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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

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24. Medical School & Mommyhood

Detemined: A Chasper Fic

Imagine, if you will, Uncle Roscoe - a very sizable man with long locs, singing This Woman's Work, in a true classical Soprano…

all that his niece Charlotte wants to do is rest because she spent hours working as he sings about to push a tiny human out of her body. Her husband, Jasper, an Uncle Roscoe enthusiast and a lover of emotional displays is visibly very emotionally shaken by this lovely gesture as he holds in his arms their small child.

As Charlotte's patience wears thin, Uncle Roscoe's performance gets thicker and when he croons, "Oh Darling, make it go…"

"I'll make YOU go!" She practically shrieks.

Jasper gasps, but rubs the back of her neck, lovingly, “She’s tired, Uncle Rox. That was the most beautiful gift that anybody has given us, since this, the day of our daughter’s birth…” He winced, “Baby’s birth! Baby’s birth!” He said and smiled at winked at Charlotte.

She had been trying to program him from treating their child like a son or daughter, so whenever the baby finally came out and she realized that they were in that female presenting body, she cried. She knew that meant a harder time for this kid, but Jasper cheered, “I have a daughter!” And, well… That was just gonna mess up the footage, wasn’t it? What if Jasper Jr isn’t a girl? She was very preoccupied with the thought, because now, she felt like Jasper had gotten off of the page of how she wanted to raise kids. How they agreed to raise their kids before she could ever agree to carrying one full term! If he saw Jasper Jr as his “little girl,” he might treat her that way and while Jasper was very progressive in a lot of ways, he still had some of that good old fashioned sexism in his DNA and she just wanted whoever they were to be someone that if the world was gonna put stipulations and limitations on… their parents at least would never.

Jasper held the baby close, most of the time. Charlotte was in a lot of pain and discomfort. She wasn’t the “physical pain” type. She abhorred it and had never handled it well. If Jasper could have switched places with her and took on all of the pain and discomfort, he would have. He didn’t say that to her, because he thought it would seem like a frivolous platitude, but she knew deep down inside that was the kind of person he was. He would do anything for her to not hurt. Whenever he handed Baby Jasper back to her, he went to escort Uncle Roscoe out of the hospital.

Charlotte looked down at this brown baby person with brown eyes, stretched wide, but unable to focus, the softest and curliest of curls that she had ever seen and a slightly too big onesie that Jasper must’ve put on them when Charlotte was asleep that had “My Daddy loves me more than the WHOLE world!” and a drawing of a heart shaped Earth. “You are this whole world.” Jasper sniffled and Charlotte glanced up. She hadn’t noticed that he was back until then. Maybe he had just returned. He quickly made his way to the bed and rested next to them. “Daddy’s back.”

“So, we didn’t get a chance to fill out their birth certificate. I know that you’ve called them Jasper Jr most of the time, but I didn’t think you’d want that on official paperwork, since Jr. is usually gender specific to boys, and because there’s no way we’re giving them my middle name, even if you’ve rebranded it.” They laughed.

“No. I don’t want them to be your junior, not because of the history of junior, but because of your middle name. I was thinking, though. Whenever I rebranded your middle name, which, may I say is such an EXTRA description of what I actually did…”

“You stated that my middle name was a prophecy because I’m so determined. That was brilliant and beautiful. I wish we were in love when it happened so I could make love to you for how awesome that was…”

“It got me thinking!” She cut him off. This soon after labor, the LAST thing she wanted to think about was making love. “The word “determined.” Because yours was an uncertain usage. To be determined is so tentative and unstable, unless it’s a declaration of this version of you. Look at what you’ve done with yourself over the years. Only a determined person could do that and I know that your middle name wasn’t actually a name, but a placeholder, but we don’t need any placeholder. We can just give them a name. And, I can’t think of one more fitting and accurate than something that I think of every time that I look at you… Determined.”

“Determined?” He repeated.

“Several cultures name children things that are attributes or wishes or descriptions. Even some of the names that they name their children translates into characteristics when you put them in their original form. We speak English, so Determined. BUT… If you just hate it, I can go for a name that translates to it, like Erimentha or Ernest… Ernesta… etc…”

“No. No. Those are hideous. Anyway, I love it. I just… I keep thinking that it isn’t possible for me to have more joy, but then, I keep finding more, or… it keeps finding me. If someone had told me at 16 that I would have a family, an amazing wife who is out of my league in like every way, but loves me just like she’s in my league, and a beautiful baby that looks just like her and door after door of opportunity to thrive in my career and take care of them… I just… I would have thought it was make believe. I’m living a dream.” He wrapped his arms around Charlotte and rested on her shoulder. “Jasper Determined Dunlop.”

“We can call them “Jazz,” just to make it a little less convoluted when speaking at home,” she suggested. “They look like a Jazz.”

“They look like a Charlotte,” he said and booped her nose.

