#csrr

    He’d been acting oddly for the past few weeks.  He’d start to ask her something, stop, and then tell her to forget it.  Or change the topic.  Two weekends ago she’d walked into a room where he and their friend David had been talking, only for them to go completely silent.  It had just been for a moment, but that moment was enough for Emma to realize that they’d been talking about her.

    Later, she’d mentioned all of this to her best friend, Mary Margaret, who’d squealed with joy and suggested that Killian was going to propose soon.  And no matter how much she rejected the idea she couldn’t get it out of her head.  

    Killian arrived exactly at 6:45pm, knocking on her front door like he didn’t have a key to her apartment and the sound sent butterflies through Emma’s stomach.  She unceremoniously opened the door as she pulled the zipper up on the tall, black leather boots she’d decided to pair with the short, red dress she was wearing.

    “Need help, love?”

    Emma shook her head as she stood.  Killian already held her warmest wool jacket and like a gentleman, helped her into it.  She gave him a quick kiss in thanks.  Killian himself was bundled up against the cold in a long, navy blue pea coat with a black beanie on his head.  It must be really cold outside for him to eschew his wide array of black leather jackets in favor of something more sensible.

    After she locked her apartment door, she turned and asked, “So where are we going?”  

    Killian held the door as they exited her apartment building. “A pub opened up down by the harbor a few weeks back, called The Hope and Anchor.  Eric says their onion rings are the best he’s had in ages.”

                                                          ~*~

    The pub was fantastic.  It had been built in an old wharf warehouse and even though it had been renovated, they had obviously tried to retain as much of the original feel as they could. She’d half expected it to be decorated in an over-the-top nautical theme, but had been thrilled to be wrong.  There was a heavy anchor propped up in one corner and ship-in-a-bottle behind the bar, but other than those, the walls were covered in an eclectic assortment of items she’d come to expect from any New England pub. Except this one did have some absolutely amazing onion rings.

    “Don’t tell Granny, but I do believe these are the best onion rings in the state,” Emma said as she grabbed another onion ring from her plate and popped it in her mouth.

    Killian brought his hand up and thoughtfully stroked his face. “That’s a tall order, Swan, asking me to keep a secret from the matriarch of our lovely town,” he said softly.  “I’m going to need something in return.”  

    Emma rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s antics. “And what do you have in mind as payment, to keep this damaging information to yourself?”  

    “What about…” Killian took a slow sip of his rum, “you agree to be my Valentine?”

    An unbidden blush spread across Emma’s cheeks.  She’d never been someone’s Valentine before.  

    Emma reached across the table, grabbed Killian’s hand and gave it a tug. Taking the hint, he leaned forward enough for her to kiss him. “Is that all?” she whispered against his lips.

    “Move in with me.”

    He said it so softly that at first, Emma wasn’t sure she’d understood him correctly.  But as soon as she figured out that he had, in fact, said what she’d thought he’d said, she jerked back.  

    “What?”

    Hand scratching behind his ear, Killian looked a bit sheepish as he repeated himself.  “I want you to move in with me.  We spend every night together, unless you’re working, and half of my closet is full of your clothes, so it doesn’t make sense to keep living apart.”

    He continued to ramble on about all the benefits of them living together, but all Emma could concentrate on was the sinking feeling in her stomach.  

    Why did he have to bring this up now?  On today of all days?

    He knew…          

    “I…” Emma started, but paused when she realized she had no idea what to say.

    Killian caught her hesitation and stopped talking. He started at her, obviously confused.

    “Emma, what’s wrong?”

    A surge of anger washed through Emma and she pushed herself away from the table.

    “Wrong?  What’s wrong?” she snapped. “You know… you know how much I hate it when people use this holiday as an excuse to make big life decisions.  It’s stupid and cliché.”

    Killian blinked, taken aback.

    “Emma, I’ve been wanting to ask you for months…”

    “And you couldn’t find some other time to ask? Why did it have to be today of all days?”

    “Why does the day matter?” Obviously frustrated, Killian ran his hand through his hair.  “I know you hate Valentine’s Day because of the forced emphasis on romance and love, but it’s just another day.  It doesn’t have any bearing on my desire for us to live together. I asked just now because I finally had the courage to do so.”

    Hearing that cooled Emma’s anger, as if a cold bucket of water had been poured over her. She felt ashamed at the way she lashed out.  She needed to get out of there before she could do more damage to their relationship.

