Shivering in my sleeping bag, I found myself awake. The blanket had fallen off, so I snaffled it back from him, letting my eyes rest for a minute on his peaceful face, watching as little clouds of condensation formed and dissipated to match his steady breathing. I curled up my legs and snuggled into his body heat. The rain was pitter pattering lightly on the canvas, and I could make out droplets gathering on the sides of the tent and then running a wavering path down towards the dampening ground outside. There were some droplets inside too, I noticed now. Created by the warmth of our breaths meeting the cold of the night air. One landed with a small 'plop' on my cheek and I scrunched my nose and wiped my face against the tartan blanket. I turned my head again to look upwards, to where the moon was throwing shadows against the roof, making patterns of the surrounding trees and occasionally flickering like a faulty bedside lamp. Probably there were bats or owls outside, hunting in the rain. The pitter patter on the tent was getting stronger, and soon I could convince myself that we were sleeping in the middle of a storm, perhaps the only survivors in a rainy apocalypse that had washed everything else away. I closed my eyes again.
The next time I awoke it was light, and very warm. I quickly manoeuvred my socks off my feet and released my arms from the oven of the sleeping bag into the cool air of the damp tent. The rain was still falling outside, and the little droplets of condensation above us had grown into heavy drops, wobbling from the rooftop and threatening to shower my face and newly released arms if we moved around too much. There was a small puddle in the bottom corner where we had shoved our boots. I pulled the blanket back over my already chilly arms and looked over at the giant bundle of sleeping bag lying next to me. Still asleep, and no doubt sweating like crazy under all that cover. I nudged him gently, then a little more forcefully, until he eventually rolled over with a groan and nuzzled into my cheek, breathing warm morning breath into my face and kissing my chin with his dry lips.
"Morning," I said, moving my face to return the kiss, "it's raining." He grumbled a response and pulled me closer, his eyes still closed. I found his hand with mine and interlocked our fingers.
"I don't think our mountain walk is a good idea in this weather," I said softly, kissing his cheek, "but we could grab a comfy spot on the sofas in that cafe we found, the one with the good hot chocolate. We could do some people watching maybe, and look out at the lake in the rain. What do you think?" He mumbled again and squeezed my hand. I could already picture the swirling greys of storm clouds mirrored in the water, the rain darting down into the depths of the lake and shooting back up through the turbulence in a broken reflection of the sky above.
