#is there anyone killian is more jealous of than himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

Hello. I am very interested with WinterIron. Enemies to Lovers, abo with omega Tony, accidental bonding, mutual pining, a lot and a loooootttttt of kissing and touching (with "I do it because of bond" excuses).

Please feel free to cross anything you feel uncomfortable with.

Hi there! I wasn't able to get everything in there, but hopefully there's enough? I loved this prompt so much, it was a fun verse to write in 💙

CW for omegas having few rights in this verse and for creepy Aldrich Killian

As always, everything I write can also be found on ao3

mate bond: [meyt bond] noun

1. A mental and physical connection that ties two people together following a mating bite

2. A pair bond between spouses

[An excerpt from The Other Half of My Soul: An Exploration into Unconventional Bonding Methods by Anderson-Lopez et al, 1972]

“While rare, it is important to note the existence of mate bonds in individuals who have not exchanged bites. These instances have notably occurred during times of high stress for one or both individuals, and are sparked by an inciting incident of some kind, usually a traumatic event. While these types of mate bonds, dubbed soulmate bonds by the media, frequently occur between individuals who are highly compatible, it is not necessary. Curiously, however, it does seem necessary that the individuals are scent matched for a soulmate bond, even though compatible second genders are not a requirement.”

Bucky maintained that it was an accident.

Tony had been meant for Steve, after all. That was the arrangement Howard Stark had decided on with Fury. Bucky had only come along as moral support for the first meeting between Steve and Tony. He wasn’t even supposed to meet Tony first, but the crowded ballroom had been too much for him, so he’d ducked out into the hallway, only to come across two alphas menacing an omega. He supposed that some of Steve’s fiery nature must have rubbed off on him, as he normally would have never taken on two alphas by himself, not when he was down an arm. But he’d taken one look at that omega, pretty brown eyes wide with distress, and leapt into action. It hadn’t been until both alphas had been sent off running with their tails between their legs that he’d realized the omega he’d rescued was Tony Stark, Steve’s arranged mate.

Unfortunately (fortunately? No, definitely unfortunately), the arranged match would never come to fruition as Bucky and Tony had looked at each other and immediately bonded without a shared word or bite between them.

Howard was furious, Fury less so—Bucky was still a SHIELD agent, even if he wasn’t the great Captain America, so the planned union between SHIELD and SI would still happen—but both Bucky and Tony insisted that it hadn’t been done on purpose. And, as neither had a mating bite but could still feel the other at the back of their mind, it was hard to disprove the existence of what had once been called a soulmate bond, though was now called the rather unglamorous name of Mate Bond Subtype C, which Bucky thought sounded like an illness.

The media thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever heard. Steve, who was slowly courting another alpha from SHIELD, thought it was a relief. Bucky, who didn’t want an omega while he was still recovering from the surgery on his arm, thought it was a nightmare at first.

He didn’t know what Tony thought.

They might have shared a bond between them, but Tony had quickly figured out how to shield his feelings. It had taken Bucky a little bit more practice but he too had worked out how to keep his thoughts and feelings private, which was good, because he doubted Tony would like to know what he was thinking.

They’d been bonded for three months and, while Bucky had moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment, they didn’t share a room, let alone a bed. He still took long missions that took him away for weeks at a time. Tony spent more time at SI’s research labs than he did at home. Bucky hadn’t shared Tony’s heat, nor had Tony shared Bucky’s rut, though neither of them had invited anyone else into their beds. And other than their planned public outings where they had to touch to put on the façade of a happily bonded couple, they didn’t hold hands or kiss or lean into each other, giggling.

The problem was—Bucky wanted all of that. He wanted to sleep curled around Tony. He wanted the two of them to be home long enough to share more than one dinner together at a time. He desperately wanted to share cycles, but even more badly than that, he wanted to touch Tony as often as the omega could stand it. Because the problem was also this—sometime in the course of three months, he’d fallen in love.

Tony slid his hand into Bucky’s as they stood in the elevator. “It’s just a quick walk around the ballroom, say hi to a couple investors, and then we can leave,” he said reassuringly, giving Bucky a quick smile. “I know how much you hate these shindigs.”

This was true, Bucky did hate them, but he knew that Tony hated them just as much, though he hid it much better than Bucky did. “Don’t worry,” he replied, squeezing Tony’s hand quickly. “I’ll stick to you like glue.”

“Well, maybe not like glue. Like Velcro, maybe. Howard’s got a couple investors that I know he wants me to meet and that I know you’ll hate so you’re more than welcome to go off and find people more to your liking then. I heard Steve’s coming.”

Bucky had to fight to hide a frown. He knew Tony didn’t mean any harm by the comment, but he hated how Tony thought he wouldn’t want to be by his side even when meeting people he didn’t like. So what if he didn’t like them? He’d still prefer to be giving Tony silent support instead of wandering off and leaving him alone for that long.

Before he can respond, the elevator came to a smooth stop, the doors opening on a soft ding to reveal the glittering ballroom Maria Stark had chosen to host the Annual Stark Foundation’s Shareholders’ Ball, meant to honor those who had given so generously to charity over the last year. The room was decorated in delicate ice-like structures, calling to mind the snow blanketing the city outside, though it wasn’t nearly as cold inside. Golden chandeliers reflected off the dark windows, giving the impression of a never-ending stretch of light. It was all so very glitzy and glamorous. Bucky hated it. It was an obscene display of wealth, meant solely to remind everyone that the Starks were richer than anyone else in the room.

