Rita was still on the phone half an hour later. She was upstairs, on the first floor, pacing.

Connie was sat, once again, in her arm chair, a glass of white wine in hand. Everything was in the oven ready to be turned on, and now they were sitting, waiting, hearing the occasional creak of a floorboard from above them, and the rise and fall of Rita's murmured voice.

Connie took a sip from her glass. The wine was cool against her lips and she held it in her mouth for a moment before she swallowed. She let her gaze wander across to where Grace was sat, curled up into the corner of the sofa, her eyes on the television, with Charlie by her side.

They were watching a children's quiz programme, and every so often Grace would shout out an answer, and every time she did, Connie would jump. She could see the screen reflected in the little girls eyes, her face glowing pale blue in the slowly dimming light – the fire that popped and crackled beside her the only light in the room besides the bright glow from the television screen.

She smothered a yawn with the back of her hand. She blinked. She had been staring too long and the light in the room seemed to be closing in on her, becoming darker and darker, just the gleaming liquorice black of burning wood, and the hazy orange flames dancing before her eyes, with the hum and roar of the fire lulling her into an odd sort of daze.

It was the creak of the stairs that roused her, and she stood up quickly without thinking. She glanced about herself, not really sure why she had stood up at all.

She set the wine glass on the mantle piece and waited. Rita's footsteps made their way down the stairs, and then came the padding of her sock-clad feet on the stone flooring of the hallway, before finally she appeared before them, her body a silhouette against the hall light.

"OK?"

Connie asked quickly, narrowing her eyes to try to make out Rita's expression.

"Um..."

Connie heard the strain of her voice and saw the rise of her shoulders as she drew in a trembling breath. Without another thought she crossed the room to her. She wrapped her arms about her and held her close, one hand on the back of her head, her fingers smoothing the straight blonde hair that fell against the nape of her neck.

Neither of them said a word until finally Rita drew in another struggled breath and swallowed, closing her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry.

"Ugh..."

She exhaled all at once and Connie felt her body relax against her. She lessened her grip on her and Rita pulled away slightly so that she could look up at her.

"I'm being silly."

"No...!"

Connie shook her head, smiling slightly. They were stood by the window at the far end of the room, and through the curtains they could see the snow, a blur of white against the window, a pillow of white against the ground.

"It wasn't even that bad...not really."

Rita's breath caught as she spoke, and she attempted a smile as she stared blankly to the snow beyond the glass. Her cheeks were hot and pink and stress lines showed across her forehead. She hunched up her shoulders once more and Connie ran her hands up and down her upper arms, soothing her, comforting her.

Rita frowned. The day seemed to have got on top of her. She felt smothered, the warmth in the room made her feel flushed and uncomfortable. Even standing here, in Connie's arms, she felt too hot, as though everything was just too muddled – too much.

"Can we go outside?"

She asked suddenly, glancing again to the white glow beyond the window pane. Connie followed her line of sight, not quite knowing whether she wanted to go outside in such wild, cold weather.

"I just..."

Rita shook herself, she couldn't seem to find the words. Connie saw the helplessness and confusion behind her eyes.

"Of course we can."

She let her grip on Rita's arms slip, and she took her hand, holding it gently within her own, and with a brief squeeze of Grace's shoulder as they passed, she led Rita through the kitchen, and out into the back garden.

They stepped gingerly from the back door step, moving into the snow that creaked and gave way beneath their feet as they made their way to the centre of the garden.

"...my Mum seemed to take it well."

Rita spoke suddenly. She shuddered against the cold wind that buffeted and curled against them, sending flurries of fluffy snow flakes against them. They settled in their hair, on the wool of their jumpers, sparkling and glittering in the light from the house.

"My dad on the other hand..."

She added, and sighed. She huddled up against Connie, resting her head on her shoulder whilst Connie wrapped her arms about her once more, her body shielding the smaller woman from the wind.

"He didn't take it so well?"

Connie's throat vibrated against Rita's forehead as she spoke, and her chin rested gently against the top of her blonde head.

"He's just old fashioned."

Rita murmured, closing her eyes just as Connie widened her own, looking up to the sky above them.

