It is an admission, and on some level Felix is aware he's dug himself deeper here. His head is swimming as he tries to get a grip on where he is and what he is and the fact he's been caught out, but then Jim is dragging him out, away from the ice. The captain's arms wrap around him as Felix shivers and gasps in the frigid air.

"F-ff-f-fuck!" Feeling is starting to catch up with him, and it doesn't make things less disorienting. He wants to recoil from the warm hands rubbing his skin, the wrongness of them- and he wants to nestle against that touch, wants to bask in it. He doesn't know what he wants. What his name is. For a few minutes he's just going to curl against Jim, face buried in the other's coat. He shivers and shivers until his teeth slowly, slowly stop chattering and his breathing begins to ease.

With it, the disorientation begins to pass, but his thoughts remain... sluggish. It's like waking up from an intensely vivid dream in the deepest of sleeps. Awareness creeps back in. The borrowed shop. The ritual circle behind him. His husband... his husband.

"...Fuck."