Killian stood by the window and watched the snow come down in thick layers, just as it had been doing for most of the day. What many of Boston's meteorologists had predicted to be a light snowfall had quickly turned into a complete whiteout. He could see from his second story apartment that nearly everything was covered in snow and ice, including the people that were still out in it for whatever odd reasons. He sighed as he stepped away from the window and picked up his cell phone. It was safe to say that his scheduled flight to London in the morning was most likely cancelled by now.

He first took a moment to call his brother to explain the unfortunate situation, regretting that he couldn't make it for Christmas, but promising to rebook his flight as soon as the weather permitted. The next call was to the airport, which had cancelled all incoming and outgoing flights for the rest of the week as a safety precaution. Thankfully, after being on hold for almost half an hour, he was able to exchange his previously planned flight for one a week later, meaning he would at least get to spend New Years with Liam, if nothing else.

The real problem now was what to do with himself over the next few days. Most news and radio stations had suggested people not leave their homes unless absolutely necessary, which Killian and the rest of Boston that hadn't left for the holidays would probably forgo by this time tomorrow out of boredom, desperation, or both. He cursed himself for waiting until the last minute to make traveling arrangements, which is why his planned flight wouldn't have left until tomorrow, the twenty-third. Now, he was stuck spending Christmas with nowhere to go, little to do, and no one to do it with. All of his friends were out of town visiting their families, which means he wouldn't have as much as a drinking buddy for the holidays. He wouldn't have mind working the rest of the week, which was saying quite a bit considering he was among the group of employees at Mills Law Office that persuaded Regina to let them go a few days earlier for the holidays instead of on Christmas Eve as she had originally planned. At least being busy at the office would have kept him from moping at his apartment alone for the holidays. A very Merry Christmas indeed.

With few better options available to him, Killian soon found himself thoroughly cleaning the apartment, and then doing it all over again for good measure. He finally had the time to finish a rather large book that he'd been working on for a few weeks now, but then found himself disappointed when it ended on a cliffhanger, and the author's website gave no indication on when a sequel would be published. (Bloody hell, he muttered, tossing the book to the side.) He was on the verge of rearranging the spice rack in his kitchen out of utter boredom- at least Belle would be proud that he was putting her birthday gift to good use for once- when a loud banging noise followed by a muffled curse from the apartment next door got his attention. (The building's walls were abnormally thin, which made things quite interesting when he lived next to couples.) He could tell the noise had come from Emma Swan's apartment, the woman who'd moved in the building over the summer. They weren't exactly friends, per se- the few times they'd interacted with one another, she seemed to want nothing to do with him- but he felt the need to check on her, regardless. It would make him feel pretty foolish if something had actually happened to her and he had chosen to ignore it altogether.

Five minutes later, he found himself knocking on Emma's door. He waited for a moment, thinking she wasn't going to respond, until he heard footsteps padding across the linoleum kitchen floor that was identical to his. The door swung open seconds later to reveal his neighbor, who looked to be bundled up in at least half of her winter wardrobe. "Can I help you?" she sighed, looking as if the last thing in the world she wanted to do at the moment was talk to him.

"I was going to ask you the same, love," he replied. "I heard some kind of commotion and wanted to make sure everything was alright."

Emma laughed dryly. "Yeah, everything's fine aside from the fact that my heater decided to go out the one week our landlord is out of town. Not that he would have helped much anyway," she muttered under her breath; for someone who was in charge of an apartment complex, Leroy certainly wasn't the most reliable person in the world.

"That's quite unfortunate. Perhaps I could take a look at it?" Killian actually knew nothing about heaters aside from how to turn his on, but it didn't hurt to offer at least.

"Thanks, but it's completely shot. I'm just gonna have to stay bundled up like this for the next few days since there's a slim chance of anyone being able to fix it, what with Christmas and the nightmare outside," she said, gesturing to the thick layers of clothing that were probably the only thing she had to stay warm.

She was most likely right about not being able to locate help, but he didn't think it was a good idea to tell her so. "Don't be so sure, Swan. There might be someone available to take care of it. Why don't you come over and I'll make you coffee while you try to find some help." Killian partly expected her to say no. They didn't know each other very well aside from brief conversations in the hallway, and she didn't seem to be the type of woman that liked interacting with strangers.

Emma pursed her lips as she considered his proposal. "Because I'm freezing my ass off, I'm going to trust that you're not a serial killer and take you up on that offer." The smile on her face caught him off guard; it was a good luck for her, but not one that he'd seen before.

"Well, you're in luck, Swan," he told her as they entered his apartment. "Murder isn't high up on my list of hobbies, and it's not very festive, either. Now, how about that coffee."

"My hero."

-/-

Ten minutes later, she was sitting at his kitchen table, looking up appliance services on her phone and sipping a concoction that was much more sugar and milk than coffee. ("I have a sweet tooth; don't judge me.") Killian took the chair across from hers, his own drink in hand. "Any luck?"