“One hour, Bucky Bear,” Tony murmured like he could hear Bucky’s thoughts. “And then we can go get burgers.”

He dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of sliding his own into the crook of Bucky’s elbow, gently steering him towards the first group of investors. Like every other rich person he’d met since bonding with Tony, they were simultaneously smug of their own “generosity” (mere pennies compared to their bank accounts) and jealous, both of Tony’s wealth and Bucky’s luck in landing a Stark (not his words). The smugness was blatant, the jealousy only slightly hidden in the way their eyes lingered as Bucky took the opportunity to brush his lips across Tony’s cheek, quietly telling him he was going to go get them drinks.

“I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me,” he promised, understanding the minute tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded, attention already turning back to the investors—or, more likely, to his latest project, however much it might have looked like he was paying attention to Hugh Worthington IV. Bucky slipped through the crowd to the bar. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded yet and he was able to order a whiskey for himself and a scotch for Tony, who always refused to drink the fruity drinks he actually preferred at these parties, almost immediately. As he waited, he turned back to the crowd, idly scanning it. Steve wasn’t there yet, if it was indeed true that Fury had managed to stuff him into a suit and send him off to schmooze. His eyes sought out Tony, who was laughing as he excused himself from the group Bucky had left him with, moving on to another small throng of people.

He smiled despite himself. Tony was lovely like this, despite his discomfort. Bucky got to see him laugh so rarely at home that he cherished every moment he got to see it while they were out in public.

“Sir, your drinks,” the bartender prompted. He thanked them absently and left a tip on the bar before making his way back across the ballroom to Tony’s side.

Tony wasn’t laughing now. In fact, if his pursed lips were anything to go off of, he was pretty furious, and Bucky wondered what had upset him between him leaving the bar and him returning to Tony’s side.

“Doll,” he said, letting Tony know he was there. Tony turned and took his drink, thanking him with a quick kiss that Bucky desperately wanted to turn into a longer, sweeter one.

“Honey, Senator Stern here was just telling me about an omega’s rights bill he filibustered so it wouldn’t pass,” Tony said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

“Now isn’t that interesting,” Bucky drawled, irritated himself. The bill in question was a law that he knew Tony had backed, as it would have put a stop to the arranged bondings the wealthy were so fond of. They’d both known it would be a longshot to pass, but they’d remained hopeful. “That’s the one that Stevie supported isn’t it?”

“It is,” Tony agreed. “My alpha here—” He patted Bucky’s chest. “—is close friends with Captain Rogers. They grew up together, you know. Steve spends nearly every Saturday evening with us. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear about this bill failing to pass. Isn’t he supposed to be putting in an appearance at the Senate hearing next week? It would be such a shame if he couldn’t make it.”

Tony’s statement was only partially true. Bucky mostly saw Steve at SHIELD, as Steve, despite being always welcome at their apartment, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d come to an arranged bonding of his own. But Steve, who had been an omega before receiving the serum, had always been an outspoken supporter of omega’s rights, and now that he was an alpha, and Captain America to boot, he used every bit of that privilege to push as much pro-omega legislature through Congress as he could. He was a thorn in conservative senators’ sides, like Stern, and it was a minor miracle that they’d gotten him to appear in front of Congress to talk positively about a Republican bill supporting an expansion of benefits for veterans, when he normally disagreed with anything Republican just on principle. Steve’s support would go a long way toward getting that bill passed.

Tony’s veiled threat was effective. Stern, one of the authors of the bill, blanched, making Bucky smile. He loved watching Tony do his thing. There was really nothing better than Tony putting bullies like Stern back in their place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Stern stammered out before hurrying away.

As soon as he was gone, Tony drooped, leaning back against Bucky. It was nice, being able to lend his support to his omega, but Tony was standing up straight again after only a moment, the façade falling back over him.

“I really hate that guy,” Tony said softly. He looked up at Bucky. “Sorry about using your friendship with Steve like that. I was just so angry. Saw red for a second there.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky said. Impulsively, he reached out to clasp Tony’s shoulder, running his thumb soothingly over the soft skin just above his shirt collar. “You guys got a bad lot in life. You do what you gotta do to make it right.”

Tony hummed. “I really wanted that bill to pass. It wasn’t right, what Howard and Fury wanted me to do. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

“Sorry,” Bucky offered up. It was a lame apology, but he didn’t know what else he could say to make it better. He knew very well that if he and Tony hadn’t bonded that night, Steve would be Tony’s alpha.

To his surprise, Tony smiled and nudged his shoulder, teasing, “I don’t know, you’re not so bad.”

Bucky sputtered, nearly choking on his whiskey.

“Oh, look, Steve’s just arrived,” Tony said airily, like he hadn’t noticed the effect his words were having on Bucky. “Let’s go say hi.”

Talking to Steve at these events was always awkward. Tony and Steve were both aware that neither of them wanted anything to do with each other as mates, which made having to see each other a study in unspoken tension. He didn’t think it was that either of them had a problem with the other, and he suspected that they could even manage to be friends eventually, but it was that knowledge that they’d nearly been forced to mate that made things so tense between them. Still, he appreciated that Tony was willing to put up with it so that Bucky could see his best friend. It was the sort of small kindness that Tony unthinkingly did that had made Bucky fall in love with him so easily.

