Blue cold stirred Quinn awake from deep sleep. A shiver ripped through her body. The scene outside the apartment window was shocking for New York. When last night the city was still the epitome of 'concrete jungle', now snowflakes, clumped like cotton balls, fell in a thick yet quiet torrent all over the buildings. Its frosty downfall muffled the usual sounds of morning. The crisp creak of tires against untrammelled snow paired with the scrape of plows and the rattling of salt trucks. It was barely six in the morning but the light of dawn held an uncharacteristic brightness, the sky an arctic hue.

The night before, Rachel complained about an ache in her ankles. Nothing was more reliable a weather report than Rachel's joints as they always, with a ninety-eight percent accuracy, foretold of some form of precipitation. A few years back, Rachel's aching wrists foreshadowed Hurricane Henri and its successor, Hurricane Ida, as well as snowstorms, squalls, and sometimes, even the most minor of drizzles. Duty-bound to Rachel's aches, Quinn rubbed pain relief ointment on her ankles and massages them with firm, slow circles until she fell asleep. The menthol smell of the ointment suffused the air.

It was the first true snowfall of the year – one that would likely stick until the end of the season as every snowfall builds upon it. Sure, there had been scares of light flurries and curtains of freezing rain, but never enough to form piles of snow on sidewalks. It never kept Rachel from complaining, though.

The snow clumps that fell from the greyish, steel-blue sky reminded Quinn of her first year in Yale. She woke up with the same cold feeling, the tip of her nose chilled thanks to the drafty windows of the student housing. She was in the midst of preparing to walk to class – pulling on her thermal leggings, then her long, heavy skirt, a silk undershirt, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater, thick woollen socks, and snow boots. Her hair tucked inside a mauve beanie. She wrapped her scarf around her face and stuffed her hands in her mittens. Her phone buzzed.

Groaning in frustration, she reached into her many layers and yanked her phone out of her hoodie pocket. Alarmed that Rachel was calling her at such an hour (seven in the morning) when they had been talking via email (and only email) for the past few months, she scrambled to answer the call.

"Oh thank goodness you're awake!" came Rachel's shrill, panicked voice. "I'm in New Haven right now and I really should have checked the weather, but when it comes to surprise visits, you can't plan everything – in fact, one can't plan anything at all, for isn't that the nature of surprise? I should have known the weather – nay, the very climate – would have been different from New York where we haven't seen so much as a fleck of snow! This is what you get for being that much closer to Canada!"

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did I hear you right? Did you really just say you're in New Haven? This very minute?"

"This very second, Quinn!"

She sighed and her roommate lifted her head from the pillow. "Fabray, I love you, but shut the fuck up."

"Sorry," she mumbled. She escaped into the dorm hallway. To Rachel, she asked, "you're in Union Station, correct?"

"I think so."

"So then what's the problem? That's only a ten minute walk away from Yale."

Quinn busied herself with her backpack, only to hear nothing from Rachel. "Hello? You still there?"

"I'm not exactly... dressed for the weather."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Typical New Yorker."

"I resent that! But I'm also very flattered."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Okay! See you soon!"

Quinn hung up and decided she won't be going to class that day. Not with Rachel visiting. The very thought of seeing her after months of no physical contact sent a strange, squeamish thrill in Quinn's belly. She texted her classmates for notes in advance. She stepped out of the dorm building just as a gust of wind and the top layer of snow slapped her across the face. Heavy clouds filled the sky. Sharp whistling gusts of wind screeched.

When Quinn arrived at Union Station, she was pink-cheeked, her hair was a mess, and snow caked her boots. She stomped to shake them off and entered the sudden heat of the building. It didn't take her long to find Rachel, dressed in a burgundy peacoat, drinking coffee. She rose from her bench and barrelled into Quinn's snow-dusted coat.

"I thought you'd never come!" Rachel wailed.

"Relax, it's only been twenty minutes. I was late because I had to walk behind the sidewalk plow. Let me warm up for a bit and then we'll go."

"Where?"

Quinn tugged her beanie off and smoothed her blonde hair away from her face. "Back to my dorm, I guess."

"Let me buy you coffee. It's the least I could do."

Inside a warm café, the rich roasted aroma of brewed coffee hung heavy in the air. Rachel bought coffee for Quinn and sat across from her. Quinn could feel the icicles in her hair melting. Her boots left puddles on the floor. She peeled her mittens off and flexed her cold fingers. "So, what brings you here?"