Medical school was NOT a brilliant idea for a new mother, but Charlotte was always a hardworking person, so she figured that she could handle this. Whenever it seemed to get really hard, Jasper would always say, “You know, you can quit, whenever you want.” But, that would have the opposite effect. She pushed harder. No, she couldn’t quit whenever she wanted to! In addition to that being the opposite of what she wanted to do, it would be too much like what she knew Jasper wanted her to do. He wanted her to stay at home with the kids whenever he wasn’t able to. Speaking of… Shortly after Charlotte got her entry into medical school, she also got pregnant, again.

What could she say? Surely, old her would have planned for and against this, but mommy her, busy with Jazz, medical school, etc took the time that she could whenever she got with her husband to enjoy it and she hadn’t been as meticulous as you might expect! So, she had two babies, less than a year apart and was going to medical school during her second pregnancy.

Jasper wanted her to take a break. It was too much, he’d say. Nobody should put themselves through all of this bodily and mental strain, if they didn’t have to and she didn’t have to. They were more than comfortable without her having a doctorate, and the girls were having so many moments that she was missing out on! “The kids,” she corrected him. “Until they say otherwise…”

“Well, you’re never home to implement that,” he said, sulking. She threw him a glare. He sighed and said, “I don’t slip up, much. But, nobody knows a boy named Amber, so it’s harder to keep up with it with her than with Jazz.”

“With them!” They both said at the same time, correcting him.

Charlotte sighed. “I can’t take a break. I took a break from work when I had Jazz. I took a break from medical school when I had Amber.”

“Hardly!”

“It affected me!” She squealed, collected her things and stormed out of the room. Jasper wiped his face and looked over at the two small children. The toddler with a full head of wild curls, trying to give a ball to the baby in the walker, with equally as curly hair, but not as much of it. Amber accepted the ball and immediately tried to stuff it into their mouth. Jasper told himself that it had been rolling on the floor, but if he snatched it away, they were definitely gonna cry. He didn’t need to upset another one of his loves tonight. He just wished that Charlotte could realize what she was missing out on whenever she wasn’t around. What he couldn’t put into words… the bonds being formed in her absence… They were supposed to be doing all of this together.

Several times, Jasper would make plans for the entire family at times when she didn’t have “anything pressing” coming up, but by the time it was time for the plans, she would either be so tired that she told him to just go without her, or he would cancel, seeing that she was tired, which generally resulted in her fussing very grouchily about why he cancelled when he knew that she would be trying to sleep. Or better yet, why even be on this side of the house when the house that they bought was huge? “I THOUGHT that even though you’re tired that you might want to at least TRY to pretend that our children exist!” he snapped back once. She was angered to full awakeness. He regretted letting that accusation slip out. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You said it. So, you meant it,” she commented, clearly angry.

“No. I don’t know where that came from. Some dark and wrong part of me. I don’t feel that way…”

“And the thing that perplexes me about you saying that is that I wasn’t even really ready to start having children. I was going through things at my workplace and I was desperate and vulnerable, and you convinced me that I could do whatever I wanted to do and began to put the pressure on me to begin having children.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember…”

“So, in my emotionally distressed state, I came to the decision that if I did have a baby and transition away from that lab, Jasper will have my back!”

“I do… Char…” He sounded desperate, but she was not finished.

“SO, I did have a baby and I did transition away from the lab and I entered medical school to further my career, and in between, I went to networking luncheons, dog tired, with a small infant and sometimes two dogs and I smiled and socialized - two things I don’t even really like doing that much - with your clients, to support your career change that you SPRUNG on us suddenly one day then dived head first into it with my complete and utter support, because I knew that you hated your job and wanted to do something else. Granted, there were no children at the time, but if there were, I would never address you the way that you just came at me.”

“If the kids were born, I wouldn’t have made such a rash decision!” He said.

“So… only the kids’ feelings matter? They don’t even know what’s going on. I had to just tell myself to stay out of your way while you sorted something out to bring you joy and when I do the same thing, kids or not, I expect the same respect. It isn’t like I never see them! It isn’t like I abandoned them. A lot of women are career women. Some of them out there doing it by themselves. I take the time that I take because I know that the two children that I grew inside of my body, painfully ushered into this world, and in exhaustion and dedication fed on my own two teets, are in safe hands, because I’ve trusted myself in those very same hands for many years before I ever even decided to make the sacrifices that I made to my career trajectory and to my body to have them. So. You. Saying. Such. A. Thing. To. Me???” Her shoulders slumped. Her anger had been released and replaced by hurt and sadness. “Fuck you, Jasper.” She whispered, started crying and left the room.

“Baby!” he called and pulled two handfuls of his own hair. How could he? How could he have sank so low as to say something like that to her? They didn’t argue a lot, not over really serious stuff, so maybe he just reverted to the only kinds of arguments he was used to - the way he and his mom would speak at each other’s flaws instead of talking out their problems. Charlotte definitely didn’t deserve that, especially when they hadn’t really discussed this concern of his in any real way. So, it was not only out of nowhere to her, but he could only imagine how extremely hurtful that must’ve been. She was supposed to be able to trust him with her feelings, with her heart, with the truth. He did feel like she didn’t spend enough time with the kids, but that wasn’t the way to say it, and while she’s tired and sleepy and… “Fuck!” he hissed at himself.

