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Mel pinched the brigde of her nose as Jayce pushed against the front door, feet digging into the wooden floors.
"Please tell me we aren't snowed in."
Jayce pushed again against the door, groaning with the effort as he replied, "No, of course not. Just need to give me a bit more time."
"Jayce you've been pushing for the last minute. If the door was going to open it would have by now."
Finally relenting, Jayce drooped, head pressing against the door.
"I'm sorry," he said, grave as steel.
Mel sighed.
"Jayce, its fine."
He drooped further, head turning slightly toward her.
"No, it's not."
Mel—who had sitting behind him on the couch—recrossed her legs, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
This was their first big outing together since they decided to rekindle their relationship. Jayce had planned it all out, choosing the location, booking the cabin, creating an itinerary, and buying the plane tickets. He'd taken care of everything. So thoroughly, Mel didn't have the heart to say no or beg off by claiming she was busy—he'd planned it too well, working around her schedule. It was incredibly sweet. And incredibly frustrating.
Outside the snow was high enough to cover the windows, letting only a ribbon of icy sunlight enter the room.
Silence stretched for a moment as Mel stared at the snow outside, her gaze avoiding the strip of sunlight. She didn't know what to say. Unease coiled deep in her stomach, twisting. That was a lie—Mel knew what she wanted to say but the curved line of Jayce's back made her swallow the words.
He banged on the door, and stood up straight, fists on his hips like he was a goddamn superhero. He turned to catch her eye, and smiled.
"Moping around won't fix anything, right?"
Mel admired the amber color of her champagne as she swirled it idly around the glass. Setting her glass down, Mel leaned against the kitchen countertop of Vi's kitchen and wondered how she had gotten into this situation. She looked down at the unopened bag of nachos on the island and resisted it's siren call. She didn't know where the dip had gone anyway.
"Mel?"
Elora stood in the doorway, a little elf headband on her head.
Mel picked up her glass again and took a swig.
"What are you doing here?"
"You said he wouldn't be here."
Elora paused, then she adjusted her headband—it had been askew—and walked over to Mel.
"I said that I don't think he would attend—"
"Elora—"
"I never said he wouldn't be here."
A flush of irritation rose in Mel, her fingers tightening around her flute of champagne. If it were glass she might've snapped it. Her eyes fell on the bag of unopened nachos again and the surge of emotion flew out of her, replaced by a strange sort of calm and maybe just a tinge of hunger. She really had to stop skipping meals in favor of work. Mel bit back the giggle that threatened to bubble out of her—she hadn't seen him in almost two years and yet she still couldn't shake the bad habits she'd picked up from him. Though if she were being honest, she forgot to eat just as often as he did—before they'd gotten together that was. When she near fainted from hunger once, he'd learned to cook. Just for her. Mel could've hired a cook, but he insisted—she missed that.
She shook her head.
"I'm sorry Elora. You're right."
She smiled at her sheepishly. "There was the possibility, I could've asked Vi again if he was coming."
Mel waved her off.
"Ready to rejoin the party then?," Elora said, hovering at the doorway.
"If there's dip, then yes."
"There's dip in the living room," Elora replied with a chuckle. "I can take you there—without you having to run into each other."
"I'd appreciate that." Mel joined her at the doorway and gestured ahead. "Lead the way."
As they exited the kitchen, Mel saw him across the room again. As golden as ever, dark hair longer than she'd last seen it, head thrown back in laughter—a ridiculous Santa hat on his head, which was on the verge of slipping off. Their eyes met, and her breath caught in her throat.
"Jayce are you sure this is a good idea?" Mel asked as she followed him into the bedroom.
"We can't get the door open and who knows how long we'll be snowed in for, its the best option for now. I mean unless you happened to see an axe?"he replied, back to her as he rummaged through the closet.
"No, Jayce, I did not," Mel sighed, wringing her hands. The cold from the snow outside had started penetrating her many layers. Even though the cabin sheltered them from the windchill, the cold was sharp. Mel pulled her sleeves over her gloved hands.
"Here."
Mel didn't have a moment to react before Jayce deposited a mountain of blankets into her arms.
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping you warm," he responded, soft smile on his face, one final blanket—a quilt patterned after a moth's wings—in his hands. He draped the quilt around her, his big hands settling on her shoulders. Looking into his eyes, she found that the color of his eyes matched that of the blanket, lovely shades of brown and gold. Brilliant even in the dim, winter light filling the room.
"Come on, let's move back into the living room. Gotta get a fire going."
Mel managed to duck around the corner, back pressed up flat against the wall, Elora following after.
A few partygoers passed by, unfortunately sober enough to pass judgement, regarded her with confused looks—some kinder than others.
Elora, bless her, gave them a big smile and cast the blame on herself.
"I bumped into her pretty hard. Had too much to drink, haha."
She was more put together than this. Poised and unflappable. When she arrived, greeting Vi at the door with a tasteful bottle of wine, she was the picture of elegance dressed in her plaid winter jacket, black tights, and a beautiful silk green cocktail dress—she had spent over half the day on her hair. Then she saw Jayce over Vi's shoulder at the far end of the room, the back of his raven hair disappearing into the hallway, and her heart clenched. She closed her eyes, cursing her bad luck.
