And some mindless autumn fluff to celebrate the hiatus being over!
Summer was reluctant to leave that year, lingering long past the equinox and almost into October. The leaves were hardly changing and the lack of autumn rain meant the grass just dried up and turned greenish-brown a few months early. The heat lingered and made everyone grouchy, but the lack of humidity meant that as warm as it got during the day, the temperatures plummeted once the sun went down.
It was, Emma decided, the worst time of year.
She'd throw on a sweater in the mornings, her feet cold on the floorboards, but by eleven she'd be sweating and stripping it off and draping it over the back of her chair at the station. But around five, when she left to meet her family for dinner, the sweater would slowly move from being held, to her arms in the sleeves, and then the whole damn thing back on by the time she reached Granny's. It was too warm in the day to think about leaving the windows closed but it was too cold at night to leave them open – and with winter right around the corner Emma felt it was a sin to turn on the heat, even overnight, when it wasn't even October yet.
So they made do, closing the windows or leaving them open a crack, and Emma counted herself very lucky to have herself a human space heater in her bed.
She came home late one night – very late, some of the newcomers refused to abide by the Rabbit Hole's last call and Emma not only had to clear everyone out but lock a few up in the drunk tank overnight when they got handsy – and was surprised to see the house dark. Normally Killian waited up for her, though it was nearly four in the morning.
She grimaced at that. She hoped he wasn't worried, she didn't have time or free hands to text him and let him know what was up.
She hung up her jacket and left her boots near the door, the floorboards feeling cool even under her socks. It was near freezing tonight – no calls for frost in the morning, but it would be a near thing – and Emma was sure Killian had left more than a few windows open a bit downstairs to let the air circulate. She was looking forward to warm pajamas and a warmer pirate, but the prospect of getting naked first and then putting on pajamas was not one she looked forward to.
Their bedroom was dark as well, with a large, Killian-shaped lump under the covers and the mild buzzing sound that was his snore drifting on the air. Emma smiled to herself as she hurriedly changed and the chilly air sent goosebumps all over her body. Whatever he did today, he must be tired, she thought as she ducked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and take out her contacts.
Usually if she had a late night, she'd come up to find him reading in bed or playing with her tablet – he liked poker apps, though he'd been disappointed to learn that the millions he was winning was, in fact, fake money. So to find him fast asleep meant he'd worked hard; she tried to remember if he'd mentioned his plans for the day and came up with nothing. I'll ask in the morning.
Her side of the bed was cool, but Emma slid right in and molded herself against Killian, tucking her cold feet under his legs and giggling to herself when he made a sleepy sound of acknowledgement. His hand groped for her and found her waist, pulling her tight against him. Emma kissed his forehead as he went still again, soaking in his warmth and the comforting weight of his arm around her, and decided that maybe this wasn't the worst time of year after all.
She fell asleep with a smile, lulled by the light buzz of his snores.