Thud. "Jo!"
Laurie whipped around, wiping the remains of a snowball from his now aching back.
"Oh come now, you know I can't resist the snow," laughed Jo, as she reached down to form another snowball.
"Oh really?" he asked, launching his own hand-made snowball in her direction.
Whiz. "Aha!" she proclaimed, having jumped out of the ball's path just in time.
"Oh no you don't!" he shouted back, immediately hurling another snowball at her.
"Hey!" Now Jo wiped the remains off her aching back and held her hands up in submission as he neared her with yet another snowball. "How do you make them so quickly?"
"I think the question is, 'Why can't you make them so quickly?'" Laurie quipped. He still held onto his snowball though he stood just a few feet in front of her.
Jo stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat, turning away from him.
"What's the matter?" he asked, observing the sudden turn of the mood to seriousness. "Is there something wrong with your hands?" He walked towards her and pulled her wrists out of her pockets, despite her struggle. "What's wro – you're not wearing gloves!" he discovered. Laurie stared at her blue hands.
"It's nothing I can't take," she said, agitated. "I lost my other pair." Jo looked away from him, obviously embarrassed. Laurie noticed her cheeks turning a slight red. "And I did desperately want to go out in the snow," she said, turning to him again. "And throw some snowballs," she smiled weakly at him.
Laurie didn't smile back. "Wear mine," he said without emotion, busy peeling off his thick knitted gloves.
"Oh no, it's fine. I don't need – "
She stopped when she felt Laurie tug her hands toward his chest, thereby bringing her towards his chest as well. Slowly, he pulled the right glove onto her hand, drawing each finger of the glove over each of her fingers individually. He looked down at her hands in utmost concentration. Jo suddenly felt quite warm.
Laurie did the same with the other glove, tenderly putting her hand into the glove, like she were a child, all the while keeping her hands nearly pressed against him. His hands were hot from wearing the gloves, and Jo couldn't help but savor the warmth of them against her cold skin and the cold air.
After he gave the left glove a last tweak, he leaned down and touched his lips to the inside of her wrist and stared at her. His smoldering eyes matched hers. "Wear mine," he repeated.
I don't think I can tease Meg about John Brooke stealing her glove anymore, Jo thought. I appear to have stolen his.
Ta-da! Aren't you proud? – I actually WROTE SOMETHING. Now please write lots of nasty reviews so I'll stop feeling so happy. I thought I too would write a play-in-the-snow fic, granted I'm about 6 months late. Ah well…this was supposed to just be a really short drabble but I got a little carried away:)
Why does it still feel dirty? If it is (though nothing could be worse than my hair fic. ugh), please forgive me?