“Fuck!” Jazz repeated. He gasped and rushed over to where they were playing with the ladybug hockey set that Pansy bought.

“No, no, no… Don’t say that J.”

They giggled and repeated, “Fuck!” Daddy’s excitement face was hilarious to them and they realized that the key to getting it was to say whatever “Fuck” was. Jasper sat on the floor and covered his face. He was really not doing a good job today. Jazz pulled his hands from over his face and laughed, “Fuck.” He could only laugh now too, at this point. Amber was crawling to the puck. They were gonna try to eat it. That was all they did. Poop their diaper and try to eat everything but what was served to them as food. He snatched them away just in time.

Charlotte came out of the bedroom, having been crying for a while, ready to face Jasper again and smooth over whatever happened, because even though she felt attacked and was going to be hurting for a while, she knew that Jasper would never say something just to hurt her, so that was obviously how he felt and they needed to come up with a solution for it. Because, she was not going to tolerate another low blow like that in the future.

Jasper had started on dinner. Jazz was “helping” and Amber Reign was already in the highchair, with an empty plastic bowl and spoon to hold them over. The moment they saw Charlotte, they began to kick their legs happily and try to get out of the seat, so she went to collect them. Jasper glanced over and just seeing her was overcome with guilt again. Jazz went over too and began to tell their mom a story that Charlotte understood almost perfectly, despite the fact that none of it was in real words that adults could just understand. Jasper could sometimes detect a few sprinkled in, but he didn’t have that gift that Charlotte tended to have where she pretty much got all of what this kid was telling her.

He came over and said, “Char, about earlier…”

“Please don’t taint what little time I spend with my children with any of that. We can get into it later.” She said it with a smile, as to not alarm the children, but he saw her eyes, how sad they were and the flecs of anger whenever he spoke. After dinner, which was weird because they rarely got dinner together as a family and whenever they did, usually Jasper and Charlotte were catching up like besties and sprinkling the children in. Jasper was silent. He didn’t want to say anything. Charlotte was talking with the kids. Helping Amber with the spoon and Jazz to pronounce things a little bit better. But, afterwards, Charlotte said, “I’ll get the kids cleaned up. You got the table?”

He just nodded. He was… simply depressed that he had done this to his home. He had invited in something ugly and something he never wanted to bring from his first family to this one. She sighed, collected Amber, kissed him on the cheek and took Jazz’s hand. “You kids are filthy! Who taught you two how to eat?” She joked around. Jasper was grateful for that pity kiss on the cheek, but he wasn’t gonna forgive himself any time soon.

He cleaned up the kitchen and went into the bedroom. Charlotte had already went to sleep. Probably couldn’t sleep earlier after he’d upset her. He didn’t know if he should get into bed or go to the couch. There was a pullout wall bed in Jazz’s room and a cot in Amber’s nursery. He could crash in either, but that might confuse the kids. They only used those whenever the kids were scared or sick or sleep eluded them for some other reason. Not for selfish dads who say hurtful things to their wives when frustrated. She stirred and gasped when she saw him standing there. “My god, Jasper! What’re you doing?”

“Trying to figure out if I should get into bed or not. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He sat on the bed, and didn’t move. He felt her arms wrap behind him from behind and her head rest on his back. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Let me talk first, okay?” He nodded. “Okay. I’ve had a rough time in medical school. I had a rough time prior to that. Before, whenever I had a rough time, I’d come home and vent and fuss and cry and you were always there for me. Today, I wanted to sleep. That’s all I wanted, and I kept hearing Amber screaming every time you took something from them. Jazz talking nonstop. And, that’s what they should be doing. They’re kids. Kids are noisy creatures. I should have just came and asked, “Hey. Think you could maybe take them on a day trip or something. I really want to sleep.” Instead, I came in fussing and I really shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, especially in front of them. So, it wasn’t like I came home and wanted to go to sleep and you went off on me. I probably triggered something. I probably made you feel some type of way. But, Jasper… even though I am holding myself accountable for my part in that argument…” Her voice cracked. “You can’t say things that hurtful to me. Okay? Because… I can’t handle it. If you had fussed back and told me not to talk to you that way, I’d have been mad, maybe. I’m cranky and tired, so I probably wouldn’t have been super rational. But, what you said…”

“It wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” He turned to hold her. “I don’t know why I would say something like that. I promise, all I ever speak about is how great of a mom you are. Because, you are, Char. You’ve put Amber in a pouch while you’ve studied for midterms. You’ve let Jazz think they were helping you study by lowkey going over anatomy notes with them. I just had an image in my head that when we started a family, it would be perfect. That’s on me. Nothing’s perfect, but you’re always wonderful and you spend as much time as humanly possible with them. That was… so shitty of me.” He sniffled. “And I accidentally taught Jazz the word “Fuck.” Charlotte accidentally started laughing at that portion of the confession and he squealed, “They keep on saying it and I can’t stop them!”

“I’m sure they’ll survive, F Sized.”

He squeezed her. “I’m still that?”

“Hurting my feelings one time doesn’t make me stop loving you, but you’d better be really careful in the future. I wanted to punch you in the face.” He allowed himself a little laugh.