"No." She frowned at something on her phone screen. "Everyone was either already closed for the holidays, or had to close because of the storm. At this rate, I'll probably be spending Christmas in the backseat of my car if I don't want to catch hypothermia."

"You don't have plans with your family?" Despite the fact that they were all but strangers, he still hated the idea of Emma not having anyone to take her in until the heater was repaired.

"No family to have plans with." She didn't look up from her cup of coffee. "I had planned to celebrate with a bottle of wine and whatever's next on my Netflix queue."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," he laughed. "But no talk about staying in your vehicle. You can stay here until someone can fix your heat; there's plenty of room."

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I couldn't bother you like that," she objected. "What about your Christmas plans?"

"Cancelled as well. I was going to visit my brother in London, but that's not an option until next week." She hadn't said it, but he could tell she was definitely contemplating his offer. "Trust me, love, you wouldn't be bothering me. It might be nice to have some company for Christmas, anyway."

"Well…" she said after a moment, "Alright. You're pretty convincing considering my only friends are out of town, and the heat in my car actually sucks."

Killian could sense that he was possibly starting to win her over. He wasn't expecting to become her new best friend by any means, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with someone who could very well be stuck in his apartment for several days at this rate.

"So, Swan, you going to tell me something about yourself, or will I be forced to have a stranger for a temporary roommate?"

"Not much to tell. Emma Swan. Twenty-eight. Libra. Bail bondsman- er, woman, whatever you wanna call it. Been in the building almost five months. You?"

"Killian Jones. Thirty. Aquarius. Legal assistant. Two years."

"British, I'm assuming?"

"Aye. Came here after high school and have only been back on holidays ever since. Well, except this one, obviously." He gestured to the snow still falling outside.

"Even though it sucks that you couldn't fly over for Christmas, I hope you'll forgive me for saying that I'm glad you're here with a working heat system," she laughed.

"Of course. Had I not been around, you would not only have been deprived of warmth, but my company as well," Killian noted, waggling his eyebrows sarcastically.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh, the horror!"

At least she had a sense of humor. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad; he might have a friend by the time this was over with after all.

The two of them soon ended up in casual conversation. She didn't have much to say at first, but slowly began to open up as he rambled on about a number of things, including Star Wars, Christmas carols ("What in the world is figgy pudding, anyway?" she asked "It sounds disgusting."), and their jobs. He asked her questions about the bail bonds industry, how she got involved in her line of work, and was surprised to hear about some of the more unusual characters she'd taken down over the past few years. "Apparently the holidays seem like a great time to break the law," she complained, shaking her head. "Idiots think they can skip bail and no one will notice because it's Christmas."

In the middle of her rant on their building's less than favorable parking services, Killian glanced at the clock above the stove; it was later in the evening that he'd thought. "You ready for dinner, Swan? I'm not much of a cook, but there's probably something around here than I can throw together."

"It's okay, I'm not hu-" Emma started to protest until her growling stomach gave her away. "Okay, maybe I am a little hungry," she admitted, her face reddening. "I don't want you to go to much trouble, though. I'm already imposing on you by staying here, anyway."

"You're not imposing at all, love." Killian rummaged through his cabinets and pulled out a box of noodles and a jar of pasta sauce. "How do you feel about spaghetti?"

"Who doesn't like spaghetti?" she answered, standing up from the table. "At least give me something to do. But I'll just go ahead and warn you, my cooking skills go as far as Ramen noodles, and maybe peanut-butter toast on a good day."

He cringed in disapproval. "In that case, I'd insist you stay here even if your heater was working just to ensure you had a decent meal."

Emma wasn't lying; she really had no idea how to cook. After nearly burning herself twice just by boiling water, her job quickly turned into simply standing beside Killian at the stove and handing him whatever ingredients he needed. ("I have to carry a gun on a daily basis, you think I'd be able to do something in the kitchen without causing bodily harm.")

After dinner was cooked and ready, Killian took the risk of spaghetti stains on the couch by suggesting they eat in front of the television. "I think we could both use some holiday entertainment tonight." He turned on his flat screen and scrolled through the guide to see what was playing. "Is Home Alone alright with you, Swan?"

Emma shrugged, picking up a cluster of noodles with her fork. "I guess. I've never seen it before, so it doesn't make much of a difference to me."

Well that was surprising. "Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I was under the assumption that it was high up on the list of American Christmas traditions."

"I wouldn't know. Foster kids usually aren't included when it comes to Christmas traditions and whatnot," she mumbled, staring down at the plate in her lap.

Although it was unintentional, Killian could tell by the expression on her face that he had hit a nerve. This bit of information brought on a whole new set of questions for him- none of which he was going to ask- and also answered a few not only regarding her lack of family, but her somewhat reserved behavior as well. "Well, I think you're in luck," he said, changing the subject as the title sequence began to play. "John Hughes rarely disappoints."