Rachel chewed her bottom lip and shrugged. "I just didn't want the year to end without my seeing you. I know you went home to Lima for thanksgiving and I'm now full of regret that I didn't come home as well."

"Weren't you trying out your newfound independence?"

"You can say that. I also didn't want to waste the Metro-North pass you bought me. I don't even know if it expires."

"Probably does," Quinn murmured against the rim of her coffee cup. "Six months after purchase date, I think. So we have until February."*

"That ought to be more than enough time then. But still. I'm sorry I haven't used it until now."

Quinn looked at Rachel who was staring at her gloved hands. That, at least, she had. "Hey, don't worry about it. It's not one-sided. I just didn't expect school to be so hectic that I wouldn't have time to visit. But you're here now, so..." she trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. After all, the girl who Quinn was when she purchased the Metro-North passes was both stranger and familiar to her. She had been so ready to shed the shackles of her past – how come she did not want to let Rachel go?

She drained her cup and licked her lips. "Okay, I'm ready. Shall we?"

Rachel glanced outside where the snow continued to fall in balled clumps. "I'm not ready, but yes, we shall."

"C'mere a sec."

Quinn unravelled her scarf and wound it around Rachel's neck. She tucked the long ends inside her peacoat and made sure it covered the lower half of Rachel's face. The shorter girl tilted her face upwards towards Quinn, her eyes bright and though she couldn't see since her mouth was hidden, Quinn could tell she was smiling.

"Mmmm, cozy. But what about you?"

As her answer, Quinn zipped up her hoodie and tugged her beanie back on. "I'll be fine. Let's go."

The snow had been plowed a few minutes ago, but with the snowfall refusing to let up, half an inch of fresh snow now dusted the sidewalk once again. Quinn glanced at Rachel's boots – calf-high but had heels. "Are you serious?"

"I told you," Rachel whined, "there's no snow in New York yet."

"You're from Ohio. An inch of snow shouldn't faze you."

"I'm not fazed by the snow – I fear slipping and breaking an ankle."

Quinn rolled her eyes and held out her arm. "Hold on to me, then."

Rachel did not need to be asked twice. She clung to Quinn's proffered arm and together they walked the length of the sidewalk back to Quinn's dorm. They made slow progress, Rachel squeaking every time she so much as skidded. The salt provided some traction but with Rachel wearing heeled boots, the surface area of her feet to the sidewalk's flagstones barely helped.

"God, you're killing my arm," Quinn laughed.

"This isn't funny, Quinn!" Rachel's voice was muffled against the scarf.

"It is, a little," Quinn grinned. "But don't worry, we're almost there."

The dormitory building came into view as they turned the corner. Outside on the dorm's front stoop, one of the resident assistants was sweeping the snow off the steps and then salting the walkway.

"Classes are cancelled today," the RA announced with a broad grin. "You know what that means."

Rachel blinked. "What does it mean?"

"Hot chocolate and snowball fights," Quinn said.

"And you're joining, Quinn's friend. Although maybe not with those boots. And not with that coat. Fancy and fashionable, but useless against the cold."

Quinn smirked. "I told you."

They followed the RA inside. Already, the common area was busy with Quinn's fellow dorm mates gearing up for the coming snowball fight. Most were lacing up their boots, others were double-layering with gloves and mittens.

"Come with me," the RA told Rachel. "I'm sure we can find a jacket and boots that would fit you from the lost and found. And don't worry," she laughed at Rachel's expression, "I say lost and found but really, they're for anyone who needs a scarf or mittens. Everything is washed and cleaned."

"I'm keeping your scarf," Rachel told Quinn.

"Fine," she grumbled, "good thing I have another one."

While Rachel went off to change into more weather-appropriate attire, Quinn went outside to help build a wall of snow. It came up to her knee when Rachel emerged from the dorm building. At the sight of her, Quinn could not help but burst into laughter.

She wore a puffy pink jacket and water-resistant boots. A yellow beanie with a puffy ball on top completed the look. Quinn took a photo of a very miffed Rachel. She walked up to her and straightened her hat so it did not droop over her eyes. Rachel puffed to keep her hair away from her forehead and Quinn helped her by tucking it into her hat. "Cute. Are you ready?"

"For what – "

Quinn raised her hand on which an imperfectly-formed snowball rested. Terror dawned on Rachel's face. Before she could so much as cry out, Quinn smashed the snowball on top of her head.

"Quinn!" Rachel shrieked. The blonde's cackle escaped in a cloud of steam. She sprinted – as well as she could, being ankle-deep in snow – away from Rachel who sputtered from the clumps of ice that now dusted her face. "I'll get you for that!"