    “I… I’m sorry,” was all she managed to say before she stood and fled from the pub.

                                                         ~*~

    Killian continued to stare at the door his girlfriend had just ran out of, not yet fully comprehending what had just happened.  He’d expected Emma to be hesitant, at first, at the suggestion that she move in with him, which he understood.  She valued her space.  Living on her own represented independence.  Strength.  He figured he’d need to convince her that living with him wouldn’t make her any less strong or capable of taking care of herself.  

    But in all the scenarios his anxious mind had concocted about how asking could go wrong, her freaking out about it being Valentine’s Day was not one of them.

    I should go after her, he told himself.  

    With a sigh, Killian tossed back the remaining rum in his glass.  He pulled enough cash from his wallet to cover the tab plus a generous tip and dropped it on the table.  He gave the bartender a casual wave as he left.

    “Bloody hell,” he swore when the biting wind hit his skin.  It had started to snow and a fine dusting covered the ground.  With the collar of his coat pulled up as far as he could get it, Killian set forth following Emma’s footprints.  He caught up with her after a few minutes.  However, he didn’t think she would welcome his presence at the moment, so he hung back.  

    “I probably look like a stalker,” he muttered.

    Regardless, Killian was determined to make sure that Emma made it home alright, so he followed at a leisurely pace. Not that Emma needed protection and he knew she would have a right fit if he suggested that she couldn’t take care of herself.  She was more than capable of doing so.  He was just… being an idiot.

    When Emma turned down the street to her apartment, Killian admitted to himself that he needed to go home himself.  That would give Emma the night to think about the possibility of them living together.  He’d call her in the morning and suggest breakfast at Granny’s.  

    Resigned, Killian turned and headed home.  

                                                            ~*~

Part 2

“For the last time, Killian, it’s Emma!” Emma barked through a chortle. Something then flew from her form to his, something small, and something fast, but something Snow also couldn’t quite see -- that is, until it hit him in the chest.

Yes, the man -- Killian -- filled in the remaining blanks of her sight with another yelp.

“Bloody hell, that’s cold!” he shouted, as what was clearly now a snowball made contact with the space just above his ribs.

“Not used to the winter?” Emma asked, the hand that held her snowball now resting against her hip.

“Not at all,” Killian answered, seemingly coming down from the chill that the snowball birthed in him. “My work tends to keep me in warmer climates.”

It made sense, now that Snow thought on it. The way he was dressed spoke of a military profession, and if Snow remembered correctly from his introduction alongside his brother earlier in the evening, he was a lieutenant.

Hmm. A princess and a lieutenant -- how unorthodox. 

Snow wasn’t surprised though -- after all, this was her daughter.

And they looked cute together.

“But,” Killian continued, “I will say, though the winters here are merciless, they are indeed beautiful all the same, just as you are, Your Highness.”

Instinctively, Snow’s hand shot to her mouth.

Killian seemed to instantly tell what he has done wrong as well, as a sound -- not of any existing tongue, but one that could only come from the worst of realizations -- left his mouth not three seconds after he addressed Emma.

Bless this young man’s heart -- Snow knew he was quite earnest and liked him already, but she knew her daughter well, a Emma was never one for royal titles.

“I-I!” Killian started saying, trying to cover up his tracks.

But Emma crouched to the ground and rolled up another snowball, clearly not about to let him get away with it.

“Looks like the lesson hasn’t sunken in yet,” Emma said, seemingly very excited about what was to come once more. “Good thing you like the winters here, because here’s another taste of them.”

Killian tried to catch the snowball with his hands, but was woefully unprepared for Emma’s speed. After all, lieutenant or not, no one could compare in a snowball fight to the girl who cornered her own father when she was only nine.

And so another snowball hit him, this time square in the chest. Another followed seconds later, just above Killian’s right bicep. A third hit just seconds after that, this time on his left knee. 

Despite every part of her upbringing telling her she shouldn’t Snow couldn’t help but laugh as she watched the scene before it. 

“Emma, Emma, Emma!” Killian yelled. “That’s your name! I promise to Poseidon that that’s all I’ll ever call you from now until my dying days! As far as I’m to ever concern myself with, the only name you go by is Emma! Will that suffice?”

Snow could hear her daughter chuckle as she approached Killian.

