or the mountain should crumble to the sea
Nate showed up about ten thirty, quarter to eleven on Christmas Eve. No clue as to how he ended up in Alaska, no hint as to the reason he'd seemingly walked through a blizzard for half a mile and ended up at his great grandparents' house. Nate, naturally, wouldn't explain, and Scott couldn't do anything more but shake his head and pull the freezing man into the much warmer living room.
"Nate, what the heck -- no, nevermind, someone was watching over you, because otherwise you probably would have frozen to death." Scott's grandmother grabbed a blanket, and wrapped it around Nate, and clucked her tongue.
Once Nate was tucked away in an easy chair in front of the fire, wool blanket firmly around his shoulders, Scott poured Nate a mug of hot chocolate and handed it to him. "So, Nate, what are you doing here?"
Nate looked around, and sipped his cocoa. He looked exhausted. "I--"
Scott held up a hand. "I'm sorry. That's not fair and you're, always welcome, of course."
"Yeah." Nate raised an eyebrow. "Hey, this isn't coffee."
Scott smiled. "Thought I'd get you something festive. It's Christmas Eve, you know."
Nate answered wryly, "I noticed the tree."
Scott's grandparents always did the house up, and outside, there was snow. Of course. Scott wasn't sure when he realized that Nate looked like hell, but it made him feel a little lonely, to think that him and Nate probably wouldn't be spending the holidays together, except for this catastrophe. Scott said quietly, "What happened?"
Nate looked around again, eyes tired. "Doesn't matter, tonight."