“It wouldn’t hurt. You have miserable upper body strength.”

“Nu uhn. I’ve had to work on it because I have to be able to help move those body dummies!”

“Okay, but that won’t make your punches harder, necessarily.”

“You wanna test it out?” she jokingly threatened.

“I wanna hold my wife.”

“Okay. But, I’m gonna lay down and actually finally get some sleep.”

“Yes, that’s good. You deserve it.” She laid back down and Jasper wrapped himself around her, crying softly. She knew that she couldn’t say anything more to help him accept that sometimes, even he’ll make mistakes. She hated it though. She hadn’t heard him crying in a really long time. She turned to wipe his face, as needed and did so until the sleep took over her. He didn’t know if her graciousness made him feel better, or worse.

Her last year of medical school, Charlotte got pregnant again. Jazz was a 4 year old wild child, Amber a 2year old TOTAL princess, and this July baby that she would have, she DESPERATELY wanted not to be a Leo like their father. She loved him and everything, but did she need two personalities like that? Whenever she already had a restless Aries child and a Sagittarius drama queen. Being an Earth sign surrounded by all this fire was enough for Charlotte! “So… You want them to be a Cancer?” Jasper asked and rolled his eyes. “I can tell you right now, you don’t want to deal with the emotional habits of a cancer on a daily basis. You hate dealing with emotions.”

“I… don’t hate dealing with emotions. And we aren’t talking about some person in a mommy group. We’re talking about my kids. I’d deal with whatever.”

“I’m rooting for a Leo,” he said flat out.

“These birthdays are so close together!” She complained. “Mine and Jazz’s. Henry’s and Amber’s. Now yours and Ruby’s.”

“I like it. We’re all birthstone buddies. I was so stoked to find out that even though technically Jasper isn’t Jazz’s birthstone, it’s the planetary stone of Aries. That was awesomely cool accidental serendipity.”

“You don’t have to say accidental in front of serendipity.” He rolled his eyes. She could stomp him in science and math, but she didn’t want any of him in Language Arts. “I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“That after medical school nearly tore our marriage apart that I might not even be able to use it.”

“Both of those observations are ridiculous.”

“I’m going to have to take a maternity leave when I should be in my internship. Which means that I will have to probably postpone it and seeing that, who will want me, Dude? It’s like the world ONLY wants child producing humans to do that.”

“The country, maybe. A lot of other places have better opportunities and situations when it comes to maternity politics. You wanna move somewhere?”

She laughed, “WHERE? What country would I want to just try to move to, knowing nothing of their language, society, etc, because of a maternity leave situation?”

“I didn’t consider all of those things when I suggested it.” Charlotte laughed and leaned in to give him a kiss, to which, of course, he responded, fully engaged.

Jazz came into the room and folded her arms, “You two kissing in the mouth in here?”

“Mind ya business!” Charlotte said back.

“Y’all nasty,” Jazz commented and left.

“I feel like that couldn’t have been the reason they came in here,” Charlotte observed.

“They are bad at focusing, just like their daddy. I’m gonna go check things out.” he was gone for about 30 seconds whenever he shouted, “OH MY GOD, AMBER!” Charlotte jumped up and went to see what that meant. Amber had a yellow power wheels convertible that Jasper had specifically done that way because all of the ones that he could find were pink or purple, and neither were colors that they liked, despite often selecting “girl things”themselves… and they had just covered it in painted handprints.

“How did they get paint?” Charlotte wondered.

Jazz said, “I got my ladder chair.”

Charlotte noticed the rolling steps that Jasper sometimes used for housework and she stared at him. “I thought I put those away.” He grabbed the rolling steps and Charlotte grabbed the paints. “Well, they’ve got an even more custom car now,” he said, with a laugh.

“No more fire signs. No more fire signs…” Charlotte cooed, picking up the toddler who was wearing a Belle gown from Beauty and the Beast - their favorite Disney Princess, so she could clean the paint off of them before it got worse.

“You left the paint, Mom!” Jazz commented, even though they were the one that even got it down for Amber in the first place.

“No more fire signs. No more fire signs.”

Eight Months Later…

“Another fire sign!” Jasper cheered. This dude was about to have a mini Leo in the house, like all of their children weren’t already just various incarnations of mini Jaspers. Uncle Roscoe came to the hospital with a boombox and Charlotte already knew that she wasn’t in the mood. He and Jack Leigh had given them a “blues version” of Amber by 311 whenever Amber was born and while Charlotte wanted to ban both of them from the hospital any time she had a baby, this was apparently something that Jasper felt was a good tradition. These songs. She wondered what she was about to have to endure with this infant latched on to her person to feed. Her uncle pressed play. Fire, by the Ohio Players. She put in the earplugs that she had brought in preparation for Uncle Roscoe’s tribute and went to sleep. Ruby anxiously looked around to find the source of the music, but wasn’t about to let go of their lifeline to milk, either.

