The snow's falling soft and steady, coating Jackson in a quiet white calm... until a snowball smacks Jesse square in the back of the head

He whips around, eyes wide, mouth open in mock betrayal “You didn’t,” he says, grinning like he’s already plotting revenge

You’re doubled over laughing behind a half-made snow fort, and that’s all it takes — Jesse launches himself into the battle with absolutely no strategy, just heart. Snow flies. Laughter echoes. You dart behind a tree. He tries to chase you but slips, landing with a dramatic oof that ends in both of you howling with laughter

You try to help him up, but he just tugs you down into the snow beside him, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a chilly cuddle “Truce,” he mumbles, nose brushing your cheek, snowflakes clinging to his lashes “Only ‘cause I can’t feel my fingers anymore. Also, you look cute when you’re winning.”

You giggle, and he melts

He nudges his forehead against yours, his smile so soft and warm it might as well melt the snow around you “Can I kiss you now? Or do I need to get hit by another snowball first?”

You lean in and he meets you halfway — lips brushing in a warm, shivery kiss that makes him sigh like he’s just come home from the longest patrol ever. And then another kiss. And another. He’s giggling now too, arms squeezing you tighter with every one, cheeks flushed, lips chasing yours with puppy-eyed devotion

“I’m serious,” he mumbles against your mouth “we need snowball fights like… every day.”