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suncityblues · 3 years

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Bad Luck and Sunshine

Part 1/5 - SPN - 3k words

read on AO3

He can fit all his worldly possessions on the passenger seat of his car.

Car keys, red bic lighter, a toothbrush in a ziplock bag. Cellphone, charger, brown faux leather wallet. A maxed out credit card with the name James Ledbetter on it, and a fake ID to match the card. Fourteen American dollars, one Canadian quarter, a Blimpie’s buy-one-get-one coupon.

A pen with the name of a bank on it, a tin of salt. A paperback with a four leaf clover carefully pressed into the pages between the title and the acknowledgments, and that’s it.

Castiel taps the book in the spot where the clover is pressed. He can feel the slight bump of it.

“They’re supposed to be good luck,” Dean had told him with a shrug when Cas asked why he was rooting around in the grass that day. Dean had handed Cas the book with the clover inside and said, “I used to search for them sometimes when I was a kid. It’s dumb but, hey, I figure we could use all the luck we can get.” Dean had smiled softly then, a bit sheepish. The tips of his ears had gone red.

Back then the world had been ending, so Cas supposed Dean was right, they could use luck.

He remembers trying to be encouraging, saying something about the placebo effect that made Dean roll his eyes and laugh at the same time. He can’t quite recall the specifics of it anymore.

A while later he had reached out to the clover with his grace and found nothing particularly special about it, but kept it and the book anyway. He reaches out again, now, with what little of his power he has left. It’s still just as lucky as any other dead plant.

He takes stock of his possessions again, focusing in particular on the fourteen American dollars and the one Canadian quarter. He checks how much gas he has left in his car and it’s not much. If he keeps going he’ll have to choose between food and gas, just to run out of it again anyway.

He needs to eat sometimes now, and drink water. He needs a shower and a bed if he can get them. Clothes, shoes, soap, toothpaste. All of it costs money, and to get money you have to trade time. Castiel has always found that a little ridiculous but it’s not like he makes the rules anymore.

He’s been pulled over in a dark parking lot in a truck stop town called Laurel for a while now thinking about what to do. Sam and Dean had set him up with the card and the fake ID before he left and Cas doesn’t want to ask them for any more help. He decides Laurel is as good a place as any other to get stuck in.

It’s 9:52 on a Tuesday.

A day and a half later Castiel is once again employed at a gas station. He’d tried a diner, a vegetable canning factory, a hardware store, and a rundown CVS but the gas station is the first place that got back to him. They were short staffed after someone named Ricky had walked out, and desperately needed a replacement. Kendra, the manager, had said “it’s like you were sent by an angel!” When she read through his mostly fictional work history. It had made Cas laugh.

This one is called Sunshine Gas and Go. They have to wear ugly yellow polo shirts that say “Let me know how I can help make your day sunny!” On the back. They keep the beer on the left side of the cooler bank instead of the right and the jerky next to the self-serve coffee but aside from that it’s remarkably similar to a Gas-N-Sip.

He wonders bleakly if he should have been the patron of gas stations while he had the ability.

The angel of Thursday, the angel of gas stations, that’s Cas. The guardian of the spaces you have to pass through on your way to better days, better places.

He sometimes wonders how Nora’s doing; if her kid’s okay.

It takes Sam and Dean five weeks to cave and check in on him. Cas has been in Laurel for the last three.

They pretend to be on their way back from a hunt, a totally routine salt and burn, and just so happen to be refueling at that particular gas station in this particular truck stop, exactly fifteen minutes after his coworker leaves Cas alone to cover the overnight shift. It’s an obvious and flimsy excuse to make sure he’s okay, but he’s known them long enough to understand that obviousness and flimsy excuses to see one another are gestures of affection in the Winchester family. He finds it somewhat exhausting to witness, and even more so to experience but he doesn’t call them out on it.

He does, however, make pointed eye contact with Sam who waves his hands in a placating gesture behind Dean’s back and excuses himself to go stare at the overpriced air fresheners on the other side of the store. He had hoped Sam, at least, would have had the sense to text first.

On the counter next to the cash register there’s a plastic bin with a picture of a bald child in a hospital bed taped to it and some loose change inside. Dean picks the can up, looks inside it, shakes it a bit, puts it down. It’s mostly empty.

“You’d think people’d be a little more generous, what with the cancer kid at stake and all,” he says. When Cas doesn’t immediately reply Dean continues, “Or is this one of those, uh, charity scams? You know, where the evil mega corporation asks you to pretty please donate so they can use it as a tax write off?”

Castiel shrugs, he doesn’t know what the Sunshine Gas and Go does with the money. Says: “I’m not sure, Dean.”

He pretends not to see Dean stick some gum from the display under the counter into his coat pocket. He’s watched Dean do this before to other casheers, leaning close to flirt and making off with what he can. Cas supposes old habits die hard. The gum is sugar free cinnamon.

Dean sees him pretending not to see. He smiles big and bright, his nose does a little crinkle that Cas always liked. The term “shit eating grin” comes to mind, Cas must have heard it somewhere, probably about Dean that time too. He rolls his eyes and says, “How was your hunt? Were you or Sam hurt at all?” He can’t do much besides heal minor cuts and bruises these days, but for the Winchesters he’d still offer what he can.

Dean waves him off, “Fine, fine, got shoved around a bit but it’s nothing a cold compress and a good night’s sleep can’t fix.”

“Speaking of,” Dean segues in a breezyl tone Castiel knows is dangerous territory, “Where are you sleeping these days? You gotta sleep now right?”

The ghost of Rexford sits heavy between them, though it’s been years since then. Cas realizes being back at a gas station might have caught Dean off guard, or felt like some kind of dig at him. He doesn’t know how to explain that it’s just bad luck, and he’s not sure Dean would believe him if he did.

This time around he’s not squatting in the back room with the cleaning chemicals but he is sleeping in his car, just until he has enough money for a place to stay or decides to hit the road again. He knows that’s not anything Dean wants to hear.

“Yes, Dean, I need to sleep” he answers, then pauses. He considers lying but it never works out when he does, and this isn’t life or death; just embarrassing.

Besides, Sam and Dean are observant and thorough even during a glorified social visit, so Cas figures they’d put two and two together as soon as they walked in the door. There’s no way they hadn’t clocked his too-big thrift store jeans under the uniform shirt, or the circles under his eyes. The way his beard is a little patchy from shaving in the bathroom mirror in the truck stop visitor center. It’s likely they’d found his car in it’s discreet parking space at the edge of the lot before coming into the Sunshine Gas and Go.

Cas tries tactful honesty: “I’m saving up.”

And it’s true, he is, though he’s not sure what he’s saving up for. But every Friday he gets a paycheck and brings it to the check cashing place in town. After the fee, and groceries, and little necessities he carefully stores what little he has left in the locked glove compartment of his car, under the book with the clover in it.

Dean’s lips press flat together. He stops leaning over the counter and stands at his full height. He makes an aborted head shaking gesture. He speaks like there’s an awful taste in his mouth.

“So,” he says, slightly too loudly to pay it off as cool. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel sees Sam’s head wip towards them, no longer pretending he’s not eavesdropping.

“So, ah—“ Dean repeats, “you’re gonna, what? Drift around? Lay low in some podunk shit hole for the rest of your life?“ he stops, puts his hands on the counter to steady himself, or to keep from reaching over and grabbing him, Cas isn’t sure. A beat.

“You know what?” Dean says, “Nevermind.”

Cas deflates. He knows Dean disagrees with him leaving so soon after becoming human again, and feels guilty about so many things it’s hard for Cas to keep track of them all, but he knows he couldn’t stay either. Just like lying to the Winchesters, it never works out in the end. With almost no power, he’s no help to anyone, not Sam and Dean, not heaven, not even himself. It hurts to think about but maybe that’s just part of being human.

“Dean—“ he starts to say but he’s cut off.

“Don’t worry about it, man” Dean says, he taps the counter twice with his knuckles, “nice place you got here. I’m glad you’re doing alright.”

Dean swallows and abruptly turns to leave, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Cas watches him go until Sam comes to the counter with two bottles of water, a coffee, and an energy bar.

He puts a twenty down, says apologetically, “For this stuff and whatever Dean stole on his way out.”

“Gum,” Cas supplies, and slides the twenty back towards Sam. “Don’t worry about it,” he says.

The cameras don’t work inside the store, and according to Joanna, the only reason they’re still up at all is to deter would-be armed robbers. Castiel watches less deserving people steal from them all the time, so it doesn’t seem worth it to take Sam’s money.

Sam shakes his head and gives him a flat smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He takes his things but leaves the twenty. Says, “See you around, Cas.” He pauses for a moment, and seems to debate something with himself. Then: “Check in sometimes if you can, okay? You know how Dean can be when he gets worried.”

Castiel knows. He waves to Sam as he walks off into the dark.

Cas checks the gum display, then manually rings up the items Sam bought. He puts the change into the plastic jar with the kid in the hospital bed on it.

A few days later a woman comes in with a ghost behind her. Cas checks the time to keep from gaping. 11:27 AM.

The ghost is a man, perhaps in his mid forties. Too young to be dead, but Cas supposes most people feel that way when they die, no matter how old. When the woman comes to the counter and gives him thirty dollars to put on pump six he sees a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. He puts two and two together.

“That’s a lovely necklace” he says, he looks directly at the ghost when he says it. They make eye contact. The ghost does a sharp inhale for a moment and the lights flicker. The ghost disappears.

Cas frowns, “Sorry about that. It happens all the time,” he lies. He wonders if he could purify the ghost with what powers he has left, that way she wouldn’t have to burn her wedding ring.

The woman seems caught off guard, then smiles politely.

“No worries, it happens all the time at my house too. Must be a faulty power grid in this town or something, my kids swear it’s a ghost or something,” she says.

There’s an apprehensive edge to her voice then, hastily: “have a good one.”

“You too,” Cas says. He thinks about following her out, trying to explain. He thinks about texting Sam and Dean.

The slushie machine makes a mechanical crunching sound and suddenly there’s red goop all over the ground.

Joanna starts yelling and runs for the mop. He goes to unplug the machine and gets sticky pink syrup all over his last clean pair of pants. The ghost slips his mind.

Two days later Dean shows up by himself. It’s 6:43 in the morning on a Tuesday.

Cas has been finished with work for fifteen minutes already but there’s a rush at the end of his shift so he says on to help Javier and Kendra out. It’s mostly people stopping for gas on their way to work, or truckers picking up breakfast before heading back on the road. He doesn’t mind sticking around in the mornings, everyone’s usually too tired to be angry and it’s a nice break from the drunks and the sad eyed kids he usually meets on overnights. The extra money doesn’t hurt, either.

Cas doesn’t notice Dean until he’s placing two coffees on the counter in front of them.

His first words are a surprised, “Oh, hello Dean. Where’s Sam?” Which makes Dean huff, and shift from one foot to the other.