"You promise?" Quinn teased.

Stunned, Rachel recovered her wits. A glint in her eye as she tightened her mittens around her fingers. "You asked for it, Fabray."

"Seems to me you're all talk, Berry!"

The snowball fight ensued in earnest. Rachel, in a rush to pelt Quinn with snow, made poorly-formed balls that crumbled into powdery dust the moment it left her palm. Her shots backfired as the cold powder suspended in the air and landed on her face to melt on her nose and her cheeks. Quinn took her time wadding snowballs that pelted Rachel with an eighty-percent accuracy rate. Of course, Quinn turned smug and Rachel got huffy.

In her frustration, Rachel pounded her feet through the packed snow towards Quinn. She closed the distance between them. When she was three feet away, her step caught in a patch of ice. Rachel squeaked. Her forward momentum flung her out. Quinn reached for her and Rachel stumbled into her arms.

They collapsed on the ground with a grunt.

"Ow," Rachel groaned.

"You, ow? Me, ow!" Quinn huffed, snow now covering her face. Only to melt when Rachel turned her face up towards her. Particles of snow caught in Rachel's eyelashes that gave them appearance of diamonds. The sparkle in her eye, the red warmth that dusted her cheeks... Quinn swallowed hard through the sudden lack of ringing in her ears. How she wanted to dissolve on that high slope of Rachel's cheek.

"Sorry, Quinn. Did I hurt you?"

"No," Quinn said as she dusted the snow that floured Rachel's jacket, "you didn't."

With the snowball fight ended, they all trooped back into the common area of the dorm, stomping the snow from their boots. They shed their jackets and hung them up to dry by the heaters. Quinn draped a blanket over Rachel's shivering shoulders and told her to take a seat on the couch. The RA doled out the hot chocolate but Quinn approached Rachel with her own mug.

"Their stuff uses cow's milk. This is almond," she told Rachel.

Beaming, Rachel accepted the mug and opened up the blanket like it was her wing. Quinn sidled up close and cupped her mug with both palms. "I'm surprised you remembered I'm vegan."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence. I pay attention, you know."

"I didn't mean anything by it!" Rachel giggled, her cheek perched on Quinn's shoulder. "I just didn't expect you to remember without prior reminder. Plus you didn't act like it's a hassle. Unless... Quinn, are you vegan now too?"

"Not completely," she admitted. "I just like plant-based milks more now. I'll still eat bacon."

"Of course," Rachel said.

They sipped their hot chocolate drinks in companionable silence. Rachel nestled closer to Quinn. She could feel the smaller girl's warmth, radiant, and it left her drowsy. Around them, Quinn's dorm mates fell into the same haze brought about by the warmth of other bodies. Rachel rested her head on the crook of Quinn's shoulder and neck.

Quinn's tongue felt leaden with all the things she wanted to say. They came to her not in sentiments fully formed into the concrete lines of language, but in paint daubs of feeling.

But the soft cast of Rachel's voice pierced through the veil of her thoughts. "Quinn?"

"Mm?"

"I must admit – when I had the compulsion to visit you today, I imagined us having coffee in a chic café and going to art museums. You know, adult, college girl stuff. I never, not once, expected to be roped into a snowball fight. But still," she sighed with a smile, "I'm happy I'm here with you today."

Quinn chuckled and rested her cheek on top of Rachel's head. "Even through all the snow?"

She giggled. "Yes. Even then."

Despite the hypnotic heat of Rachel's body, Quinn willed herself to get out of bed. She pulled her sweatpants on, as well as a pair of thick socks and padded through the dark hallway of their apartment, careful not to step on the particularly creaky spots on the floor lest it woke up Rachel's dads. The ventilation hood light cloaked the kitchen with a diffused orange glow. She filled the water reservoir of the drip coffee maker and prepared the beans for grinding.

Quinn peered into the fridge for breakfast ideas. Rachel's green shakes, corn soup in quart containers, a half-empty carton of eggs. The box of last night's leftover pizza from Francesco's, their go-to pizzeria since college.

Since Rachel instigated the usage of the Metro-North passes, they spent the next four years of college travelling between New York and New Haven mostly during the weekends, but also sometimes during spring break or summer vacation. Now in their final year as undergrads, they must have gone through thirty passes combined.

Quinn emerged from the train, New York now more of a second home to her. Even though she knew her way around the city, Rachel still insisted on meeting her at the station, always with cups of coffee in her hands.

