1840 words of meet-cute Christmas T-rated fluff.
This damn fic took about four re-writes before I was satisfied.“The PTA is full of a bunch of judgy bitches.”
“Emma!” The principal’s sharp gasp is the second thing Killian Jones hears when he enters the small dressing room off the auditorium, followed by a dismissive grunt from the first speaker. The short brunette, Mary Margaret Blanchard, gives him an awkward smile and darts around him to close the door behind him.
The other woman in the room has her back turned to him as she slips off her bright red sweater. Killian cannot keep himself from appreciating the line of her shoulder blades as they peek around either side of the tank top she wears beneath the wool. The shirt is white, but the brassiere beneath is the same red as her sweater. Killian swallows nervously against the sudden onslaught of arousal. Bloody hell, he hasn’t been turned on by bra straps since he was an adolescent.
“Emma,” Ms Blanchard says again, “I think-”
“Oh we both know what this is about,” the blonde woman continues without looking back. “Half of those women are divorced or their marriages are falling apart, but its me they decide to pick on.”
“But-”
“Leave it to a Catholic school to insult someone by casting them as the Mother Mary.” She reaches for the costume rack at her side and pulls a thick blue robe off of a hanger. The woman wriggles it over her head, tosses out her blonde curls, and slides off her pants as the robe falls down her legs. Killian catches only a glimpse of a bit of black fabric across her arse before she is covered in the tent of a costume. Finally, she turns around and her face turns from indignation to shock to something resembling annoyance.
“You must be the poor sap cast as Joseph,” she sighs. The hem of the costume trails the worn carpet as she crosses the room and holds out her hand. “Emma Swan, your wife.”
Amid the Cold of Winter (when half-spent was the night)
Published
It All Starts With a Dance 