rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

c. shea + fall

you had checked the weather half a dozen times before halloween, nervous about how often it was fluctuating

at one point, it even predicted snow

but somehow colin had convinced you that it wouldn't be that cold

it was a minor lapse in your own judgment, you guess, since a couple hours before the party, you walked out in your cheap, way-too-short flight attendant costume, fully intending to convince colin that the skirt wouldn't be practical for the weather

but the sight of your bare legs just

makes him stupid (his words, not yours)

and he was on you before you could say anything

it was lovely, the solid hour colin spent rambling about how hot and sweet you are

but now, with the heater at his friend's house broken and people continuously shuffling in and out to get at the chilly beers waiting on the porch, your legs—sexy, so soft and sexy, according to colin—are freezing

he rummaged around the house to find a thick blanket, which he now tucks tightly around your lower half, apologizing profusely and offering to take you home

you can't seriously be mad at him, given the way he's scrambling to find something else to warm you up

with a yank on the collar of his pilot costume, you draw him close, kissing him as the party goes on around you.