“Not here,” he says, then points at the coffee closest to Cas, “That one’s for you. Milk, no sugar still, right?” Cas nods. He knows this is Dean Speak for an apology. He can feel Javier and Kendra look over at them from behind the other register and the cigarette display, respectively.

Dean smiles, all charm but Cas can tell his face looks a little more drawn than usual, like he’d been driving for too long without a break, “You get off work soon?”

Kendra answers for him, “Yes, he does.” She has a maternal look on her face when Cas turns to her. Javier rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“Shoo,” she says, with a smile. She points at the slogan on his uniform shirt, “Go have a sunny day, James.”

Dean nods, “Yeah, James. Have a sunny day.” There’s that smile again.

Cas closes out his register and gets his coat from the back room. Dean’s waiting for him outside, drinking his coffee and leaning against the Impala. The lighting is the soft grey-blue of the morning, and it feels nice compared to the white fluorescents of the store.

Before Cas can say anything Dean scrubs at the back of his neck, then says, “This coffee tastes like piss. Let’s get breakfast.”

There’re a few diners in town but Cas has never been to any of them. Dean picks one on a whim, because the sign has a 1950’s pinup girl in a skimpy waitress uniform.

It’s warm inside and smells nice, like syrup and strong coffee. Dean orders something called The Lumberjack Platter and when Cas tells the waitress, “Just coffee, thanks” Dean overrides it and orders him scrambled eggs with a side of sausage and toast.

“My treat,” Dean says. Cas shakes his head but doesn’t fight him on it.

Dean avoids talking about anything personal. Instead they mostly chat about the case Sam and Dean are currently working on. Apparently they’ve hit a wall with the research and Sam’s been holed up at the bunker for days pouring over blueprints and hacked security footage. There’s a cursed object in a locked bank vault in Little Rock that’s making people have violent outbursts. The questions are: why did it start acting up now, which lock box it’s in, and how to get to it.

Cas wishes he could still fly, then at least he’d be able to solve two of their problems. He runs the idea of trying to find a spell to make the object useless by Dean and Dean types it into his phone to send to Sam. A moment later it lights up with a call but Dean mutes it and sticks the phone back in his pocket.

Dean changes subjects and tells him about the latest Dr. Sexy storyline, about a vampire nest he took out a few years back, about running into Garth in Topeka. Cas talks about the gas station a bit but mostly just listens. He always likes listening to Dean talk.

When they leave the diner and get back into the Impala, Cas realizes this is the first time he’s enjoyed himself in a long while. He smiles over at Dean, expecting to be asked where he’d like to be dropped off. He’s thinking about the park by the river on the far side of town, it’s a long walk back to the truck stop but he likes to watch the trees shift in the wind and the fresh air there is a nice change from diesel fumes. Instead Dean says, “You still don’t got a place to stay right?”

Cas nods cautiously. He puts his hand on Dean’s upper arm and, not willing to let the day go south, says sternly, “I assure you Dean, while I’m not strictly an angel anymore I still don’t need nearly as much rest as you or Sam do…”

Dean nods at the steering wheel, his jaw moving. Cas can tell he’s also trying to not turn this into a fight.

Dean shifts towards him, Cas keeps his hand firmly on Dean’s arm. The energy in the car changes and suddenly Cas realizes where this is going. Dean puts one hand on his waist and the other comes to rest on Cas’ neck behind his ear. Cas breathes in sharply.

“Dean,” he says, then he broaches the subject he’d been painstakingly avoiding all morning: “Why did you come here today?”

Dean blushes and goes still for a moment, he swallows but doesn’t say anything. After a moment tugs him in gently and Cas takes pity on him. Dean tastes like maple syrup.

It’d been a while since they’d done this, but they fall back into it easily. After a few moments of kissing Dean pulls back. Their foreheads and noses are still touching and they’re breathing hard.

“What I was trying to say was, uh,” his ears get red at the tips, “that I got a room at that Budget Motel by the gas station.”

All Cas can think of to reply is, “Oh, I’d like to see it.”

It makes Dean laugh and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah wanna come up and see my art collection?” He says. Cas doesn’t know what he’s talking about but he likes that Dean keeps his hand on his thigh while they drive.

By the time Cas wakes up for his next shift Dean is gone. There’s a text on his phone that says Sam finally had his breakthrough based on something Cas had said. Then a second one that tells Cas the room is paid through till the end of the week. He can stay in it or not, doesn’t matter to Dean one way or the other. A third one that just says: Thanks.

Cas lays in bed for a moment enjoying the soft sheets and suddenly remembers the ghost.

++++++++++

Thanks for reading :)

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #Dean Winchester/Castiel #supernatural fanfic #my fic #dean winchester #castiel

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hookedonapirate · 6 years

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Handprints On My Soul

Summary: Leaving home and a career as a roller coaster engineer on a whim with his six year old daughter was one of the last things Killian Jones wanted to do. But after falling in love with someone he’d met online to find out he’d been catfished, it seemed like the best idea. It seems even more appealing when Emma Swan, musician and bartender at a charming Irish Pub, enters his life… even if his brother and daughter have to be the ones to help him realize it.

Rated: M for a dash of salty language and a pinch of smut.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of death resulting from labor and mentions of abandonment and emotional and physical abuse. Deals with catfishing/scamming over the internet.

AO3 FFN

A/N: Oh gosh, after four months of working on this little story, I am thrilled to be able to present it to you. In the beginning, I struggled coming up with something that would meet the word-count requirements, so there are some people I would like to thank who helped me, inspired me and allowed me to burden them with this thing while offering an endless amount of support.

First of all, I wanted to give a shout out to all of the moderators of @captainswanbigbang for putting this project together and for always being responsive and helpful throughout the process. And thank you for blessing me with a fabulous artist @shipsxahoy who I really enjoyed working with. Thank you so much, Bianca, for the perfect artwork to accompany this story, including the fic banner above. Please check out the other piece she made for the story and be sure to reblog!

Gifset

I also have to thank @irishswanff for this prompt that helped me get this story rolling, taking on a life of its own. I can’t say too much about the the actual prompt though, because bits and pieces of it are slowly revealed throughout the story. Then there is @resident-of-storybrooke who came up with Killian’s former occupation when I was struggling to. A shout out to @distant-rose who’s as sweet as a cupcake and looked it over, offering a bit of her cultural knowledge and setting me straight on some things. She is the reason Killian’s daughter has an Irish accent, although she is also the reason I had cut out most of my original smut scene ;-)

Last but not least, I have to thank my wonderful beta-reader and dear friend @rouhn for all of her suggestions, for always getting me to see things from a different angle, for her encouragement and allowing me to bounce ideas off of her and for always being my biggest cheerleader and support. Thank you so much for sticking with me Lydia!

I am open to all reviews, even if you don't like the story! Thank you all for reading and for your support and encouragement!

The raindrops pitter-patter on the windshield as the wiper blades swoosh left and right in a continuous motion, permitting visibility of the road ahead. The day is on the cusp of morning and afternoon, and the sky has grown grey and murky, unleashing a monotonous downpour over the streets of Storybrooke. Killian hadn’t seen a drop of rain since his arrival, so it hadn’t occurred to him to bring rain jackets before he’d left that morning.

He’s not even sure exactly why he’s here; he basically picked this place randomly on the map; or at least, his brother did.

After Killian’s heart shattered into a million pieces yet again, he needed to flee from Ohio. Actually, the reasons are more complicated than that—Killian Jones didn’t typically flee at the drop of a hat. His education consisted of mathematics, mechanical engineering and physics; he’s a man of science—a man with a vision and a plan. In high school, his whole future was mapped out before him, down to every last intricate detail—the university he chose to attend, the degrees he required to achieve, the job he dreamed of attaining and the type of woman he desired to marry.

And everything went according to plan, until he took a trip to Ireland and met Milah. Of course, having a wife and starting a family completed the puzzle, but everything he’s worked for, every dream, every drop of sweat, every tear and every part of his carefully crafted plan rose in flames when Milah died from giving birth to their daughter, leaving an empty hole in his life and his heart.

From that point on, he had to live from day to day, figuring things out as he went. When he moved back to the States with his daughter, his older brother helped him as much as possible, and perhaps that complicated things. Liam wanted to do anything to help Killian pick up the pieces of his life, and for once, Killian placed his faith in something he couldn’t design, construct or control. He couldn’t implement safety features or predict the outcome based on statistics or experiments or the laws of physics. He’d poured the fate of his (and his daughter’s) future into something he couldn’t spend months or years carefully envisaging.

He put his faith in a dating site.

Liam said it would be good for Killian to do something in which he’d no idea what the outcome would be. His brother insisted on it, begged him until he relented. Liam wanted him to be happy and hated the fact that Killian had to raise his baby girl on his own, but in Killian’s eyes, raising Raven alone wasn’t a curse or a burden. It was and still is a blessing.

Nevertheless, Killian conceded to his brother’s insistence and created a profile. Within days, he started chatting with someone he discovered had a lot of things in common with him. Little did he know what a disaster that would be.

It’s a shame, really, because he actually thought he could marry this woman. But, boy was he wrong. He was a bloody idiot for trusting someone he’d met on a dating site.

As Killian rolls through the deep puddles scattered among the road, he seeks out a decent place to eat and remembers his brother recommending a small Irish pub and their famous stew when he sees the establishment up ahead. It’s a quaint bar nestled in between a couple of shops and accompanied by a few tables and chairs perched underneath a charming red awning embellished with gold letters reading The Hanged Queen. Killian wonders when exactly his brother has ever been to this town, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t recall.

Nevertheless, his belly’s growling, and he has a wee lassie to feed, so he parks in front of the small pub to his right and cuts off the engine. Turning around, he smiles at his daughter, who’s sleeping soundly and breathing with her mouth slightly opened.

Raven is six years old with porcelain skin and dark, thick tendrils of hair on her head like her mother. When he’d held Raven in his arms for the first time, he made a vow to her; he would make sure to always shower her with love and give her everything she needed. It’s been more difficult than it should’ve been, but he enjoys his role as Papa all the same.

Since he’s currently staying in a small inn until he can find a permanent place to live, his lunch options include this pub or one of Storybrooke’s finest restaurants, including Granny’s Diner, due to the lack of fast food chains in this town. Honestly, he can go for a hot bowl of stew right now, but he can’t bear to wake up his daughter nor does he wish to leave her alone in the car.

Settling on a decision, Killian unfastens his seatbelt, removes his jacket in the cramped space of his seat and scrambles out, lifting the coat over his head to use it as a shield. The rain is relentless, unforgiving, as he hurries around to his daughter’s side, opening the door and unbuckling her from the seat. She begins to stir, disturbed by the noise of the rain as he leans in and lifts the hood of her beige jacket, pulling it over her head. Carefully scooping her up in his arms, he can hear a quiet whine from her mouth as he pulls his jacket over Raven to add more protection from the rain.

