Waylen glared at him again. "No." he retorted, shaking his head stubbornly. "I don't want your help." he spat the words, glaring at Finn still, amber eyes narrow and eyebrows drawn down in a frown, mouth pinched at the corners. His arms were crossed, the towel drawn close in some attempt to stay warm.
Finn sighed, trying to recall what worked best when trying to get Waylen to do something. He remembered that he'd managed to do it in the past, though that had been when they were on very good terms… Goddamn it, Finn, get your head out of the gutter. With one last dramatized roll of his eyes, he set a hand on Waylen's shoulder as a quick warning so as not to startle him before grabbing the front of his shirt and dragging him towards the motel room.
Waylen stiffened when he was grabbed, pushing at Finn. "Hey! Let go of me!" he snapped, mouth pinched into a thin line. "Asshole, I said I didn't want your help! Let go!" his eyes were still narrowed as he glared up at the taller man. "Fuck off, let go, bastard." his glare ended for just a moment as he turned his head to the side and sneezed, before coming right back to glaring.
Finn paused for a second, raising an eyebrow and cocking a small smirk when he had to look very far down to even see Waylen's face. "You're literally freezing, idiot." He stepped just into the room, enough that the change in temperature was obvious and welcoming, the wave of warmth reaching just past the doorway. He didn't plan on actually forcing the man into his room, obviously, just close enough that he wouldn't get sick- though it was probably already too late for that- and let him make the final decision.
"I am not, it's 45 degrees, that's above freezing." Waylen retorted, still glaring up at Finn. "Didn't you learn anything in school?" like Waylen was one to talk. He hadn't had the best grades, exactly, though in his defense they hadn't been the worst, either. "Now let go of me."
"…And drenched in ice cold rainwater with the wind pelting your face. Regardless, you're shaking." Finn glared right back at him, exasperated and frustrated as hell. He was going to be the bigger person, here, though- no pun intended- and try to refrain from being petty.
Waylen was indeed shaking, but he continued to glare at Finn. "Fuck you, I'll just go tell the manager the lock's busted and the manager will fix it. I don't need your help." He sneezed again, blinking for a moment before the scowl returned in full force. He crossed his arms again, the towel now nearly as wet as he was from being pressed up against him.
"All right, fine. Go back out into the cold rain to get down the stairs to the main office. Be my guest." He let go of Waylen's shirt, knowing he'd made a point. He took a single step backwards further into the motel room. Even he was starting to get chilly just from standing out here- the mild concern was steadily disappearing, the temptation of a warm shower beginning to overshadow it. If he wanted to sit out here in the cold and rain, who was Finn to stop him?
Waylen was still trembling with shivers, and he unwrapped the towel from around himself, folding it and dropping it just inside Finn's door, before immediately crossing his arms again, more for warmth than for anyone else. He gritted his teeth at the warmth emanating from Finn's room that he couldn't help but turn towards just a little bit. No, he wasn't going to accept help from Finn. Certainly wasn't going to ask for it, either. He'd be fine.
Finn bent down to pick up the towel, still watching him carefully. He draped it over his arm, not minding that it was cold and wet at the moment. At least the yelling and name calling had stopped, that was a bit of progress. He didn’t speak for a moment, just continuing to slowly, almost unnoticeably, inch his way back into the room. “It’s warm in here,” he commented plainly after a moment.
Waylen kept glaring at him. "Don't gloat, asshole." he snapped in return, spine stiff and straight as he physically kept himself from edging closer to the warmth that drifted out from Finn's room, curling around him as if to draw him in. He shifted his weight back a little bit, glancing towards the stairs, knowing that if he went to the main office he'd have to go back out in the freezing rain first.
Finn sighed in an attempt to keep himself from laughing, taking a few steps inside to set the neatly folded wet towel on the bathroom counter. “There’s more in here too, y’know. Towels, blankets, a nice radiator…” He leaned against the doorframe once again, easily reaching the top of it.
