Prompt: "I forgot my umbrella and you offered to walk me home in the rain, and I thought this would be the beginning of a cute love story, but you're really shit at this - oh my God my shoulder is so wet, hold the damn thing properly wth man" au (submitted by honeysticks on tumblr)

Her preferred Deli was in the neighborhood, practically just around the corner; but that could still be a long long way to walk if you were fully packed with two huge paper bags and it was raining cats and dogs, like it was now. Luckily, Emma hadn't forgotten her umbrella this time. But, as it turned out, it wasn't that easy opening it with one hand while trying to balance the two bags in her other hand. She started to curse under her breath, when a strong buffet of wind hit her from behind, ripped the half-opened umbrella from her hand and smashed it lethally against the post of a street lamp. She stumbled a little, and one of the grocery bags fell from her hand.

"Really?!" she hissed and crouched down on the pavement to collect the oranges, avocados and the packet with the taco shells. Obviously, today was not her day. At least the rain seemed to subside a little – it didn't fall on her blonde curls as heavy as before.

When she gathered her last belongings, she became aware of a pair of feet standing very close to her. She frowned and let her curious glance wander up along legs in tight black jeans, belonging to a man clad in a black leather jacket, holding an umbrella over her crouched figure, smiling down at her from a pair of disturbingly blue eyes and with an amused expression that infuriated her somehow. The rain was streaming over the stranger's face, soaking his almost black hair. "Need a hand, love?" he asked and indeed offered her one to help her up.

He had an unusual accent, European maybe, and a certain timbre to his voice that infuriated her even more. And really – love? The last time someone had called her that, it had been an old lady when she had held the door open for her.

Emma ignored the hand and rose to her feet as graciously as she could, having packed either arm with a grocery bag now. "Listen, bud," she snapped, "if that's supposed to be a clever pick-up line – it's not working."

The stranger obviously wasn't easily offended. "I was just trying to be a gentleman," he replied smoothly, still that amused twinkle in his eyes, "but I suppose that's overrated." She'd have expected him to turn away, but he didn't. He was still holding the umbrella over her head, stoically ignoring the rain washing over his face.

She rolled her eyes, more at herself. Someone was trying to be nice to her, and she poured all her bad mood over him. "I'm sorry," she backpedaled quickly, "it's just... I'm not used to..."

"I'm going to walk this way now," he interrupted her stutter in a calm voice and pointed in the direction where her apartment was. "If that's your way, too, I shall gladly offer you a space under my umbrella."

Emma wasn't the spontaneous type, and this stranger with his accent, that weird way of talking and his too blue eyes was exactly the type she usually steered clear of. For a second she contemplated to tell him that she had to go the opposite way, but then she replied – spontaneously: "Actually, it is. And thank you."

With a slight tilt of his head, he stepped a little to the side, in the middle of the pavement, and held the umbrella over his head, leaving space for her to slip under it. She felt a little silly and clumsy, but then she drew a deep breath and stepped under the protective umbrella. He grinned and murmured something she didn't really understand because in that moment, a van was driving by, but she could have sworn she'd heard him say "that's a good girl."

They started to walk along the street side by side in silence, and the more they walked, the more nervous she got. Obviously, the stranger had really nothing else in his mind than to be nice and offer his help, because he didn't even remotely try to hit on her, and that was a situation Emma hadn't yet had to handle. He wasn't even looking at her or trying to make stupid smalltalk; he was just walking, and weirdly enough, even though they were walking side by side it seemed like he was leading the way in a strangely chivalrous manner, steering around obstacles and puddles on the pavement. Curiously, she studied his profile: thick, expressive eyebrows, a classic nose and an impressively strong jawline, peppered by ginger stubble, did make him very attractive, she admitted to herself. And those stupid blue eyes. If she were the type to believe in that kind of stuff, this would be the stereotype of a romantic movie – the random encounter with the attractive stranger in an absurd situation that led to a sickeningly sweet love story and an even more sickeningly sweet happy ending. But she wasn't that type; stupid romantic movies were about as realistic as fairy tales.

Actually, that's a shame, she thought and frowned at herself. Really, what was wrong with her? She stole another glance at her knight in shiny leather. She knew she was pretty attractive herself, and he didn't even waste a glance on her? Something had to be wrong with him anyway. What an idiot.

Suddenly, she felt cold water running down the side of her throat and noticed that her right shoulder was soaked with rain. The umbrella wasn't big enough, and he wasn't really holding it over her anymore. She rooted to the spot and threw him a fiery glance when he stopped too, not understanding herself why she was suddenly angry.

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "What's wrong, love?" he asked.

"This isn't working," she snapped. "I'm getting wet."

Her eyes widened at the amusement dancing over his handsome features, and she blushed for no reason. For a dreadful moment, she expected him to answer with a slippery pun. "Well, my apologies for that," he replied innocently, but somehow she was sure that in another situation, he would have answered with an innuendo. "Maybe you should contemplate letting me help with those bags, then you'd have your left arm free and could walk a little closer to me, so we'd both fit perfectly under the umbrella."

He offered his left hand, but she shoved the second grocery bag in her right arm too, securing it with her hip. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks," she said stubbornly and moved a little closer to him.

He pursed his full lips into a smirk and nodded his head once. "You're a tough lass," he commented, and Emma rolled her eyes, but continued to walk by his side. Her left forearm brushed against his right now, but still no word of conversation or anything else from him. Stupid, infuriating idiot.

She was almost relieved that, after a few more minutes, they'd reached the apartment house where she lived. She stopped, and he raised that eyebrow at her again, but said nothing. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed like a schoolgirl that had been walked home by her crush. She was the stupid idiot, obviously. Clumsily, she motioned her head to the stairs leading up to the entrance. "I live here," she said and wanted to bite her tongue the moment the words were out. Really? For all she knew, he could be a fucking psychopath, and she told him where she lived? And now? She cleared her throat. "Well, thank you again."

He nodded with a smile and tilted his head again like before, the gesture seeming strangely old-fashioned, like the hint of a bow, which was a ridiculous image. No one bowed nowadays. "Well, I'm glad that I could be of assistance, love," he replied, "even if you got a little... wet."

She threw him a sharp look, that little pause he'd made having caught her attention. Had he just thrown an innuendo her way, or was that merely her imagination? Well, she'd never find out; the stranger nodded at her one last time and then turned his back on her, to continue his path and walk out of her life.

Emma snorted at herself in disdain for that absurd little pang of disappointment she felt, and she turned to the door abruptly, fishing for her keys in the pocket of her jeans. Stupid idiot.

"Oh, one thing," she heard him say and almost whirled around on her heel in surprise. He was still standing there, throwing a slight smile at her that was bright enough to cast away all the grey and rainy clouds. He scratched behind his ear. "If you're ever surprised by the rain again..."

She swallowed, suddenly nervous. "Yeah?"

He tilted his head and cocked his eyebrow. "I will find you."

And with that, he turned around and walked away. Emma's incredulous eyes followed him for a few moments before she finally unlocked her door. Her mood was better now than it had been all week, and she smiled to herself. It was absurd, yes – but somehow, she knew she hadn't seen the last of him.

A/N:

Based on the first prompt I received without having asked for it, so thanks for that, honeysticks! I have already had requests of a part 2 - and I will eventually do it, when I get the time among my other projects.