Author's Note: This came - bam! Inspiration! Big thanks to sonnycentral for the whole Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter rooms in her story Big Brother: Teen Celebrity Edition. That's what made me think of seasons. Also, big thanks to SparkleInTheSun because we'd been talking about happy stories and that's probably why this one isn't my typical angst stuff. I should be working on Perspective, I know, but it's a hard chapter to write. I need it to be perfect. So this is my break from it. Enjoy and please review, even though I wasn't all that proud of it... xD This takes place... oh, in a year? Two?

Disclaimer: If I had some snarky, sarcastic thing to say about my ownage of Sonny With a Chance, I would, but I don't have one, just as I don't have Sonny With a Chance.

Spring

They say new things come in spring. They say that, because the snow fades away and everything starts growing again, it's a new beginning. They say that love comes in spring, because it blossoms like a flower.

Well, their love doesn't blossom like a flower; it rushes like the river after the ice melts, a screaming torrent of freed water. It's an all-of-a-sudden thing, like a lot of things as far as they go; both of them are somewhat known for their spontaneity.

It happens like something straight out of Mack Falls; arguing, and in a moment of passion, that passion turns to something else completely and entirely. They're making out in front of both of their casts, without even caring that they're being watched.

As for the casts themselves, the unpredictability of the moment is the only surprise; most of them had seen this coming a long, long time ago, as sure as the seasons change.

Summer

In which the sun makes the world so warm that it feels as if it's on fire. Well, they are on fire by then too, a couple still famed for their spontaneity, on-again and off-again and on-again and off-again. Screaming phone calls, tearful arguments, and, to seal it all back together again, sheepish grins and 'sorry's and kisses.

They go to the beach once, when there's an off-day (they don't do as much in the summer) and they're bored as heck and all they can think of to do is the thing that everyone does in the summer - swimming. But it's an awkward time to decide that because it's raining and almost nine o'clock at night. They don't care, though. They're indifferent to a lot of things. They go in their clothes and are soaked by the time they get to the beach. She told him to cover up the convertible, which meant he obviously didn't, and she was shrieking with laughter the whole way there.

They step out into the wet sand under the dark sky and dive into and out of the waves; he can't believe he could ever have this much fun or let loose this much, and she can't believe she's even here with him at all. She squeals as he lifts her out of the water, swinging her around above the waves and finally kissing her, in the ocean, in the rain.

It tastes like salt.

Autumn

The leaves fall and everything gets colder, preparing for winter. They were told that they wouldn't last past this season, but they don't believe it anymore; the fire's extinguished by icy breezes, and now instead of being random, they're constant. They've been solid and together for months now, and they don't see it breaking off anytime soon.

The leaves tumble like rain from the trees until the ground is covered in crunchy, brown fragments. The crackle of footsteps is all that can be heard in the meadow they're walking in, him wearing a short-sleeved shirt, her donning his brown leather jacket and grinning at him as they wander every which way, holding hands. She merrily swings his.

It's a funny thing about those jackets. Every time he gives them to her, she takes them home and sleeps in them that night, then hangs them in her closet, the way-back, and refuses to give them back to him, claiming she lost them. He knows the truth, because he saw them all one day when she was in the bathroom. He'd noticed an assortment of gray, black, and brown and decided to check it out. He had a good laugh about it and never told her. He used to have thirty jackets. He's bought seventeen more this summer, and now that she's taken this one, he'll probably have to go buy an eighteenth.

And yet he still gives her his jacket when she's cold (or pretending to be).

Winter

When snow covers the ground, and it gets unbearably cold outside, cold and dead. They're still alive though, very much alive. They're comfortable with each other, sitting around the fire, brown eyes staring into blue and chatting away the hours. She always falls asleep on his shoulder around ten, and he can never bring himself to shake her awake; she's too cute when she's asleep. Once he pulled an all-nighter, having never been able to sleep in that awkward position, just so he wouldn't have to shrug her off.

But tonight is different. Tonight he takes her out into the snow, and she laughs, skipping around and giggling as she throws snowballs at him teasingly. Before long it's a full blown war. Eventually they're soaked and exhausted, lying beside each other as they stare up at the stars, raising their hands to point constellations out occasionally.

He stands up then, holding out his hand to her. She takes it and stands up with him, and they grin goofily at each other for a few minutes before he gets down to one knee. She pretends like she doesn't know what's coming, but he can see her rosy cheeks get just a little bit rosier.

He holds out a ring, there in the middle of the snow, in the middle of the winter, and waits.

She bursts into tears and says yes.

So he picks her up and twirls her, around and around, hugging her to his chest and spinning. He can't remember a time he's been this happy.

Now she's his, for every season of every year.