MERRY CHRISTMAS @jennifer-morrison!!!!!!! I was your CS Secret Santa, it was so nice to get to know you!! You have such a sweet pup and it was really fun to get to know someone who loves doing Secret Santa as much as I do.
I hope you like this, there’s bedsharing and making out and I have worried myself into a tizzy over characterization.
There’s no possible good answer to give to Mary Margaret’s question about the temperature when she comes home that afternoon. Oh, Emma’s tried to think of one all day, but really all it boils down to is–
“We forgot to pay the gas bill and they’re closed until Tuesday unless it’s an emergency and yes, I know, I tried to tell them it’s fucking Christmas and December in Maine, but it’s not a blizzard and neither one of us is old and at risk of dying of hypothermia so they basically told me to pay the bill tonight and it’ll get turned on again on Tuesday and ‘get fucked’ was kind of implied in the woman’s tone, but I kind of deserved it because–”
“Emma.” Mary Margaret’s got her ‘teacher voice’ on, which is really intimidating to the ten-year old living in Emma’s brain most days. “Back up, slow down.” She drops her bags on the loveseat near the door and doesn’t take off her peacoat or hat, which is probably the smart thing to do since their apartment is, after all, without heat for the foreseeable future. “When did we forget to pay the gas bill?”
Emma bites her lip and fidgets a little under the responsible stare of Mary Margaret Blanchard, woman of top-buttoned cardigans and color-coded schedules, voted Preferred Designated Driver three years running by their friends, rare rule-breaker, and master of ‘I’m not mad I’m just disappointed’ looks. “Um. September. And October. And last month.”
Shelter from the Storm (1/1)
Published
It All Starts With a Dance 