Author's Note: This is sort of a continuation to Obsession. just a little one-shot of my two characters Adam Morgan and Ulrich Halvard Erling. 'Zombie Cop' and 'Warlock' respectively. Erling made him what he is today, by the way. Reading Obsession before this might help. But if you want to ignore some of those details, I'm sure you can still understand this little story. Takes place months later, right when December starts the snow fall.

Contact

Cough. Sniff. Cough some more.

Morgan was utterly miserable. Wrapped up in a wool blanket, the shivering, obviously sick man curled up on the couch; knees huddled close against his chest while his arms held such a position in place.

Sneeze. Sniff. Cough, cough.

Morgan wished more and more for death. Compared to his very pale complexion, the rosy red in his cheeks and what tipped his nose matched well with his rosy red hair that for the most part appeared to be a mess. His eyes were puffy. Dark circles, decorated by some pinkish red from watery, irritated eyes, accompanied them.

What made this whole ordeal worse, was that he was in a home that wasn't his - and it belonged to the man who had ruined his life. He had no choice but to stay here now. Whatever Erling had done, had physically and mentally bonded Morgan to any place belonging to the warlock. He hated it. Truthfully, there wasn't a word in the English dictionary that could express just how he felt about this entire situation.

Maybe it was a good thing there wasn't.

Just as he began to think that (ever the cliché) 'nothing could possibly get any worse', Erling had walked in. Most likely to check up on him. Morgan doubted the warlock really cared - but having a sick person in his home probably irked him. The sooner Morgan was back in good health, the better for Erling.

What the sick man hadn't expected, was the back of the older man's hand pressed against his forehead gently. Morgan furrowed his eyebrows, trying to move farther away from the touch. It was unwelcoming, and made him uneasy. He watched Erling's expression, which didn't seem to change from what appeared to be some concern. Most likely an act. He was a master of lies, after all.

"Did you take the medicine I gave you?" he asked calmly, sitting on the other side of the couch beside the cold stricken younger male. In turn Morgan mumbled something rather incoherent, trying to curl up more in the blanket, burying his face in it a bit too much, apparently. "I can't understand you, Adam. Please speak clearly."

Morgan flinched, trying to resist the urge to obey. Another little "quirk" to the spell. He had to do whatever Erling told him to do. No choice. His body reacted to it immediately, no matter what the cost. Lifting his head from the safety and warmth of the wooly throw, Morgan answered. "I said 'yes, I did'. Okay?" He started coughing again, turning away and trying to rest his head on the pillow, trembling from the lack of body heat he produced. Being technically "dead" made it so he was always cold - contact with another or his own body heat. Always cold.

What surprised Morgan the most, though, was when he felt true warmth suddenly. The sensation was something hard to describe, but he welcomed it - only until he saw where it was coming from. His eyes flicked over to Erling, whose hand was resting on his head once more, brushing messy, damp strands of red hair from his brow.

Magic, no doubt, was where the heat was coming from. Morgan wanted nothing to do with it and tried to shrink away.

"You will only make yourself worse, Adam. Come here."

Morgan clenched his teeth, trying to fight once more against the pull of the spell, but again only obeyed as he started to sit up. "How did you deal with this alone for so many years? Winter must have been hell for you," spoke Erling while he now held Morgan closer. He pulsed heat into the younger man; allowing it to replace the non-existent body heat.

"Why does it matter, anyway…" Morgan muttered, miserable in his sickness, unable to do anything about it. In truth, things had been hell of a lot worse before now, but he wouldn't tell the warlock that. He wasn't thankful for this at all. Morgan wouldn't have even been this venerable to the cold if it weren't for Erling and what he had done to him.

Erling seemed to know this, like he seemed to know everything, and sighed, pursing his lips. "You will have to get used to this, Adam. You chose this, whether you acknowledge that fact or not."

"Whatever," Morgan grumbled. He found himself caught between a cough and a sneeze. Erling simply handed him a tissue from one of the tissue boxes left after many had been used up in a very short time span. Reaching for it, taking it from the warlock, Morgan blew into it. He was humiliated to say the least - and he greatly loathed himself for letting this man take care of him.

Pathetic.

Tossing the used up tissue on the pile beside his side of the couch, he was unnerved by the soft chuckle from behind him. "What's so funny?" Morgan demanded, trying to sound intimidating - but against Erling it was pitiful, and with the stuffed up nose, well…his voice wasn't really all that threatening. At all.