Tonight was no different. Tony and Steve exchanged no more than a few awkward words before Tony excused himself to go meet with Emma Frost. He didn’t bother kissing Bucky this time, as Steve was one of the few people they didn’t have to pretend with and it didn’t seem like anyone was watching them at the moment. It would have been different if they’d met up a few months ago. There’d been more than a few people who’d somehow got it into their heads that Steve and Tony’s proposed bond was a love match instead of arranged, and they’d all watched eagerly to see how Steve, Tony, and Bucky interacted in those days following Bucky and Tony’s bonding, clearly wondering if Steve was going to pick a fight. They’d been sorely disappointed, of course; Steve and Bucky didn’t fight over anything, let alone an omega that Steve hadn’t wanted.

“So Fury roped you into the dog and pony show, huh,” Bucky asked, eyeing the stiff collar of Steve’s shirt. He’d be willing to bet that it was brand new. Steve was much more at home in a pair of khakis and a flannel shirt than he was in a tuxedo.

“Senator Brandt actually,” Steve said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “He thinks it’s good for me to make appearances and drum up support for SHIELD.”

“Sucks.” There was a niggling worry growing at the back of his mind, unrelated to Steve’s complaints about the brass, but Bucky didn’t know what it was. He glanced around the room, but was unable to spot anything amiss. He tried to put it out of his mind by asking, “How’s working with the Commandos?” He couldn’t entirely keep the bitterness out of his voice. Bucky had been moved out of the Commandos unit a few weeks before meeting Tony, and it wasn’t that he didn’t like being on Strike Team Delta, but he was still irritated that he hadn’t had a choice in the matter.

“Not the same without you,” Steve said, grimacing at him like he knew what was going through Bucky’s mind.

They continued talking about SHIELD as they slowly circulated the room and all the while, that worry was growing stronger, slowly morphing into fear, but it wasn’t until he happened to catch a glimpse of Tony standing in the corner and looking tense and unhappy that he realized they weren’t his feelings. They were Tony’s. Tony was worried and scared and had brought down his shields so that Bucky could feel his emotions and Bucky was standing on the other side of the room like an idiot.

“Excuse me,” he said brusquely, cutting Steve off. “Tony’s in trouble.”

He headed straight for Tony, pushing through the crowd without sparing a thought to anyone he might be offending as he shoved them aside. For once, it was Steve who was trailing after him, offering apologies to everyone who looked offended.

There was a look of naked relief in Tony’s eyes as Bucky marched up behind the alpha Tony was talking to. It was a look he’d never seen on Tony’s face before, at least not directed at him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that his omega was happy to have him there or disliked that Tony had to be relieved at all.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asked, hand clamping down on the alpha’s shoulder.

“Bucky,” Tony breathed. He sagged back against the wall. “This is Aldrich Killian. He’d like to propose—” Tony’s mouth twisted unhappily. “He’d like to propose an omega trade. I told him I wasn’t interested, but he insisted on talking to you.”

Anger flared in Bucky’s chest, hot and furious. Omega trades weren’t common anymore, used mostly in backroom deals to secure a transaction. You treat my omega right and I’ll treat your omega right, and maybe we can have a deal. He knew the rich, traditional alphas Tony had grown up with still occasionally used them, but he hated them. He’d always hated them. The very concept treated omegas like property, like hostages, and the thought of seeing Tony—his Tony—under someone else had his vision shading red.

“Is that so?” he hissed.

Killian, the idiot, didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s growing anger. “Maya’s a great—” he began to say.

Bucky cut him off with a hand around his throat, slamming him into the wall.

“Bucky—” Steve started, a warning in his voice.

“Tell them it’s SHIELD business,” he snapped. “Isn’t that the usual excuse?”

What Steve did to placate the crowd growing around them, he didn’t know; he was too intent on Killian to care. “Let me get this straight,” he growled. “You asked Tony for a trade and when he told you no, because I know him, he wouldn’t ever want that and he wouldn’t be quiet about it, you cornered him and insisted you’d only listen to a no from me.” It wasn’t a question. Tony’s thoughts and emotions were flooding him with what Killian had tried to do to him. He growled again at the image of Killian’s hand on Tony’s arm, removed after only a moment. This—this—alpha had tried to put his hands on Tony, had ignored his clear no, and was still babbling on about whatever business deal he wanted out of Bucky—or, more likely, Tony, though as an omega, Tony wouldn’t be able to make that decision.

“It’s a yes or no question, Killian,” he finally snapped, losing his temper. “Did you or did you not ignore Tony’s answer—"

“He’s an omega,” Killian tried.

“He’s a person. He’s a person who was clearly uncomfortable with you and you should never have ignored that. The only reason you’re still standing and not laid out on the floor is because he cares about making a scene, but guess what, I don’t.” His hand tightened on Killian’s throat, making the man wheeze. “Do—”

“Bucky,” Tony said quietly, cutting through his anger.

Without removing his hand from Killian, he looked at Tony. Tony still looked a little shaken, but there was something else in his eyes, something that Bucky didn’t know how to describe.

“Let him go,” Tony continued. “You made your point.”