"I think I should go home."
Bundled in a cocoon of blankets, Mel watched as Jayce broke down several chairs to serve as kindling for the fire. Breaking off the legs with his hammer first, throwing them into the fireplace, then breaking down the rest of the chair. Wash, rinse, repeat. They would have used firewood instead, but the pile was outside.
A sheen of sweet formed on his brow as he worked, the flames stronger than before. Mel's face grew warm.
"I can't believe you packed your hammer."
Jayce laughed low, more a soft, deep rumble.
"It's not actually."
"Oh really? What is it then?" Mel asked, incredulous. He never could leave work behind. Though neither could she—there was so much she needed to do. Once their shared ambition seemed the most attractive feature of their relationship. An equal desire to make the world better at any cost. Then the projects got bigger, the workload immense. They only ever had time to steal a few hours of sleep at most, let alone spend any time with each other. It was too important they'd said. Too much at stake. Too much to prove. Mel bit her lip—the bitterness of her mother's words finding their way onto the tip of her tongue.
"It's not. Its from an emergency tool kit I found tucked underneath the bed. I guess the owners forgot to put it back in the shed or something."
"Really?" Mel replied, the word a little too sharp, too heavy to be casual.
Jayce looked up from stoking the fire, meeting Mel's eyes. "Really. I promise."
Somehow, Elora had convinced Mel not to go home. A part of her wished she had not listened, especially so when Elora had disappeared into the crowd, leaving Mel to fend for herself in the corner she had commandeered for herself.
She'd take a million galas over this.
Frustrated and hungry, having still not found the dip, Mel pushed off the wall to stalk off to the kitchen again.
Halfway there, Powder—who Mel last saw dancing with Ekko earlier—crashed into her. Mel had a split second to hope she wouldn't twist her ankle in the fall when instead of hitting the ground, Mel was caught by a muscular pair of red, Christmas sweater clad arms, hands gently supporting her by her elbows.
"Hey, careful there. You ok?"
Air escaped her—her face was warm, and she couldn't tell if it was because she was embarrassed, terrified, or something else she was too stubborn to name. Or all three at once. But when she looked up, seeing Jayce's handsome, worried face didn't scare her as much as she thought it did when she first him over Vi's shoulder.
"Hello Jayce," Mel managed to say, voice tremulous.
"Hi Mel," Jayce replied, with a queasy smile.
The colors of the room faded behind Jayce, melding together into a hazy halo. Whatever nervousness Mel had felt melting into the haze as well. Two years. Two years after a less than civil separation and Jayce Talis still had a hold on her.
"Woo! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"
"Mylo! Shut the hell up you dolt!" Vi shouted at a drunken Mylo from the second floor, a drunken Caitlyn next to her smiling serenely down at them.
Spell broken, Mel flushed as she finally noticed the mistletoe hanging right above them in the archway.
"I'm so sorry Jayce—I probably should—"
"Mel," Jayce said, hands having migrated from her elbows to her shoulders. Warm but loose enough to break away from if she so wished.
She stopped, locking eyes with him once more.
"Do you—?"
His eyes flickered down, then back up.
"Would you—?"
His lips trembled slightly, full and rosy and—
Mel leaned in—more than a little drunk and he was too if the light dusting of pink on his cheeks were any indication. They'd probably regret this, but it'd been so long since she last felt his lips on hers. Maybe one night wouldn't be so bad.
"Yes," she sighed and kissed him.
The sun had gone down by the time Jayce had broken down the last of the chairs. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jayce got up to stoke the fire. Diligently making sure it wouldn't die out.
Mel remained in her bundle the entire time, dozing on and off throughout the day—comfortable and warm. She dreamed in snatches—dreaming of their first kiss since their separation. Under the mistletoe at Vi's Christmas Party. What a mess that was. But she didn't regret it. Even if she worried sometimes.
Jayce hadn't noticed she had woken up yet, and Mel took the opportunity to watch him. His shoulders sagged and he kept yawning every few minutes. Fondness and frustration gripped her. It was cooking for her all over again.
When Jayce shivered and sneezed, Mel's last thread of restraint snapped and she dislodged herself from her cocoon. With the mass of blankets around her shoulders, Mel joined Jayce at the fireplace and embraced him from behind.
"Mel?!"
"Shush," she rebuked, attempting to wrap the blankets around both of them.
"What are you doing?" Jayce asked, trying to pry her arms off.
"You're cold."
"I'm fine. You don't have to—"
"Jayce… let me take care of you too."
Jayce stilled—long enough that Mel's heart slammed against her rib cage. Anxiety whirring in her skull like angry gnats. Then he turned around in the circle of her arms, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss into her hair.
"We can take care of each other."
Heart beating fast, anxiety transforming into something like sunshine—there was no other way to describe it. But she was almost delirious with it, tears welling at the corners of her eyes.
She hugged him tighter.
"I'd like that."