"They say there's a squall rolling in tonight. From New Haven," were the first things Rachel uttered to her. Words she said in an accusatory tone.

"Lovely to see you too. Is this peppermint mocha?"

"Yes, yes. Lovely to see you too, Quinn. Well?"

Quinn licked her lips and laughed at Rachel's expression. "I don't control the weather."

"You're bringing in the cold front and the snow in with you!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I was here last week and it didn't snow. I was here last August and it didn't snow. False causation, much?"

"I know, I know. We need to grab food before the snow gets worse. Any requests?"

"Pizza," Quinn said immediately.

Rachel smirked. "Love to see you hooked on New York pizza, Quinn. Francesco's okay?"

Quinn nodded and arm-in-arm because Rachel insisted that even though she wore deep-cut snow boots that the risk of slipping and spraining an ankle was still there, they went to their favoured pizzeria. Largely because it was close to Rachel's apartment, but also because Quinn insisted that their house-made mozzarella was creamier than most. Inside the shop's oven-like heat, Rachel placed their order, prepared in front of their very eyes while they waited.

"So," Quinn began, "I got the job for the artistic executive assistant at The Gramercy. Which means I'm moving to New York."

"That's so great!" Rachel beamed. She bounced a little and Quinn giggled. "When do you start? Do you need help moving? Wanna live with me?"

"In your one-bedroom apartment where you and two people already live? Thanks, but I'm staying with an ex-dorm mate until I get my own place. I'm moving in a few months."

Rachel looked bummed but she shrugged it off. "Inasmuch as I love my trips to New Haven, at least now I don't have to wait for the weekend to see you."

"And we don't have to spend hundreds of dollars anymore either."

"Every single one of those passes were worth it," Rachel said.

"Yeah," Quinn murmured, watching Rachel as she paid for the two boxes of pizza, a smile on her lips. "I completely agree."

Outside, flakes of snow fell from the inky darkness of the sky. Some New Yorkers struggled to maintain their rapid pace of walking as they slipped and skidded through the amassing snow that the salt scattered across the sidewalks could not melt fast enough. Rachel looped her arm around Quinn's and together they walked towards the direction of Rachel's apartment.

"But still," Rachel quipped, halting by the crosswalk. She pressed the button to coax the stoplight to change. "It's about time you move here. I can only take so much of this long-distance relationship, Quinn."

She blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Rachel giggled patted Quinn's stunned face with a gloved hand. "I apologize for dropping the bomb, so to speak. I should have been more tactical with that revelation. What I mean to say is that I've been hopelessly devoted to you in my head for the past six months. Perhaps even the past year."

"Is that why you haven't been dating?"

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Technically."

"Oh."

Again, Rachel laughed. "It's okay if you don't return the sentiment. It's that – I've been holding on to the feelings for a while now, and feelings that beg to come out can only be kept back for so long, you know?"

Snow continued to fall which meant time continued to pass Quinn by, even as she stared at Rachel, too stunned to speak. What could she say to that which Rachel just now put into words? The reason she put forward for not dating was the same reason Quinn denied those who asked her out – and they were numerous. All because of this undefined loyalty that turned out to be not-so misplaced, after all.

The crosswalk light changed. Rachel tugged Quinn's hand. Quinn resisted and pulled Rachel towards her. Their bodies collided. So did their foreheads. So did their lips.

"The pizzas are getting squished," Rachel said with a gasp. The movement of her mouth melded with Quinn's own.

"Who cares," Quinn mumbled, "kiss me again."

People walked around them. Some wolf-whistled and cat-called. Some asked if they were looking for a third. Quinn ignored them all in favour of finally melting on the bow of Rachel's lip. All while around them, snow drifted and the sharp winds of winter screeched past. What was snow and freezing winds to Rachel's kiss?

With a freshly-brewed cup of coffee lightened with oat milk and a teaspoonful of sugar, Quinn returned to the bedroom. She set the cup on Rachel's bedside and nuzzled her cheek. Peppered her jaw, her ear, and her nose with light kisses until Rachel stirred and opened her eyes.

"Made you coffee," Quinn murmured. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Leftover pizza," Rachel squinted and peeked out the window. "Ugh. Snow."

"I don't know why you get so grumpy about it. It's not like you have to shovel anything."

"You are correct. I am one of the lucky ones," Rachel said, peeling the comforter aside to expose her naked body, "but I'd feel much, much luckier if you're on top of me right now."

