick's cinematography and debated whether the hotel was haunted or Jack was having a psychotic break.
When I shifted slightly to ease a cramp in my leg, Linc grunted, "Don't move."
"What?"
"Don't wake Cap," Pluto whispered from the recliner. "He never relaxes like this."
Even Knox looked back from his floor position. "Kid's right. Sawyer hasn't slept properly since he put the C on his jersey."
I glanced around at my teammates, who focused on protecting Gideon's sacred rest. Nobody moved.
He trusted me enough to fall asleep against my shoulder in front of all of them. I spent the rest of the movie hyperaware of every breath he took and every slight shift of his body against mine.
Gideon stirred as the credits rolled and the guys started a post-movie debate about whether the ending was genius or pretentious. His eyes opened slowly, unfocused momentarily before awareness crept back in.
He realized where he was—where his head was resting—and sat up quickly.
"Sorry." He raked fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean to—"