“Well,” she said, “when you put it like that, how can I say no?”

Killian’s breathing was so loud that Snow could hear it from the balcony, but while it was heavy, the last thing she expected to see was him fall to the ground from exhaustion.

That made it all the more startling when that’s exactly what happened.

“Killian!” Emma cried, her tone quickly shifting from lighthearted to worries as she now ran over to help him. Snow covered her mouth, now in freight, not daring to utter so much as a call in their direction out of fear of distracting Emma from aiding him.

This man -- he seemed so healthy. There was no way he could just collapse like this, could he?

Then again, Snow knew more than most just how powerful diseases could be in this world. It was certainly possible, and especially in this kind of weather.

Killian was right -- this weather was indeed merciless. But hopefully, it would make an exception this one time.

As Emma was checking on Killian’s situation, that’s what Snow prayed for.

Thankfully, with Emma’s help, it seemed like Killian could at least stand. Snow sighed in solace as she watched them rise from the ground, snowflakes sticking to their clothes, imprinting themselves onto them like fingerprints to a blade. 

Few things were ever as much of a relief as seeing someone come through a scare like that. And though she cared for Killian’s fate, Snow was especially relieved for Emma’s sake. The guilt of feeling like one caused the death or even pain of another was something Snow would never even wish on her most vicious of enemies, let alone her own daughter. Words couldn’t begin to say how good it felt to know that Emma wouldn’t feel that way tonight.

“Thank you, Emma,” Killian said, just barely audible enough for Snow to hear. “I’ve worked with strong sailors before, but you’ve quite the powerful throwing -- and apparently, lifting -- arms on you.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Emma retorted, smiling and winking all the while.

Killian slowly stood back from her, as if testing his balance after his fall. Fortunately, he looked to be stable enough standing on his own, another relief in a moment filled with them. He and Emma smiled at each other, and Snow relaxed her elbows upon the balcony’s edge.

“I promise you I shan’t again.”

Emma turned and looked out towards the rest of the snowy garden, possibly in search of a bench or something they could sit down on.

Snow was tempted to call out to them and see if Killian needed any further assistance as opposed to letting him linger on outside in the cold, but before she could, she saw something in Killian’s right hand. It was obstructed by the night’s sky, but she knew what it was.

Oh, Emma!

Killian smirked. “But,” he continued, “I’ve quite the strong arms myself, and one thing you ought to know is that there’s only one thing a man can say after enduring an attack like that -- revenge is a dish best served cold!”

And with that last sentence, a muted snowball flung through the air and landed right in the middle of Emma’s back.

It was now Emma’s turn to yelp, and yelp, she did.

“Eep!” she screamed, jumping forward, only to trip and land face first into the snow. 

Snow covered her mouth again, though unlike the previous times, she was unsure if it was out of shock, amusement, fear -- for Killian’s sake, that was -- or all three.

“You sneak! You planned that!” Emma shouted.

Killian’s smile had grown into a smirk so large, it bordered on a grin.

“Aye, love. Charming though you may be, I can’t let you get away with your crimes so easily.”

Despite Killian’s retaliation, Emma met it with a smirk as she got up and wiped the snow away, half shocked and half cocky. 

“Something you ought to know, Killian -- Charming is my father, not me. I’m more of the vengeful type too. So trust me when I say you’re going to PAY for that!” 

“Assuming you can hit me again,” Killian cheekily retorted, now smirking at her as he rolled another snowball into his grip. Snow realized as he did so that one of his hands was fake, but he was so adept at it that she hadn’t even noticed it. She wondered if Emma did. “Looks like I’m adapting quite well to these winters, aren’t I?”

“I’d say so, but let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

“Ready whenever you are, Emma.”

Emma said nothing, simply crouching down to grab another snowball of her own.

And then, the fight began. 

Killian took off running, making sharp turns as he ran through the gardens, with Emma hot on his tail. The garden’s smaller space kept the game exciting, and kept them close to each other the whole time. 

Snow had a feeling they liked it that way.

She certainly did. 

For minutes on end, Snow watched them run around, laughing as their various snowballs hit and missed each other without reason or rhyme. It was so exciting to watch that she had completely let the time fly away from her, perhaps for too long given her role at this ball.

And someone took notice of her absence.