“Shh shh, little love. Just getting us some food,” he whispers, making sure her face is burrowed in the crook of his neck and secured under her hood. Kicking the door shut, he feels a shiver skating down his spine as the rain rolls off of him in sheets. He cradles his daughter, holding her closely as he races inside the pub, not caring that he’s getting completely drenched as long as his daughter stays dry.

Killian sucks in the warm air as he enters the pub, wiping a wet brow with his free hand and rubbing his feet against the welcome mat, letting it sponge up the water from his boots. He pulls down his daughter’s hood and kisses her head, panting lightly through the dark locks of hair as he recovers from the small sprint and the brisk air he’d endured.

Taking a wary look around, he’s surprised by the interior of the establishment; it’s a bar but somehow has a cozy feel, with walls painted in a warm red, chestnut table settings, family photos scattered over the walls and soft music pouring from the jukebox on the other side of the room. The smells permeating from the kitchen are undeniably enticing, and Killian is amazed the place isn’t buzzing with patrons at this time of the day, even if it is a bar. It couldn’t possibly compare to the ones in Dublin, but a comforting bowl of Irish stew sounds amazing at the moment.

There’s one other person in the entire joint—a young woman—who’s sitting at the bar. The first thing he notices about her is the pair of red, knee-high leather boots she’s wearing over her skinny blue jeans; her top leg is crossed over the bottom one, slowly bobbing up and down to the rhythm of the music. Quickly tearing his gaze away, he looks behind the bar, seeing no one working.

Killian glances at the woman again, taking in her entire figure. She’s wearing a white turtleneck sweater, and her blonde hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail. He can spot a pair of red, thick-framed glasses, but he can’t see her eyes or her face because she’s turned away from him. He’s pretty sure she hasn’t noticed his presence yet because her face is buried in a book, completely lost in it.

“Excuse me, lass,” he says timidly, catching her attention. Her lips are pressed together firmly as though she’s still consumed in her book and he’s merely a rude intrusion, pulling her back to reality. He can’t blame her though. He’s spent many countless hours using the pages of a book to steal him away from his troubles. “What does a lad have to do to acquire some service around here?” he questions in vexation.

“Depends,” she replies with a shrug. “What do you wish to barter with?” When she turns her head, seeing the young girl in his arms, her features instantly soften, and Killian’s heartbeat staggers, catching the emerald sparkle behind her spectacles. In normal circumstances, he’d be enamored by the sight of a beautiful woman, but considering what he’s been through, he chooses to ignore any changes in his breathing or his pulse from looking at her. He can’t think about having any other lass in his life right now. The only one he needs is his true love, and she’s currently in his embrace with her arms curled around his neck and her dark hair sprawled across his chest.

“I come bearing American dollars,” he clarifies, dragging his hand through his wet, matted hair. “Or does this place take Euros? I have those too.”

She flashes a sarcastic smirk and removes her glasses, setting them down on the counter along with her book as she stands. When she maneuvers around the bar, tossing him a glance, he can’t help but notice how perfectly her face is framed by the long, wavy bangs of hair or how much greener her eyes are without those glasses.

“Judging by the accent, I’m guessing England?” she asks, towing Killian from his deep musings as she grabs a terry bar towel, throwing it over her shoulder.

“That’s where I was born, but I haven’t been there since I was a young lad. The Euros are from Ireland—I lived in Dublin for a few years. Have you ever been?”

“I’ve only visited,” she replies, sauntering over and planting her feet behind the bar, the palms of her hands bracing against the edge of the counter. “I have relatives there whom I didn’t even know about until recently.”

Killian wants to comment or inquire further, but he’s too overwhelmed with shock; he wasn’t expecting her to work here. “Ah, so somebody does tend the bar. I’m relieved it’s not self-service,” he teases lightly.

She dazzles him with a sardonic smirk. “Well just so you’re aware, I don’t serve alcohol to minors,” she throws back. “Regina would kill me if she lost her liquor license because of me.”

Killian gives into a faint chuckle as he hoists Raven up in his arms, securing her more tightly to keep her from sliding. Peering down at his daughter, he sees her eyes blinking open as she nestles her head deeper into the little nook of her Papa, which she always uses as a pillow whenever he’s carrying her around. “No worries. The wee lassie has already drunk her share of rum today.” He means it to be playful, but the blonde’s staring at him with a blank, unfathomable expression, and he’s not so sure if she thinks he’s being serious or not. “It was a joke, lass.”

Her features transform and a smile is curving her lips again as she emits a light laugh, a dimple denting each cheek. “Right, I knew that.”

Killian chuckles as she deposits a menu in front of him and he doesn’t even need to catch a glimpse of it before knowing exactly what he wants to order. “We’ll just take some of your Irish stew.”

“Very good choice. Although, it’s not mine; Regina’s the one who works the magic in the kitchen. I just stand behind the counter, serve drinks and look pretty,” she remarks whimsically, fluttering her eyelashes.

Killian nods and tosses a grin; he can’t exactly argue with her statement. “And read Hemingway when no patrons arrive to bug you about the service of the joint,” he adds playfully, handing her money for the food.

“Exactly,” she laughs, accepting the cash and securing it in the till. “I’ll go put your order in so you can take your young one home. It looks like she’s tuckered out. In fact, why don’t you two go wait in the car and I’ll bring it out to you once it’s done.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden—”

“Nonsense,” the woman cuts him off with a small wave before wandering away from the bar, “it’s not a problem. Besides, your arms must be tired of holding her.” She disappears into the back and returns with a wool blanket. “Here, you both must be freezing; I would offer you a raincoat but it looks like the sun’s starting to peek out,” she points out, looking towards the front of the bar where the light is streaming through the windows.

Arching a brow, he’s rather surprised by her kindness as she approaches and spreads out the blanket before wrapping the two of them into a cocoon. Killian’s breath catches from the close proximity as he watches her tuck the end of the material under one of his hands to secure it in place.

“Thank you. I do appreciate that,” he says graciously as he glances up, catching her gaze. His heart races as he captures a close up of her face, but before he can admire the exquisite features, she’s turning and heading for the door.

“It’s not a problem,” she assures, grabbing the handle and hauling it open for them.

Composing himself quickly, he strides to the offered door and pauses when he reaches it, turning his head as she keeps it propped open for him. “Your service isn’t so bad after all,” he compliments with a dim smile. “although, I do have to say you’re mistaken about one thing…”

The woman knits her brows in confusion before presuming what he could be referring to. “Oh? Is she not yours?” she asks, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just assumed—”

“She is mine…” he quickly affirms, his voice low and gentle, “but I never grow tired of holding her.”

He catches a glimpse of the warm, apologetic smile crossing her face before he peels his gaze away, proceeding out the door.

When he reaches the outside, it’s still raining but it’s barely an unsteady drizzle, and the sun’s shining brightly, reflecting off every raindrop as it falls. The blanket is keeping him warm as he opens the car door to the backseat and ducks inside, gently peeling his daughter off of him and securing her in the seat. The outside of the jacket is drenched from the rain, so he tosses it in the seat next to her for now. Raven’s long lashes flitter open, showing the gorgeous, bright blue irises hidden beneath her sleepy eyelids.

“Did you have a nice nap, apart from all the moving around and nasty rain?”

She nods, smiling up at him. “Yes, Papa. I didn’t mind it,” she replies, her Irish accent thick with sleep.

He smiles, dropping a delicate kiss on her forehead. “I’m glad.” Tearing himself away, he shuts the door before making his way to the driver side. Once he is in his seat, he immediately starts the car, cranking up the heat before fastening his seatbelt.

“Papa?”

“The food will be out in a minute, Sweetheart,” he promises, turning around to flash a small smile; he knows she must be hungry after her nap. “Then we’ll be on our way home.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I was going to ask about.”

His brow rises curiously. “What is it then, little love?”

“I’m not little, ” she corrects with a scowl. “I’m young. ”

“My apologies,” he titters, mentally reminding himself to break that habit. He hates when his brother calls him little as well. “What did you want to ask me, younglove? he tries again, and that’s when a grin crawls across her lips. It’s also when he knows he’s in deep trouble because her smile and eyes are tainted with mischief.

“Do you like her?”

And there it is.

Her words are laced with an innocence which is the polar opposite of the expression on her face and causes his cheeks to flush. He should’ve known it was only at a matter of time before she asked him that. When Raven was younger, she asked him why she didn’t have a Mum; like all children, she wanted a Mum and a Papa. Since he explained what happened to Milah in a way Raven would understand (one of the most difficult things he’s ever done), his daughter has always been his tenacious little matchmaker trying to help her Papa find love so she can have a Mum.

Killian can try to play dumb and pretend to not know what she’s talking about, but he knows his daughter’s far too savvy for that. “I just met her, but I think she’s nice for letting us borrow her blanket, wasn’t she?”

Raven bobs her head up and down. “She’s very nice… but you didn’t answer my question, silly,” she teases, and there’s a playful chime in her tone as he braces himself for what’s to come, and at the same time, looks at her sternly for calling him silly. “Do you like her?”

Killian’s face is flaring with red as he scratches behind his ear, not sure how to respond. When his little songbird concocts something in her head, there’s typically no way to reverse it. She’s a stubborn one, much like her uncle Liam. “I could say no, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t believe me if I did; am I right?”

He swears her smile only grows wider, if that’s possible. “Yup. Wanna know why?”

“Why’s that?” he asks, but he’s uncertain he wants to know the answer, because, while he tells himself that it’s impossible for him to toy with the possibility of being affected by someone he’s just met, he knows his daughter is quite perceptive for her age. He knows she can detect a fib from a mile away.

“Cause you got all nervous when you talked to her. You’re even nervous now.”

Killian raises a brow, curious as to how she’d come up with this conclusion. Is he that transparent? “And how can you be so sure?”

“‘Cause, you’re blushing and scratching behind your ear. You always do that when you’re nervous.”

“If I’m nervous, it’s only because my six-year old daughter’s bombarding me with questions, like I’m being interviewed for a job.” Honestly, the last thing he wants to think about is having another woman in his life, but he won’t tell his daughter that. He only hopes she doesn’t have to go through anything like what he’s been through. He hopes that she will never be deceived by anyone; he wishes he can be at every turn to protect her and make sure nothing bad ever happens to her.

“You know I’m right, Papa.”

Before Killian has a chance to retort, the door of the pub swings open and the blonde dashes outside with a paper bag in her hand. He and his daughter are silently watching her round the car before she approaches the driver’s door, and he turns in his seat, rolling down the window.

“Thanks, love,” he says appreciatively, gracing her with a smile as she hands him the bag of food.

“It’s no problem.”

