Author's Note: This is the first in a series of unconnected drabbles inspired by songs. I hope you enjoy them!

Worth the Wait

Song Inspiration: Let it Snow

All it took was one simple confession: I have never seen snow in person before.

Klaus had been baffled (it showed on his face and made her dissolve into laughter). Camille had been quick to remind him that she spent all her life in Louisiana and the Big Easy was not known for its snowstorms.

Within an hour, he had taken steps to correct what he deemed an unforgivable wrong.

Now nestled in a cottage in Lancashire (the Mikaelsons literally own property everywhere), Klaus has discovered that Mother Nature is being a bit stubborn.

Oh there is snow - but it is hardly fresh. In fact, it has lazed around for a few days and become more akin to slush mixed with dirt and rocks. Hardly the idyllic picture he is trying to show her. It is cold enough for more, a fact that she laments as she puts heavy blankets around her shoulders but so far they have seen nothing but sun.

He broods.

Camille is determined to make the best of it. She drags him on walks in the English countryside, and makes him tell her exactly how his family came to own a simple cottage in the woods (thankfully it is a happy story instead of one filled with attempted familicide). She loves the fireplace and spends a great deal of time nestled in front of it with her nose in a book.

Even if she doesn't see snow, this Christmas will be one to remember.

If only Klaus can realize that (instead of gloomily reviewing weather reports).

He paces the length of the cottage one night as she curls herself up in the middle of the bed. She has practically burrowed herself in and he can't help but stop to watch her sleep (it calms him, he realizes). He nearly crawls in beside her but instead catches sight of something instead.

He smiles.

It is snowing - big fat flakes are falling from the sky at a steady rate.

Moving forward, he says her name softly. Her response is to twist herself more tightly into a ball, her eyes screwed shut. He feels a small measure of guilt as he reaches forward, his hand landing on what he assumes is her shoulder.

"Camille, love," he says more earnestly.

She moans but unfolds herself, rolling onto her back. She blinks a few times before looking up at him in the dim light.

"Come with me," he urges, offering her his hand.

Camille is reluctant to leave the warmth of the bed. In fact he practically has to pry it from her. He is also the one who makes sure the hat is snug on her head and that the scarf is wrapped about her neck just right. She is still wiping away the sleep from her eyes as she teeters between being awake and being annoyed.

(he finds it adorable; not something that he will admit aloud lest he push her solidly in the annoyed direction)

There is a rush of cold air when he opens the door and for a moment he thinks she will dive headfirst back into the bed. He takes her hand in his and they leave the warmth of the cottage behind.

It takes her a second or two to realize just why he has dragged her out of bed in the middle of the night. In fact, as she stands there stamping her feet, he gets a taste of unbridled fury on her face (again, absolutely adorable).

But then a snowflake lands square on her nose.

She narrows her eyes to take a close look at it.

"It's snowing," she breathes, tilting her head upward. Snow falls freely on her face now, one catching in eyelash. She blinks it away and then laughs. "It's actually snowing!" She dances around a little, head still towards the sky.

He watches, knowing that all the frustration of the past few days has been worth it.

She reaches for him, to pull him into her excitement. Her laughter echoes through the trees around them. He decides right then and there that they will always come to Lancashire for Christmas.

(and that he will tell no one that he has danced in the snow)