Quinn covered the length of Rachel's body with hers and relished the heat of her skin. She mouthed at her neck and collarbone. Her hands roamed the swells of her hips. "Your dads are in the other room, you know."

Rachel spread her legs. The heat between her thighs was sweltering. She dragged her fingers through Quinn's hair. "And yet... here you are."

Quinn swiped her tongue along Rachel's clavicle and stood up. "You're not the only one who can tease. I'm the one who practically wrote the handbook."

"Don't go," Rachel whined. "Come on, we've done much worse with people in the same room."

"People who were not your dads. I'm gonna go make breakfast."

Back in the kitchen, Quinn busied herself with making her own cup of coffee and reheating slices of pizza in the toaster oven. With the timer ticking in a steady rhythm, Quinn peeked out the window to see the entirety of the city blanketed in white. A few miles away she could see Central Park which prompted another memory from four years ago.

Rachel often picked her up from work so they could walk home together, often cutting through the main path of Central Park. A year after Quinn moved to New York, Santana and Kurt moved out of Rachel's apartment which prompted Rachel's move to a different borough. At the same time, Quinn's lease with her ex-dormmate was about to end, and so as providence would have it, Quinn and Rachel move in together. For convenience's sake, or so they said.

In one wintry evening, they caught a glimpse of a wedding party standing in a gazebo, shivering through the ceremony by the looks of it. They could hear the faint voice of the officiator, the mild tremble in her voice as she promised the couple to one another through the biting cold.

"What were they thinking?" Rachel sneered, eyeing the wedding party with a frown. "With all this snow?"

"Knowing New York and the wedding industry, they probably booked this date five years in advance."

"When we get married, I don't want a fleck of snow anywhere near me."

Quinn smiled and shook her head. "For a December baby, you seem to have a personal vendetta with precipitation."

"I won't say no to romantic rainfall but snow? I abhor it. And that's the thing too. If my birthday and our wedding anniversary were too close together, along with other holidays, it would lead to consolidated gifts. Which is not good. But it's not like I want to get married in the dead of summer either. With all the tourists around? And the stink of the city? No thank you. I'd say fall would be the best – "

Quinn stopped walking. Rachel, a few steps ahead and illuminated by the street lamps that dotted the walkway, turned back to face her. "Quinn? What's wrong? Have you frozen over?"

"If you're going to go on and on about weddings, you should wear this first."

From the pocket of her peacoat, she procured a velvet box. She popped it open with her thumb. Within glinted a ring.

Rachel tackled Quinn into a snowbank. The light dusting of snow puffed around them, giving the moment a sparkle that Quinn would always think of whenever it snowed, whenever she looked at Rachel. "Is this for real?"

"Yes, Rachel. Marry me?"

"Yes!" Rachel shrieked. "How long have you been carrying this ring around?"

"A couple of months ago," Quinn said, sheepish.

"So you mean to say... All those times I catch you looking at me... you were thinking of the perfect moment, weren't you? And here I thought you were just admiring my good looks and shapely butt."

"Well, that's part of it," Quinn laughed. "I know you probably want a better proposal. Something with more structure – something more romantic – "

"You're wrong," Rachel cupped Quinn's face in her snow-drenched mittened hands. "The only thing I want from a proposal is that it's you asking me. Besides, what's more romantic than you and me?"

Quinn smiled and tightened her arms around Rachel's waist. "Absolutely nothing."

"What are you thinking about?" Rachel asked. Her arms wound around Quinn's hips, her chin perched against her now-wife's shoulder. Quinn leaned back into her embrace. She nuzzled Rachel's cheek and kissed her ear.

"The snow got me thinking about how I got you to marry me," she turned to face Rachel. Her past, her present, and her future epitomized in a single woman. "Amongst other things."

Rachel laced her fingers against Quinn's nape, an indulgent smile spread across her face. "Ah yes. If I remember correctly, you used the cold weather to seduce me with your warmth. But – speaking of seduction," Rachel lowered her eyes and raised a brow. Her hands slipped up Quinn's shirt, "my dads aren't in the next room over anymore."

Quinn released a soft gasp that crossed with a laugh. The scrape of Rachel's nails, the lip bite that snagged Quinn's breath in her throat.

Outside, the snow's fall raged on. Perhaps it was the beginning of the biggest snowstorm of the season. Quinn could already feel the grasp of the cold – or was that Rachel's hand? – crawling up her spine, sending shivers through the length of her body. But what was snowfall and screeching squalls to the heat and promise of Rachel's kiss?