So Long

“I’m sorry, but all flights have been grounded, ma’am.”

Claire blows out her breath heavily, glancing over her shoulder. Niall stares down at his phone with a frown, and she knows he’s checking the forecast; she doesn’t know why since the staff in the airport already told them everything they can about the storm system that’s moved in. She turns back to the attendant and forces a smile. She asks about nearby hotels, and he shrugs in sympathy. The urge to smack him grows when he gives her another pitying look at her inquiry regarding rentals. Nodding, she grabs the tickets and voucher off the counter, pivots on her heel, and makes her way through the crowd of grumbling passengers. Niall locks his phone as she approaches.

“No flights out for the foreseeable future, and most - if not all - rentals have been booked.” She tucks the papers into her bag, pulls out her own phone. “I’m already looking for a hotel right now, and I’ll be contacting the credit card company to see about a refund for our tickets through the flight insurance as soon as I have a second to breathe so don’t try to boss me around.”

“But I am your boss,” he responds with a laugh.

She rolls her eyes and taps on the number that comes up on Google’s search results. Niall chuckles, sitting down in a nearby chair; Claire bites her lip and paces as she waits for someone to answer the phone. When the line clicks and the woman on the other end gives the standard greeting, Claire turns away from her boss’s steady gaze and goes into what Tim likes to call her “customer service personality”.

“Hi, Lindsey, how are you this evening? Listen, we’re at JFK Airport, and our flight’s been cancelled because of the blizzard that’s heading this way. I was wondering if you perhaps had any rooms for the night? At this point, I’m not picky. It can be the worst room you have, and we’d take it.”

“Let me check that for you, ma’am. Okay, it looks like we’ve got one room left.”

“Oh, fantastic. Is there anyway you could hold the room until we get there?” Niall instantly stands, grabs their bags, when Claire snaps and points toward the exits, and they rush side-by-side through the busy airport. “We are literally on our way right now.”

When the woman speaks again, it’s in a low voice, hushed as if sharing a secret. “I’m not supposed to do this, but I can mark it as reserved for an hour. After that, if you haven’t arrived, I’ll have to give it away.”

“You’re so wonderful. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you so much, Lindsey.”

Claire hangs up after giving Lindsey her name and one more fervent thank you and takes one of the bags from Niall. He somehow manages to push to the front of the throng, charms his way into taking a taxi from a disgruntled businessman, and she ducks into the backseat. Her knee bounces as the cabbie pulls out of the lane; she hopes they can make it in time. The fact that they got incredibly lucky doesn’t go unacknowledged - at least one thing tonight has gone right, unless they don’t get there before Lindsey has to give away the room.

They’re still a little over a block away by the time her internal timer says they only have ten minutes, and traffic is at a standstill in the blustering snow. Claire glances at her phone then up at Niall. He stares out the window, brows drawn low over his blue eyes. Her heart aches with how exhausted he is, how his hands have a minute tremble due to the stress and fatigue; he’s been on the move for the past couple of days, and the travelling hasn’t made anything easier. Thankfully, getting back home should help. Another minute ticks past.

“I’ll meet you there,” she announces suddenly, and Niall turns his head toward her.

But she’s already out of the cab, shutting the door on his protests. She doesn’t bothering saying an apology to her boss, the cabbie, or the driver of the car that nearly collides with her as she runs toward the sidewalk. It is utterly absurd, she think, that there are still people walking around in the cold and wet. She regrets not grabbing something thicker than a hooded sweater before leaving the airport. In her defence, she hadn’t planned on running a full block in inclement weather. A gust of icy wind stings at her cheeks, and her nose has gone numb already.

Claire squints to protect her eyes from the swirling snowflakes and continues on her trek, no matter how obscured her vision has become with the worsening flurries. Her foot lands in a pile of slush at the side of the road, and she winces as the frozen water splashes cover her ankle. She doesn’t stop, though, just pushes through the mass of thick coats. A delivery truck driver slams on the horn as she darts across the street, though there wasn’t need for it: She had plenty of time before he approached the intersection. She tugs the messenger bag further onto her shoulder and slows to a walk once she reaches the hotel. Niall is nowhere to be found in the lobby.

