(I'm totally supposed to be doing work, but don't tell. And I so went there with the title.)
Snow has trapped all of those not fortunate enough to leave early for the holidays. The white precipitation falls thick and heavy outside.
Ainsley watches from the window. Snow isn’t a foreign concept; she did go to Smith and Harvard. But it still manages to bring about a bit of wonder in her every time she sees it. North Carolina on average doesn’t receive a lot of the stuff, at least not in Raleigh so far from the mountains.
She sighs. The pavement below is completely hidden. She’d already called her family earlier that afternoon, the bearer of the bad news: she won’t be home for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. It will be at least be the day after before she makes the drive two states down.
She’ll survive. She has essential food items and can survive on that and holiday movies on the TV from her childhood.
Someone knocks on her door. Looking through the peephole, Ainsley smiles at who is on the other side. She’s glad she’s wearing the good Harvard sweats and not the ripped up pair. She opens the door and says, “You stuck here too?”
Sam brushes flakes from his overcoat, white against black. “What you get for waiting till the last minute to fly out.”
“Or drive in my case.” She moves to the side, and gestures for him to enter the apartment. “No reason to spend it alone.” What they have is new, too early for holidays spent together. But this is a special case, she thinks. Allowances can be made.
He gives her a sheepish look. “That’s what I thought. I brought wine,” he shakes the bottle in his hand before handing it over.
It’s a Californian and she grins. “I’ve got some sugar cookies that would go great with this.”
Sam laughs, blue eyes bright and mouth pulled up at the corners. “Of course you do.”
She grabs two glasses and her wine opener, along with the plate of tree shaped cookies. “Don’t laugh,” she orders. “Or you don’t get any. And you can’t watch any of the Christmas movies.”
He’s taken his coat off now and joins her near the couch. “Well, I do like those.”
“That’s what I thought.”
It’s A Wonderful Life is only thirty minutes in. They sprawl out and watch. The cookies and the wine both disappear. Outside the snow continues to fall. There are worse ways to be trapped.
baby, it's cold outside, G, Sam/Ainsley
Snow has trapped all of those not fortunate enough to leave early for the holidays. The white precipitation falls thick and heavy outside.
Ainsley watches from the window. Snow isn’t a foreign concept; she did go to Smith and Harvard. But it still manages to bring about a bit of wonder in her every time she sees it. North Carolina on average doesn’t receive a lot of the stuff, at least not in Raleigh so far from the mountains.
She sighs. The pavement below is completely hidden. She’d already called her family earlier that afternoon, the bearer of the bad news: she won’t be home for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. It will be at least be the day after before she makes the drive two states down.
She’ll survive. She has essential food items and can survive on that and holiday movies on the TV from her childhood.
Someone knocks on her door. Looking through the peephole, Ainsley smiles at who is on the other side. She’s glad she’s wearing the good Harvard sweats and not the ripped up pair. She opens the door and says, “You stuck here too?”
Sam brushes flakes from his overcoat, white against black. “What you get for waiting till the last minute to fly out.”
“Or drive in my case.” She moves to the side, and gestures for him to enter the apartment. “No reason to spend it alone.” What they have is new, too early for holidays spent together. But this is a special case, she thinks. Allowances can be made.
He gives her a sheepish look. “That’s what I thought. I brought wine,” he shakes the bottle in his hand before handing it over.
It’s a Californian and she grins. “I’ve got some sugar cookies that would go great with this.”
Sam laughs, blue eyes bright and mouth pulled up at the corners. “Of course you do.”
She grabs two glasses and her wine opener, along with the plate of tree shaped cookies. “Don’t laugh,” she orders. “Or you don’t get any. And you can’t watch any of the Christmas movies.”
He’s taken his coat off now and joins her near the couch. “Well, I do like those.”
“That’s what I thought.”
It’s A Wonderful Life is only thirty minutes in. They sprawl out and watch. The cookies and the wine both disappear. Outside the snow continues to fall. There are worse ways to be trapped.