Weird was a good word for it. He hadn't entirely wrapped his mind around the way they'd, well, wrapped around one another again. After the way she had lied to him, Luke had been convinced, albeit temporarily, that he'd never see her again. It had been the anger talking, wholly outraged and disgusted over the circumstances surrounding his wife's death.
Yes, Jessica had killed her and she'd blatantly withheld the truth from him. The person to blame was a dead man, and with it went the feelings of ire and betrayal. He'd understated the gravity of her actions upon being reunited underground. He knew it hadn't been easy.
And he damn sure wished he could have seen it.
Thoughts drifted back to the present, the cold ground piercing his back in a way no weapon ever feasibly could. It was weird being with her because there was very little standing in their way now. Never mind the monsters in mirrors or people turning up half their age inexplicably (not to mention the dragons--Luke had just shaken his head over talk of dragons and moved along).
Relieved one of them had the stones to get up from the ground in spite of the preferable close proximity, Luke sat up a moment after her with a sharp whistle over the temperature.
"Sweet Christmas," he hissed under his breath before rising to his feet. "Cuts right through you, doesn't it?" With a boyish shudder, he hastily jumped into bed with her and promptly made the usual space in the circle of his arm for her.
"Thinking the Amazonian look wouldn't work for you, by the way," he added as an afterthought as his body collected much needed warmth under the blanket. "So. Good call."