#A Chasper Fic #chasper #henry danger #hd fanfic #Nesha HD Fics

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sanchezashton1992 · 4 years

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#How To Stop Your Husband From Wanting A Divorce Portentous Cool Ideas #How To Save A 30 Year Marriage

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charmingturkeysandwich · 7 years

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Knock, Knock Ch. 25: New Beginnings

Full disclosure: I literally just got off an actual real life pirate ship excursion and I might be a little drunk. But I wrote this sober, promise! I hope you enjoy this chapter - things are definitely wrapping up for our pirating lovebirds.

Read on AO3.

Read from the beginning on Tumblr.

Recovery wasn’t like it was in the movies and TV shows. Well, not in the happy ones at least.

Emma was miserable a lot of the time. Her voice was mostly back to normal, but the aching in her chest was still pretty severe. The burns she and Belle had suffered were admittedly minor by comparison to what they could have been, but they still hurt like a bitch (and didn’t look very aesthetically pleasing either).

And the pain. Ugh. The pain was nearly constant. She’d stopped taking the pills the doctor had given her – the addiction videos did their proper job of scaring the living daylights out of her – but now she was left at a constant 6-7/10 pain scale (definitely the level of one of the miserable looking emojis) and it was negatively impacting just about every part of her life.

“For God’s sake, Emma, is there any meal you will eat?!” David snapped at her, deeply frustrated by her current distaste for all food that wasn’t ice cream, frozen yogurt, or milkshakes.

“Sorry, dad, I’m just not feeling lasagna today. Especially not since you most definitely just bought this from Granny.”

“Well my pregnant wife and I got sick of putting in so much effort to try to cook you delicious, homemade meals just to have you turn your nose up at them! I know you’re going through a lot, Emma, but, quite honestly, you’re acting like a toddler. Mary Margaret and I are happy to have you here and we love you but I swear to God if you don’t eat this lasagna I’m going to throw it at you.”

Yeah, most people were at their breaking point with her.

Killian was the most patient, of course, but he’d finally broken just the day before. And what a delightful break that was (sarcasm).

You see, if this had been some movie, then Emma would have done some rehab to the tune of a quirky alternative rock song, would have had some montage where she slowly healed and Killian helped her do things while she beamed with her incandescent love, and most importantly she would have been on his fucking boat when he finally needed to get down to business (and not to defeat the Huns).

Ever since she woke up in the hospital she’d been dreaming of that first piratey excursion they’d have after her recovery. She’d probably have some bandages but play it off like it was all part of the costume. It would be fulfilling. Triumphant. It would make her forget how fucking stupid she could be sometimes and how that affected the people around her.

But no. The meds had made her loopy and the lack of meds had made her cranky. Saltwater hitting her wounds was a super ouchy – she discovered that just sitting at the goddamn docks, no less – and it turned out the rocking of the boat was something that really angered her severely battered insides.

So, yeah. Killian had to get back to work, had to execute some of her meticulously crafted plans – without her.

Today was the first one. It was the start of a weeklong camp, and Emma had been so excited for it. They were going to cover the history of the town, the types of creatures in the waters below them. And most importantly, they were going to tell stories. In trying to figure out how exactly to make these summer kid-adventures more interesting (and different from things they already offered), Emma wracked her brain about what really appeals to kids – what they want and what they need.

She’d had a shit life. Obviously. Well, most of it, anyway. But as is true with anyone, she still had those bright spots in her life that shone through all the darkness. Oddly enough, most of them involved fiction.

That’s what hit her. The reason that Killian’s pirate ship tours were so interesting wasn’t because people were interested in actual pirates – no, historically they were rapists, murderers, and thieves with halitosis and scurvy. What people were interested in were the stories. The folk legends. The fairy tales. So on the last two days of this camp, Killian would tell stories of his own – fake ones, of course, as Belle had already done a lesson on the “real” pirates of the region – and then the kids would create their own.

It’s something Emma had done a lot. Not in a controlled, educational setting, of course. More like while hiding in the woods from her abusive, mentally unstable foster father who was threatening to kill her and all the kids with a sawed off shotgun. But it was the same concept. We’re fascinated by fantastical things, fictional adventures, but when it comes down to it, we have all the ability inside us to create our own worlds and stories. And that’s something really powerful for kids – even the ones who aren’t damaged beyond all belief.

You could say Emma was bitter the night before Killian’s camp began, seeing as she wouldn’t be participating. In fact, the pregnant lady was going in her place, because apparently growing a child allowed you more capabilities than her own predicament did.

So she may have started a fight with Killian just before bed.

Despite it being less than 24 hours prior to her lasagna refusal, the details of the encounter were escaping her. What she didn’t forget, however, was Killian’s meltdown. It went something to the tune of you’re the one who put yourself in danger and tried to fucking leave me and you think you get to hold the burning building card forever, well I’ve got the same card in my pocket and I love you so much I can’t even put it into words but funny enough I have a lot of words for you right now that have nothing to do with love.

Emma reacted like a brat, which wasn’t fair. And Killian didn’t call her a brat – or any other b word for that matter – but she could see it in his eyes.

It was so damn frustrating not recovering quickly. Why couldn’t she just be Buffy Summers? Ugh. That’s right. Thinking she was Buffy Summers is exactly what got her into this mess in the first place.

