"Keep joking, but he owes us," Marty insists as he tries to position himself on his bed. The Finchwood bunks aren't an ideal place to makeout at the best of times, close enough to the ceiling to risk smacking your head if you aren't careful, but put two tall boys together and it's even more precarious. Someone is at risk of getting kneed or falling off the bed until they finally settle. "Finally. No thanks to you, throwing snow on me. I'm weak to cold, you know." Marty mirrors Liam, with one arm tucked under his head, and he wraps the other around Liam's waist, pulling him close. "I'm comfortable," he says, into Liam's curls. And, he is. The room is dim, lit only by a lamp now that the candle is out, and they are warm and close. It is undeniably nice.