“Hi there.”

“Hey. Lindsey?”

The woman’s smile grows, and she nods excitedly. “Claire Hunter, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

“Right on time!”

Claire digs through the bag for her wallet, coming up victorious after a frantic search. She passes over her ID and the credit card, wraps her arms tightly around herself, and shivers as the warmth of the hotel seeps through the cotton of her hoodie; it’s almost painful in comparison to the numbing cold that currently wraps itself around her. She’s just slid the cards back into her wallet when the door slides open with a soft scraping noise. Lindsey frowns, calling out to the newcomer that there aren’t any vacancies. Claire avoids looking at the person. She’ll feel too guilty about them not getting a room if she sees them.

“Actually, I’m with her.”

She turns at the familiar accent and smiles. “Hey, Boss Man.”

“You are ridiculous, you know that, right? Who the Hell runs an entire block in the middle of a damn blizzard?”

“Someone who didn’t wanna lose the room?” she says as cheerfully and innocently as she can. She faces Lindsey again. “Thank you so much for this. We truly appreciate it.”

“Uh, not a problem. Here’s your room keys, have a wonderful night.”

Lindsey looks a little star-struck as Claire takes the little envelope from her lax fingers. There’s a slight twinge of guilt in her gut - her brain scolds her, tells her she should have warned the poor woman as to who would be staying in the hotel tonight. Niall follows Claire to the elevator; his cheeks are flushed from the cold, and her mind helpfully supplies an image of Rudolph the reindeer as she catches sight of the ruby hue to the tip of her boss’s nose. She giggles at the mental picture of Niall leading Santa’s sleigh through the Christmas night sky. All he does is roll his eyes good-naturedly. He’s quite accustomed to her peculiarities and the way she can never hold back at laughing at her own thoughts. It makes for awkward moments in meetings sometimes, but she doesn’t care.

Claire comes to an abrupt stop once the door is open, and she stares at the room beyond. An armchair sits beside the large window; the navy curtains have been pulled back, tied to the side with a ribbon. A television sits on the corner of the desk next to a vase of fake flowers nestled in decorative pebbles. But what has stolen her attention isn’t the simple opulence of the decor - no, it’s the fact that there’s only one bed. Niall nudges her with the end of a duffel bag, and Claire jerks to attention, stepping quickly out of the way. His blue eyes narrow slightly, the dawning realisation evident on his face. When he glances at her, she raises her shoulders apologetically.

“I did tell her we weren’t picky about the room.”

His chin dips in a sharp nod; he drops the luggage on the floor by the wall, sits on the end of the bed, and unties his shoes. She grabs the laptop and work phone from the messenger bag as he searches for a change of clothes before disappearing into the bathroom. Claire ignores the thoughts that try to creep in when the shower starts up, instead forcing herself to focus on sending out an email to the company they’re supposed to be having a business lunch with tomorrow. Once that’s done, she locates the receipts in the inbox and dials the customer service number on the back of the credit card.

“Yes, I’m aware of this,” she says with a forced calm then covers the end of mouthpiece of the phone to curse under her breath. “As I stated in the email, Mister Pierce, there were no rentals available, and all flights were cancelled due to the storm.”

“I just find it unprofessional -”

“And I’m sorry you feel that way, sir, but as neither I nor Mister Horan can control the weather, our sincerest apologies are all we can offer at this time.”

“Fine.”

The man ends the call without anything further, and Claire exhales heavily, letting out the stream of swearing she’s been holding back. She doesn’t know why Pierce just had to call; it isn’t like he was planning to show up to the lunch anyway, what with having very little to do with the company in the first place. Pierce has proven himself to be the type of big-wig who’ll puff and bluster and demand but won’t actually put in the work like the others do. Claire’s been biting her tongue for a long time in regards to the man. Now, she turns her gaze from the screen of her phone.

“Why the Hell does that company keep that asshole around?”

Niall snorts, tugging a shirt over his head, and a small part of her mourns the loss of his damp skin on display. “I have no idea. But I’m glad you’re the one who has to deal with him most often.”

