![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: A Gentle Thaw
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Emma/Elsa
Rating: G
Words: 405
Timeline: Season Four's White Out
Notes: Spoilers. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writers_choice, prompt "frozen".
“I’m sorry,” Elsa says, and her voice is so small, so fragile.
Something in Emma's chest aches at the look in Elsa’s eyes. Although that could be the onset of hypothermia, because she feels pretty damn brittle herself right now. She’s shaking constantly, head starting to grow foggy, limbs starting to feel heavy. They haven’t heard from David and Killian in a while, and maybe that’s promising, maybe they’ve got a lead, maybe they’re already tracking down Elsa’s sister.
Or maybe they’ve got nothing, and Emma’s stuck here in this cave of ice, which feels like the inside of a damn freezer.
She takes Elsa’s hand, squeezes her fingers. “It’s okay, you’ll get us out,” she insists, because Elsa looks as scared as Emma feels.
Elsa just shakes her head, miserable and weary. But she squeezes back, and her fingers are warm against Emma’s hand.
Emma exhales a laugh, and Elsa looks confused. “I thought you’d be cold to the touch,” Emma explains. “But you’re not. It’s nice.”
Elsa looks down at their joined hands, looks away, looks back at Emma’s eyes. “I want to help,” she murmurs, and then her hands are framing Emma’s face. Warm skin against the cold that seems to have clawed its way down into Emma’s bones, and she feels her eyelashes flutter, leaning into the touch.
Elsa’s breath is a pleasant shock of heat against her lips, and then Elsa’s kissing her, slow and careful, and Emma groans for how amazing it feels. Shuffling closer, the clatter of her teeth finally stopping as Elsa’s mouth slides against her own, and the contrast of temperatures makes Emma shiver, toes curling in her boots.
She makes a soft, disappointed noise when Elsa pulls back, but she doesn’t go far, arms wrapped low around Emma’s waist. “I’m sorry,” she says again, bowing their foreheads together.
“I know,” Emma assures her. She nudges their noses together, grins as Elsa tilts her head to make the angle easier. “But if you really want to show me you’re sorry, you could keep warming me up,” she suggests with a smirk.
There’s something in Elsa’s eyes that’s almost like a smile, something small but earnest, and Emma’s chest aches again but in a very different way.
“I can do that,” Elsa agrees, that hint of a smile growing brighter, and the next kiss is deeper, hotter, and this time it’s Elsa who moans, holding Emma close.
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Emma/Elsa
Rating: G
Words: 405
Timeline: Season Four's White Out
Notes: Spoilers. For
writers_choice, prompt "frozen".“I’m sorry,” Elsa says, and her voice is so small, so fragile.
Something in Emma's chest aches at the look in Elsa’s eyes. Although that could be the onset of hypothermia, because she feels pretty damn brittle herself right now. She’s shaking constantly, head starting to grow foggy, limbs starting to feel heavy. They haven’t heard from David and Killian in a while, and maybe that’s promising, maybe they’ve got a lead, maybe they’re already tracking down Elsa’s sister.
Or maybe they’ve got nothing, and Emma’s stuck here in this cave of ice, which feels like the inside of a damn freezer.
She takes Elsa’s hand, squeezes her fingers. “It’s okay, you’ll get us out,” she insists, because Elsa looks as scared as Emma feels.
Elsa just shakes her head, miserable and weary. But she squeezes back, and her fingers are warm against Emma’s hand.
Emma exhales a laugh, and Elsa looks confused. “I thought you’d be cold to the touch,” Emma explains. “But you’re not. It’s nice.”
Elsa looks down at their joined hands, looks away, looks back at Emma’s eyes. “I want to help,” she murmurs, and then her hands are framing Emma’s face. Warm skin against the cold that seems to have clawed its way down into Emma’s bones, and she feels her eyelashes flutter, leaning into the touch.
Elsa’s breath is a pleasant shock of heat against her lips, and then Elsa’s kissing her, slow and careful, and Emma groans for how amazing it feels. Shuffling closer, the clatter of her teeth finally stopping as Elsa’s mouth slides against her own, and the contrast of temperatures makes Emma shiver, toes curling in her boots.
She makes a soft, disappointed noise when Elsa pulls back, but she doesn’t go far, arms wrapped low around Emma’s waist. “I’m sorry,” she says again, bowing their foreheads together.
“I know,” Emma assures her. She nudges their noses together, grins as Elsa tilts her head to make the angle easier. “But if you really want to show me you’re sorry, you could keep warming me up,” she suggests with a smirk.
There’s something in Elsa’s eyes that’s almost like a smile, something small but earnest, and Emma’s chest aches again but in a very different way.
“I can do that,” Elsa agrees, that hint of a smile growing brighter, and the next kiss is deeper, hotter, and this time it’s Elsa who moans, holding Emma close.
