Where the Ice Sings

Comfort and Collateral Damage

Atlas woke slowly, warmth pressed along his front and the faint weight of someone sprawled half on top of him. He didn’t move at first. Just blinked up at the ceiling, memory drifting back into place piece by piece.

The nightmare.

The late night.

The way she’d stood there, looking at him like she didn’t have the words but hoped he did.

A small smile tugged at his mouth.

She came to him. That meant something.

Dax was tucked against him now, wedged between the back of the couch and his body like she’d burrowed there in her sleep and decided that was that. One arm was curled loosely over his ribs, her face pressed into the side of his chest, breathing slow and even. Completely out.

He glanced down at her, being careful not to move too much. Her hair was a soft mess, lashes resting against her cheeks, lips slightly parted. Peaceful. No tension in her brow. No more fear.

Good, he thought. Let her have that.

Then his jaw tightened faintly as memory shifted to what she’d told him.

The coach.

The hands.

The way her voice had shaken even when she tried to keep it steady.

A slow, simmering heat rolled through him again. Some people didn’t deserve the air they breathed.

His arm tightened just a fraction around her before he caught himself, forcing his muscles to relax. Easy. She’s safe. That’s what matters right now.

His gaze softened as he looked back down at her. Hard to believe someone who carried that much could look this calm. This small. This—

Dax suddenly twitched in her sleep. Before Atlas could react, her knee jerked upward.

Direct hit!

All the air left his lungs in one violent, silent wheeze. His eyes went wide and his body locked up like he’d just been shot, but he didn’t make a sound. Couldn’t. Not if he wanted her to keep sleeping.

He stared at the ceiling, vision watering, every survival instinct screaming while he lay there, frozen with one arm still wrapped protectively around the tiny menace currently trying to end his bloodline in her dreams.

Breathe, he told himself. Just… breathe through it.

Dax sighed softly and snuggled closer, completely unaware of the devastation she had just caused. Atlas swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and very gently shifted his hips half an inch away. He let his head fall back against the couch, resigned to his fate as her very injured pillow.

Dax stirred a few minutes later, nose scrunching slightly as she drifted up from sleep. Warm. Comfortable. Something firm and solid beneath her cheek. Her eyes blinked open slowly.

She didn’t move at first, just laid there, listening to the steady thud of a heartbeat under her ear. A familiar one. Safe. Sleep-heavy confusion faded into memory, and a soft smile curved her lips.

Right. Atlas.

She shifted, stretching a little—

Atlas made a strangled sound somewhere above her. Not loud. More like someone trying very hard not to be loud. Her brows knit. She tilted her head back to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed him.

“...Morning?” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

“Mm,” he managed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Mornin’.”

She pushed herself up slightly, immediately noticing how stiff he looked. His jaw was tight, one hand very carefully not moving from where it rested on the couch.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern replacing sleepiness.

A pause.

Another pause.

“Peachy,” he said hoarsely.

Dax frowned, glancing down—and froze. Her knee was still very much wedged between his thighs.

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God.”

She jerked back so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

“I am so, so sorry!”

Atlas sucked in a sharp breath as circulation returned, face scrunching. “S’all right,” he wheezed. “Occupational hazard.”

“Hazard of what? Being used as a human mattress?!” She covered her face with both hands, mortified. “I just assaulted you in my sleep!”

A weak huff of laughter escaped him despite everything.

“You fight dirty for someone unconscious.”

She peeked at him through her fingers. “Are you… like… permanently damaged?”

He finally looked at her, one eyebrow lifting. “We’re gonna stay optimistic.”

That did it.

A helpless giggle slipped out of her before she could stop it.

“I can’t believe I did that.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, shifting very carefully, “at least now I know you can defend yourself.”

Her laughter softened into a sheepish smile, warmth creeping into her cheeks. “Thank you… for letting me come out here last night.”

His expression gentled instantly. “Anytime.”

They held each other’s gaze for a quiet moment, the embarrassment fading into something softer. Then he winced as he tried to sit up.

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh again. “Do you need ice?”

He gave her a look.

“…Too soon?” she asked.

“Way too soon,” he said, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth.

And just like that, the heaviness of the night before felt a little lighter.

Dax was still covering her face. “I can’t look at you. I literally woke up and chose violence.”

Atlas let out a slow breath through his teeth, still recovering. “You weren't even awake. Your knee went rogue.”

She groaned into her hands. “This is the worst first morning ever.”

He glanced at her through narrowed eyes. “Worst for whom, exactly?”

That made her snort, which only made her more embarrassed. “I’m supposed to be all graceful and lady-like, and instead I nearly took you out at the genetic level.”

He shifted carefully, testing the waters. Immediate regret flashed across his face. He froze again.

Her eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no, is it bad bad?”

“I’ve had worse,” he muttered.

“WHEN?”

“Different story.”