“Sn-o-ow?” David called in a sing-song fashion, walking out from behind the curtain onto the balcony, and gently pulling Snow close to him. “I was wondering where you went off to. And where’s Emma? It’s almost time for desser-.”

The finale of that sentence never came, as David grew quiet upon looking out into the expanse of the garden below them, clearly realizing what he was now bearing witness to.

As David studied the two of them, Snow eyed him warily. It was always impossible to tell how David would take things regarding Emma’s love life, and especially under such unconventional circumstances, even Snow was at a loss for how he would react.

After a pregnant pause that followed his glance at Emma and Killian, David looked to Snow, and then back to them, and then back to Snow.

“Are they having a snowball fight?” he finally asked, more confused than any other emotion Snow could so much as hope to discern from him.

“Yes, they are, David,” she answered, careful to keep pride and support in her tone.

David nodded. “Okay. Just wanted to check.”

Then, his reaction came out, and in a way Snow never expected it would -- he smiled.

“You know,” Snow said, positively beaming from his reaction, “when I pictured our daughter falling in love, I probably should’ve considered that beating whoever it was over the head with something was a possibility.”

“You didn’t?!” David cried, mock surprise littered in his voice.

Snow playfully smacked David’s chest, but settled back into his embrace not five seconds later.

“At least the snow won’t leave a scar, unlike the one my lovely Snow did,” he continued.

Feigning shock, Snow turned from him, her mouth agape and a hand to her collarbone. “Are you trying to get kicked out of this ball? Because if you are, know that you’re going to have a far worse time outside than they are if you do.”

David kissed her temple.

“No, I know my wife. She would never kick me out of a ball, and if she did, I would just take her with me.”

Snow chuckled as she once more snuggled up to David and looked out at Emma and Killian in the garden. 

“Do you think we could take them in a snowball fight?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” David answered. “We’re the ones that taught Emma to throw a snowball in the first place.”

“That may be so, but she’s better at it than you.”

David scoffed, though his smile betrayed him. “She got lucky once, and you two have never let me live it down since then. I could take her.”

“He’s good, too. You should’ve seen him get the jump on Emma earlier.”

“Whose side are you on?!” David teased, nudging Snow.

“I’m just being realistic!”

The two of them broke down in laughter, watching as Emma and Killian came together in much the same way.

A powerful gust of wind brought Snow’s attention back to the fact that outside of their little bubble, there was still a ball going on, one they were needed at more than they were on this balcony.

Snow sighed as she sadly looked at David, who was already giving her the same look she knew she herself carried. Balls were wonderful, but she was starting to understand why Emma found herself able to ignore them so easily in favor of having such a wonderful time outside.

From atop the balcony, Snow could see Emma snuggle into Killian’s side, nuzzling her face into an unmarred part of his uniform for warmth while his arms surrounded her. Despite that chill, they looked so warm together.

Still, all it took was another gust to remind Snow that while it was lovely outside, it was indeed cold, and these winters were gorgeous, but intense all the same.

“We should make sure they come inside,” Snow said. She didn’t know how she’d broach the topic, especially since it meant revealing that they’d been watching the two of them for however long they’d all been out here.

Thankfully, before Snow needed to put too much effort into it, David beat her to the punch, at last breaking the silence between the two couples for the first time.

“Hey, guys!” he shouted.

Never before had David seen two people stop what they were doing faster than Emma and Killian as they jumped apart from their embrace and straightened their postures to face David. It was almost enough to make Snow keel over in laughter.

David smirked. 

“They’re serving cake now, and it’s going fast,” he continued. David then turned to Killian. “The first thing you should know about Emma is that she cannot ever be held back from her desserts without serious repercussions.”

The smirk dissolved into a smile, one that grew as he saw the tension drop in both of their shoulders. Emma smiled at him, moving closer to Killian once more.

Killian let himself smile as well.

“Well, in that case, we shall be right up!” he called out. “Can’t have Emma going without a slice. She has too good of an aim to chance the consequences.”

Emma started laughing, a laugh that Snow recognized well. It was a laugh that spoke of such happiness, such hope, and Snow couldn’t be happier to hear it. 

From below them, Emma and Killian made a start for the nearest entrance back into the castle, and while Snow and Charming came back into the ball, Snow made a point to request to one of the servants that a set of matching towels be brought to the door closest to the garden. And while the servant gave her a look, all Snow could do was smile and shrug.