In The Clear | ✓

23 | let it snow

            "I know you look good in this jacket—"

            "Thank you." Miles looked chuffed. Proper pleased with himself. If Jensen knew simply telling him he looked nice would put that much of a smile on his face, she would've done it more often than she already did.

            Jensen ran a hand up and down his bicep. "But you'd look even better when you don't spend every waking moment we're outside complaining that you're cold."

            Miles put his hand over his heart. "You wound me, Rhodes. Truly."

            Jensen rolled her eyes. Not annoyed, more playful. Miles knew the difference, she knew he did. Jensen knew the difference when he did it too. "Five minutes. I'll drive."

            "You don't know where we're going."

            Jensen stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Lived here longer than you, babe. And I know you."

            "Where are we going?"

            "Spanish Banks."

            Miles smiled. "Five minutes?"

            "I'm bringing your snow jacket."

            "You can, but I'm leaving it in the car."

            "Miles—"

            "Five minutes, Rhodes!" Miles took Rocky's hand and helped her jump off the bed, leading her out of the room.

            "You hit me with one snowball and I'm leaving you at the beach."

            "Then maybe I'll take my jacket out of the car."

            "Or, you know," Jensen said, "you could... simply not throw a snowball."

            "Four minutes!"

*

As Jensen could've guessed, it took less than four minutes for Miles to have balled up a snowball, tossed it in her direction, and immediately protest—through laughing—that he had Beckett and she shouldn't reciprocate. Jensen laughed, rolled her eyes, and promptly cleared a place on a log to sit on.

            Rocky had already dug into the snow and was throwing it into the air. Giggles erupted from her as the snow landed back on her head, from the top of her toque to the tip of her nose. Jensen smiled softly.

            "I knew you'd like it." Miles' voice was soft.

            If Jensen hadn't heard him coming, she might've fallen off the log she was sitting on. Swinging a leg over the log, Jensen turned in his direction. Her eyes widened when she looked at Miles.

            "Where's Beckett?"

            "Beckett?"

            "Our baby." Jensen waved a hand at him, her head on a swivel trying to locate him. Her hand on her chest. "The one you're supposed to have in a papoose, oh my God—"

            "Rhodes, Rhodes, Rhodes, hey, it's okay, it's okay." Miles put his hands on her shoulders gently and turned her.

            To where Maddox, Liberty, and Dayna were. Dayna and Liberty doing jazz hands, Maddox making Beckett do jazz hands in the papoose. Which was on him. And not Miles. Jensen felt the tension in her chest loosen. Liberty had a basket on the crook of her elbow.