“Here, let me give you a tip,” Killian insists as he begins to turn around in his seat, noticing that his daughter has her eyes closed. He stifles the laugh rising in his throat at his little rapscallion and her mischief-making ways as he reaches for his jacket to grab his wallet. He’s abruptly stopped by the gentle hand gripping his arm and he loses a breath from the contact as his eyes dart over to the blonde, who’s gazing at him warmly. He tries not to let her touch affect him, but he’s finding it increasingly difficult to do so.

“No need. Just doing my job,” she murmurs, searching his eyes with hers.

He’s taken by surprise that she’s declining his offer as he tries to peel his gaze away, but her emerald depths have pulled him in like the waves of the ocean on a windy day.

“Please. I insist.”

She’s the first one to break the stare as she relinquishes his arm and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she insists with a smile. “You can use the money to buy your daughter some ice cream or something.”

“Ice cream? I want ice cream, Papa!”

Killian laughs, observing Raven’s face and the excitement dancing in her big ocean blues. “After lunch, Sweetheart,” he promises before averting his gaze to the bartender.

“I see she woke from her nap at the opportune time,” she teases playfully, her eyes peeking inside towards the backseat.

“Aye, she did,” he chuckles.

“Hello, bar lady,” his daughter greets brightly from her seat.

“Hi there,” the bartender replies with a wave before whispering to Killian, “Now I know she’s definitely yours; she has your eyes and the exact same smile too.”

His cheeks are flushing as he turns his head to peer at his daughter, who’s holding a big, devilish grin on her angelic face. “That she does,” he agrees smugly.

“Well, I have to go back inside now before Regina realizes I’m gone and wonders where I wandered off to. Hope you both enjoy the food.”

“At least let me give you back the blanket,” he proposes remembering it’s still wrapped around him as he cranes his neck to face her, but before he can, she’s already walking away.

With a small wave, she again refuses one of his offers. “Don’t worry about it. You can bring it back some other time.” She doesn’t give him a chance to give a response, seeing as she’s already on the other side of the car, heading towards the sidewalk and waving them goodbye.

“Wait! I didn’t catch your…” Killian begins as he watches her disappear inside the pub, the door shutting behind her, “…name.” He’s not sure what happened or why she raced off inside—it’s not even raining anymore. Emitting a sigh, he peers down into the bag before setting it in the passenger seat. “What do you say we go back to our room, love?”

“Okay, Papa. Don’t worry; I’m sure you will see her again.”

Killian nods as he roars up the engine and pulls away from the curb, thinking it’s better this way. It’s better that he doesn’t know her name. It’s better they stay strangers. Although he’s not sure exactly how long that’ll last considering how small this town is.

Crossing a bridge, he’s staring at the road ahead of him, looking forward to eating the Irish stew in the cozy room at the inn when his daughter yells out, “Papa, it’s a rainbow!”

As his eyes wander over the bridge, he catches the brilliant colors cascading across the water, and it’s clearly a sight to see, but the mechanical engineer in him can’t help but envision a Zip Line running across the creek. The idea’s enticing, and perhaps one day he can make it a reality, but for now he just needs to focus on procuring an apartment since he guesses this town is a suitable place to live.

Emma finishes her shift for the evening, craving something the bar doesn’t have; a grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings. She sends a text, making sure Granny’s is an acceptable dinner option to bring home. After receiving a confirmation of approval, she calls ahead and places her order before leaving to pick it up.

Expelling a weary sigh, Emma leans against the front counter, her eyes wandering around the diner as she waits for her food.

It’s the typical crowd of customers, apart from two people sitting across the room at one of the tables. The father’s back is facing her, but Emma can see the side of his daughter’s face as she chews her fish sticks, and she immediately recognizes them from two weeks ago when they came into the pub. The man is gorgeous with soft-looking, dark hair and a nice build, and he also has those amazing blue eyes. Who could possibly forget a man like that or an adorable young girl who gets her looks from her father? And how charming are their accents? The dad with his sexy British lilt and the daughter with her thick, recognizable Irish one are enough to make her melt.

The two of them share a laugh and it’s evident in their body language that they’re enjoying each other’s company. They appear to be a happy little family, but Emma has to wonder where the mother is—perhaps in Ireland? (She’d noticed the lack of a wedding band in the pub.) Not that Emma cares. She doesn’t. She already has a man in her life—her ten year old son. He’s all she needs.

Nevertheless, it’s sweet how the man across the room looks at his daughter and seems to care for her. It’s a rare thing, at least where she’s from, but maybe that’s because she’s been burned by men who pretend to care about her until they discover she has a son. She’s sick of low-life scums who only want one thing, and will do anything to obtain it, even if that means pretending to be someone they’re not. She’s grown utterly exhausted of frauds, so she relinquished the idea of being with a man in any shape or form. She’s concluded it’s impossible to end up burned by someone when she doesn’t give them a match to light the flame.

“He’s cute isn’t he? Even from this angle.”

Emma is yanked from her thoughts and narrows her eyes at her friend, Ruby, who’s joined her at the counter, wearing a buoyant grin on her face. “Who is?” Emma asks, feigning cluelessness; she knows exactly who Ruby’s referring to.

The waitress rolls her eyes as Granny emerges from the kitchen with two plates of food. “Order’s up, Ruby. What have I told you about standing around and chatting with your friends?” her grandmother chides as she winks at Emma.

The brunette turns around, tossing a snarky smirk. “That I should do it more often?”

“Nice try, Ruby. We have a full diner to run so I need your A game.”

“Yes, boss,” Ruby answers in a patronizing tone, sliding the plates onto her tray. Granny disappears into the kitchen as Ruby offers an impish smile. “You know exactly who I’m referring to; the new guy with his daughter… or should I say DILF?”

Emma arches a brow at her friend. “DILF?”

“Yeah; Dad I’d like to fu—”

“Okay, I got it,” Emma cuts her off, blushing as Ruby shrugs.

“Well, quit pretending to be oblivious and I won’t have to say what you’re thinking out loud for everyone to hear.”

“You mean what you’re thinking?”

Again, Ruby rolls her eyes. “Come on, Emma, we both know you’re thinking the exact same thing. You have trust issues, but that doesn’t mean your vagina’s dead,” the waitress asserts, leaving Emma with her jaw on the floor.

Ruby’s definitely wrong. Emma’s not thinking about this man in that way. She looks at him and sees a kind, loving father who would go to the ends of the world for his daughter. She does not picture him getting a babysitter for the night so they can spend one passion-filled night together. She’s definitely not thinking about that.

Granny returns to the counter with a to-go bag, and Emma turns around to pay for her order while glancing over at the British man and his enchanting daughter. Emma wishes she had a father growing up, but instead she zigzagged between foster homes with never as much as a father-figure in her life who didn’t hurt her physically or emotionally. Even her son grew up without a father, but that’s an entirely different story. Emma thinks she’d be a different person with a male role model in her life. She thinks maybe she wouldn’t be so closed off—so broken.

The dad leans into his daughter, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Emma regards them with admiration. The view is a beautiful sight to behold and planting an idea in her mind. Peeling her eyes away, she looks at Granny again, who’s waiting patiently at the register with a concerned expression on her face.

“Everything alright, Buttercup?”

“Yeah.” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip as she takes out the cash she’d made from her tips that day, to pay for her and her son’s meals. When she pulls out the bundle of dollar bills, she starts counting them and pauses when she reaches the amount that will cover the bill. Handing it over to Granny, she peers down at the remaining cash in her hand. Maybe she’s in a giving mood or maybe witnessing this man with his daughter and how he treats her—as though she’s the queen of his world—is what triggers the strings pulling at her heart, but either way, she makes a decision.

Emma peers up at Granny, who’s counting the change back to her. “Actually, can you…?” The words cause Granny to stop what she’s doing and glance up at Emma questionably. “Can you keep the change and add on that man’s bill—the dark-haired man over there with his daughter?” she asks, nodding in his direction while trying to be as subtle as possible. “I’d like to pay for their dinner.”

A telling smile tugs at Granny’s lips as she peels her gaze from Emma, eyeing the man in question. “Sure thing. I’ll let Ruby know.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” Emma laughs while regretting her decision; she’s afraid that she’ll never hear the end of it, or that Ruby will rat her out.

“I think you’re right,” the elderly woman agrees.

“Just make sure she knows it’s anonymous.”

“Sure thing.”

Granny tells her how much Killian’s tab is so far, so Emma hands her enough money to cover it, plus dessert, or at least an estimate of what she thinks it will be. Emma has memorized Granny’s menu like the back of her hand, so she figures forty plus a twenty percent tip will be enough.

“That’s awfully generous of you, Emma.”

She shrugs, grabs a pen from the counter and flips the receipt over. “The guy’s new in town, and he looks like he could use some generosity.” Tapping her chin with the tip of the pen cap, she stares at the blank slip of paper, pondering what to write before scripting it down and passing it to Granny. “Make sure Ruby gives him this?”

“Of course, Buttercup.”

“Thank you.” Emma claims her to-go bag and quickly glances across the diner to catch one last glimpse of the man and his daughter before fleeing through the door to avoid being seen by them.

As she drives home, she can’t help but laugh, thinking about what Ruby’d called him. She can’t deny the guy’s not bad to look at, and now she’s certain that every time she sees him, she’ll be agreeing with Ruby in her mind, yep, definitely a DILF.

Killian is enjoying a delightful dinner with his daughter as they celebrate the fact that he’d made a deposit on their new apartment. He’s also started his new job as a design engineer at Gold Technologies, and Raven has started her classes, has made many friends and is happy with her teachers. Overall, things are flowing smoothly.

Raven has finished all of her fish sticks and fries, so he orders a slice of Granny’s homemade apple pie to share. When Ruby hands him the check along with a small silver tray and walks away, Killian takes one last sip of his water before retrieving his wallet to pay for the bill. He takes the slip of paper from the tray and brings it in front of him, scanning it over. His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion when he discovers he’s not looking at the bill, but a receipt—his receipt. This must be a mistake, he thinks before spotting the arrow at the bottom, pointing to the right edge of the paper. Flipping it over, he sees the note on the back.

I hope you don’t mind me spying, but I saw you out with your date and couldn’t help but notice what a great dad you are. From someone who grew up without a parent, it’s refreshing to witness such a special bond between father and child. Hope you and your date have a lovely evening.

Dinner’s on me tonight.

Killian is stunned and also intrigued by the note as he blinks a few times to make sure he’s reading it correctly. Lifting his eyes, he looks around the room to see if anyone is looking in his and Raven’s direction, but of course whoever this kind person is has already left; he’s certain of it. “Excuse me, lass,” Killian calls out as the waitress approaches the table. “Ruby is it?”

“Yeah, what else can I do for you?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

Killian’s eyes dart between the receipt and Ruby. “Can you tell me who paid for our dinner?” He’s not exactly sure why he’s asking; he barely knows anyone in this town.

Ruby shakes her head as she clears the plates from their table. “I’m sorry, I can’t give that information away.”

He gives her a small smile before looking at the receipt once more. “Okay thanks.”

