A/N: I am currently migrating my series over from AO3. These are series of one-shots that aren't really long enough to serve as a stand-alone.

Prompt: I humbly request: CS+canon+snowed in.

The Cold

Emma loved her home, the wraparound porch and gorgeous hardwood floors. She loved the color of the walls, the many windows, and even the molding on the walls. She loved its proximity to Granny's, the nice lawn, and spacious backyard. Everything about the house was perfect.

Except for tonight.

Tonight, she hated her home. What she didn't realize about moving into what is supposed to be a much-older home – it's technically only thirty years old, but is designed like it is closer to seventy-five – is how cold it would be in the winter. It had been "renovated," of course, but the renovation didn't account for the poor insulation or how it would fare in the Maine winter.

She already had the thermostat cranked up to an ungodly number, one that she normally wouldn't consider under most circumstances. Tonight wasn't most circumstances though. Tonight, a particularly nasty Nor'easter was sweeping its way through Maine, with tiny little Storybrooke being caught in the mix. Had the storm not been projected by meteorologists across New England for days, Emma would have almost believed that the storm's cause was magical. She almost would have preferred it that way. She could handle magical storms. She couldn't stop Mother Nature.

Emma huffed and checked her phone. She had a number of unanswered texts from Grumpy, and an equal amount from her father telling her to ignore the dwarf. There was only so much the sheriff's department could do before the storm rolled over Storybrooke, and Emma felt like they did a good job preparing the town. Now they just had to wait it out to see what damage that would be done. Of course, that wasn't good enough for Grumpy. Then again, what ever was?

At least Henry seemed to be having fun. He had been sending her a stream of pictures from the snow adventures he, Roland, and Robin had been sharing. A snowball fight, snow angels, and one particularly impressive snowman. Regina had even allowed them to make snow cream. Her kid was having a blast bonding with the other half of his family, and that made her feel warmer than anything in her house ever could.

Not that it was hard to at the moment.

Pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she padded into the den to find Killian prodding the wood in the fireplace. As such, the den was now the warmest room in the house, and she was highly considering spending the entire night down her, fire hazard and uncomfortable couch be damned. Emma sighed heavily as she fell into said uncomfortable couch, and pulled the discarded throw blanket over her form. Hearing her enter the room, Killian turned away from the flames and looked at her with an amused grin.

"Cold, are you?" Killian asked with a grin. Emma shot him a glare in response as he sauntered over to join her. As he settled next to her, he maneuvered so she could curl into his side. "You know, Swan, maybe it's a good thing you were brought over to this realm. If this bothers you, you hardly would have managed in the Enchanted Forest."

"I would've had a castle," Emma argued as she snuggled deeper into his chest, reveling in his warmth.

"This dwelling is still warmer. Trust me, I snuck into many a castle back in my day," Killian countered as he placed a kiss on her forehead. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, causing Emma to sigh happily. This was good. This was going to get her through the cold.

"So what you're telling me is that this princess would have had a pirate sneaking into her bedchambers to keep her warm."

"Perhaps," Killian laughed, "though being in Storybrooke, I don't have to do any sneaking to get into this princess' bed. In fact, I can be there anytime I wish. Such as now."

Emma shook her head against his chest. Between him, the fire, and the blanket, she wasn't going anywhere. "Mmmm…no…too warm now. This princess is good to stay right here."

She half expected him to reply with one of his patented innuendos, but instead he tightened his arms in a hug and murmured into her hair a soft, "As you wish."

There was one thing Emma forgot to add to her list of things she loved about her home: the pirate with whom she shared it.

She loved that part the most.