Just a short chapter… this story just seems to be coming to me in little bursts, so lots of short little chapters is what you're getting! :-]

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of this stuff

Chapter Four

Cal grinned wickedly as he sent another snowball flying through the air. Ducking back behind the snowman he avoided Gillian's next missile, but the one that followed caught the snowman and damaged part of his head.

"Oi! Watch Edmund!"

Giggling madly, she continued pelting him with snowballs, edging closer to him as she did so. "Can't use him as cover forever," she shouted, then disappeared behind the front hedge, tossing a snowball over her shoulder as she ran.

Cal had to admit it: he was impressed. She wasn't lying when she said she was a good shot, and she made snowballs really quickly as well; twice as quickly as him it seemed, which was both impressive and slightly annoying.

The battle continued, and Cal found he wasn't actually feeling the cold, or any embarrassment caused by the odd look they got from the woman who walked past with her dog. All he was feeling was pleasure and excitement and, to be honest, like a kid again. Not that I had these kinds of thoughts when I was a kid, he thought with amusement as he looked at Gillian's flushed face and perfect smile.

After about ten minutes, most of the snow in Gillian's small front garden had been used up, whereas she, on the other side of the hedge, had ample supply from the road and cars. Cal raised his hands. "Oi, Foster. Can we call a truce now? I'm out of snow, unless you want me to decapitate Edmund."

"Hmm." Her head appeared over the hedge. "I'm not sure I can accept a truce – if, however, you want to surrender…"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That word's not in my vocabulary, darling."

She laughed and chucked another snowball, which narrowly missed his head as he dodged out of the way just in time. "Guess you're in trouble then."

"I'll just have to start on Edmund then, won't I?"

"Stop calling him Edmund." She giggled. "Who says it's a man, anyway?"

"Er… correct me if I'm wrong, love, but isn't he a snowman?"

"Well, it's very sexist. Why can't they be called snowpeople?"

"Snowpeople? Have you lost your mind?"

"Working with you for the best part of a decade, it was bound to happen sooner or later." She poked her tongue out at him.

"Charming." He stuck his out at her as well. "Now, tell me, love, haven't you been calling our friend here a snowman as well? Not once do I recall hearing you say the word 'snowperson.'

"You're just trying to stall me," she accused. "Poor attempt at a defence, Cal, to try and keep me talking. You know why?"

"No, but I bet you're going to tell me."

"Because, unlike Edmund the snowman, I'm a woman. Which means I can multitask." She bent down for a second, then suddenly a barrage of snowballs came flying through the air towards him. "I can talk and make snowballs at the same time. Who'd have thought it?"

"Okay, okay, I surrender!" Cal held up his hands. The snowballs ceased.

"You surrender?"

"Yes, I surrender! God woman, you're relentless." She laughed and started walking towards him. He rested a hand lightly on the snowman. "What's she like, eh Edmund? I feel sorry for you, living in her garden. Pray for sunlight, mate."

Picking up the empty bag that had held the snowman's accessories, Gillian trotted towards the door. "Ready for a warm drink?"

"Hell yes. I'm freezing. And soaking," he added.

"Better come inside and get out of those wet clothes then," she said lightly, opening the front door and pulling her boots off.

"If you say so, love," he said, flashing her his trademark grin, and stepped into the house beside her, shutting the door behind him.