"You mean to tell me that the environmental controls can be brought down by a psychotic space squirrel?" Malcolm looked wide-eyed at Trip and curled a little closer.

"Yeah, looks that way. 'Course, Ah'm not absolutely sure if it was Phlox's rodent o' the day, but Ah'm bettin' on it pretty heavily. The main controls have teeth marks all over 'em." Trip's teeth chattered and he shot a hand out from under the covers to grab another blanket from the end of the bed.

"You're sure it wasn't Porthos?"

"Nah. He knows better, and the teeth are way to small to be his."

Malcolm put his nose in the crook on Trip's neck, ignoring the other man's yelp. "How long are repairs going to take?"

"Well, with the ship-wide temperature comin' in at a balmy three degrees celsius, and the crews havin' ta work in short shifts so they can warm up, it's gonna be another couple o' hours." Trip shifted. "And git yer nose outta my neck."

"No." Malcolm breathed on Trip's neck. "If I can't get out of bed and kill Phlox's damed space squirrel, I'm going to stay as warm as possible."

"What about me?"

"I'm wrapped around you like a crossiant. You can't possibly be suffering."

Trip laughed. "Guess not." He rearranged himself and Malcolm so they were both completely under the covers and tucked in tight. "Shame we can't do much more than shiver while we're lyin' here an' all."

"Trip, I love you, but if you think I'm going to remove any clothes to do any activity that will leave cold sweat on my body, you're insane."

"Fine. Fine. We'll jus' lie here and wait. But as soon as the controls are back on, I'm gettin' you naked."

Malcolm grinned. "Like it'd take much more than a decent temperature to do that."