“Because you’re an ass.”

“As you’ve said. Repeatedly, I might remind you.”

“Well, Abby lied. She said you were a sweetheart. I’m still waiting for that side of you to come out.”

He barks out a laugh and shakes his head; Claire easily catches the small nylon bag that holds her shower items he tosses her way. Sticking her tongue out at him, she sets the work electronics to the side and pads across the room to grab her duffel. She sets it on the corner of the mattress and rifles through the chaotic mess of unfolded clothes. She frowns down at the cotton shorts she pulls out. She forgot she packed the Eeyore ones; it hadn’t mattered that she was on a business trip, no one but her knew what she wore to bed. But that was when she and her boss weren’t being forced to share a room - or a bed. She quickly grabs a T-shirt and a clean pair of underwear then disappears into the bathroom.

Luckily, there’s still hot water, and the pressure is absurdly amazing as it beats against her skin, leaving pinpricks of hot-burn before it slides off. She tries to hurry through the shower, who knows when someone is going to decide Mister Horan’s personal assistant doesn’t need time off, but she lingers under the spray admittedly longer than necessary. The supplied towels aren’t nearly as amazing as the shower, and she winces at the rough drag of the fibres as she scrubs her body dry. After running her brush through her hair with efficient tugs and brushing her teeth, she gathers up her dirty laundry and exits the bathroom, flipping the light off as she goes.

Niall glances away from the television when she re-enters the main room; she avoids eye contact, but she sees from the corner of her eye his raised brows and the way he bites his lip to stifle laughter. He’s just jealous that she can pull off pyjama shorts with a cartoon depressed donkey. She shoves the clothes into her duffel then flops down into the armchair.

“I don’t bite, ya know.”

I’ve read enough fanfiction, sir, so I know where this would go if I sit on the bed with you, Claire thinks but doesn’t say. Instead, she shrugs and gives him a small smile. “It’s okay. Gotta finalise the itinerary now that there’s been a wrench thrown into the plans.”

“Or, and this might be a wild suggestion, you could relax and take the night off, get some sleep because we know you work yourself to exhaustion.”

“That’s my boss’s fault. Real wanker, he is.”

“That hurts!” he says with another laugh; she ducks her head as her cheeks burn, pride exploding like fireworks in her chest at making him laugh like that. “I don’t think I’m that bad.”

“Nah, you’re actually worse.”

He tosses a pillows in her direction, and she gapes at him after it hits her in the face. She doesn’t hesitate to lean down and grab it off the floor, scurrying across the room to swing it. This starts an impromptu pillow-fight, and Claire lets herself get lost in the back-and-forth of hitting each other, gasping in mock outrage and bursting at the seams with the laughter. Eventually, Niall holds up his hands in surrender. She doesn’t trust it, hits him once more with the pillow before letting it fall to the bed.

His eyes shine brightly in his face, cheeks pink and lips spread into a wide toothy grin. His hair is a mess - not the usual immaculately-styled ‘do but sticking up in all directions. She glances down, just for a split second, but it’s enough to see the flush that extends below his neck. Biting her lower lip, she realises she’s staring and turns away quickly. She wonders as she does if the disappointment on Niall’s face is real or if she’s imagining it.

The air in the room is thick, awkwardness palpable, but Claire doesn’t question it. She can’t bear the thought of voicing anything of the tight knot in her throat, the heat that’s blossomed in her gut, or the fact her thoughts are suddenly revolving around her boss in a manner completely unbefitting of their professional relationship. She sits back down in the chair, stares blankly at the television. The show does nothing to capture her attention, but she pretends to watch it anyway.

A sigh comes from the bed; the blankets shift and slide together, and she hears the soft thump as the extra pillows hit the floor. Niall’s goodnight is almost inaudible. Her lips are numb as she murmurs her hope of him having good dreams. The lamp goes out, leaving only the flickering wash of colours from the television to illuminate the room. Her belly is filled with a heavy cold, the sense of dread that comes before the change of everything. Claire makes a mental note to not let anything be different than normal - this job... her friendship with Niall, even if she’s his employee... it means too much to her for her to let it change.