A/N: The need to write fluffy NJ is overwhelming. I've decided they are my OTP. Suck it.


Snowflakes swath in a halo around her head, and she giggles like a lunatic, dainty hands reaching up to swat away the tiny flecks of white in her blonde hair. Her thick plaid sweater is wrapped tightly around her fingers and is damp from the falling snow in Central Park, the ice permeating on the pond, the wind frigid and moist.

"It's so cold," she complains humorously, still laughing, her mouth pulled into a wide grin that contradicts her whines. "Isn't it supposed to be spring?" She peers at him from underneath her hood, her fingers pulling the fabric down over her forehead and her blue eyes smiling.

"It's only March," he reminds her gently, shifting his hat a little on his head and thankful for the cover it provides. "It's supposed to be warmer tomorrow." The mundane conversation is so familiar and domestic that his heart thumps gratefully, stirring a ripple of heat in his chest as he takes her hand, tugging it away from her head.

She twirls a little in her oversized jacket, one hand covering her mouth as she laughs again, a soft trill that beats like butterfly wings in his ears. Her other hand twines with his, her thumb pressing against the pulse point on his wrist.

"Your hands are cold," she notes as his own thumb brushes against her warm palm.

"You stole my gloves." He grins and chuckles at the natural rouge flush in her cheeks. "And then Dan stole them from you..." His voice trails off at her slight frown, still watching amusedly as she tried to hide her blushing.

"I think dad has them now," she tells him with a blissful titter of laughter. "I'm sorry. Lily can buy you another pair?" The offer is hollow and meaningless, and she knows it, even when his blue eyes roll exasperatedly.

"Yes, because I need Lily's money." His footsteps crunch over icy snow as wipes a flake of snow off her nose.

She squeaks innocently and catches his calloused fingertips. Enveloping his hands in hers, she brings them to her lips and kisses them, melting a tiny speck of ice on his knuckles. "Your hands are going to turn black and fall off." She pouts a bit and kisses them again, ignoring his other hand coming up to brush her hair from her eyes. "And then it'll be all my fault."

"And whose hand would you hold then?" He leans down to press his lips on her cheek, then down to her jawline, where he can feel her blood thrumming and hear her even breathing. Mist billows out in front of her as her moist breath hits the chilly air.

"I'd find someone." She laughs breathlessly and wraps her arms around his neck, small hands gripping the lowest tendrils of his sandy blonde hair. His free hands fall to her waist, sliding around the arch of her back.

He presses a kiss to the pulse point just beneath her jaw, where he can feel the heat flushing her neck and hear her blood undulating beneath her cold, sweet skin. "I love you," he murmurs, just because he can.

"I love you, too," she proclaims in a wispy sigh, still giggling into his ear. He's decided it's the best sound he's ever heard.

Spotted: Cinderella and the Prince enjoying their modern fairytale in Central Park.