“He—”

“Yeah, he did,” Tony said, knowing what he was going to say. Bucky wondered if his own shields were down, letting Tony read his thoughts and feelings. “And you were here to stop it, so it’s okay. Let him go, we can go get burgers.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure Killian never laid hands on someone unwilling ever again, but then Steve was there, carefully pulling Bucky away as he muttered to him about seeing what Fury could do about Killian. And that wasn’t exactly what Bucky wanted, but it was better than nothing, and taking care of Tony was his priority anyway. So since Tony wanted burgers, he would go get burgers.

He spun on his heels, intent on heading to the elevators, only to freezes as soon as he saw Tony. They were supposed to be faking it, which meant that he should do something—wrap an arm around Tony’s waist or kiss his forehead or—or something. But Tony had just had to deal with an unwelcome touch. He shouldn’t have to deal with another one so soon afterwards.

Tony surprised him though by stepping forward and sliding his hand into Bucky’s, interlacing their fingers. “Come on, alpha. Let’s go home,” he said, leading Bucky through the crowd watching them. Bucky ignored them in favor of drinking in the sight of Tony whole and healthy, if not happy.

They were quiet in the elevator ride back down to the parking garage, quiet as they climbed into the back of the car, quiet as Happy pulled out onto the road. Then Tony slid across the backseat to tuck up against Bucky’s side. He rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder, and, after a moment, Bucky rested his cheek against Tony’s curls.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” Tony said. Bucky could feel the truth in his words through their bond, and he realized that Tony hadn’t put his mental shields back up. “I wouldn’t have asked for your help if I hadn’t been expecting something like that.”

“Shouldn’t have taken it so far though. I know you’re not—we’re not—” He grimaced as he fumbled over the words. He’d been able to admit for three months that he and Tony weren’t in a relationship, why was it so hard now?

Tony hesitated before carefully saying, “We could be.”

“We—what?”

“Bucky Bear,” Tony said warmly, sitting up so he could look him in the eyes. “You have to know—people don’t just do what you did tonight or the night we met, for that matter. Not for me. I—I don’t know, the way we bonded, it threw me off. I wasn’t expecting it and I reacted badly. But—then the way you reacted to Killian got me thinking—maybe we could try?”

“Try?” Bucky whispered.

“Try us?” Tony asked, leaning back in slowly, giving Bucky enough time to move away if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to. “Yeah,” he breathed. “We could try. I—I’d like that.”

Tony smiled at him, bright and lovely, and closed the distance between them.

#alle writes #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging #alle answers

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

Never Nothing- Extra # 2

Another little extra for one of my favorite series!! Soft domestic fluff meets angst... There will be a follow up to this one, eventually.

For @the-darkdragonfly who wanted this to be a 12 part series… we’re halfway there baby

Rated T, mostly for language

~4300 words

Get added to my tag list (I keep one for everything!)

Read on Ao3

Read the rest of the series

Read my other stuff

~~~~

“Stop it.”

“I’m only trying--”

“No, stop it.”

“My love, if you’d just--”

“I don’t want to!”

“--you may find that you feel better.”

“I won’t. I will never feel better, ever, for as long as I live. I will feel exactly this horrible every second for the rest of my miserable life.”

Killian sighs softly, smiling at her despite how much it pisses her off and running his hand through her hair. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so uncomfortable.”

“Having a baby in August is not a good plan.”

“No,” he agrees. “I’m sure you must be feeling rather miserable.”

She nods, pouting. “Extremely miserable.”

He softly kisses the tip of her nose, taking out the sunscreen he’s been begging her to wear and squirting some into his hands. “Now, just imagine how hot you’d be if we were still in Phoenix.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles, leaning forward just enough for him to get her back.

“You’re the one who suggested we come to the beach.”

She glares up at him, her lips pressed into a tight line and her brows covering her eyes almost completely. “You’re on thin ice.”

“I think you’ll find there’s no ice this time of year, my darling. It’s very hot out; it would melt.”

He can’t blame her for being miserable. At 37 weeks pregnant in late July, she can’t seem to ever get comfortable. Her back hurts her endlessly, her hips are sore, she’s been suffering with horrible heartburn, and the mood swings are difficult to keep up with.

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

“Why don’t we get into the water? A bit of buoyancy is sure to help your back.”

She sighs in defeat and says, “I’ll probably just get sea sick. Or eaten by a shark. Or stung by a jellyfish.”

He kisses her nose once more and takes her hand, hoisting her off of the chaise lounge and placing his palm on the small of her back where he knows she’s sore. “I’ll fight off the sharks and the jellyfish, my love.”

“Promise?” she asks as she waddles towards the shore with him.

“Of course.”

She squeals as she tries to get into the chilly water, but once they’re in and she’s used to the cold, she relaxes a bit. His heart flutters when she leans back against his chest, letting him bear her weight as he runs his hand along her bump and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

Feeling her pressed against him makes the blood rush through his veins, and he’s glad for the cold water keeping any obvious signs of his arousal at bay. He’s always found her unbelievably sexy, but seeing her in her yellow bikini, her bump on full display, is enough for him to have almost kept her home today.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she grumbles, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the waves. “And no, we’re not doing it in the ocean.”

“I would perish at the thought of sullying your purity on a public beach, love.”

“Purity,” she scoffs. “I’m knocked up at 22. Nothing pure about it.”

He kisses her neck, then her cheek, and holds her close to himself, his bare wrist pressed to the side of her belly and his hand holding it tenderly. “We've talked about this, love,” he murmurs against her skin. “How this child has come to be is not important. What’s important is how fiercely the two of us love him.”

“I know,” she agrees softly, dropping her head to his shoulder and sighing as she lets herself relax further into his hold and into the gentle current of the sea. “I just wish… sometimes I just wish you were his dad.”

He sways the two of them together gently, letting the waves carry them, and reminds her, “I fully intend to be. Biology isn’t really a factor here, my love.”

She hums happily as she lets him support every ounce of her, effectively floating just below the surface with him holding her up. “I just feel… I love this baby more than anything. I don’t regret having him, I just kind of wish you'd been the one to knock me up.”

“Me too,” he laughs, “but it’s alright, because this child will be as much my son as any that I sire.”

“I love you. Sorry I’m a bitch.”

“You’re the furthest thing from it, darling. I’ll not hear you talking about yourself in such a way.”

She hums again and shrugs. “I could probably chill out a bit. I’ve been pretty snappy.”

“Well, you’re nine months pregnant.”

“Maybe I’ll keep being bitchy after the baby’s born.”

“I hope so. I like you when you’re fired up.”

She lies in his arms for a while, content to float almost weightlessly in the water as the pressure of the babe she carries is finally relieved. He feels the lad kicking about beneath the water, likely entranced by the dancing waves, and chuckles softly each time he gets a strike to his palm.

“What would you like for dinner, my love?” he asks after a long silence falls between them.

“Chinese food,” she answers immediately.

“That’s a nice dream. What do you actually want, Miss High Blood Pressure?”

“Baaaabe,” she groans, tossing her head back against his shoulder again and gripping his forearms. “I don’t want grilled chicken.”

“You don’t have to have grilled chicken. We can stop for fish.”

“The baby wants lo mein.”

“He can have some after he’s born and his mother isn’t at risk for preeclampsia.”

She grumbles some more, her words incoherent and inaudible over the sound of the water lapping around them. “Chicken,” she finally concedes. “But only if you make that sauce you made last week.”

With a snort, he asks, “you mean the one with the bacon in it?”

“That’s the one.”

“Alright, love. Let’s get you out of the water before you give birth to a raisin.”

“You’ve gotta work on your dad jokes.”