The waitress leans over the table, speaking in a whisper, “I can give you a hint though.”

Killian arches a brow, enthralled as he glances up at her. “You can?”

“Well since you’re cute, I will,” she says with a smirk, making Killian blush. “The woman who paid for your meal will be at The Hanged Queen this Friday night. And she’ll be singing on stage.”

So the kind person is a woman and she’s a musician? Hmmm… Killian’s interest is highly piqued. “Is that so?”

“Of course it is, I wouldn’t lie,” the brunette assures, and she almost appears to be offended by his words. “She’s in a band.”

He mulls over her words carefully. What if there are backup singers and she’s one of them. “How will I know it’s her?”

Ruby laughs. “Because she’s the only singer.” She leaves him to dwell on his thoughts as Raven gives him a pointed look.

He has to stifle a laugh because he knows his sweet little songbird is reading his thoughts. Killian reaches out and swipes her long hair behind her shoulder so it doesn’t fall in the pie as he slides the small plate over to her. “Eat your dessert, Princess.”

“Yes, Papa,” Raven sighs and does what she’s told, picking up a clean fork, cutting a piece off and taking a bite as Killian does the same. He wants to meet this mysterious woman who’s paid for his meal. He doesn’t like being a charity case, but his curiosity has gotten the best of him, and he wants to meet her so he can return the favor somehow.

Killian leaves the diner with his daughter, toying with the idea of going to the pub on Friday, where not only the bartender will be, but the woman who generously paid for his bill.

He’ll have to find a babysitter and doesn’t know anyone in this town. He doesn’t know if he can trust anyone to watch his baby girl. There’s the owner of the diner who goes by ‘Granny’ and lives across the hall from him; she seems trustworthy enough, but she’s still a stranger.

Maybe he shouldn’t go. Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe he’s not ready to go searching for things he doesn’t actually need. The last time he did that, it got him in trouble.

Killian sighs. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him to journey out and meet some new people. He needs to return the blanket to the bartender whose name he has yet to learn.

He drives home, thinking about what he might wear; he’s not sure. But most importantly, he has to find someone trustworthy enough to watch his Raven.

When Friday arrives, Killian can’t believe he’s talked himself into this, or maybe Raven persuaded him into it; he’d seen the pleading look in her eyes, lips formed into a pout, and he didn’t have the heart to resist her. She wants her papa to “go out and have some fun”, and convinced him to let Granny babysit her, assuring him she’ll act nothing short of an angel. It turned out, Granny happily agreed, raising Killian’s suspicions at how enthusiasticly she accepted the job. The whole thing became suspicious, as though it’d been planned. Raven assured him she wouldn’t make a fuss in the mornings when he tries to usher her around and prepare her for school, and that she’ll allow him braid her hair as he enjoys to do. She’s a crafty little lass. She may or may not have gotten that trait from him.

Either way, he’s in his good pair of denims and a black V-neck, wearing a light amount of cologne and his hair is neatly combed as he steps into the establishment, carrying the folded blanket in his hand that the bartender lent him while in this bar almost three weeks ago. At least, he thinks it’s the bar he’d been in the other week. It doesn’t seem like the same place, however. There are so many people this time, a stage he’s sure wasn’t there before and loud music playing by a band on said stage, instead of the jukebox. He takes stock of the employees standing behind the bar counter, not seeing the blonde there, only a skinny brunette standing next to a man with light brown hair, a beard and his hand around her hip as they both watch the performance on stage. Honestly, Killian is disappointed, but he has to convince himself she is not the reason he’s here.

Anticipation is coiling in his stomach as his eyes sift through the crowd, reaching the stage as he hopes to find the woman who’d left the note the other night. His eager gaze falls upon the lass who’s making the enchanting sounds, and she’s not only singing but also playing the guitar. He’s no musician, but he doesn’t have to be to know she’s playing it well.

His vision is unclear because of the dim lights and, even with the lighting on stage, he can’t make out her face, but he can hear her sing and he can hear the notes she’s strumming as she sits on her stool. Her voice sounds like an angel—delicate and sweet—and the tune emitted from the guitar is soft and light. Her music’s a wonderful melody to his ears as he shuffles through the crowd to contrive a better look. When he shortens the distance, capturing a close-up of the musician, the outlines of her face and the familiar smile, he realizes she’s the bartender!

He has to admit, as unexpected as the revelation is, he’s glad this woman is her. If only he can keep this information from Raven, which he knows will be a difficult task because she can read him like an open book. She’s his daughter after all.

Killian continues to maneuver through the audience, never taking his eyes off of her. She’s breathtaking on the platform, her long golden curls flowing over one shoulder like a cascade at sunrise as she strums the guitar and belts out the lyrics in a heavenly way; it makes his spine tingle. Before he’d arrived in Storybrooke, blondes weren’t his type, or at least not to his knowledge. However, this golden-haired goddess is undoubtedly a temptation

As he nears the stage, the woman happens to look his way, and her eyes begin dancing, lips curving into a simper when she spots him. Maybe it’s the beat of the music, the way she’s beaming at him over the crowd or the way her fingers take a brief pause from the strings of her guitar, using the opportunity to wave at him, but his adrenaline is pumping and his heart is racing.

Killian’s lips crack into a wide grin and he waves back with the blanket in his hand, showing it to her. She laughs silently before falling back into her routine as she moves her fingers across the strings of her guitar. Killian is actually relieved and glad he came tonight, and he can’t wait for her to finish the number.

He’s watching the beautiful blonde and getting caught up in the music and her alluring smile when he remembers that she is the one who’d left him the note. She is the one who paid for his and his daughter’s meal, and just like that, he feels a cloud of warmth surrounding his heart. Just like that, the friendly exchange of smiles and stolen glances turn into yearning gazes.

When the song ends and the man from behind the bar gets up on stage, grabbing and lifting her hand in the air, encouraging boisterous cheers from the audience, Killian’s stomach becomes swarmed with butterflies of excitement.

Until the man on stage announces her name.

“Ladies and gentlemen… give it up for the beautiful and the talented, Emma Swan!”

Killian freezes in his spot, his face turning white. He can’t believe it. Hearing that name is like hearing nails on a chalkboard; it makes his ears bleed, and all of the other noises fade out in the distance.

Emma had become excited when she saw the British man enter the bar; her heart flip-flopped when she caught him watching her on stage. He seemed surprised to see her there. He seemed perplexed.

She has to wonder if he came to see the woman he knows as the bartender or if he came in for an evening out. Either way, she can’t deny the delight swarming in her belly.

When she finishes the song, she looks over at him, a wide grin overtaking her face as the crowd cheers for her. Robin is on stage announcing her name before it dawns on her that the stranger she’d met in this bar a few weeks ago, now knows her name. Well, perhaps it’s time for her to learn his as well. Emma turns around and heads to the back of the stage, putting her guitar away before taking a sip of water from her bottle. She screws the cap back on when she’s finished and sets it down before scurrying off the stage.

Making her way through the crowd, a smile is permanently fixed upon her lips as she scours the entire room for him. She gets bombarded by Ruby and Regina, who hug and congratulate her on an amazing performance, but her eyes continue to seek him out. When she reaches the entrance of the bar and turns back, getting another good look around, her face falls in disappointment.

He is gone.

He sits at the airport, fidgeting fervently in his chair, unable to stay still. He can hardly contain himself. His stomach is full of knots and his heart’s thumping wildly in his chest. Today is an important day for Killian. He’s finally going to meet his online girlfriend in person. The pair had been talking via private message on Facebook and Instagram for about a year now. It all started when she contacted him after seeing his profile on ‘EHarmony’. Killian curiously responded, and they hit it off immediately. She’s funny, witty and beautiful. Her eyes are a dazzling blue and her hair’s a chestnut brown, flowing around her face in long, loose curls on her profile picture.

It’s insane that they hadn’t met over the year, but she lives in Texas, unable to afford a flight that would take her to his home in Ohio. So he’d sent her the money to do so. Now that they both had free time, his beautiful girlfriend will be standing in front of him as soon as she gets off the plane. He would’ve never imagined doing something like this over a year ago, but his brother convinced him to take a chance for once in his life. He’s glad he did.

When Killian’s phone vibrates, he quickly checks it, thinking maybe she couldn’t wait to message him as soon as the pilot permitted the passengers to take their phones off airplane mode, but he sees the message is from Liam. His brother is watching Raven and sent a picture of them making goofy faces at the camera. Killian chuckles and puts his phone back into his pocket, tightening his grip on the bouquet of roses he’s holding in his other hand. He takes a deep breath and fixes his tie, feeling as though he’ll break a sweat if he doesn’t compose himself. Maybe he’s dressed a little too formal for meeting her at the airport, but it doesn’t matter; he will be meeting the (second) love of his life (the first one being his daughter) in approximately —Killian checks the screen to see what time she will be here—any moment.

Finally, he sees the passengers from her flight start dispersing into baggage claim to wait for their luggage at the carousel. Killian stands and starts adjusting every piece of clothing he thinks is out of place before staring at the terminal she’ll be emerging from. What will he tell her when he sees her? Marry me? No, he doesn’t have a ring for her. Besides, that would be moving way too fast. He hasn’t even met her in person yet.

Killian waits, swallowing thickly, and the anticipation is building so high he thinks he might burst. Five minutes turn into thirty, and with every passenger who appears, the smile he’s worn for days becomes weaker until it’s a disappointed frown.

She never appears.

Killian ends up throwing the bouquet of flowers into the trashcan before leaving. It turns out, no passenger arriving at the Cleveland airport went by her name. He tries to contact her after that, thinking there’s some sort of misunderstanding or explanation, but it turns out all of her social media profiles have been taken down.

It turns out he’s been swindled.

Killian goes home that night with his tail between his legs. He’s so embarrassed and humiliated, he can’t look his brother in the eye when he walks through the door.

“How did it go?” Liam asks with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice.

Killian doesn’t have it in him to tell his brother the truth. He doesn’t have the strength to tell his brother this was entirely his fault. If Liam hadn’t been so insistent on goading him into creating a dating profile, this never would’ve happened in the first place. Killian would’ve been content living his life like he’d been once he was able to cope with Milah’s death.

Killian doesn’t say anything to his brother; instead he glances at him with a gutted expression as he shakes his head, hoping the gesture will express everything he can’t say in words.

It seems to work, because Liam’s features fall, his eyes filling with apology and regret. “I’m so sorry, brother.”

Killian still doesn’t say anything; he only saunters to the dark hallway, and makes his way to his daughter’s bedroom, feeling like someone has thrown a punch at him, knocking the wind out of his body. All the color is draining from his face; he feels sick and hurt and as though he’d been standing on solid ground until someone pulled a carpet from underneath his feet.

He feels small and stupid, and begins to question everything; every single line he’s ever written to anyone on the internet. Every response and every little conversation seems so far away.

