Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or the show (just playing with them) and no money was had during the creation of this ficlet. Just good will earned.

A/N: Trying my darndest to finish a Rizzles fic, but this thing came out instead. WTF? …Dedicated to my creative director, triskle, for being super awesome!

Baby, it's Cold Outside

"How the bloody hell am I to function in this society when I cannot even seem to locate my DAMN WELLIES?" As Myka walked past H.G.'s open bedroom door, it was the flying clothes that were first visible before the older woman herself came into view. Myka knocked on the open door trying to draw the other woman's attention.

"Um, need help?" Myka poked her head in cautiously, wary of the projectile garments littering the bedroom floor. Upon hearing the question, H.G. leapt from inside the dresser…head first. Her skull came into direct contact with the closet's door in the most unpleasant of ways causing the British woman to let out a rather undignified yelp. Recovering slightly, Helena stood to face her visitor while cradling her aching head.

"What are you still doing here?" The question came out harsher than the older woman intended. She tried to soften the query by smiling at Myka, but still kept a hand rubbing her tingling scalp and thanked a higher being she hadn't given herself a concussion.

"Well, I was snowed out. Or in. Or both. I'm pretty sure this winter storm has closed every airport from Montana down to New Mexico." Myka crossed her arms along her chest and leaned against the doorway. "What unseasonable weather!"

"End times are near, so it seems." H.G. laughed at her own joke and it took Myka a few seconds to laugh along with her, a rather nervous laugh to be honest. "Too soon?" That caused the younger agent to snort with laughter. It was nice to be at the point in their relationship where they could joke about H.G.'s brush with apocalypse. I mean, who hasn't wanted to take out all of humanity on occasion?

"So it seems," Myka responded as she came further into the other woman's bedroom, pushing aside some tailored pants and vests as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. "What are you doing?" Myka asked, pointing to the outfits strewn haphazardly about. "Laundry day?"

"I want to take a stroll about the property," Helena enlightened her companion as she once again resumed her rummaging. "But in order to complete such a task in these given 'weather conditions' I must first locate…MY DAMN BOOTS!" Helena punctuated the statement by tossing a few more items from the bottom of her dresser in the general direction of her bed. In the process of dodging a dark-blue dress shirt, Myka leaned sideways just enough to spy a pair of very-much-weather-appropriate foot attire stuck between the dresser and the wall. Getting up carefully as to avoid slipping on an errant stocking, the young woman placed a hand on Helena's back for leverage as she snaked one of her long arms into the crevice she'd discovered. Moments later she produced H.G.'s wellies with a much over-done "ta-da!" Still being in such close proximity to the other woman allowed Myka to continue to rest her hand on H.G.'s back without it seeming overly awkward. Or maybe it was a tad bit awkward but the warmth feeding into her fingertips definitely outweighed any uneasiness Myka might otherwise feel. And Helena didn't seem to mind in the least bit, looking positively overjoyed that her prized footwear had been found. Perhaps she'd even stepped closer to Myka as she whispered a throaty 'thank you' that managed to produce the most becoming of blushes to creep along the younger woman's cheeks…

"Would you mind if I joined you? Great! Let me go get my boots while you clean up this mess." Myka didn't even wait for a response to her request before extricating herself from between H.G. and a hard wall and exiting the room.

They reconvened in the entry way nearest the front door, bundled and ready for their jaunt into the snowy landscape. Myka was having trouble zipping up her jacket (okay, it probably should be referred to as a 'parka'), the mittens she had protecting her hands making her less tactile than usual. With finger-fitting gloves, H.G. was much better suited to the task and gave Myka an 'allow me' before zipping the coat for her. Myka had just rid herself of her flushing cheeks and they were about to start up again. She definitely needed the frigid air and snow …and fast.

"So where have our fellow colleagues gotten off to?" H.G. asked as she secured her own jacket.

"Leena is starting on dinner preparations while Claud and Pete went into town to stock up on provisions before the weather gets any worse."

"And by 'provisions' you mean we will all be eating 'Cheelos' and energy drinks in the event we are snowed in?" H.G. narrowed her eyes as she asked.

"Cheetos, not Cheelos, and let's not forget the boxes and boxes of Little Debbies they'll probably come home with," Myka smirked. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to send those two…"

"No matter. The Warehouse contains emergency rations that could sustain seven people rather comfortably for three to four years." H.G. responded. "Significantly longer if we got rid of a person or two." Myka knew H.G. was referring to Artie.

"Hoping not!" Myka countered, using the catchphrase she'd picked up from the Brit. It earned her a smile and a wink.

"Shall we, then?" And with that, H.G. swung the door open and they braved the elements.

The snowflakes were falling at a significantly slower rate than they had been earlier in the morning. Yet there was still a rather substantial accumulation of the white stuff covering the property. It made for a picturesque landscape that took both women's breath away. They walked in companionable silence along the trail that circled the B&B, making educated guesses as to where the path laid beneath the slush. Every once in a while they would simultaneously look aside to each other, sharing a look of awed wonder and smiling. It wasn't too long until they were back in the front yard…

Before she could think about what she was doing, Myka pushed the older woman into the awaiting snow. H.G.'s body made a satisfying 'plunk' as she hit the soft powder. "Why the bloody hell would you do that? Insanity!" It was hard not to laugh at the view Myka had: limbs askew, hair in her face, and a very pissed-off looking Helena clamoring to right herself but only managing to sink deeper into the newly-fallen flakes. Resigning herself to her fate, H.G. laid flat and allowed her coat's hood to overtake her head. "Insanity, I say," the older woman said a little softer.

