Chapter Text
Not for the first time in her life, Anne was late. She was running full speed through a crowded airport, shoes soaked with melting snow, and desperate to reach her gate before the plane took off. A storm was brewing, and Anne was afraid that if she missed this flight, she wouldn’t be able to get home for days. And she really needed to get home.
It was nearly midnight on December twenty-third. She had planned to sleep on the plane. Then she would be refreshed and ready to spend all day Christmas Eve baking with Marilla. Anne had begged her boss to let her off work a day early or even just a few hours, but they happened to run late on the worst day possible.
Anne worked for one of the biggest newspapers in Canada. It was an incredible opportunity, but it was unfortunately located on the opposite side of the country from Prince Edward Island. It would be easier to tolerate being so far away from family if she didn’t hate her job. All she did was run around doing errands for her boss, Josephine. The closest she got to journalism these days was skimming other reporters’ work for typos one last time before they were sent to print. Anyway, her shitty boss from her shitty job was the reason she was sprinting through the Vancouver airport, dragging her suitcase that she wasn’t even sure was fully zipped, with red hair flying behind her.
She had just reached the gate when the flight attendant grabbed the intercom and said, “The twelve-a.m. flight to Prince Edward Island has been delayed due to weather. Please standby for further information.”
Anne slumped down into the nearest chair. She pulled out her phone to call Marilla and tell her she’d be running late, if she even made it at all. Marilla was understanding, of course. It wasn’t Anne’s fault the impending storm would prevent the planes from taking off, but she was upset that she wouldn’t get to see her little girl for Christmas. It had been so long since Anne had been home. She was glad she wouldn’t have to see the disappointment on Matthew’s face when Marilla told him Anne wouldn’t make it. She winced at the image. Matthew and Marilla were her only family in the world, and she was so lonely without them. Matthew’s health had been dwindling these past few years, Anne was starting to worry they wouldn’t have many Christmases left to spend together. She hung up the phone and took a few gasping breaths, trying not to cry.
Anne was trying to distract herself by checking the weather radar when she heard someone say, “Excuse me?” She assumed someone was trying to get the attention of the flight attendant at the desk, so she ignored it and kept scrolling. Until there was a light tug at one of her curls and the same voice saying, “Hey Carrots, I’m talking to you.”
If Anne had been more well-rested and wasn’t dealing with the heartbreak of missing her favorite holiday, she may have handled things better. But instead, she jumped out of her chair and spun to face the man at her side.
“What is your problem?” she yelled. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, resisting the urge to whack him across the face with whatever she could reach. What kind of person not only rudely interrupts a woman who was already upset but also feels the need to pull her hair and call her names when his initial strategy of getting her attention didn’t work?
The man flinched back and stared at her, blinking slowly. Anne took the opportunity to examine him while his brain caught up. He was tall with messy dark curls and a crooked smirk. He wore a nice black suit, a clean white shirt, and the ugliest Christmas tie she had ever seen. Seriously, it looked like something an elf would throw up. But most significantly, he was hot. No, that wasn’t right, this guy was straight up handsome, like star-of-a-cheesy-rom-com level gorgeous. And by the looks of the infuriating grin that managed to spread against his face, he was well aware of that fact.
His smile dropped when he saw her brows furrow and her face turn red. “Whoa, sorry, I was just trying to get your attention. You seemed kinda out of it.” He gave a nervous chuckle and wrung his hands.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“I’m sorry, I was just… wondering if I could use your phone? Mine is dead, and I’d really like to call my family to tell them my flight’s been delayed. I… I promise I only need a minute or two.” She glanced down at the phone in her hand and contemplated handing it over. Goddamn it, he was cute when he stuttered. Regardless, Anne was still mad at the asshole. But it was almost Christmas, and she understood how frustrating it was to have a flight canceled. Also, there was something dark that passed behind his eyes when he paused for a second before saying ‘family’, like the word didn’t feel right in his mouth. It made Anne feel sorry for him, and a bit curious.
“Yeah, fine.” She shrugged, suddenly calm after just screaming at the man, and held out her phone. “But if you take more than ten minutes, I’m reporting you to airport security for theft.” He wrapped both of his hands around hers and the phone and gave them a little shake. His hands were warm and slightly calloused against her skin that was still cold from the wind. It could have been a reassuring gesture, if it wasn’t so weird for two strangers in this situation.
“Alright, fair. I’ll just be a minute, I swear.” He took the phone and walked a few steps away before dialing. He was far enough that Anne couldn’t quite hear everything he said and nothing from the other end of the call, not that she was trying to listen in. She heard him say something about the storm and the plane being delayed and about not having any more information. He said ‘sorry’ about a thousand times and Anne had to try not to smile every time he did because he pronounced it funny. He leaned into the ‘oh’ sound. He said some ‘me toos’ and ‘I don’t knows’ and then he was quiet for a while, listening. She even thought she saw his eyes tear up just the slightest bit.
