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The air is sharp and crisp as the snow begins to fall. The white flakes fall through the dark sky, lit by the soft, artificial glow of Brooklyn at three in the morning.
Amy Santiago, curled up, cosy in the blankets, wakes up gently in Jake Peralta’s bed. She lies there, her eyes still closed, assuming that any minute now the alarm will go off, and she’ll have to disentangle her and Jake’s legs, and get out of bed. But it doesn’t.
With a sigh she opens her eyes, and sits up slowly. The bedside clock — that she made Jake buy within their first week of dating, because he didn’t have a single one (how does one not own a single clock is beyond her) — reads 3:07AM. It is then that she notices the snow, falling outside the window.
She smiles as the flakes drift past and down to the ground, some settling on the window.
She sinks back into the bed, propping her pillow up at just the right angle so she can lie down and watch the snow. She drapes an arm back over Jake, and places a soft kiss on the back of his neck, before running her fingers through his fluffy bed hair.
She is cosy and comfortable, in his clothes, his bed. He is sleeping contentedly beside her, and it’s snowing outside.
She feels warm, truly happy, deep in her heart.
It's just a few minutes later when Jake stirs, sensing Amy’s movement.
He sits up, his hair sticking out at all angles — the way Amy secretly likes it — and a disoriented expression on his face.
Jake squints at her. “Ames?” he croaks. “What’s the time?”
She nods towards the clock. “Quarter past three,” He glances at it. 3:14AM. “Oh yeah, I still forget I have that.”
“Sorry I woke you, babe,” she apologises, reaching out and rubbing his arm.
He shakes his head, and smiles dopily. “S'all good,”
Amy smiles back softly. “Look,” she murmurs, pointing at the window.
Jake turns around, and his smile widens at the sight of the now swiftly falling snow.
“First snow,” he whispers, turning back to Amy; a sparkle of mischief flickers in his eyes, and his smile spreads even wider.
“Jake,” Amy says, predicting what's coming. He raises an eyebrow playfully, and she has to bite her lip to suppress the smile. “Jake! We can’t! It’s a quarter past three in the morning!”
“C'mon,” he grins, “tell me you don’t want to.”
“Jake,” she says again.
Holding eye contact with her, a playful challenge in his eyes, he throws the covers off that with a flourish.
Amy mock glares at him, drawing her knees up to her chest, and pretends to shiver violently. “It’s freezing, Jake!” she protests, but she’s laughing.
He takes her by the hand and she happily lets him pull her along. They slip on shoes, and tip toe out of the apartment and down the stairs, hand in hand, both suppressing their laughter.
Amy was right. It’s freezing outside. But it’s the sort of cold that is fresh and beautiful. It wakes you up, and makes you feel alive.
Jake puts an arm around her waist and she snuggles into his chest, letting his warmth flow through her; he kisses her temple.
They revel in the beauty, and stand in it as the snow falls onto the streets and hangs off their hair and lashes.
“I love snow,” Jake says after a while.
“I know you do,” she murmurs into him.
He lets go of her suddenly, and before she has time to process, a ball of snow hits the side of her face.
She jumps back at the hit of cold, spitting some of the snow out of her mouth. “Nope! Too cold, Jake! Way too cold!” But she’s laughing again.
“How can you be cold?!” He asks. “You wearing my warmest hoodie and my warmest sweats!”
She rolls her eyes in reply, and with a determined look on her face, grabs as much snow as her bare hands (which she is certain will get frost bite) can hold and runs at Jake, shoving it down the front of his hoodie.
She grins triumphantly, as he jumps up and down on the spot, shaking the snow out, screeching from the cold.
Amy gathers some more up in her already frozen hands, but Jake steps back, a grin on his face and his hands in the air. “You win, Santiago, I surrender!” He declares, a broad grin on his face.
She drops the snow, and grabs his hands, wrapping them around hers. “Thank God, because I think my hands are about to drop off.” She leans up and kisses him deeply, warmth flooding through her.
Jake smirks and raises an eyebrow at her when they break apart. “Worth coming out?” She rolls her eyes affectionately, and kisses him again in reply.
They hold hands and giggle uncontrollably all the way back up the stairs to Jake’s apartment.