Funny enough, when he enters Raven’s room and sees his little angel lying in her bed, sleeping peacefully in the moonlight through her window, he feels much calmer. He’s able to become more at ease when he thinks about it; when he thinks about the consequences of his actions.

Raven’s eyes snap open and she gasps, looking frightened. “Papa!”

“I’m right here, love,” Killian assures his baby girl as he scurries over to her bed and climbs in beside her. He’s scooping her up in her his arms and kissing her forehead when he realizes that there’s only one thing in life that matters to him the most, and that one thing is lying in his arms, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck and whimpering from the nightmare she has woken up from.

As she draws energy from him and the way he’s there for her and comforts her, nothing else matters—he knows that is a lie, but for Raven, he cannot think about the incident or about how he still hopes there’s a reasonable explanation or a message which comforts him. Although, from now on, he will question everyone he ever talks to over the internet or the phone, because who knows who’s sitting on the other side of the line, or who’s hiding behind the monitor or phone display?

Killian rushes home, bursting through his door and slamming it shut before he whips around, leaning his forehead against it. The anger is building inside of him, and it feels like all the air has escaped his lungs. Pounding his fist on the door, he closes his eyes, trying to breathe—trying to subdue his temper—but it doesn’t work. All of the rage and emotions that have been simmered deep inside of him are rapidly flooding back, washing over him like a strong current suffocating him and carrying him out to sea, drowning him slowly and painfully.

He can’t believe the bartender’s name is Emma Swan.

He can’t believe she has the same name as the person who’d catfished him!

He knows without a doubt now that coming to Storybrooke was planned; he knows this town was not some random place picked out from a map. Liam must’ve known an Emma Swan would be here, because there’s no way this is some huge coincidence. To verify his suspicions, he gets on his Mac Book and searches for ‘Emma Swan’ and sees her Facebook page at the top. Sure enough, when he clicks on the link and looks underneath her profile picture, he sees the words ‘owner/bartender at The Hanged Queen’, ‘singer/songwriter/musician’ directly underneath, and the page also mentions where she lives—Storybrooke, Maine. Killian curses under his breath, staring at her profile. He knew his brother had never been here or tasted the pub food from The Hanged Queen. He knew the wanker concocted all of this for whatever reason, and Killian is more than willing to call him out on it.

Without any logical thinking involved, he pulls out his cellphone and calls his brother.

“It’s about time you called. How do you like Stor—?”

“You planned this didn’t you?!” Killian demands, cutting his brother off.

There’s a brief, unsettling pause before Liam answers in a sarcastic tone. “Well, hello to you too, little brother.”

Killian grits his teeth. “Don’t you ‘little brother’ me, you git!” he snaps brutally. “Please tell me you didn’t persuade me to come to this town so I would run into her.”

“Who’s her?” Liam asks in a tone Killian believes to be fake confusion.

Tightly clenching his jaw, he squeezes the phone in his hand. “You know exactly who ‘her’ is. Don’t play dumb with me. Believe me, I’m not in the mood. I just found out how easy it is to find Emma Swan on the internet.”

His brother lets out a heavy sigh in defeat. “Look Killian, I only suggested you drive to Storybrooke so you would have a chance to meet someone you might possibly have a connection with.”

“I did have a connection with someone—someone who doesn’t actually exist!”

“Look brother, I know you did, but guess what? There are other fish in the sea. And this Emma Swan is real. She’s not some made-up person out to trick you.”

Killian feels like he’s been stabbed in the back; he cannot believe his brother’s actually trying to justify his actions. “Why her? Why would you do this to me?”

“I don’t know, Killian. I just saw how heartbroken you were. It was my fault that you got screwed over in the first place, so I felt obligated to fix it,” Liam explains, and Killian can hear the regret in his voice, but he doesn’t buy it. Why would his brother think this would fix everything?

“You call this fixing it?! I don’t believe this! How can you expect me to want to be with someone who reminds me of the very person who deceived me? How do you expect to me forget that she has the same name? How do you expect me to just forget about everything that happened and move on?!”

“Killian—”

“No! You tricked me into coming here just like I was tricked into falling in love with Emma Swan and getting ripped the bloody hell off!”

“Killian, will you just calm down? Let’s just talk about this, hmmm?” Liam’s voice is calm, but it doesn’t put Killian any more at ease. In fact it makes him angrier.

“I don’t have anything else to say to you!” With that said, Killian hangs up the phone; he’s furious, the anger inside of him bubbling under his skin. He can’t believe his brother is so surprised that he’s less than enthusiastic about this! He can’t believe his brother did this to him!

On Monday, Killian yawns before taking a sip of coffee at his desk. He hadn’t slept a wink all weekend. He couldn’t; not after that night. He’d been so perturbed that the bartender/musician’s name was Emma Swan, he couldn’t bear to see her. He couldn’t face the woman who reminded him of the person who’d spent months deceiving him—the person who tricked him into buying her a plane ticket because he thought she was the one, but it turned out Emma Swan didn’t exist; not the one he thought he knew.

This Emma Swan from Storybrooke is not her. She’s not the one he’d envisioned. He knew Emma’s personality, her likes, her dislikes and he knew everything about her. He’s seen pictures of her and her family, or people he thought were her and her family, but it was all a lie. It was all some fantastic charade that someone did for kicks and for money. That person probably wasn’t even a woman at all.

Killian hates that this imaginary person still has an effect on him. He hates that he’d been so deceived and so blinded by love. Never again will he let another person worm their way into his heart. Never again. He’s better off without them.

His phone chirps for the millionth time since he’d hung up on Liam and he stares at his brother’s contact photo, but he doesn’t answer it. He sets it down on his desk, and it’s not until he picks up his daughter and ignores his brother’s call again when he realizes this has upset his daughter.

“Why are you avoiding Uncle Liam, Papa?”

Killian lets out a heavy sigh as he drives through Storybrooke, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m not, I just don’t feel like talking to him right now.” He’s informed Raven what had happened with his fake online girlfriend, filtering out the gory details, but she doesn’t know the woman who broke his heart went by the moniker 'Emma Swan’. He’s glad because when someone wrongs Killian, she holds grudges like nobody else. She’s unforgiving when it comes to people being mean to her Papa. That’s why he’d kept Liam’s name out of the entire conversation. As furious as Killian is, he doesn’t want Raven to be mad at her Uncle Liam; he doesn’t wish for her to miss out on bonding time with his brother.

“Why not, Papa?”

Killian doesn’t have the right answer to supply her with, and when he looks in the rearview mirror, she’s wearing a sad, heart-breaking expression on her face, and it guts him deeply… so he relents. As soon as they arrive home, he calls his brother.

Listening to the music from the jukebox, Emma cleans up the bar with a rag, adrift in her thoughts as she’s swaying her hips to the beat. The British man stubbornly refuses to vanish from her mind, and she can’t stop wondering why he’d left Friday night. An undeniable spark had ignited between them—something she hasn’t felt in a long time with anyone. Ruby had told her she exposed Emma’s whereabouts the night she’d paid for his dinner, so maybe the gesture or note offended him somehow? She doesn’t know, but Emma can’t shake the unsettling feeling in her gut, and can’t help but believe he’s upset for reasons she can’t comprehend. She guesses it’s a good thing because she doesn’t want to become involved with anyone.

What bothers her, however, is the fact that he’d entered the bar with the blanket in his hands, showing it to her, and yet he left with it too. Not that she cares about the stupid blanket, but it’s the fact that he’d suddenly left. She guesses some sort of an emergency took place. Maybe he’d gotten a call from his daughter’s babysitter; maybe something happened to her. Emma’s heart aches at the thought. She’s upset, to be honest, but she hopes his daughter is okay.

Emma attempts to evade all thoughts and maintain focus on her task while scrubbing down the bar counter. And when she begins singing along with the lyrics, continuing to move her hips, it’s finally working and she gets completely lost in the music.

“You can dance, too? That’s quite impressive, love.”

Emma practically jumps out of her skin at the sound of the British accent over the music. Spinning around, she sees the man who’s been invading her thoughts since she’d seen him and his daughter for the first time, and he’s holding a smug smile on his face, as though he’s proud of scaring the living bejesus out of her. She presses her hand to her racing heart, trying to slow her rapid breathing.

“I like a lass with many talents.”

Emma intakes a short breath, trying to ignore the comment, especially the word he used—like. “You scared the hell out of me,” she rasps out, her eyes meeting his deep blue ones. She wants to be mad at him for frightening her, but God, he’s gorgeous. She wants to kiss that cocky smile right off his lips.

He holds up his hands in surrender, clutching the blanket she’d lent him. “Apologies, love. I come in peace.”

Emma manages a small laugh as she steps up to him, accepting the offered blanket. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to bring it back.”

The man shrugs, his smile growing softer. “You also didn’t have to loan it to me, or foot my bill last week either.”

Emma’s dubious, wondering if he’s only saying that to be nice, and didn’t appreciate the gestures, or if he’s actually thankful for them. “About the note… I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t mean to offend you—”

His features drop, as if he’s not sure why she would say such a thing. “You didn’t, love.”

Emma arches a brow in bewilderment. “I didn’t?”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Not at all… in fact, I thought the note was lovely.”

Emma sighs in relief as the man scratches behind his ear, his smile transforming into a coy simper. She throws the rag over her shoulder and their eyes never break away, but he seems to become more nervous, the apple of his cheeks flushing with a light shade of pink.

“Although… I am hoping you’ll let me pay you back by buying you dinner?” he asks, his voice cracked with apprehension.

Emma’s heart flutters due to the question and the soft glint in his eyes, and she’s not sure how to respond. “I didn’t do it expecting you to pay me back.”

He tilts his head and steps closer, shortening the distance between them so they’re merely a few inches away from each other. “I know, but perhaps I want to,” he murmurs with a smirk, and she’s pretty sure he’s flirting with her.

Emma folds her arms, uncertain about whether she should agree to dinner or not. She still has some unanswered questions. “Before I agree to that, tell me why you left Friday night. Why did you arrive with the blanket and leave after my song ended?”

Guilt is washing over his features as his smile fades, and there’s a certain look in his eyes she can’t quite place her finger on, but she guesses it’s something of betrayal or abandonment. She knows because she witnesses the same look when she stares at her reflection in the mirror every day. “Because, I—it’s kind of a long story… but you remind me of someone… or at least your name does. So when it was announced on stage, I panicked and fled.”

Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Her brow lifts in bemusement. “You had a girlfriend named Emma?”

“Something like that. Only not simply Emma—Emma Swan.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t know what else to say to that. She’s never heard or known of anyone with the same name.

“Let’s just say she didn’t turn out to be who I thought,” he explains, his voice weak as he stares at the floor between them, “but my brother, Liam, has reminded me that just because one person betrayed me, it doesn’t mean everyone is a fraud.”

Emma nods in agreement. “Yeah, Ruby tells me that all the time.”