She studied him closer while he talked. He really was gorgeous, but Anne was more interested in the details of his appearance. She blamed the writer in her more than any personal interest she had in him. That would be ridiculous. He was an asshole.
The man, she realized that she had never caught his name, was an interesting subject. He was full of contradictions. His suit was quite nice, but his shoes looked old and worn. He had a small black suitcase that looked brand new and an old leather bag next to it, like the kind old-timey doctors used to carry. And his very put-together appearance was contrasted by the heavily tousled head of curls, like he had a habit of running his fingers through his hair and not bothering to smooth it back down afterwards.
After tracing each curl with her eyes, they naturally fell to study his face, which to put it in the simplest of terms, was a masterpiece. He had the sharpest jawline she had actually ever seen, magnificent cheekbones, and dark lashes framing the most beautiful brown eyes. They were kind eyes, but there was a deep layer of something dark and sad behind them. He also had very dark, very expressive eyebrows. Every time he paused to listen to something on the other end of the phone, they would furrow together and make a little crease between his eyes, or one brow would lift in a question that whoever he was talking to couldn’t even see. Overall, he was a marvelous specimen and, for some reason, that infuriated her. How and why would a man that seemed like he would be so kind, a man that was nearly crying on the phone with his family, be such a douche to her? Arrogant and rude and aggressive. Anne’s head was spinning.
In the end, he was on her phone for about twenty minutes, but Anne didn’t bother to give him a hard time about it. It seemed like an important call. He handed back her phone and gave a long babbling speech in which he said thank you about four times. She said a simple, “No problem.” But he didn’t walk away. Just stood there staring at her.
After a long pause, he said, “I’m Gilbert.” Anne didn’t know what was happening, so she just responded with her name. He held out his hand to shake hers, which seemed like a weird thing to do considering he had already grabbed her hand while taking her phone just twenty minutes ago, but Anne shook it anyway. They stood in silence for another minute before he said, “Thanks again.” And walked away.
Anne was very confused about everything that had just happened, but she sat back in her chair and pulled out her Kindle that she had packed to read on the plane. Anne used to carry actual books everywhere, but she read so fast she would end up with two or three in her bag wherever she went and after a while it got heavy and bothersome, so she begged Marilla for a Kindle for Christmas one year. It was much more efficient this way. The man, Gilbert, had taken a seat on the other side of the gate, which was not very far away as they were preparing to board a pretty small plane. Anne wasn’t watching him per se, but if she looked up from her reading every once in a while and it happened to be in his direction, it couldn’t be helped.
***
Hours passed and the flight to Prince Edward Island kept getting pushed later and later. Anne’s book was slowly running out of pages, and she was worrying more and more that she'd never make it home. She kept watching Gilbert. Not intentionally, of course. She didn't really know why, but every time she tried to look back down at her book, a few minutes later, her eyes would be pulled back up to watch him. She didn't know why she was so drawn to the rude man she couldn't focus on anything else. She'd have to reread pages of her book over and over and still not get the meaning.
Around two am, Anne looked up from her book to see that Gilbert was no longer in his seat. She looked around curiously, wondering where he had gone, checking the flight attendant’s desk, and around at the nearby gates. After a few minutes, she gave up and went back to her reading, but was startled when out of nowhere there was someone standing right in front of her. She looked up to see Gilbert juggling two cups of coffee from the café in the food court. He checked the labels on the cups more times than should be necessary, then held one out to her.
“I still felt awkward about what happened earlier and like I was maybe a bit rude, so I figured I'd offer up a peace offering. I didn't know your coffee order, and I didn't want to spoil the surprise by asking, so I just guessed. It's a peppermint mocha. You seemed like you'd like something sweet. And festive,” he said, eyeing her green sweater and shiny red Christmas bow earrings. Then he winked at her. He actually winked at her. She took the cup from his hand and sipped it carefully, making sure not to burn her tongue. She closed her eyes as the coffee hit her soul, but tried not to show how all of her worry was melting away into chocolatey bliss. It was none of his business if he had actually guessed her favorite beverage.
“That's redundant,” she said. He furrowed his brows again. She hated that she found it endearing. “You said offer up and then you said peace offering. Using the word offer twice in one sentence is redundant.” He laughed at her then, and his smile was one of the most incredible things she had ever seen. It made her stomach feel weird and nauseous. Anne still didn't know why this complete stranger had such a strange effect on her. “And you were definitely rude.” Anne motioned to the chair next to her and he sat down.