Myka smiled broadly before diving backwards into the snow next to her companion. "With a setting like this, how can you resist the urge to make a snow angel?"

"Pardon? I can easily resist actually. I can resist because I afear my extremities will snap off at the slightest frozen inkling." H.G. turned her face to look Myka straight on; desperately pulling back her hood that was being rather uncooperative thank you very much. The sight of Myka flapping her arms and feet while laying parallel to the tundra their home had become brought back images of childhood: her own and Christina's. Helena tried to let the good memories enter her consciousness while keeping the bitter, tragic ones at bay. But then it hit her: not the sadness, but the cold.

"Myka. I'm truly frozen. Truly." The last 'truly' came out a chattered whisper. The younger woman leaped up, careful not to disturb her angel form, and pulled H.G. up with her. "I do not believe I've been this cold since my encounter with the Titanic artifact."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stay out this long. I just become a big kid when it comes to snowfall and I can't help to…" The chattering of H.G.'s teeth stopped Myka's chattering. "Oh, well…we can…they say that the easiest way to warm up is—" instead of finishing the thought, Myka decided to show the older woman. She took off H.G.'s gloves under the older woman's silent protest, giving a questioning gaze that Myka understood as 'why would you take my fingers only defense from this frigid weather?' Myka quickly unzipped her coat (where did she get this sudden dexterity?) and took Helena's hands, placing them underneath her own sweater until the older woman's icy palms were in direct contact with the naked skin of her back. It allowed Myka to pull the woman closer to her body. "Skin-on-skin contact." The blush that formed on H.G.'s cheeks was a sign that Myka's plan was working. Perhaps a little too well…

Helena's fingers went from being piercing icicles to pleasant intruders along the sensitive skin of Myka's lumbar region. The older woman's hands rubbed up and down Myka's spine, in what could surely be explained as an attempt to circulate the blood, but in truth was just an action that was driving the younger woman slightly mad. The two had been skirting around flirtatious banter and encounters since practically the first time they met and recently it had escalated to desire denied and bubbling just beneath the surface. This current situation was not helping matters in the least, only making the want that much more palpable. Still keeping her close, Myka maneuvered their bodies until she was able to look into Helena's eyes. "Is that a little better?" Myka breathed the question, but already knew the answer upon seeing the puffs of warm air escape from Helena's slightly open mouth and then feeling them on her already-flushed face.

"Much better. In fact, I believe more 'skin-on-skin' contact is necessary to best—" Helena didn't even bother finishing her sentence, instead wrapped her arms tighter along the smoothness of the young woman's back and inched her lips closer until they made sweet contact. The snow started falling with a little more purpose, but neither woman noticed as their mouths worked against one another, trying to make up for all the lost time denied them. Myka's mitten-covered hand found the back of Helena's head, pushing back her hood as she pulled her closer. Myka's other hand found the exposed skin at Helena's neck, covering it from the flakes making their way down from the sky instead of doing what it really wanted to do: ditch the mitten and caress the alabaster skin. Pressing one more hard kiss to pliant lips, Myka pulled back and opened her eyes. Seconds ticked slowly as she memorized the scene before her. Helena's eyes were still closed, each eyelash outlined against her high cheek bones flushed with color. The young woman seemed to be able to detect each individual flake as they fell on Helena's face, melting immediately upon impact which left its canvas glistening…

Time returned to its normal pace as Helena's eyes fluttered open in turn. Both women could do nothing more than smile deeply and exchange a knowing look that said 'this changes everything' without the need for words. Stuck still, eyes locked, they heard a disturbance. They turned back towards the house.

"Hey guys, why don't you come inside before you catch your death. I made cookies and hot cocoa!" Leena screamed out to the two bundles of coats and boots huddled in the snow-covered lawn.

"With the little marshmallows?" H.G. questioned back loud enough to be heard. Leena answered in the affirmative and went back in doors to escape the arctic breeze that was picking up. "How I love the little marshmallows," Helena commented only loud enough for Myka to hear as she hugged the younger woman closer, leaning her head against Myka's shoulder. They stayed that way a few seconds longer before sense got the better of them. Extricating her hands slowly from beneath the warm cocoon created by Myka's body heat, H.G. re-donned her discarded gloves most unwillingly and with a heavy sigh. Myka placated the older woman by taking H.G.'s gloved hand in her own as they walked back towards the house.

"I would like it to be known that I have a strange feeling I will be extremely chilly later this afternoon and will be in much need of your services." Helena squeezed Myka's hand as they stepped up onto the porch.

"You know what they say," Myka grinned.

"Skin-on-skin contact."

The End!

Feliz Natal! Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night! Hope your holidays were filled with much joy, mine sure were.