“Killian,
stop apologizing. I’m pretty sure you didn’t create a snowstorm in order to
avoid coming home for Christmas.”
“No, but
your wife might have. Remember when we didn’t listen to her last year and ended
up snowed in that bloody cabin for two days with nothing but four crackers and
a year’s worth of tea between us?”
“Please,
Elsa is more likely to snow you in here so you can’t leave.”
Killian
hums, trying to turn his frown upside down with little success.
Bloody
buggering fuck. He hasn’t seen his brother and sister-in-law in over half a
year. He has seen his nephew exactly once and he’s almost a year old. And he is
stuck in New York City for the holidays. Alone.
Happy bloody
Christmas.
He is about
to tell Liam to go enjoy his weekend and stop worrying about him when movement
outside catches his eye. The snow has let up for the first time in what feels
like three days of blinding and aggressive snowflakes attacking anyone who
dared peak outside. Which is why the
human form, struggling to make its way through the fields of whiteness, draws
his attention. He shakes his head and is just about to look away when said form
suddenly disappears from view. Killian jumps to his feet and rushes to the
window.
“Killian?”
He hears
his brother’s voice but his eyes are busy scanning the darkening world before
his apartment building. Then he sees a blonde head peak up and cringes at the
red coat that wavers into view as the poor soul tries to regain her balance.
Ah. Emma
Swan.
Killian
doesn’t bother to hide his cringe. When he thinks of Emma Swan, one word comes
unbidden to his mind. Grumpy. Ethereally gorgeous follows closely behind but
never quite manages to take over.
The woman
across the hall is hardly willing to exchange more than two sentences of small
talk on a good day, he doesn’t even want to imagine what she will be like after
having to make her way through the Winter HorrorLand outside and falling on her
admittedly delectable arse not a hundred feet from the building’s entrance.
It All Starts With a Dance 