Second home

My eyes flash open, and there's a pain in my chest that makes it difficult for me to breathe. Using muscle memory, I yank down the glove compartment, and search desperately for the blue inhaler I keep stored in there. Nothing but papers, and straws are in there, and I press the palm of my hand to my chest, trying to apply pressure so I can breathe better.

Warm hands touch me, and I flinch, wheezing a bit. It's Loss, and last night's events crash down on me, and he looks confused and concerned.

"Inhaler..." I gasp out, and his face changes as he places his warm hands on under my breasts. A rush of warmth heats up, and I flinch away in case it gets too hot. But it doesn't; it stays the same heat, and gradually, breathing becomes easier.

When he see the lack of strain on my face, he removes his hands.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tucking a strand of my hair away from my face.

"Yeah sorry, I had a asthma attack. It started because of my nightmare..." I trailed off, th