~~~~

The days seem to be getting longer and longer, time refusing to pass at a normal pace as she lives in constant torture and betrayal of her own body. She loves being pregnant, honestly, but it’s becoming a bit tiring. The baby she’s hauling around is heavy, and her back is killing her. Killian’s being very wary of her slightly elevated blood pressure when all she wants is Chinese food and chicken nuggets. Her mom still remembers her days as a perinatal nurse and won’t stop accidentally scaring her when she talks about what she’s seen during labor.

Killian’s looking forward to the delivery, and she tries not to let that piss her off. Of course, she’s more than elated to see him so excited for their child to be born, and she’s so lucky to have a partner who will be there for her throughout the whole thing. But each time he tries to show her something he’s read in a book, or a breathing exercise they can try together during contractions, she wants to chuck something at him. After all, she doesn’t believe that he’s truly ready for what her body will be doing in just a few short weeks.

“During a contraction, I can try to massage your lower back if you’re standing. How does that sound?”

“Standing?” she asks doubtfully. “I can barely stand during cramps.”

“Don’t let him fool you; the massages don’t help,” Granny says ominously while she places her plate before her. While he’s been very strict about her diet, Killian can’t keep her from getting her French toast from Granny’s on Sunday mornings.

“And did you have a walking epidural when you delivered in the Enchanted Forest, Granny?” he asks, his tone sarcastic.

She rolls her eyes as she places his eggs in front of him.

Taking a deep breath with her eyes squeezed shut, Emma places her hand on the top of her bump as a zip of hot pain rushes up her chest and into her throat. Killian’s silent and still as he watches her, holding his fork above his plate as his brows furrow while she waits for it to pass. Once the pain subsides, he asks, “alright?”

“Heartburn,” she breathes. He pushes her glass of water towards her encouragingly as she breathes steadily. “Damn.”

“It won’t be long, love.”

“Yeah, he better make an appearance soon. I wanna meet him so bad, and I wouldn’t mind if the indigestion went away.”

“Morning,” Ruby says happily as she refills Killian’s mug, much to Emma’s jealous vexation.

“Morning Ruby. What’s the report for this week?” he asks, happily going along with her perception of herself as the town crier.

“Not much, but there’s someone new in town. Can you believe that? The dwarves are doing some research to find out if that means we can leave.”

“Well, that will certainly be interesting,” he agrees, giving Emma a happy smile. They haven’t even bothered to attempt to leave themselves, although it’s suspected that they can.

“And everyone is excited to have a newcomer.”

“I’m sure he must be a really interesting character, what with him wanting to come to Storybrooke.”

Emma snorts, digging into her breakfast once her least favorite pregnancy symptom subsides completely.

“I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard he is kind of an ass.”

Moments later, her parents bustle into the diner and greet her with a broad smile as they approach them. “Hi honey!” her mom says happily.

“Morning,” she smiles.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she and David scoot the two of them down in their booths. “How’s my sweet little grandson?”

Mary Margaret places a gentle hand over Emma’s bump and she stiffens just a bit. It always feels weird to have anyone but Killian put their hands on her belly. “Okay. He keeps flopping around and giving me heartburn.”

She hums in understanding, patting her belly. “Have you heard about someone new being in town?”

“We were just briefed by Ruby,” Killian answers.

