Snow.

Scattered flakes gently wafted through the breeze drifting through the frigid night air. The icy bits landed with light stings on Bree's wind-burnt cheeks as she gripped her coat more tightly into her form and tucked her chin lower into her scarf. She clutched a bottle of champagne to her chest as she hurried to the address on the notecard. She had never been one for work functions, but it was Christmas, and she hadn't been to a good holiday party in some time. It seemed flattering that anyone even bothered inviting her, considering her lingering status as an intern.

Her eyes flickered upward towards a large brick building as she slowed to a stop. Through the white wisps of her breath, she glanced at the building number, comparing it to the card in her hand before nearly skipping up the steps. She fumbled with the bottle as she reached out and rang the doorbell. Muffled voices and various other noises could be heard through the door.

After a moment, the door swung open to reveal a slightly intoxicated Detective Bullock, leaning on the door and grinning lopsidedly. He spread his arms widely in a welcoming fashion, his drink sloshing slightly.

"Heyyyyyy, it's the intern! Glad you could make it!" he said with a beaming smile. "And, you brought more booze! I knew you were a good one, kid," he added, taking the bottle from her hands and stumbling slightly into the hallway away from the door. Bree bit back a laugh as she followed Bullock into a larger room, crowded with officers out of uniform.

She smiled softly as her eyes met a few officers' eyes and they nodded politely in her direction. She began to slightly regret her decision to come after all. This sort of small-talk function certainly was not her forte.

Shake it off, and just go for it. She mused silently to herself, deciding to push through and socialize anyway. There was a high likelihood that everyone else there had also only come out of social obligation. She put a smile and gave her best attempt at chatting amiably over wine and oeuvres that no one really ever became full over.

After a few minutes it seemed to become easier. She even had the chance to put a few names that she had seen on paper to faces. However, she wasn't sure if it was the small talk that became easier, or the wine that made it easier. As she took a bite from a mini-sandwich, she glanced up and noticed a familiar figure looming in the corner of the room. She tossed her paper plate into the garbage and wandered over.

"Ed?"

The tall, lanky man looked up from his empty plate. She smiled as his eyes widened slightly as they met hers.

"Bree!" he said with a smile, raising his head.

"I didn't think you would come, I figured you wouldn't like this sort of thing," she admitted with a light shrug. His smile only twitched downward slightly as he pondered this a moment, and he seemed to simply reply with his own small shrug.

"Typically I would, but I don't usually get invited to a lot of these sorts of social functions…"

"Well, hey, most people don't really like them anyway," she reassured him with a light smile, a pang of guilt shooting through her. "I'm glad you came though, it's nice to know that I won't have to have awkward small talk the entire night," she commented, looking over her shoulder at the small crowd of detectives and officers. When she looked back at Ed, she noticed him shuffling awkwardly in his spot. She laughed quietly as she noticed a small Christmas tree button pinned to his usual grey suit jacket.

"Interesting plant, mistletoe; did you know that it is actually a hemi-parasite that latches onto trees? The tradition of actually kissing under mistletoe was derived from old Druid, and later Norse tradition that found its way into English society in the 18th and 19th century…." Edward rambled uncomfortably as his eyes lingered above the doorway they had found themselves under. Suddenly, she realized why he was acting flustered as she glanced up at the item he eyed above their heads.

"Of course, the original tradition was that every time someone kissed under it, they would remove a berry. When there were no berries left, there would be no more kisses…" he trailed off, directing his gaze back down towards her. He chuckled quietly. "This mistletoe doesn't even have any berries on it. It may as well just be a bush hanging from string."

An unidentifiable emotion shot through her as he looked down at his feet, clearing his throat. It was an odd cocktail of relief and disappointment.

"Yeah, I doubt I'd even be able to tell what it was if it wasn't dangling over the doorway," she laughed uneasily. "Hey…It's pretty crowded in here, are there any other rooms we're allowed to go in?"

Edward pursed his lips together, adjusting his glasses slightly as he pushed open the slightly ajar door and peered into the unoccupied room

"I suppose this is fair game…"

They wandered through the doorway, and Bree peeked inside the dimly lit room. It was dark aside from a few candles, sending warm light cascading across the room and illuminating an old-looking grand piano.

"Are we allowed to go in here?"

"Since when have you ever cared about trespassing?" he rebuked flatly, sending her an admonishing look over his shoulder.

"I don't want to be rude…"

"I'm assuming we should be fine, considering the music and that they even bothered lighting the room."