She stared at him. “Atlas!”

“I’m kidding,” he said quickly, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Mostly.”

She smacked a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. “I feel horrible.”

“You should,” he said solemnly.

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“You assaulted a man who generously provided premium chest real estate and emotional support services.”

Despite herself, she laughed again, the sound bright and unguarded. “I didn’t sign any rental agreement!”

“Physical contract,” he said. “You crawled over. Very binding.”

She shook her head, smiling now, the last of the tension from the night before melting away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he said, finally looking at her fully. “But you’re laughing.”

That softened her instantly.

She studied him for a second, then asked more quietly, “Are you really okay though?”

He held her gaze, then gave a small nod. “I will survive. Might walk funny. But I’ll survive.”

She bit her lip, then gently reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “Thank you… for not making me feel dumb about coming out here last night.”

His expression warmed. “You didn’t come out here because you were dumb. You came out here because you needed someone.”

Her eyes dropped to where her hand rested on him. “Still.”

He nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “Next time just aim for my ribs or something.”

She gasped. “There is NOT going to be a next time!”

He raised an eyebrow. “You planning on never sleeping near me again?”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Pink rushed into her cheeks. “That’s not what I—”

He grinned, victory flickering in his eyes despite the lingering pain. “Mhm.”

She shoved his shoulder gently. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, settling back against the couch cushions with a slow exhale, “here you are.”

She tried to fight it.

She failed.

A smile tugged at her lips as she curled a little closer again, more careful this time.

“Okay,” she muttered. “But I’m keeping my knees to myself.”

“Greatly appreciated,” he grunted.

They stayed like that a minute longer, the teasing fading into something softer as the quiet morning light stretched across the cabin floor.

Dax was the first to sigh. “Okay… I should probably get up before I injure you again.”

“Strongly support that plan,” Atlas muttered.

She carefully untangled herself, moving with exaggerated caution as she slid off him and onto her feet. He watched the entire process like a man defusing a bomb.

“See?” she said once she was standing. “No casualties.”

“Too early to celebrate,” he replied, finally sitting up with a slow, stiff movement. He paused halfway, face tightening.

Her eyes widened. “Still bad?”

“I’m gonna need a minute,” he admitted.

She winced sympathetically, then glanced toward the small kitchen area. “Can I at least make you coffee as an apology?”

That got his attention. “You make good coffee?”

“I survive on caffeine and spite,” she said. “It’s one of my core skills.”

A faint grin tugged at his mouth. “Alright. Redemption arc accepted.”

She padded toward the kitchen, then hesitated, turning back. “Uh… where do you keep everything?”

He pointed vaguely. “Cabinet above the sink. Grounds in the tin. Try not to reorganize my entire life while you’re in there.”

“No promises,” she called softly, already opening cupboards.

Atlas leaned back into the couch, watching her move around his space like she belonged there. Bare feet. Oversized shirt. Hair a sleepy mess. The domestic normalcy of it hit him somewhere deep and unexpected.

The clink of a mug. The soft rustle of movement. The quiet hum of morning.

Something about it made the cabin feel a bit warmer than before. And he didn't mean the temperature.

“Okay,” she said a moment later, holding up the coffee tin. “This smells strong enough to wake the dead.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m halfway there.”

She smiled to herself and turned back to the counter, and Atlas let his head rest against the cushions, listening to her exist in his space like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time in a long time, morning didn’t feel empty.

Dax turned from the counter carefully, both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She walked it over like it was some kind of peace offering.

“Olive branch,” she said, holding it out to him.

Atlas looked at the mug, then at her, one brow lifting.

“Does this erase attempted manslaughter?” she asked.

“Attempted,” he said. “It was accidental.”

He took the mug, their fingers brushing for just a second. “Though, the jury’s still out.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. “Drink your coffee, drama king.”

He took a slow sip, then paused. “…Okay, that’s actually really good.”

She perked up a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “You’re hired.”

“For what?”

“Existing in my house and making coffee, apparently.”

Her cheeks pinked just a little at that, and she shifted her weight, suddenly shy under the way he was looking at her. Not teasing now. Just… looking.

The cabin felt smaller in that moment. Not cramped, just close. Like the world outside it had stepped back a few paces and left just the two of them in the quiet space it created.

Dax shifted again, brushing a loose strand of hair being her ear. "Guess I should add barista to my resume."

Atlas huffed a quiet laugh but his eyes still held that gentle look. "Guess I should start getting used to someone else in my kitchen."

The words hung there. Simple but heavy with something neither one of them named. Dax walked over and took a seat next to him with her mug.

She looked down at her cup, the warmth seeping into her palms, into her chest, into places that had felt cold for a long time.

Maybe she didn't have to figure out everything today. Maybe she didn't have to go back just yet. Maybe it was okay to just be here in this quiet cabin with this man who looked at her like she was worth more than what she could do out on the ice.