There were no stars, just the flurry of snow, falling forever. The sky spread over them like a grey goose's wing from which feathers were falling – there was nothing about them but the flurry of falling flakes. The garden was levelled and the windows obscured at the corners by little triangles of snow that had been blown there in the wind, and a white wedge had begun to build at the base of the back door.

"They want to meet you."

Rita whispered, her breath warm against Connie's chest, which only served to make her feel the cold more, and she inhaled, the air chilling her from the inside out.

"Oh..."

She didn't know what else to say...There was a faint murmur in the air, a slight precipitation, as if the air itself were turning to snow; otherwise all was silent, except for when snow flopped from a branch, or slipped in a miniature avalanche across the roof tiles, spilling over the edge of the guttering in a whirl of white.

"They asked if they could come up tomorrow...as we both have the day off?"

"Tomorrow!?"

Connie repeated, stiffening slightly. She could feel the ache of cold begin to creep from her ankles higher, to the joints of her knees, curling deep within the bone. She had never been fond of the cold, or the way that once it had you, it was hard to shake free from it's grasp.

She felt Rita frown against her chest.

"Sorry, I did try to put them off, but once they've decided on something, its very hard to persuade them otherwise..."

"Clearly a family trait."

Connie murmured before she could think better of it, and Rita looked up at her, a look of surprised hurt behind her eyes. Now and again a shaft of light spread slowly across the sky as a car drove through the muffled roads behind the house, and now, as they stood, the light edged up behind them, catching their eyes before slipping away as quickly as it had come.

"I'm sorry, Connie..."

"No, I'm being silly. That was unfair of me, I apologise."

She drew in a breath and leant forward to kiss Rita on the forehead.

"I suppose it was going to happen eventually."

She murmured.

"They're alright, really...nothing to be scared of."

Rita smiled as she spoke, catching the half-rise of Connie's eyebrow. Rita knew she was nervous, and just as she knew that, she also knew that she would never admit to it.

Connie rested her forehead against Rita's, the tips of their noses just touching.

"You know, I think they're more likely to be more scared of you than you will be of them..."

She whispered, and Connie couldn't help but expel an almost silent laugh, her breath turning white between them.

"I'll be on my best behaviour."

She promised, her voice breathy, and she shivered, her skin prickling beneath the fabric of her clothes.

"Who'd have thought that Connie Beauchamp would be on her best behaviour, just for me..."

Rita grinned, holding Connie just that little bit tighter.

"Oh, I'd do anything for you..."

Connie murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Rita looked up at her, her eyes sparkling, her face pale and flushed, hair damp against her head and flecked with the glitter of freshly fallen snow flakes. She knew what it meant to have Connie say something like that to her.

She reached up between them with her right hand and touched her fingers to Connie's cheek, retaining eye contact as she traced the line of her face, the curve of her cheek, the rise and fall of her freckle-flecked skin, and the softness at the corner of her mouth. She smiled as she kissed her, slowly, reaching out to curl her arms about Connie's neck, pulling herself closer, kissing her softly and feeling her respond. Connie's face cold and damp against her own, but her lips were warm, and she tasted of wine and whatever it was that made her taste just so very 'her'...

The sudden crunch and explosion of ice cold against the side of Rita's face made her gasp, and she pulled back from Connie so quickly that the other woman had to grab a hold of her to steady her. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, a second snow ball smacked against her shoulder and she looked sharply towards the front door where Grace stood, dancing from one foot to the other, her hands clasped over her mouth to quell her laughter.

"Grace!"

Connie exclaimed, suddenly realising what had happened, and the little girl let out a squeal of laughter and bent down quickly, beginning to scoop up more snow with already pink fingers.

"Oh no you don't!"

Rita laughed, and before Connie could begin to realise what was happening, Rita had bent over, and was patting together her own handful of snow.

-.-

Hope you liked it!

More of the snowball fight, and the meeting of Rita's parents later today. Oh, and somebody catches a cold...

And to everyone who said 'go ahead and wear them out!' you made me laugh! But I accept the challenge ;) xxx