"Oh, fine," she relented, wandering over to the piano in the corner of the room. She trailed a finger atop the old wood, delicately lifting the cover over the keys.

"Do you play?" Edward inquired from behind her. She snorted a small laugh and shook her head.

"Not really….I think I may have taught myself one song via YouTube but that is definitely the extent of my musical experience," she admitted with a wry smirk, "Okay….well that's sort of a lie. I used to do church choir back in high school."

"You were in a church choir?" Edward laughed, a smile spreading across his face as he neared the bench.

"Well, yeah, what's that supposed to mean?" she retorted, "Do you play?"

"Actually, I do."

Bree raised her brows with a small smile.

"Alright, let's hear some then."

"Only if I can hear a choir song," he quipped good-naturedly. She shot him a glare that could freeze hell over. To her surprise, he held her gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. She narrowed her eyes slightly and relented.

When did he decide to get ballsy? She pondered silently and cursed under her breath.

"Oh, fine," she conceded, taking a seat on the bench, "But you're playing…"

"But I don't know the tune…"

"—I'll write it down, it's only a few chords. Do you have a pen on you?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Of course he did—he always had a pen on him.

True to her deduction, he reached into his pocket and produced his notebook and a pen.

She hesitated as he handed them to her and stared at him warily.

"Are you sure you want me to write in in your notebook….?" She let her words hang as she looked questioningly into his eyes. She knew he took the notebook everywhere with him and it seemed to mean a lot to him. He pressed his lips together briefly as he silently shook his head.

"It's fine…"

"Okaaaaaaayy then," she laughed quietly as she flicked open the leather cover and flipped to the back for a blank page. She uncapped the pen and began to scrawl the rough chord progressions into a corner of the page, not wanting to take up too much space in his prized notebook.

"So, did you have any particular Christmas traditions back home?" she chatted amiably as she wrote.

"We never really celebrated…"

"Oh….well that's fine too! Does your family get together or anything?"

"I don't really know….they don't really talk to me….maybe they do, but I don't think so," he said quietly. Her hand paused as she slowly looked up. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes downcast. She gently handed back his notebook and pen.

"Here you go…" she said quietly, not quite sure how to respond to that. Sure, her own family had its issues, but at the end of the day she knew people still cared for her…

She watched Edward as he slid onto the bench next to her, his hands spread dexterously over the keys and falling into a position that seemed as natural to him as breathing. He struck the first chord, looking over to her for affirmation that it was indeed correct. She nodded silently, scooting up further on the bench. She took a shaky breath, an odd nervousness taking hold of her.

"Our families huddle closely, betting warmth against the cold

And our bruises seem to surface

Like mud beneath the snow…"

She began, watching as Edward's hands danced across the keys. She could feel his eyes baring down on her as she paused and continued softly.

"So we sing carols softly,

As sweet as we know;

A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go.

Like young love still waiting under mistletoe.

We welcome December with tireless hope."

With each line she found herself slowly regretting her song choice. She had always found it beautiful with its striking sense of poetic honesty, but she wasn't quite sure if it was what he should hear after his most recent admission to her…..but then again she could never really figure him out.

"Let our bells keep on ringing

Making angels in the snow

And may the melody disarm us

When the cracks begin to show…

And like the petals in our pockets

May we remember who we are:

Unconditionally cared for

By those who share our broken hearts…"

For the briefest moment, she looked up and met his eyes. She dared herself to stare back, but she couldn't handle the sudden level of vulnerability behind his wide dark eyes, and she stared back at the paper resting above the keys.

"The table is set and all glasses are full.

Though pieces go missing, may we still feel whole.

We'll built new traditions in place of the old

Because life without revision will silence our souls."

Bree looked at him closely for a moment, noting his jaw clench slightly as his lips pressed into a straight line. She scooted closer to him on the bench and looped her arm around his elbow. She leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. She smiled as she felt his eyes looking down on her and squeezed his arm a little tighter.

"Merry Christmas, Edward."

Like fresh plates and clean slates,

Our future is white.

New Year's resolutions will reset tonight.

…

..

.

Merry Christmas! Or whatever else you enjoy celebrating. I hope you enjoyed my special present to all you wonderful people out there. I typically am not one for song fics, but Sleeping At Last's song Snow is one of the most poetically beautiful ones out there. Also, I like the idea that Edward is a pianist because of Corey Michael Smith's tweet about playing piano, and Auchen's fic, Refrain. I hope you enjoyed this little bit of Christmas fluff-turned one-shot.