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“Hey, Boneh—” Zerako breaks off as he comes through the doorway to their bedroom and sees Bonehill standing stock still at the window, back turned to the rest of the room and ears almost level with the chain of colored lights strung along the ceiling.
“What are you looking at?” Zerako crosses the room to his husband’s side… only to answer his own question by following Bonehill’s eyes and upraised finger. “Oh,” he adds, leaning forward in order to see better himself.
Bonehill does turn to greet Zerako this time. He doesn’t bother responding to the question, given that the answer is now patently obvious. But he slings an arm over the warming blanket already draped around Zerako’s shoulders, and bends to brush their heads lightly together in welcome. “Hey.”
Zerako delivers a quick kiss to Bonehill’s cheek, then looks back to the window.
It’s not the first time he’s seen snow, of course. (That time Bonehill fell asleep in the yard right before a blizzard and it took Zerako a day or so to dig him out afterwards comes to mind, among others.) But still, every time he sees this rain of frozen magic from the sky (and natural snow is at least as magical, in its way, as anything either of them can do with their powers), it might as well be the first.
He reaches out to touch the glass of the windowpane, the thin layer of frost melting where he presses the palm of his hand against it. Even without the heat of latent fire in Zerako’s skin, though, the glass is not so frosted over as to block the sight of the falling snow. The ground is already covered by an initial layer of white, the air full of drifting snowflakes gradually thickening the wintry carpet below.
“I love snow!” Zerako proclaims, leaning into his husband’s side.
Shifting his own attention from the snowflakes to Zerako’s rapt face, Bonehill lets out an amused snort. “You won’t like it so much when we have to go out in it, you know. You hate the cold.”
“Maybe I won’t,” Zerako concedes cheerfully. “But we’re inside right now!”
A winning argument; after all, Bonehill can hardly dispute the truth of that point.
“And besides,” Zerako adds a moment later, “give me some credit. I don’t always hate the cold.”
“Oh, really.” Bonehill sounds politely skeptical.
“Yeah. I like some cold things. Occasionally. Some cold things are pretty awesome, actually.” Zerako snuggles against his ice-powered Fangon husband, and wiggles his left ring finger in front of the window. “I married one of them.”
That’s a hard one to argue with, too.
So Bonehill just snorts again and adjusts the blanket, wrapping it more snugly around Zerako to ward off the hint of chill creeping through the windowpane. That done, he leans sideways, his own head coming to rest almost on top of Zerako’s.
They resume watching out the window as the snowfall continues, glittering cold and crisp and magical.