John's nose stings with cold, but he doesn't bother buttoning up his coat or tugging his scarf up over his face; the sharp smell of frost is welcome, almost as welcome as the gentle touch of Rodney's gloved fingers to his shoulder.

"Hey," Rodney says softly, coming around to sit on the bench next to John.

His cheeks are ruddy, lips visibly chapped and bitten, the flaps of his ridiculous orange and red knitted hat are skewed like he put it on fast and didn't stop to look in the mirror before he left. The sight is so familiar it makes John's stomach twist and he has no choice but to lean in and steal a furtive kiss. Rodney ducks his head like he's embarassed, and his shoulders go up around his ears, but he doesn't pull away when John loops an arm around his neck and tugs him in, just settles in against John's chest and looks out over the university quad, where students are bustling to their next classes in twos and threes.

"Think it'll snow?" Rodney murmurs, hushed and tentative. John glances over, and Rodney's eyes are so bright and blue the rest of the world seems dull by comparison. "Not - not that snow would exactly...I mean, the T would probably run off schedule and strand people in Chinatown - which I've heard is not very safe at night anymore, mind you, and - "

John chuckles and presses his cold mouth to Rodney's temple, breathing in his fresh autumn scent. "Let's make cookies tonight."

He listens to Rodney puff out a breath, feels the moment Rodney's muscles relax. "Yeah," he agrees, "that. That sounds good."