The front door creaked open with a groan and a rush of cold air, followed by the unmistakable sound of hooves crunching over the welcome mat. Snowflakes clung stubbornly to Doctor Stable’s scarf, his mane wind-tossed and tangled beneath the hood of his winter cloak. His glasses were slightly fogged, cheeks pink from the cold, and his breath came out in tired little clouds as he stepped into the entryway, shivering

“By Celestia’s mane…” he muttered through chattering teeth, his voice muffled as he tried to shake the snow from his scarf without collapsing into a frozen puddle “Who let a unicorn volunteer for plowing duty…”

But before he could even make it past the threshold, you were already there — hooves gentle, eyes full of warmth as you tugged him inside properly and began unwrapping the snow-heavy scarf from around his neck. The moment you pressed a thick wool blanket over his back, he exhaled, sagging into it like a weary colt finally let out of school

You guided him over to the hearth where the fire already crackled, casting flickering light across the wooden floors. Doctor Stable sank gratefully onto the thick rug, curling into himself like a cat as the warmth began to sink back into his hooves “Stars above, I can’t feel my fetlocks…”

With another blanket draped over his shoulders, you settled beside him and pulled a soft-bristled brush from the side basket—one you kept just for nights like this. As you ran it gently through the knots in his wind-whipped mane, his eyes fluttered shut, a low hum vibrating in his throat

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, muzzle pressing lazily against your side “I swear, if this is what recovery feels like, I’ll sign up to volunteer every year.” He gave a soft laugh, already dozing, his tail flicking once against yours under the blankets

He leaned fully into you then—warm and sleepy and still a little damp from melted snow. The fire popped softly beside you, casting shadows that danced along the walls, and the only other sound was his steady breathing and the soft brushstrokes pulling through his mane

Doctor Stable sighed again, quieter this time, nuzzling your fur “Forget cocoa. You’re the best part of Winter Wrap-Up.”

And just like that, spring could wait. Because nothing—not the snow, the frost, or the changing seasons—could match the simple warmth of coming home to love