(Non-slayers should probably await the firefighters’ assistance when exiting a burning building. She’s learned her lesson. Please, no more lectures.)

“Emma!” David’s voice boomed, bringing her out of her bitter reverie.

“What?” (She sounded like a sullen teenager, even to herself.)

“I’m giving you ten seconds to start eating that lasagna. One.”

“Or what, you’ll burn all my stuff? Too late. ”

“Two.”

“David, I’m not a child!”

“Three.”

“Seriously, you need to stop this.”

“Four.”

“You realize your kid isn’t even born yet, and you’ll already an annoying father.”

“Five.”

“You’re really not going to give this up, are you?”

“Six.”

“I’m going to text your wife and tell her you’re having some kind of pre-baby meltdown.”

“Seven.”

“Remember how I have serious injuries?!”

“Eight.”

“Burns and scrapes and sprains!”

“Nine.”

Emma crossed her arms and stared, I dare you written across her eyes.

“Ten.”

Before Emma could open her mouth to triumphantly declare having called David’s bluff, he reached over the table, picked her slice of lasagna up off her plate –

– and (gently) smashed it onto her skull.

“What the hell?!”

“I warned you. Now go clean up while I cut you another piece. That you’ll fucking eat this time.”

David wasn’t one to swear very often. He was very Steve Rodgers about it all.

But Emma had broken him. Just like she’d broken everyone else.

The kids couldn’t have been happier. It was a lovely summer day – the storms of the weekend had given the coast the drink it desperately needed, so the flowers were blooming bright and the trees and grasses were greener than ever. The fish were jumping and the birds were cawing and there couldn’t possibly be a single thing missing in that perfect day.

You know, except his pirate princess of a partner.

She was feeling like shit. And he was trying so hard to just let her work through it all herself. Her guilt about everything was tangible, her mild regret about her heroics constantly on her mind – especially when it came to the limitations it was currently imposing on her. He knew that she was being a bitch because she was in pain and missing out on things and sorely unable to take the next step they’d promised each other because of her slow progress.

But there was only so much a man could take.

He regretting yelling at her. Why it had turned to a fight the previous night, he really couldn’t be sure. But he’d been bottling some bitter of his own and the thing about pushing down your feelings is that they inevitably come bursting out. Generally at a most inopportune moment.

So Emma had slept on the pull-out couch rather than in the guest room (their room), and he’d left in the morning before she’d awoken, and now he was on his ship carrying out her wonderful plans, all without her.

Mary Margaret could tell he was only half there. She was picking up a lot of his slack like a damn champ. She was answering all the kids’ questions and keeping them excited, even when Killian had clearly been somewhere else in his head. He was endlessly grateful for the fairer Nolan for putting her child-corralling expertise into practice while he… gathered his bearings.

He’d get through today. He’d put on a great show for the kids, make sure they learned something and were excited for tomorrow, and then he’d get home and fix things with his admittedly still ailing princess.

Deep breaths.

After washing her hair (and changing her shirt), Emma quietly walked back to the kitchen, sat down at her place at the table, and ate two full pieces of lasagna without a word. David just stood there, arms crossed, looking at everything but Emma (while clearly also keeping an eye on her in his periphery to make sure she wasn’t tossing scraps in the trash).

With the newspaper already opened in front of her, Emma started browsing. The police reports were always fun – small seaside towns had some quirky little problems, to be sure – but it was the Classifieds that caught her attention most.

Especially the 2-bedroom house for rent just a couple of blocks from where Killian kept his ship. It was so close to the water that they could probably see the shore from the upstairs. Was that where the bedrooms were? Could Emma get so lucky as to live in a house overlooking the sea with her perfect pirate prince?

(Her life was never this easy.)

It was around one in the afternoon, so Mary Margaret and Killian wouldn’t be home for at least another three hours – more if the kids really wreaked havoc on the ship (hopefully not). And David didn’t have to go into work until 7 (he was doing overnights since Emma needed someone with her in the daytime, yes, like a fucking child).

She shouldn’t be asking David for any favors, but this one was probably acceptable. Because it was a big step and hopefully at least somewhat proof that Emma could do more than brood (and yell at the people who love her).

“Hey, do you think we could swing by this house? Pretty please?”

“Not until you shower. You still smell like marinara.” When Emma finally met David’s eyes, they softened and his scowl gave way to a smirk. (Guess she only broke him momentarily).

The house wasn’t that far from the Nolans’ so they were there by two that afternoon. And as luck would have it, the agent was having an open house until three. So after staring at it from the outside for far too long (she still had some fear, OK?), David and Emma walked up to the door and knocked.

“Hello! Are you folks interested in the house?” A bright-eyed redhead (who wore far too much green) greeted them, ushering them into the foyer.

She was struck by the… cuteness of the place. It wasn’t the vast, column-adorned mansion type. And it wasn’t a cottage in the woods. But it was homey. It was sweet.

And why the fuck was it just for rent?

“Uh, well, yeah. I mean I’m interested in the house. This is my… brother. He’s just, um, helping me.” Emma unconsciously tugged at one of her bandages, suddenly feeling awkward about needing a chaperone. But the woman seemed to realize immediately who she was.