His eyes dart to hers, staring at her in shock. “Ah, so I take it, you know what it’s like to be deceived?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Emma replies, but she doesn’t want to disclose of all of the tragic details of her past relationships to this handsome-looking stranger, so she changes the subject. “Does your brother live here too?” She shakes her head as soon as she asks the question. “Probably not; I’d remember a name like that.”

“He lives in Ohio, where I came from,” he clarifies with a chuckle.

“And you left there?” she asks curiously.

“Aye, it was the best thing to do at the time. Like I said—long story.”

“Well, maybe you could tell me sometime? I enjoy long stories, as you already know,” she says with a springy laugh.

His lips break out into an easy smile, and the gloominess of the conversation instantly disappears. “That I do. So, does that mean you’ll let me take you out on a date?”

She holds up her hands, her smile never fading. “Whoa whoa whoa, who said anything about a date?” she asks in a breezy tone.

He chortles, and she can sense his nervousness as he takes her hand in his. She gasps at the unexpected contact as he smooths his thumb over her knuckles. “Look, Emma, it sounds like we’ve both been burned in the past, and normally I’m not one for taking chances, but… I’d be willing to if you are.”

Emma looks into his eyes, seeing the genuine admiration there, and she can’t find it in herself to turn him down. “On one condition,” she offers in a challenging tone.

He lifts a brow, his eyes lighting up with intrigue. “You name it.”

“I get to pick where we go.”

“You’ve got a deal,” he replies with a wide smirk.

Emma purses her lips, ruminating their options before deciding that maybe they could do something that involves their kids too; the annual carnival Storybrooke holds every year is fast approaching. “How about this?—Storybrooke is having the town carnival starting this weekend. Maybe we could go? Of course, if we do I’d have to bring my son. He’d be sad if I went without him, so you could bring your daughter too?”

His eyes are buzzing with surprise, and she’s not certain if it’s a good thing or a bad one. “You have a son?” Judging by the tone of his voice, she’s guessing good?

Emma nods, and she’s hoping this essential information doesn’t scare him off. Although she doubts it will, considering he has a daughter, which is why she’d felt confident enough to suggest something that would involve her having to tell him about her son. “I do. His name is Henry; he’s ten.”

He appears apprehensive again as he scratches behind his ear, which she guesses is a habit of his; something he does when he’s nervous. “So, you’re… I mean… I don’t have to worry about any angry fathers coming after me, do I?”

Emma laughs and shakes her head. “No. If you did, that would be a miracle. Henry’s father doesn’t know he exists, and I plan on keeping it that way. There are no other men in my life; only my son.” This seems to put the man much more at ease as he expels a sigh of relief. Now it’s Emma’s turn to be nervous as she toys with his fingers, peering down at them and pondering the question she wants to ask him. “So, is this Emma Swan… is she the mother?” She glances up at him skittish about what his response will be, and to her relief he shakes his head, although he seems perturbed by the question, like she’s hit a nerve.

“No… uh Raven’s mother… she died,” he replies quietly.

There’s a pang of regret twisting the inside her stomach as her features fall, words laced with apology. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. It happened a long time ago. Raven never got the chance to meet her.”

A small, audible gasp leaves her lips, her heart squeezing. “Oh my god, I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

He gives a soft shrug, his mouth curved into a feeble smile, trying to conceal the emotions he buries deep inside. “I’ve learned to cope, but it still stings occasionally.” His eyes are dark, and Emma senses the pain enshrouding him and can’t bear to cause anymore turmoil, although she’s hoping it’s not some charade, and he’s not only saying these things for his own personal agenda. But the look on his face is unmistakably real, and either he’s being truthful or he’s a terrific actor. Seeing as he’s a single father with a daughter to look after, she doubts it’s the latter. Personal agendas tend to get tossed to the wayside when kids are in the picture. Unless Raven’s not actually his daughter, and he’s feeding her some bogus story so she’ll take pity on him. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s used those tactics on her.

Emma needs to stop. Not all men are frauds, Ruby’s words run through mind. “Well, you know what—how about you pick the date?” she suggests, gently squeezing his hand.

His smile fades in return. “That’s okay, love. I don’t wish for you to take pity on me.”

Her response is quick, leaving no room for doubt. “Then, it’s a good thing I’m not.” Emma’s voice and features are firm to assure him she’s being sincere.

Her words seem to appease him, his lips cracking into a small grin. “Well actually, I think the carnival is perfect. May Raven and I pick you and your lad up at six on Saturday?”

“Sounds like a date,” she seals their plans with the accompaniment of a warm laugh before grabbing a pen and a napkin, scribbling down her address and handing it to him.

His eyes light up with excitement and his cheeks turn red as he looks at it briefly before slipping it into his back pocket. He encases her hand in both of his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “Alright, we will look forward to it then. For now, I’ll let you return to your dancing and singing while you clean,” he says with a hearty chuckle.

Emma blushes and laughs. “Okay.” She’s not sure how to say goodbye; she’s not used to being asked out in her bar by men she actually likes. Although, even if she uses the basic, customary “goodbye, (insert person’s name)” she doesn’t know his name yet. She has agreed to go on a date with a guy whose name she doesn’t know.

The man seems to be as unsure as she is when he awkwardly releases her hands and slowly backs away engaging her with one last lingering stare before turning around and making his way towards the door.

“Wait!” Her call causes him to stop and turn around, arching an expectant brow. The shade of blue in his eyes mixed with a look of hope and possibly longing, even from across the bar, makes her fumble for words. “I—I just—it occurred to me… you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

A slow satisfied smile crawls across his lips. “I thought you’d never ask. The name’s Killian. Killian Jones.”

“Phew,” Emma lets out a mocking sigh of relief, “I’ve never dated a Killian Jones, so that’s good to know.”

He laughs. “Aye, it is, love.”

Killian is conclusively smitten as he leaves the bar with a hopeless grin, looking forward to their date. Truthfully, he’d surprised himself when he asked her out, but after the long conversation with Liam, he recognized not all of the Emma Swans in the world are out to swindle him. And when she mentioned she also needed to be persuaded from not thinking everyone was a fraud, he was even more drawn to her.

When Saturday approaches, his stomach is full of butterflies and he nervously runs his hand through his hair because he can’t settle down, much like his daughter, who’s buzzing around the apartment like a bee and probably even more excited than he is. Once they are dressed for the occasion and ready to go, they leave the apartment, navigating to Emma’s house. Raven’s wearing a purple dress and matching sandals with her hair divided in two braids on either side of her head and Killian’s wearing a navy blue Henley and jeans. The weather in this town is quite unpredictable but it’s a comfortable temperature and forecasted to be pleasant for the rest of the evening.

Upon arrival, he escorts his daughter from the car to Emma’s front door, unable to keep his hands from twitching; he’s so nervous. Emma takes his breath away when she answers the door; she’s wearing a gorgeous pink dress, and the skirt of it sways when she moves. She invites them in for a moment while she and her son finish getting ready. Killian and Raven walk through the enclosed porch and he takes a moment to look around the old Victorian home.

The four of them barrel out the door with plenty of time to spare, and with Raven and Emma together, Killian swears he has the two most beautiful women on either side of him. Emma’s lad is quite the fetching fellow as well. He’s polite, and at first he acts shy around Raven, but once they near the docks where all of the excitement is, Killian and Emma have to repeatedly tell them to slow down as they try dashing off. Not that he’s complaining. With their children waddling ahead, Killian is left with Emma by his side, striking up casual conversation, his hand frequently brushing hers. Both of them want to be closer but neither is brave enough to make the first move.

The early autumn air is warm and thick with sounds of chatter and laughter and the alluring smells of popcorn and elephant ears as they reach the carnival, meeting up with Regina, Robin, and his son Roland. Killian is amazed by how they transformed the docks into the magnificent, enchanting place full of festivities, although it’s not as cool without roller coasters.

“Hey Killian, would you like to ride that?”

He looks up to where Emma’s pointing, seeing the ferris wheel high in the sky.

“You two should definitely go. We’ll take the children on some kiddie rides; what do you say?” Regina asks, and the children start jumping up and down in excitement.

“I’m okay with that if you are,” Emma says to Killian. “Regina and Robin are trustworthy, I promise. They babysit Henry all the time.”

Killian doesn’t doubt he can trust them with his Raven if Emma says it’s okay to; he’s simply worried what might happen if he and Emma are left alone sitting all cozy next to each other on the ferris wheel. “I’m okay with that,” he replies nonchalantly.

“Yay!” Raven, Roland and Henry begin charging ahead of Robin and Regina, and Emma and Killian laugh at their children.

“Be good, kid!” Emma calls after her son.

“Listen to Robin and Regina!” Killian tells his daughter, but he doubts she can hear him.

“Don’t worry about a thing. Just have some fun you two,” Regina says, throwing them a smirk and a wink before she and Robin go chasing after the little ones.

“Do you think they’re excited about the rides, or about venturing off without their parents?” Emma asks him as they join the ferris wheel line.

“Probably both,” Killian chuckles, although he’s fairly certain Raven is excited because he will be alone with Emma, and she’s expressed her approval several times before the date.

It’s been a while since he’s been on one of these things, and yet he’s still less nervous than Emma as they slowly ascend towards the sky with the view of Storybrooke below. The sun casts a brilliant view as it starts setting above the water, although, it’s not as captivating as the woman sitting next to him.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you, love?” he asks, even as he already knows the answer.

“No, of course not. Why would I suggest riding this thing if I were?” she asks, carefully peeking over the side of the carriage.

“I have my theories,” he boasts playfully.

Emma looks over at him raising her brow while holding onto the bar in front of them. “Oh? Please tell,” she encourages with a laugh.

Killian shrugs. “Perhaps you found out that I used to be a roller coaster engineer and that’s why you suggested the Carnival as a viable option for a first date. And you pointed out the ferris wheel because you wanted me to think you were daring and bold, and some of the other rides may have proved that more, but this one was the safest option, because judging by the way you’re looking down at the ground like you fear you might fall and meet the pavement, you’re indeed afraid of heights. But like I said, it’s only a theory.”

Emma gapes at him and he can’t establish whether she’s impressed or just plain pissed. “For one thing, Mr. Jones, I am not a stalker. Two, I thought the Carnival would be something fun we could do with our children, and three …” she pauses, her cheeks flushed with pink, and he can tell she’s all sorts of flustered, “I am not afraid of heights,” Emma protests as the carriage comes to an abrupt halt and starts rocking in place. She lets out a suppressed squeal and grabs on to his arm, clutching him tightly.

Killian chuckles, tickled pink by how adorable she is as he takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I never said you were a stalker. I only know that in a small town, rumors about the newcomers spread quickly. Especially when you work in the heart of Storybrooke.”

Emma peers up at him, flashing a sarcastic smirk as she gently squeezes his hand. “I’ve not heard anything,” she states playfully, and he knows she’s fibbing. “Okay, maybe a few things. But to tell you the truth, I didn’t know that you used to be a roller coaster engineer until after I asked you to come to the Carnival.”

