They were in heat somewhere -- that's all Bright knew. It was the middle of August, the air sticky with humidity. Walking outside was like stepping into a warm sponge; it took his breath away and made his head hurt. They had another five hours before their next stop, and it was too hot to be on duty. And to top it all off, the air in on the White Base was broken. Bright lay on the sofa and closed his eyes in frustration. He wore just a loose tank-top and a thin pair of boxers, and tried not to let any part of his body touch any other part.

Mirai was on the floor on her back, her legs propped up against the end of the sofa, her feet in the air above Bright's own. Amuro sprawled in a chair beside her, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Frau and Kai had volunteered to get something for lunch; they left over an hour ago and weren't back yet. At this point Bright didn't even think he was hungry anymore. His head ached like a rotten tooth, his eyes watered, his whole body was bathed in a sheath of sweat. He just wanted to be dead.

"It's hot," Amuro said for the millionth time. "Why's it so hot here?"

"The air's broken," Mirai reminded him. Bright scrunched his eyes closed tighter and tried to block out the sounds of their voices.

But Amuro wouldn't shut up. A few minutes later he said it again. "It's hot."

Bright couldn't take it anymore. Flinging a pillow over at Amuro, he growled, "We know that. Just drop it already."

He waited, knowing Amuro. Sure enough, in a few minutes he said in a soft voice, "Man, it's hot."

Sitting up suddenly, Bright pointed down the hall. "Out!" he said. Amuro looked at him, a hurt expression on his face, but Bright didn't care. It was too hot to care. "Get out! Before I hit you, get out of here!"

Amuro pouted, but he stood up and stretched. As he stepped over Mirai, he glared at Bright and muttered, "What's keeping those two?" At the door he said, "I'm going to see what's up with our lunch. I'll be back." Throwing another hurt look at Bright, he slammed the door on his way out.

On the floor Mirai shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Bright gripped his head with both hands and lay back down. He just wished the pounding would stop. He wished the a/c would work. He wished he hadn't yelled at Amuro. Hell, he wished a lot of things right now, but none of them seemed likely to come true. He closed his eyes against the light and the pain and took a few deep breaths.

He heard Mirai get up from the floor and open the small refrigerator, the only cool place in the room. Earlier they had taken turns standing in front of the small appliance, but it hadn't generated enough cool air to cool them off and they had given up. Instead they had stripped to their t-shirts and underwear and just lay around, Amuro remarking on the heat, until Bright couldn't stand it anymore and sent him away. Already he was feeling bad for yelling at his friend -- when he came back he'd have to apologize.

He heard Mirai digging through the ice rack, the sound of ice cubes clinking together almost musical. A waft of coolness curled around his feet, and then the refrigerator door closed softly and the heat rushed in to dissipate the draft. He sighed and wondered if Mirai would berate him for the way he had treated Amuro.

His eyes were still closed, but he heard Mirai move back across the room and sensed his friend standing over him. Then he felt the pressure of Mirai's hip against his as she sat down on the sofa, and he felt his friend's steady gaze on his face. He kept his mouth set, his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed, and wondered what Mirai was doing so close to him. His heartbeat quickened, and despite the heat, his skin suddenly hungered for Mirai's touch. Maybe it's a good thing Amuro left, he thought, finding himself suddenly aroused at the thought of them here, together, alone.

And then something wet and cold and hard touched his forehead, and Bright gasped. An ice cube, he thought as a drop of water coursed its way down his temple and into his dark hair. Mirai must have taken an ice cube from the refrigerator, and now held it against Bright's forehead. As he kept his eyes closed, Mirai began to run the ice cube around his temples, first one side, then the other, until his forehead was cool and wet.

Then the ice cube found its way down the side of his face, tracing his cheekbone, around his chin, up the other side. Back on his forehead, the ice cube rested briefly before sliding down the slope of his nose, and when it rested at the tip, Bright dared to stick his tongue out, trying to touch it.

He tasted Mirai's palm, salty and warm and soft. Quickly his tongue darted back into his mouth, and Mirai pressed the ice cube against his lips, rubbing back and forth until they were glistening and damp. He stuck his tongue out again and licked the side of Mirai's hand with quick motions, like a cat bathing itself. He liked the taste of Mirai's skin.

But then the hand and the ice cube were gone, trailing down his neck and into the hollow of his neck, where the cool water pooled slightly before trickling down either side to the sofa below. He sucked in his breath as the coldness slipped over his tank-top and traced first one nipple, teasing it into hardness, and then the other. As Mirai outlined each nipple, her fingertips brushed against the tender bud, and Bright wished he was wearing something more than boxer shorts. He knew his pleasure must be showing by now; he had never felt so aroused by a simple touch in his life. How large was that ice cube? It should've melted away completely by now.

And then it moved lower, crossing the plains of his stomach to slide along the waistband of his boxers, and he groaned slightly when Mirai's wrist brushed against the hard bulge in his shorts. He bit his lips and tried to control himself, but when the ice cube danced over his erection, he couldn't stop from gasping with pleasure. Icy water leaked into his boxers, and he imagined he could hear it sizzle on his heated flesh. Involuntarily, he reached out, and gripped Mirai's knee with one hand. As the ice cube teased his cock through the thin fabric, he rubbed Mirai's inner thigh tenderly, flicking the edge of his own boxers playfully, afraid to go any farther.

Suddenly the ice cube found its way back onto his stomach and slid up his chest, up his neck, around his chin, and back to his mouth. His lips parted greedily as he tasted the wetness, hard and now so small. Mirai's fingers held the ice cube to his lips, allowing him to suck at it before pulling it back. Teasing him. Forcing him to lean upward with his mouth, follow the ice with his tongue, wrap his lips around Mirai's fingers and pull them back to him. When the ice was gone, Mirai kept her forefinger at Bright's lips, and the man sucked at it hungrily, running his tongue around its tip, nibbling at it softly. His crotch throbbed with the ache of his erection, and his hand found its way under Mirai's shorts. His fingers touched soft skin, kinky hair. Mirai pulled her finger from Bright's mouth and offered her thumb, leaving a hot, wet trail along his cheek as her finger came to rest above his jaw. Bright bit down lightly on her thumb as he twined his fingers in the damp hair beneath Mirai's shorts. He smiled as Mirai caught her breath sharply.

Suddenly the door to the room banged open. Bright sat up quickly, his eyes flying open, his headache pounding incessantly at his temples, Mirai's hand falling away from his face to cover his own hand, still in Mirai's shorts. Bright shifted his legs to hide his erection as the others barged into the room, bags of Chinese food in Frau's hands. Amuro and Kai carried tall cool drinks. Almost guiltily he pulled his hand out of Mirai's shorts, letting his fingers trail along her thigh as Mirai turned to look at the others. "Finally," Mirai said, her voice a little shaky. "Food."

Bright ran a hand through his hair and silently cursed their timing. But he had to admit -- for a few moments there he had forgotten about the weather, though another kind of heat had fueled his thoughts.