Much to his relief, Emma relaxed within the first few minutes of the movie. She seemed to be enjoying it, rather than focusing on the potential discomfort his earlier question most likely brought on. She laughed at all the right moments, even choking a bit on her drink during the scene in which the burglars fall victim to Kevin's traps.

Killian found himself more than once admiring the sound of her laugh, not to mention the way her face lit up when she did it. Happiness looked good on her. But he also felt somewhat foolish for thinking so; he could be around an attractive woman without acting like an awkward teenage boy with a crush, couldn't he? The prospect of having Emma Swan as a friend seemed farfetched at first, and he should be grateful for that possible opportunity alone.

"I think I understand why this movie is considered a Christmas tradition now," she said when the film ended. "It was pretty funny."

"I agree. Much better than any of the ruddy sequels they made later on."

"You mean those idiots left him behind again?"

"Afraid so." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure if was a result of bad parenting, or bad screenwriters just desperate to make more money."

As he loaded their dinner plates into the dishwasher, his cell phone buzzed with an alert from the weather center including an update on the storm. Truth be told, he hadn't paid much attention to the weather since Emma had come over. He scrolled through the report, reading that things would likely clear up the next day, and stifled a yawn. It was barely ten o'clock, but he was used to heading to work early almost every morning. Looking over at Emma, he could see her fighting sleep as well, though, her eyes looking heavy as she sat on the couch and looked at something on her phone.

"Tired, Swan?"

She looked up sheepishly from the screen. "A bit. You'd think doing so many stakeouts would have turned me into a night owl by now, but no such luck."

Killian ran a hand through his already messy hair, a nervous habit he'd developed in high school and had never been able to break. "Just let me change clothes and wash up, then the bedroom's all yours," he told her, clearly indicating that he'd be retiring to the couch.

"What? No, I'm not putting you out of your room," she objected. "I've already imposed on you enough as it is."

"Swan, I've told you more than once, you're not imposing. I'm not allowing any guest of mine to sleep on the couch, even though I don't mind doing it myself."

She opened her mouth to argue with him, then paused when she saw the determined expression on his face. "You're not gonna let me win this, are you?"

"Not a chance."

"Fine," Emma sighed. "Then I'm gonna go to my place long enough to wash up and change. See if ice has started to grow on anything while I'm at it."

"Just don't come back frozen, Elsa."

He heard her laugh as she walked out the door to her own apartment. "I should hope not. The cold bothers me too much."

She returned less than ten minutes later, wearing a pair of flannel pajamas that were obviously much loved, her hair in a messy knot on the top of her head. "Not frozen, all though it is ridiculously cold over there," she remarked, shivering for emphasis. "Are you sure I can't convince you to let me take the couch?" she asked, frowning at the pillow and blankets he had laid out for himself.

"What do you think, Swan?" he replied, giving her a knowing glance. "I've left a few extra blankets out in case you get cold," he nodded his head toward the bedroom, "but, otherwise, I think you should find everything to be satisfactory."

"Okay." She walked to the bedroom, socked feet padding across the living room, then paused in front of the closed door, her hand resting on the doorknob. "Killian?"

"Yes, love?"

'I know this isn't exactly how you planned to spend Christmas, and, knowing me, I probably haven't always been the nicest person in the world to you...but thank you for taking me in." He couldn't tell if it was just a glow from the lamp on his side table, or if there was an extra hint of color spreading across her cheeks. "I really do appreciate everything."

Killian scratched the back of his head- another nervous habit- not sure of what else to do. "Think nothing of it. Just trying to be neighborly, and all."

The corners of Emma's mouth turned up slightly, in what was almost a smile. "Night, Killian."

"Goodnight, Swan."

He heard the door softly click shut behind her as he went around the apartment, making sure the front door was locked and turning off most of the lights, save for the one in the kitchen he usually left on at night. He took the pillow and blankets from where he'd left them on the couch and tried his best to make himself comfortable. Truth be told, sleeping on his couch wasn't actually as pleasant as he'd led Emma to believe, which is why he insisted she take his room instead.

He tried not to let his thoughts linger on the woman sleeping in his bed; needless to say, he failed somewhat miserably. (It didn't help to know that his sheets would probably smell just like her, something he didn't quite mind after getting a whiff of her vanilla shampoo when she'd walked past him in the kitchen earlier that evening.) He had absolutely no idea what was on the agenda for tomorrow or the rest of the week, but he couldn't bring himself to care if she was somehow involved in it.

Killian cursed himself as he adjusted his pillow for what had to be the fifth time in just as many minutes. He was already fighting to get Emma Swan out of his head, and he hadn't even spent a full day with her yet.

But he couldn't help but smile as he finally started to fall asleep, knowing he wouldn't have to be alone for Christmas after all.

Thank you for reading! This is the first of what should be a 4-5 part story, depending on where my muse decides to go. Feedback is always appreciated! Please leave a review if you have any thoughts :)