“Oh my goodness! You’re Emma Swan, aren’t you? The girl who tried to save the meth head?”

“Uh, I think it was PCP, but yeah. That’s me. Hence the bodyguard. Sorry.”

“Goodness, no, don’t be sorry. I suppose I should be sorry for being so forward. I do hope you’re recovering well.” She extended her hand and offered another, more sincere smile. “I’m Zelena.”

What a name. “Nice to meet you. This is David. He’s here to stop me from running toward fire. At least until these heal.”

“It really was a wonderful thing you did. It seems Jefferson is finally going to get the help he needs.”

“What he needs is a punch to the face,” David muttered, but Zelena either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore it.

“Can I show you around?” she asked, Emma already wandering about to see the details of each room.

“Yeah, but I mean, I’m already thinking this is too good to be true. Why would someone put this up for rent? It’s so… nice.”

“Well, renting doesn’t mean slumming it, my dear. I’m truly sorry for the loss of your last home, but renting doesn’t always mean it’s small apartments with crappy heat and thin walls. The gentleman who owns this property and many others simply enjoys renovating houses. And he’s found that he generates a nice, steady income from renting them out. And he likes to give people a starter home they can be proud of. Is that something you’re looking for?”

God, if she only knew. “Yes, yeah, that’s… that’s what I need.”

“Then allow me to show you around.”

The tour really only solidified her too good to be true feelings (worries). The carpets were new and the walls were freshly painted. The bay window in their (hypothetical) bedroom would be perfect for curling up and reading. The closets were small, but the basement wasn’t awful, so they’d certainly have room for storage.

And best of all, their view of the bay was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that she could literally see Killian’s ship, out there on the water, molding young minds to be adventurers, explorers and dreamers.

(And yeah, that second bedroom might someday be able to hold a young adventurer, explorer, and dreamer who just so happened to share DNA with her and Killian.)

In short, it was pretty damn perfect.

“Now, I do have several people interested already, but I know that glint in your eye, Ms. Swan. You’ve found your home, haven’t you?”

It was a tactic. Emma knew this. She could spot a slimy salesperson from, well, all the way out to the ocean, probably.

But it’s not as if Zelena was wrong.

The kids had been incredible. It kind of made him feel guilty for being the little shit he was as a child, but it’s all about circumstance. He didn’t have nearly the support these kids did.

Then again, if he had, he may never have crossed the pond, may never have met Milah, may never have loved her and lost her and then found himself on a ‘pirate’ ship and living in a tiny apartment, just one thin wall away from what would become a most magical journey.

It’s funny to think about cause and effect. Because sometimes it could set your insides on fire with anger, with guilt, with regret. But there were those other moments that the cause was something unexpected, terrible, that you’d never wish on your worst enemy – and somehow the effect was, what – happily ever after?

(The lesson plans and build the kids’ imaginations was clearly affecting him.)

Once he’d put the Emma situation (mostly) out of his head, it was a really great day. They talked about colonization and the ships that came to America from the far-off lands. They talked about the wars that had been fought here, the things that had been discovered. And they talked about the heroes of Storybrooke and other surrounding areas – the corrupt mayor who’d been defeated by a brave young woman, the young boy who’d stopped the curse of scarlet fever, the brave huntsman who’d given his life to save a young princess from a faraway land. There were historical accounts of each of those tales, of course, but they weren’t quite as fun as the folksy versions. Killian was careful to tell both, though, and the kids were captivated.

When he bid them all farewell and he and Mary Margaret packed up their things, they both had a glow about them (and his clearly had nothing to do with pregnancy). It was more fulfilling than he’d ever imagined to be using his powers for good, so to speak.

Frat boys guzzling rum made him money, but damn did this new arrangement just give him so much more.

“What do you think the whiner and her warden have prepared for us for dinner?” Mary Margaret asked, her being the only one really taking Emma’s constant crankiness in stride.

“Oh, who knows. Emma probably won’t even be there. I sense she’ll be avoiding me. Again.”

“Oh, she will not. I heard your fight – well, part of it. Our walls aren’t that thin. But you needed to let it out! And I know her. She’ll understand. And maybe you showing how her sullenness is affecting you will finally make her clean up her act a little bit. I love her, but damn. She’s a level of bitter I haven’t experienced before. And I was there when she was attempting to live in her car.”

“I know all the stories, Mary Margaret. I think she’s angrier because she was happier? I think the fight last night started all because she’s just mad that she couldn’t go on the ship today. After all her planning and being so dedicated to trying to really cultivate the whole ‘educational’ and ‘family’ aspect of the business, she’s stuck at home. She’s taking it out on us which is super not OK, obviously. But I know from experience that your emotions hit you harder when there’s actually something you feel you lost.”

“Well I’m sure she’d recover faster if she’d just try a little harder. But don’t tell her I said that.” Mary Margaret looked over at Killian and smiled for a moment before focusing back on the task of backing into their driveway. It was nice, the camaraderie he had with Mary Margaret and David, Emma’s only “family” – despite their not being blood-related.