“Well, I met him very briefly. He’s handsome and very charming.”

“I don’t think Emma or Hook care much about that, Snow,” David says, and Emma nods.

“Well, I heard he’s coming here for breakfast today. Isn’t that exciting? You two won’t be the newcomers anymore.”

Emma laughs and nods through another bite. “I guess that’s true.”

They continue to chat through their meal, David talking about his job as an animal control officer. Apparently, they’re thinking about adopting a dog he’d rescued a week ago, and Emma’s only seen him beam like this a few times in the short time she’s known him. Things are good, the French toast isn’t giving her heartburn, she thinks she’s going to have a good day.

Until the bell above the door rings.

And he walks in.

She takes in a gasping breath, her eyes bugging out of her head as she swings her head away from the door. “Alright?” Killian asks her softly, leaning over the table and taking her hand.

She shakes her head and feels his body go rigid with panic. If they weren’t trapped in the booth by her parents, she would grab his hand and run out the back door of the diner to escape him.

“Heartburn?” Killian asks softly, not yet alerting her parents of her sudden shift in mood. “Braxton Hicks? Contractions?!”

“No,” she croaks.

“What is it, angel? Talk to me.”

She chances a look towards the door and sees him talking with Ruby, probably flirting with her shamelessly. Then, she looks back at Killian and whispers, “Neal.”

He raises a brow in thought and then she watches as the pieces of the puzzle click into place. He nods once, looking towards the door and grimacing. Ruby starts to guide Neal towards a table and Mary Margaret gives him a friendly, excited wave before Emma can stop her. She wants to put her head through the table; maybe he won’t see her if she does that.

The only saving grace is the fact that she can spread her legs out and tuck her bump under the table. The last thing she wants right now is for him to find out that he fertilized the egg that became her son.

“Mary Margaret, right? Hi,” he greets casually. “And this must be your husband, and--”

He’s staring, but not at her. He’s gaping at Killian.

“What the… Hook?”

Killian looks as baffled as Emma must, and he gives her a look of confusion that tells her he has no idea what’s going on. Only, when he looks at her, so does Neal.

“Emma?!”

“You two know each other?”

“Oh my god,” she grumbles, dropping her head to her folded arms on the table. She’d pushed her plate away, unable to eat anything more as the stress of her sperm donor making an appearance in her life eats away at her.

“Darling, perhaps we should--” Before he can continue, she kicks him under the table, not wishing to let Neal know anything personal about her, especially the fact that she and Killian are together and that she’s expecting a baby in a few weeks.

“Darling? Are you two, like, dating or something?”

“Emma and Ho-- Killian live together,” her mother supplies, and Emma rolls her eyes.

“Huh,” Neal says in response. “You sure do move on fast.”

“Mate, that’s not--”

“I’m not your mate, pirate.”

Killian chuckles awkwardly and asks, “do we know each other?”

Neal looks like he’s ready to snap, perhaps jump across the table and strangle Killian at his cocky response, but he’s interrupted by the door opening again and Mr. Gold entering the diner. “Bae,” he calls, not yet taking notice of what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. “What are you doing?”

“Bae,” Killian breathes, staring up at Neal and Mr. Gold in astonishment. “You… you’re Neal?”

“What is going on?” Emma asks through gritted teeth, wanting nothing more than to escape. The position she’s put herself in in order to hide her bump is horribly uncomfortable on her back (and she probably looks ridiculous), and all she wants to do now is go home and sit on her new couch.

“What’s going on is your boyfriend is a piece of shit,” Neal spits at her. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“What, like I picked you? Lot of good that did me, what with the police, and the court hearings, and the community service, and the--”

“Honey… This is Neal? I thought your name was Bae.”

“It was,” Neal grumbles back, turning towards his father and then back to Emma. “You told your parents about me?”

“Well, she kind of had to,” David responds condescendingly. “What with the--”

“Dad. Please stop.”

“The what?”

“Son, let’s go enjoy our breakfast and leave the family drama for later.”

The baby starts wiggling just as another bout of heartburn curses her, and she hisses, pushing her fist against her chest and leaning forward even more until she’s in an awkward position. “Honey, you need some tums. I told you, they’re safe for the ba--”

“I’m fine,” she seethes, swallowing and breathing deeply through the feeling of lava crawling up her throat. She wants to leave so badly, but the moment she moves to stand, her pregnancy will become more than obvious.

“Family drama,” Neal laughs. “That’s rich, isn’t it, Hook? First my mom and now my girlfriend?”

Emma glares up at him, practicing her mom-look. “Go away,” she insists.

He scoffs and says, “Ems, come on. Let's get you out of here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Bae is Neal?” Killian asks through continued astonishment, looking down at his hand with his mouth agape, his brows furrowed.

“Stop calling me that,” Neal snaps. “You lost your right to talk to me when you killed my mother and sold me to Pan.”

Emma knows this isn’t true; Killian told her the story about the Crocodile murdering his first love in front of him. He told her about how he found her son years later and wanted to raise him as his own. She just had no idea that her son was… Neal. Evidently, Killian didn’t either.

“Neal, go away. Leave us alone like you left me to rot.”

“I did that for your own good. You had to break the curse.”

“Right,” she scoffs. She wants nothing more than to rub in his face the fact that he abandoned her, homeless and poor and pregnant, but she holds in her anger. Truthfully, Neal leaving was one of the better things to have happened to her. It gave her Killian and their baby. It brought her to her family. It helped her find out who she is.

