Warrior nun one shots (avatrice)

Immolate me

Credit to leet911on Ao3

Summray: In which Beatrice is so very cold, and Ava is damned hot.

-

Ava is hot.

Beatrice doesn't know if it's because of the Halo, but she's grateful for it.

She can feel the heat radiating off Ava's nearby skin. They're not touching (Beatrice makes sure of that), but the hairs on her arm are raised towards the welcome warmth that's just a few millimetres away, straining to reach. It's raining, they're both drenched, and it's cold.

At least, Beatrice is cold. Ava doesn't seem bothered at all.

They are on a mountainside somewhere in the Italian Alps, with their Sister Warriors not far out of sight, but the torrents of rain falling around them make it seem like there's no one else in the world.

They are tucked underneath a small outcropping of rock, trying to avoid the storm.

The shelter is barely big enough for both of them, but huge sheets of water keep falling from the sky and neither wants to chance going further to find a better spot.

Ava inches closer, but Beatrice shies away. Ava is warm (hot even) and Beatrice doesn't trust herself with that. She already fights to avoid touching Ava at every opportunity, holds back when Ava hugs her, is very careful where she puts her hands in those moments when they do touch.

Because in her dreams, Beatrice pretends Ava likes touching just as much as she does. Maybe more even. And though part of her is dying to find out if it's true, it also scares her.

One of her vows is chastity.

But sometimes Ava smiles, and Beatrice feels like she's sixteen again, and she wants nothing but to crush their lips together, hold Ava close, and feel their hearts beat in between them. Sometimes Beatrice asks God for strength, because she thinks Ava must have been sent to test her.

Ava states the obvious. "Your arm is getting wet."

It is, because that's the only way they can avoid touching. Beatrice's left shoulder and arm feel like blocks of ice underneath the rain.

"Why don't you come closer?" Ava switches to a more direct approach.

"I'm fine."

"Aren't you cold?"

Freezing. "No."

"You're shivering."

Beatrice can tell where this is going, and she doesn't believe she's strong enough for this. So she clamps down on her muscles to stop the trembling, but her lip still quivers as she speaks.

"I'm fine," she repeats, and changes the subject instead. "The others are further ahead. They found a similar refuge. Bigger, I hope."

Ava doesn't let her escape that easily. "We can share body heat."

That's exactly where Beatrice thought this was going. And Beatrice wants to. She really really wants to. But she doesn't trust herself enough in her current state to keep it platonic. She doesn't trust herself much at all nowadays.

And she doesn't know if Ava does these things on purpose, or if Ava is oblivious. Maybe Ava doesn't notice the stares, the carefully avoided eye contact, the hands that never know quite where to be placed. Ava can't see the butterflies in her stomach, or the spinning in her head, or the tightness in her chest.

See, Beatrice has a lot of thoughts about Ava, even if she knows she shouldn't. And some of those thoughts are decidedly not Catholic.

So when Ava puts her arms around Beatrice, pulls her close, Beatrice shudders. Just one spasm that starts at the base of her spine, travels all the way up to her neck and ends in her fingertips. She can't stop her own arms from wrapping around Ava, her hands from latching on to Ava's back. Beatrice moans in frustration.