They were all this little unit. Along with Belle and Will and Regina and Ruby and Robin – somehow Killian had found his people.

All because of Emma.

When Mary Margaret and Killian entered the home, they found a surprising sight: Emma and David were making dinner. Together.

Emma was actually contributing to the meal’s preparation. She was even – gasp – smiling?

Until she saw him. At that point her expression morphed to something between fear and panic. Was he accidentally dressed like Freddy Kruger?

“You’re home!” Emma stuttered, visibly nervous.

“I can finish this. Why don’t you go… chat?” David suggested, bumping Emma out of the way with his hip while he stirred what looked like sauce.

“Uh, ok. Just… keep stirring.”

“Just keep stirring, just keep stirring, just keep stirring, stirring, stirring,” David started singing, continually moving the wooden spoon through the substance in the skillet.

“David. You’re not Dory,” Emma chided, a hint of a smile on the corners of her lips.

(David was breaking tension. Which meant there was something up. Fuck, he couldn’t deal with any more drama.)

Emma approached him overly cautiously – the kiss she laid on his cheek so quick he barely felt it. “We’re having this tortellini veggie bake that I found on Pinterest and I don’t want him to fuck it up. I’ve read it’s delicious.” Emma seemed to be trying to explain her nervousness away, to blame it on cooking. But there was definitely something more going on.

She took his hand and led them to their room, Emma awkwardly standing in the doorway even as Killian sat down on the bed. She was quiet for far too long, staring all over the room instead of looking at him.

Until she finally blurted out, “please don’t be mad at me!”

Which took him by surprise. “Uhhh, are you talking about last night? Because I was just frustrated and I shouldn’t have said what I did – I’m annoyed at you, admittedly, but I’m not mad, per se, and I don’t want you to think I hate you because I don’t, I’m just – ”

“No, Killian, I get it. I’ve been a bitter, frustrated bitch and it’s not fair and you needed to get it out. No harm done except me feeling guilty for being awful. That’s – that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then why would I be mad?”

“Well, you know how you worried that I’d be mad when you made a big decision without asking me?”

“… yes?”

“You really don’t see where I’m going with this?”

“Yes, Emma, I obviously see that you made a decision without me, but I’m not sure what that decision might have been so I’m waiting for you to explain it before I assure you I’m not mad!”

“Well, I may have, um… put down security deposit and first and last month’s rent on a house. It’s adorable! I promise! And it overlooks the water and has a bay window and it’s mostly new and we don’t have to share any walls with psychopaths and it has a brand new fire alarm and sprinkler systems and a fireplace and I just want us to move forward and I’m sorry that I’m terrible at recovering and I know I should have asked you first but you were with the kids and I knew you couldn’t text or call and the slimy sales lady was all I have other people interested and making me feel like I had no choice but to take it right that second and I shouldn’t have fallen for it, but Killian, it’s our house. I could feel it. So. I took the leap.”

Emma was out of breath from her babbling, so Killian gave her a moment just to breathe, to attempt relaxation – however impossible that might be. And then he stood, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to sit next to him. He put his hand on her leg and gripped it tightly, willing her to listen to his words and stop her damn panicking.

“Emma. We have got to stop worrying that each other is going to leave just because we took a positive step forward. Or, perhaps we need to communicate with each other before taking steps. I don’t know, it’s one of the two. But the point is: I’m very happy that you found us a house. It sounds perfect. And I’m so happy to be starting a life with you. Not that it hasn’t already started. I mean, we’ve kind of been living a joint life for a while now. But you know what I’m saying. We’ll start our fully independent life together.”

“I know I should have resolved last night especially first. I’ve been terrible. I’m still going to be terrible – I swear I can only control my snark about 45% of the time. I resolved long ago, just after everything with Graham, that I wouldn’t ever use you as a punching bag. Even when you’re offering yourself up for it. And I failed. I know that. I know I let myself just let go and take everything out on you and Mary Margaret and David. I know that’s why Robin won’t even come visit and why Belle gets short with me. I mean we dealt with the same trauma and yet I’m the only one going all Cruella de Vil because of it. I’m working on it. I promise to always work on it. Because, you know, I love you.”

“As I love you. Now how about you show me this home I apparently have because somebody just couldn’t wait…” Killian put his forehead against hers, brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“After dinner. I’m serious about the tortellini. It’s supposed to be near Godly and it took us a Godly amount of time to cook it, so we’re damn well eating it. But then I’ll take you to see the house! It’s perfect. I promise I made a good decision, even if I shouldn’t have done so alone.”

“Oh, love, any house would be perfect with you in it.” Killian kissed her cheek, her nose, her forehead, and then captured her lips in a deep, loving kiss.

“Only my dinner should be that cheesy, Jones.”

Go to Next Chapter

I have finally experienced the type of excursion that I’ve been writing about for over a year, and I’m happy to report I was correct about what it was like. So yay! Cheers, friends & thank you for reading : )

#cs ff #cs au #cs au ff #cs fanfiction #keisha writes #knock knock #also yes that is me #and my very own killian #we had some excellent pirate adventures

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