He lifts an eyebrow, intrigued by her confession. “Ah, so I’m mostly correct then?”

Emma chortles. “Okay, yes you’re right. I’m terrified of heights, but I couldn’t let you know my weaknesses on our first date now could I?”

He shrugs casually, cocking his head to the side. “I wouldn’t have thought any less of you, love. I’m afraid of things too—things you would think were silly.”

“Oh really?” she inquires, elevating a curious brow. “Well since you know one of mine, you have to tell me one of yours.”

An uneasy smile is curving his lips, and he hesitates before coming to a conclusion—being up in the air in a strange town and sitting next to a gorgeous blonde has put him in a rather impulsive mood. “I’m afraid of talking to people on the internet.”

Emma tilts her head, not sure how to digest his confession. “Okay… well, that’s not so strange. The internet’s a mysterious place.”

He studies her to assess whether she thinks that’s a valid reason for such a phobia or if she’s merely being polite when in reality she thinks he’s gone completely insane. “You find it a little strange though, right?”

Emma shrugs and purses her lips. “Maybe, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Killian glances over her features again, deeply appreciating her beauty, inside and out. “I do, actually. Remember that long story I mentioned in the bar?”

“Yeah,” she replies softly, her eyes lighting up with intrigue, and there’s something pure and genuine about this woman. She’s not judgmental or closed-minded and he finds her personality to be rather refreshing.

“That’s where you will find the rather exhausting explanation… that is if you are willing and determined to hear it one day. But perhaps the first date’s not fitting for the occasion.”

“Perhaps not, but I am interested,” she confesses, her eyes meeting his so suddenly, he loses a breath. “I’m interested in knowing more about you,” she whispers before moving in closer, her gaze fleeting to his lips.

Killian’s stomach does somersaults as he eyes her perfectly glossed, pink mouth, his curiosity piquing; he wonders what she tastes like. “I was thinking the same about you,” he murmurs. “I want to know more about the owner slash bartender and singer slash songwriter slash musician.”

Emma lifts her eyes to his, arching a brow in bemusement. “And I’m the stalker?”

Grinning widely, he leans in closer until her lips are a hair’s breadth away from his. “I never said you were,” he breathes, sweeping in and gently capturing her mouth. To his relief, she lets him catch her.

Emma’s lips are soft and sweet as he breathes her in, releasing her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder to draw her in closer. Every inch of his skin is tingling as they deepen the kiss, his fingertips dancing along her jaw before cupping the smooth, delicate edge and pulling her against him. Her fingers card through his hair, lightly tugging on a fistful of locks as her tongue insistently brushes along his. He answers with a soft groan and a playful nip at her bottom lip.

A million volts of electricity are coursing through his blood, and he craves more. He craves her. He needs her. It’s been six years since he’s had this with someone—the romantic physical intimacy from an actual person rather than through an electronic device—and even a kiss is mind-rattling, life-altering and heals his soul more than he can comprehend.

Two months later…

His palms are sweating profusely, gripping the bouquet of roses so tightly, he fears he might damage the stems. Déjà vu has dug its painful claws into him, and he can’t shake the feeling. He knows it’s silly because Storybrooke is Emma’s hometown, and of course she’ll come back, but he still has that small shred of doubt anchored in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help but think she might not appear. She has family in Ireland, and could’ve easily decided to stay.

When she’d informed him she had to leave with her son after receiving unexpected news about a great aunt on her deathbed, Killian assured Emma he’d be fine. They hadn’t even been seeing each other very long, so it wasn’t his place to interfere with her plans, however unforeseen they were.

They’ve been on several dates loaded with meaningful conversations about their pasts, their childhoods, their careers and their children. She’s divulged how she started singing and playing guitar at the age of ten and how music carried her through some pretty rough times. She’s explained how she grew up in the system and was abused by one of her foster parents, and how her ex was a con-artist who lied to her, impregnated her and fled. Killian listened with kind, sympathetic ears and recounted his own tragic backstory. And every Friday he visits the pub with Raven to watch Emma perform, and sometimes they take their children out for ice cream together.

Killian is still apprehensive, but Emma’s slowly helping him conquer his fears. He was even video chatting with her on the computer during her absence, which was a huge step for him. He doesn’t even have to remind himself that Emma’s not that person who deceived him because he knows in his heart exactly who she is; she’s his Swan.

Killian exhales deeply as he waits, but remains confident. He’s wearing a grin, and the moment he sees the cascade of golden hair and the pool of forest green eyes, he’s not surprised; more like enchanted.

“Killian!” Henry shouts, spotting him through the crowd.

Killian waves as the young lad weaves through the passengers and almost topples him over with the hug he smothers him with.

Emma reaches them, smiling vibrantly, and it’s infectious, initiating the buoyant grin overtaking his face. “I’m glad you came back, Swan,” he breathes, attempting to hide all the emotions washing over him from seeing her again, his eyes never breaking their heated stare.

“Did you doubt I would?”

Apology is flashing in his eyes, and he scratches behind his ear, his lips twitching. “Honestly, I was a tad nervous, but my paranoia is my own issue,” he reveals earnestly as he takes her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, hoping she won’t take offense to his words. “Deep down I knew you’d come back to me, love.”

The way her smile never fades eliminates all his fears, and he can’t believe he was actually worried, even for one second. “God, I’ve missed you,” she confesses, drawing him into a warm hug. “Thank you for showing up.”

“Did you doubt I would?”

“Not for a second,” she giggles, making his heart skip.

He sighs in deep relief, squeezing her tightly. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” His words are cracked as he strokes her hair and kisses the crown of her head, getting caught up in her warmth. He’s so lost in her embrace, he almost forgets about the roses in his hand.

When they pull apart, he presents them to her, and she dazzles him with a bright smile, accepting them graciously.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” she says, smelling them and soaking in the scent appreciatively. “I have something for you too,” Emma informs him, and he lifts a brow in curiosity.

After retrieving her luggage, she reveals a case of microbrewed beer that’s been packed in her suitcase. “I got these directly from Darkey Kelly's—the heart of Dublin, matey,” she attempts with an Irish accent.

Killian chuckles, his heart soaring at the proffered beer and how adorable she is. “I should’ve known,” he teases, and Emma playfully rolls her eyes. “Thank you, love.”

“You’re very welcome. I also got you this…” She pulls out a dark blue wool sweater, displaying it in her fingertips.

Doing the math in his head, Killian perceives how many Euros she must’ve spent on these brilliant gifts, and he’s floored, his jaw falling agape. He swears he’s fallen in love with her all over again. In fact, if they were not in public or in front of Emma’s son, he would have grabbed and kissed the bloody hell of her then and there.

They anxiously leave the airport with Henry, but their reunion is far from over.

That night, whispered, broken curses and ragged breaths permeate the bedroom as Killian drives into Emma’s warm depths, deliciously dragging along her walls in a flawless rhythm.

“So beautiful…” he murmurs, his lips caressing the shell of her ear.

With several powerful thrusts, she shatters into a million pieces, Emma’s orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, her hands fisted in his hair as she falls.

Killian seals her lips with his, swallowing her soft cries of pleasure as he follows closely behind, pouring all his warmth into her with a soft growl, giving himself to her completely. When his movements come to an abrupt halt, he hums in satisfaction and collapses, tucking his face into her neck, trying to catch his breath.

Awash with rapture, she closes her eyes, wearing a blissful smile as Killian sighs in content, holding her in his arms. One hand is cradled in hers with their fingers entwined and pressed to her chest, both of them basking in the glow of making love for the first time as they fall asleep.

One year later…

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

“Are you having second thoughts, love?” he asks Emma, his voice laced with concern.

“No, I just…”

“Just relax. It will be painless and over before you know it,” he soothes, giving her hip a reassuring squeeze from behind.

Emma exhales a few long breaths. “Okay.”

“Ready?” he asks and she nods.

“I’m ready, Papa,” Raven bravely assures.

“It will be okay Mom. We’re all here with you,” Henry reminds her calmly.

“I promise she’s sturdy and secure,” Killian adds, hoping to fuel the encouragement.

“I have no doubt in the capabilities of your hands,” Emma remarks, a relaxed expression washing over her face as she turns her head, offering a smirk.

When both of them are separated and strapped into their harnesses with their children in front of them and hanging on for dear life, he steals one fleeting glance at his girlfriend and her son as she flashes a tentative smile. Killian beams in return and throws a wink before giving the conductor the go-ahead, and they’re being pushed off the tower and flying over the water.

The wind rushes past his ears, and mind-numbing adrenaline has him high as a kite, the leap out across the creek stealing all breath from his lungs. He’s weightless, small against the gigantic, cloudless sky with his daughter secured in front of him, and his other true love zipping across the cable next to them with her son. Every insecurity, every worry and thought that kept him up at night staring at the ceiling vanishes before his eyes. He now has the courage to do what he’s been fully prepared to do for months.

When they’re back on solid ground again, Emma’s cheeks are red and she’s flustered, trying to catch her breath, but she has a wide, vibrant smile blooming across her face.

Killian is thinking what a vision she is as he emits a small chuckle. “You did it, love. You conquered your fear of heights,” he points out exuberantly.

“I did, and it was terrifying,” she breathes, “but also exhilarating.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, love” Killian’s heart is racing as he grins, encasing her hands with his while trying to keep his own from trembling. “And I hope you don’t mind me asking you to do one more thing that may be equally as terrifying and exhilarating, if not more.”

Emma arches a brow as their children observe in contained suspense. “What’s next? You want to climb Mount Everest?” she razzes, chuffing in amusement.

Killian responds by drawing in a deep, wobbly breath before descending to one knee and pulling out a diamond ring from his pocket.

Emma’s eyes widen as she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Will you marry me, Emma Swan?”

“Yes!” she replies without hesitation. “Yes, I will marry you!” she laughs, and Killian’s heart explodes with joy as he slides the ring on her finger before standing and picking her up, spinning her around in his arms.

Their children are jumping up and down in excitement.

“Yay! We finally get to be a family!” Raven chants buoyantly, clapping her hands.

Killian sets his new fiancé on her feet and picks up his daughter, sprinkling her cheek with kisses. When he averts his gaze to Emma, she’s ruffling her hand through Henry’s hair and kissing the top of his head.

“We already are, love.”

“Indeed we are,” Emma agrees with a bright smile.

Killian closes the distance between them, kissing her softly.

“Eww!” their kids whine, faces contorted in disgust.

Killian chuckles against Emma’s lips. It’s moments like these—scratch that—every moment makes him grateful that his brother persuaded him into doing something bold; something that turned the worst mistake he’s ever made into one of the best things that has ever happened to him. He’ll never tell him that though.

#cslb #cs ff #cs ff au #cs fic #captain swan little bang #handprints on my soul #my fic

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