Those facts don't make his betrayal sting any less, though.

“Killian, maybe you should take Emma home,” her mother suggests through the haze of anger and confusion surrounding the table. He looks up at Snow, his jaw still dropped towards the floor and his eyes swimming with the guilt of his past, and nods.

“Aye,” he agrees, shaking his head and taking Emma’s hands. “Come, love. Let’s sail away.”

She wants nothing more than to agree, to nod and smile at him, taking his hands and letting him lead her out of the diner, but Neal remains firmly planted outside of their booth. If she stands now, she’ll reveal herself. She looks at Killian meaningfully with wide eyes, then glances down towards her belly and up in Neal’s direction.

He understands effortlessly and turns towards Neal, asking, “do you mind, mate? We’d like to head out.”

Neal rolls his eyes and concedes, stepping away from their booth and towards his father, and Mary Margaret and David stand to give them a path out of their seats. They're almost home free-- she can see the light at the end of the diner-- Killian leading the way and effectively hiding the evidence of her pregnancy. Or so she thinks.

Just as Killian’s hand reaches the door, about to push it open and gain their sweet escape, Ruby cuts them off with an excited greeting to Emma, reaching to give her a hug as she usually does and asking, “how’s my favorite little nephew doing? What is it now; three weeks to go?”

Emma freezes, eyes wide and face pale as Killian’s back goes stiff in front of her. The diner is silent, the early breakfast rush long over, and she knows Neal heard her. It’s confirmed when she hears the scratch of the chair against the floor as he stands and calls, “what, so he knocked you up, too? What a stand-up guy.”

The blood in her veins chills at his statements. Her jaw starts hurting with how forcefully she’s clenching it. She watches Killian turn around and fears that he’s going to confront Neal with the truth. In reality, though, he turns and looks only at her, taking her hands in his easily despite the fact that one is missing, courtesy of her ex’s father. “It’s alright,” he whispers, showing her just how much he understands her. Showing her that he can tell exactly what she’s thinking; can read the fear in her eyes at the thought of Neal finding out that this child is technically a part of him. “We can go,” he tells her.

She can’t help but to spin around, half turning to face Neal with tearfilled eyes, looking at him just once so that she can remind herself of the mistakes she’s made in her past. So that she can compare the despair he brought her with the joy that Killian brings so effortlessly. But it’s a mistake. She watches as his face falls, seemingly seeing just how pregnant she really is.

“Is that… are you…” He looks up at the ceiling, flexing his fingers as if counting on them. Counting the months since they were last together. Realizing it’s been almost nine months since their last encounter. Taking in just how large her bump is. “Emma…?”

She should just turn around and leave, or ignore him; refuse to give attention to his thoughts so that she doesn't spur them on. But instead, she lets out a choked sob and buries her face in her hands as her tears flow freely.

Killian’s hand is on her back immediately, running soothing circles along her skin as he moves to stand in front of her and blocks her view of the rest of the world, consuming her with only his ocean-blue eyes. “It’s alright,” he whispers again.

“Did she say three weeks left? Is that…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and although Neal’s voice cuts through the air between them like a knife, all she sees is Killian.

“I wanna go home,” she cries softly, clinging to his hand and hook.

“We will,” he promises.

“Emma, is that my kid?”

She can’t respond. All she can do is tilt her body slightly so that she’s looking past Killian’s right into Neal’s eyes, showing him the truth in her own. She can’t tell him with words that he fathered a child with her, but she knows that the look on her face is enough confirmation when his own pales and he drops back down in his chair.

He only stays there for a second before forcefully standing again, the chair colliding with the floor. Gold begs, “Bae,” reaching his hand towards his son, and Neal violently rips away from his father.

“Don’t!” He shouts. “Fuck.”

