A/N: Thanks to weightsandwings on Tumblr for this prompt!
Snow.
Fifteen months and twelve days since their first meeting. 2:37 pm.
It's an unusually frosty Christmas. Since the Tear, New Yorkers have grown accustomed to mere mildly cold winters...but the National Weather Service predicts that this year will be different. This year, there will be snow.
Imagine, then, the joy of the children born after the rip was made in the fabric of the universe, the rip that changed everything. Imagine how thrilled they are to at last experience snowflakes landing on the ground, on the branches of trees, on their eyelashes. Broyles even lets a few of his agents off work early to experience this wonder, this miracle of time.
Liv chooses to spend her break in Central Park. Wearing her cranberry red peacoat and equally red galoshes, sitting calmly on a park bench and enjoying the winter air, she fits right in among the giggling boys and girls, dressed in their warmest, most colorful outerwear, frolicking in the snow before her.
Unbeknownst to Liv, Lincoln is also there. He hadn't intended to be where she was, or so he tells himself; they just happened to end up at the same place, at the same time. But having spotted his partner of (now) slightly over a year, he decides to stir up some trouble, to test the boundaries of their friendship by chucking a fat, heavy white chunk of snow at Liv's back.
Her reaction is fierce and immediate. She rockets off the bench, turns to face him, her red hair whipping in the slight breeze, and catches him red-handed, packing another ball of snow. "Lincoln!" she yells, shaking her fist at him in mock fury. "You know what this means? This...means...war!"
"Bring it!" Lincoln calls back. He builds his arsenal as she builds hers, and when they've both got an equal amount of snowballs at their disposal, Liv yells, "Ready or not, here I come!"
She throws one at him, and it hits him squarely in the side of his head. Her next one gets him directly in the gut. She chuckles as he, breathless, cries, "Where'd you learn to throw like that?" Another snowball gets him in the clavicle, knocking him onto the ground, and she says, "You're talking to the reigning Olympic gold-medalist in marksmanship, Lincoln." She grins cheekily, hurling one at his shin. "Oh, I also played softball in high school," she adds as an afterthought. "Did you expect anything less than perfect from me?"
Rolling his eyes and regathering his dignity before her next one can hit him in the face, Lincoln picks himself up and begins his assault with glee. Laughing and spluttering, the two agents wage their powdery war for upwards of half an hour before a disapproving Charlie finds them and tells them that another fringe incident has occurred and that they better get all that snow out of their hair or it'll look like they both have terrible dandruff. They reluctantly call a truce and agree to go, but not before they get Charlie in the crotch...twice.