Another chuckle. Morgan's already fevered face flushed more, embarrassed. When fingers touched his chin and turned his head to face Erling himself, his green eyes watered from frustration. A soft thumb brushed against his flushed cheek, swirling blue orbs amused by the younger man's reaction. "I was just amusing myself with the fact that no matter just how vulnerable you may be, you are still so stubborn."

"I can be a whole lot more stubborn than this," Morgan shot back, narrowing his eyes. He prayed the shaky, unsteadiness of his voice went unnoticed. But knowing Erling, everything was taken note of. And he was right. Erling curved his lips into another smile.

"Oh, there is no doubt about that." He released Morgan's chin then, helping him re-wrap the blanket, which had been moved around a bit. "I think it may be time to take you to bed, hm? No sense in sitting on the couch."

Morgan kept his defiant glare, saying not a word. The warlock only sighed and lifted him from the couch without much warning, causing the younger man to squeak in protest. Since his voice changed due to his cold, it wasn't so much as a squeak as a thick whimper of surprise.

This was very, very wrong. Of all things to happen to him now - he was being carried around like some defenseless damsel. He never felt more humiliation now than when he blacked out after confronting this man and found himself in his bed hours later. "Put me down!" he blathered, trying to squirm unsuccessfully from Erling's firm hold.

"Please, you can't even sit up straight," the warlock stated matter-of-factly, shaking his head. "The moment I put you down you will simply fall over. You need to rest - not wear yourself out in arguing with me."

Not necessarily an order from him, but Morgan didn't push his luck for it to cause Erling to make him shut up - permanently or temporarily. He would not be able to take that.

When they had reached the guest bedroom, which was very richly decorated with maroon walls. Dark curtains draped over one window that was situated behind the dark Oakwood nightstand. Placed on top of the dark wood, held a warm maroon lamp. Everything about this room was warm - the bed especially. As he was comfortably situated in it, though, and parted from Erling, all that warmth he had been feeling up until recently started to fade away.

Had he forgotten that the reason he wasn't shivering so hard for the last several minutes was because of the warlock?

Morgan bit his lip, keeping his eyes averted from Erling, even when he felt the older man's hand brush his forehead again - the warmth tickling his chilled skin, tingling through him. "I can stay here with you," he said casually, taking his hand back, "and keep you warm."

Waiting for an answer for more than a minute, and not receiving one, Erling turned around to leave; until shaky, numbly chilled fingers gripped his sleeve. The warlock turned to look at Morgan, expecting another stubborn glare, but instead he met pleading, confused - possibly frightened - emerald orbs. It said it all, and he nodded his head slightly before he sat on the bed. He waited for Morgan first, not rushing him.

Morgan nervously watched him, unsure, shivering as he began to move slowly closer towards Erling - trying not to flinch away when he felt the other man wrap his arms around him and hold him close against his body. The warmth was there again - seemingly stronger now. His shaking nearly went away instantly.

Morgan found himself with his head resting against Erling's chest - but he was too tired to care - too comfortable. He didn't want to move now. He just wanted to sleep.

Only hours before, the mere thought of just being an inch in front of this man would have made Morgan shudder - but in this moment, here, right now - he couldn't think of a better place, a better person to be with in this position. He found himself listening to Erling's heartbeat - the feel of the rise and fall of his chest. Sometimes he himself forgot how to breathe - since he hardly needed to.

Morgan breathed then, for once catching the scent of incense and a collection of rich spices - a smell he could only associate with Erling - and it wasn't overwhelming at all. He knew he should hate it, for this man was someone he should be hating, fighting…

He buried his face then, bunching his fingers around the fabric of Erling's white, blouse shirt.

Strong, but gentle fingers rubbed his back then, soothing him - releasing the tense, sore muscles Morgan held for so long. Incoherent mumbling followed, but Erling doubted they were actual words and simply smiled. 'Such a delicate thing to hold', the warlock mused to himself. "Sleep, Adam. You will feel better tomorrow morning, I promise you."

Not even caring that he was ordered to sleep, Morgan relaxed and drifted into a thoughtless, dreamless slumber - the only thing that stayed with him was the smell of rich spices, accompanied by the warm scent of incense.