It occurred to Waylen that Finn was treating him exactly like one would a feral cat, and he resisted the urge to hiss. "Bastard." He spat, glaring at Finn and still leaning back, trying so hard not to lean into the warmth still coming from the open doorway. A shiver racked through his body again, the shudder visible even from where Finn was, the way his breath stuttered out audible in the semi-quiet.
Finn nodded. “Uh huh. Okay.” He turned back to the room for a moment, returning to the door with a soft, fluffy grey blanket draped over his shoulders. He stared Waylen dead in the eye, not missing the shiver coursing through him. He looked him up and down. “You look cold,” he stated in a monotone voice.
Waylen actually honest to God growled at him for that. "Stop gloating you absolutely fucking asshole." He snapped, arms drawing tighter around himself in a futile attempt to warm himself up a bit more, still shivering and sighing faintly, biting his lip for a moment.
“I’m literally offering to let you come inside.” Finn chuckled, holding up the corner of the blanket. “This could be yours with just a few steps forward, princess.” He spoke the pet name as if it was something endearing, when it was most clearly a way to tease Waylen. He’d lost all sense of strategy now, deciding that he couldn’t blame himself if the man wouldn’t come in, and he thought it’d be fun.
"Don't call me that!" He lashed, eyes narrowed to slits as he glared up at Finn. And it really was up, what with their height difference. Not, of course, that Waylen cared. Which he did. Rather a lot. He hated that Finn was so much taller than him, hated that Finn got to lord all of this over him, goddamnit.
The tilt to Finn's gaze as he looked down was nearly hilarious. Part of him wanted to really rub it in, but his mind was only supplying ideas that he definitely could not do. "Stop trying to give yourself hypothermia, and I might. Princess." He stuck his tongue out for extra measure.
"I will hit you. Stop it." He growled, still glaring up at Finn with his mouth pinched in a thin, angry line and his whole face drawn in an angry, grumpy expression. "I won't get hypothermia. Asshole." He looked exactly like an angry, feral cat.
Finn knew that he was being serious. He knew it. But he just couldn't take him seriously. "Okay, so do it." Waylen wouldn't be able to get a good swing at his face, and besides, the poor man was shaking all over- no matter where he tried to hit, he wouldn't be able to do it well.
(skdhshhs I was half expecting Finn to go "where, the ankle?")
Waylen shivered again, a full body quiver that started at his toes and knees and crawled up through his body, ending at his shoulders as he curled further into himself with a shuddering breath. "Fuck you." He snapped again, though the words were undermined by the way his teeth chattered at the end.
(asakfjslkgj i love that-)
Shit. He was genuinely concerned now. Giving up on trying to get the man to come inside on his own, Finn hunched down slightly, draping his blanket over his shoulders. "Jesus Christ, Waylen. Just as stubborn as you were in school, clearly." He took a handful of the blanket and used the grip to pull him forward into the motel room. He was careful to keep the door open just in case Waylen genuinely wanted out. "There. Now was that so hard?"
(jzhdkfjgbdk)
Waylen glared at him, but made zero attempt to leave the warmth of Finn's room. "Fuck you." he said again, though he was still shivering a little bit. The shivering had definitely gotten a little less serious, but he was still trembling just a little bit with the cold.
Finn bit his tongue, stopping himself from giving a snarky response. “Yep. I’m gonna get you another towel.” He pushed the front door closed with his foot before turning to the bathroom and grabbing another soft towel and once again chucking it at Waylen. “Dry yourself off. I’ll try to find some clothes that won’t fall off of you.”
Waylen took the towel, peeling off his jacket and setting it in the sink so it wouldn't drip on the floor, which left him in a soaked t-shirt and jeans, both of which clung to him in ways that, while extraordinarily uncomfortable, also left little to the imagination. He scraped the towel over his hair, through the waves that had tightened into curls from all the water.