Giles trekked up the walkway to Willow's, glad the building where she lived had cleared away the snow and ice. He enjoyed the snowy chill, but had no desire to fall on a patch of ice. He was here to see Willow and he was looking forward to another evening with her.
They'd spent many evenings together since she'd come to England, her relationship with Kennedy not having lasted even two weeks after their arrival in Brazil. Willow had discovered, much to her chagrin, that Kennedy's remark about being 'kind of a brat' was quite possibly the understatement of the year. Perhaps even the century. One week after she'd arrived in Rio, Giles had received a hurried phone call from Willow, begging him to meet her at the airport. He was concerned, but asked no questions, knowing Willow would tell him everything when she was ready.
That was nine months ago. Willow went to work for the new Watcher's Council, rapidly becoming Giles' right hand woman. He'd helped her find a place to live and they'd fallen into a comfortable routine of having dinner together several evenings a week. They'd even taken a few trips together, Giles showing Willow some of the beauties of the country she now called home. It was all strictly platonic, though Giles couldn't help but hope that it might become more. Though he hid it well, his feelings for the redheaded witch only grew stronger as they spent time together.
As he stopped before the building, he felt something hit him in the back. Dropping his packages, he whirled around to see the threat only to find Willow with an impish grin, preparing to hurl another snowy missile at him. He stopped and quirked an eyebrow at her.
"What? Mr. 'Head of the Council' too stuffy for a snowball fight?" she teased, "C'mon Giles! I never got to do this in Sunnydale. The only time it snowed there was when the First tried to get Angel to kill himself, and that snow was too soft for good snowballs."
Giles brushed the snow from his shoulders, then turned and bent down as if to pick up his dropped bundles. Instead he scooped up some snow, packed it quickly and threw it at Willow before she knew what was happening. She barely dodged it and tossed another at him. The snowballs flew fast and furious, and Willow and Giles were almost breathless with laughter. Giles launched another one, which hit Willow squarely in the face. He moved quickly over to her, to make sure he hadn't hurt her in any way. She waited until he was close enough, then pushed him down, and climbing atop him, began pelting him with snow. He grabbed her and rolled them over so he was looking down at her. Her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were rosy with the cold.
Willow looked up at Giles. He had snow in his hair and eyelashes, and somehow looked younger than she'd ever seen him. Something that had been building in her for months bubbled to the surface and she slowly reached up and kissed him. When she saw his surprised expression, she smiled at him.
"Your lips looked cold. I thought I'd warm them up."
Sliding her arms around him and pulling him closer to her, she asked:
"Is there anything else I can warm up for you?"