A/N

Enjoy this fluffy goodness!

But ... I think thee two deserve it.

Too early for my liking, Edward wakes me and ushers me home so I can dress appropriately for the winter wonderland outside.

He's so excited, which quickly banishes my exhaustion —making me smile just as wide as he is.

I laugh the whole time, trying to crane my neck to see into the kitchen as Edward shouts over his shoulder that he's going out, grabbing his coat.

I hear a woman reply, but don't have time to look before Edward picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I'm so surprised I squeal and drop my heels in the snow.

He tries to bend his knees and keep me steady, reaching down to pick up my shoes but it doesn't work, I'm throwing his balance off and then we're both in the snow, in a heap of tangled limbs, Edward below me, both of us spluttering.

"It's so cold!" I cry, laughing, trying to jump to my feet but I'm not wearing shoes and I jump back into Edward's arms just as he straightens himself. Thankfully, his reflexes are much faster than mine and he catches me, stumbling back a couple of steps, swearing loudly, smiling wide.

It takes us much longer than it should to get to my house.

"Give me a minute," I tell him, reaching up to kiss his jaw before running upstairs to change. "Don't follow me!" I shout, hearing him laugh in reply, knowing that if he does, we'll never leave my bedroom.

I change quicker than I ever have before, throwing my hair into a messy bun, layering up. Phone on charge, fluffy socks in hand, I run back down the stairs to where Edward's waiting on the sofa, his cheeks flushed in the sudden change of temperature in here compared to outside.

"Ready," I smile as he stalks towards me, the fur on the hood of his Parka begging to be tugged on.

Leaning down, he kisses me lightly, smiling the whole time. "You're so fucking cute."

I scoff, rolling my eyes, pushing his shoulder gently.

Hands in gloves, neck wrapped in a scarf, thick winter coat keeping me warm … Edward watches me, thoroughly humoured as I place layer upon layer of clothing on my body.

He helps me with my beanie, playfully pulling it down over my eyes, making me pout.

Kissing me again, I don't see it coming, pushing myself into him.

"So fucking cute."

The day quickly turns into one of the best of my life.

We mess around in the street, laughing, teasing, competitively rolling snow into large balls.

He throws a snowball at my back, and then pretends he didn't, raising his hands in surrender as I gather my own snowball, throwing it and missing -by a mile.

He laughs, and kisses my pout away.

Then he kisses my chill-pinked nose. I melt.

Our snowman has no defining features. It's almost pathetic, but neither of us are willing to give up any of our clothing layers or find a carrot.

We stand back and admire our three balls of snow, one on top of the other, a few small stones for eyes and a smile, two random sticks —that Edward snapped from a tree— for arms. It's ridiculous. But it's ours.

His arm around my shoulders, I lean into him, my hand against his stomach as we scoff and laugh at our mediocre snowman, blaming each other for its shortcomings.

We take a selfie, our snowman proudly behind us. Perfection.

I make us hot cocoa —with extra marshmallows— late afternoon when we're back indoors, numb feet and tingling faces; sniffing noses and aching cheeks.

It's carefree, it's fun … we act and feel like teenagers. It's a reprieve from real life, an escape —just like Emma and Edward used to dream of.