Before anyone can say anything, Neal is stalking towards Emma and Killian, and she almost feels nervous for a second, until he brushes past the two of them and slams his way out the door.

~~~~

Her lip trembles as he shuts the door, and she spins into his arms the second he locks it, bursting into tears easily. “He’s gonna take him,” she cries.

“Emma, no. That isn’t going to happen, love.”

She sobs some more, gripping his shirt with white knuckles, nodding into his neck and pulling him as close to herself as she possibly can with the bump between them. “He is.”

“You saw his face when he found out, darling. He has no interest. He’s already running.”

“Everything was so perfect. Now it’s ruined.”

“Nothing is ruined, my love,” he argues. “What makes you even say that?”

She shudders in his arms, whimpering pathetically as the hormones take over and the fear of losing her child consumes her. “I wanted--” she chokes. “I wanted you to be his dad.”

When he pulls away from her, forcing her face from his neck, she cries out again, pained at the thought that she’s losing him, too. “Angel,” he murmurs softly, soothingly. “I am his dad. Perhaps the lad will simply be lucky enough to have two.”

The violence behind her choked breathing is palpable between the two of them, showing him just how distraught she truly is as she asks, “you mean-- you mean you’re not leaving?”

“You silly thing,” he breathes through a gentle laugh, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you really believe that that fool coming into our lives will sway me? I love you. Both of you.”

Her bottom lip trembles again as his hand slides along the side of her belly, the baby kicking against his palm in greeting. The fact that he didn’t stir when faced with his biological father doesn’t get past her as he wiggles against his dad lovingly. She lets out one last soft, whimpering sob and sniffles before saying, “I love you. We both love you.”

He kisses her gently despite the tears and snot, making her laugh lightly. “Bae knows what it is to have an absent father, love. I’m… I’m truly shocked to know that the boy who lived on my ship all those years ago has done this to you. But I do believe that, now that he knows, he’ll do what he can to support you and the little lad. I believe he’ll do the right thing.”

“Maybe I don’t want him to,” she pouts.

He smiles, cupping her cheek, and says, “that’s valid. And I know you're scared. But we’ll just have to sort out what’s best for the little one.”

With a heaving sigh, she drops her forehead to his chest and shuts her eyes. “Right now, what’s best for the little one is a nap.”

“It’s only 10:30,” he jests, but despite his argument, he places his hand on the small of her back and guides her towards their bedroom. “Need a snack?”

“More French toast.”

“No. An apple.”

“Never mind,” she grumbles, pouting as she collapses on the bed and holds up her feet until he starts pulling her sandals off. He shakes his head as he laughs lightly, running his thumb over her swollen feet and kissing her cankles. “Killian?” she whispers quietly.

“Aye, love?” he asks, almost as softly as he crawls up towards her and helps her lean back onto the bed.

She grunts unattractively as her swollen body flops like a fish across the mattress, drawing a soft smile from his lips. “I’m scared,” she whispers when his front wraps around her back.

“Aye, love. I know.” His hand slides across her giant bump, the baby kicking him gently, and kisses just behind her ear. “But you’re going to be fantastic. You’re so strong, and smart, and capable of anything you set your mind to.”

“Then why can’t I just magic him out of here?”

“Bae?” he asks with a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying since we got home.”

“You are a silly thing. And I love you very much.”

With a contented hum, she pulls him closer to her despite the heat. “I love you, but let me sleep now.”

“As you wish, my angel.”

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx

#Never Nothing #extra #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #never nothing ff #cs fluff #cs angst

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ouatsnark · 3 years

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CS - Hate Debunked - Keep Reaching!

Because I just like debunking stupid things I see while scrolling through Once posts. Here's some more I've run across.

“Emma denied she was with Hook but never denied loving Neal”

Yeah she did deny she was in love with Neal. When she was on the beanstalk with Killian she denied ever being in love. You can say “well, she wasn’t about to open up to a stranger” and you’d be correct but you can’t say she “never denied it”. Cause she did. She tried to forget about Neal and the pain he obviously caused her. She was denying to herself that she ever loved him.

She also denied it to Neal’s face when she gave him his necklace back. Saying she wore it to remind herself never to trust again.

She also stood Neal up. She may not have been afraid to admit she loved Neal but she was afraid of letting him in again and was even hoping he was dead. If Emma’s love for Neal had never died then she’d have never wanted that nor ever needed that closure so he could never hurt her again. Did Emma love Neal? Yeah. He was the first man she fell in love with and is the father of her child. But that doesn’t mean he was anything more than a former lover or that she was still in love with him. That was pretty obvious when she stood him up and it was Killian’s attention she encouraged at the town line, not Neal’s.

I find it amusing that these Swanfire fans have to use Emma’s confusion about where she stands with Hook after a pretty hot make-out session as proof she “denied being with him”. She didn’t know what they were in 4x01 because she’d only just let her walls down and then she became worried about Regina going all evil queen if she saw them together. Her walls had gone back up by that point because as she says she was “afraid of losing him too”. Which brings me to the following claim:

“Emma loved Neal & wasn’t afraid to say it but could only tell Hook she loved him when they were in danger”

It’s like they missed the part where Neal was the reason Emma built her walls and the reason she couldn’t open herself up was due to Neal’s abandonment and betrayal. Neal caused that. Regina too. She was just opening herself up to Graham when Regina murdered him. To Emma, every time she opened her heart to someone she lost them. Not just romantically either. It happened to her in the foster care system. Emma was afraid to love and lose that love. It took her a while to overcome that.

She couldn’t admit out loud that she loved Killian because she was afraid of losing him. And that is very significant difference. However, once she was over that she did openly admit to everyone that she loved Killian. Killian was the one she couldn’t stand to lose and literally went to hell and back for.

And before anyone says “but she tells ghostNeal she’d have done the same for him!” Honestly? I don’t believe it. She wanted his help because she immediately goes from that to “please tell me how to save him” and then in true Neal fashion ghostNeal denies her her happiness. Also, Emma may have cried over Neal but it was Killian Jones she couldn’t live without. Emma hoped Neal was dead. Emma fought for Killian. Emma cried once over Neal but she didn’t mourn him. But Emma mourned Killian.

“Hook didn't believe Emma until he saw the ink from the pages on Liam's hand. Neal would have believed Emma the instant she said it without any proof.”

I spit my wine out when I read that.

Neal accused Emma of being jealous of his fiancé and mocked her super powers. He also questioned her abilities when she suggested that she pick up the watches. So please, the idea that Neal would “believe her without proof” is absurd.

From my point of view - and this is my opinion - How often did Killian Jones follow Emma’s lead? Many times. He followed her lead up the beanstalk, in Neverland, during the Ice Witch Hunt, during the hunt for Zelena and trusted her plans to get them all home when in the Underworld. I don’t look at this as Killian not believing Emma but Killian not believing in himself & the fact that he regarded his brother as a hero. Anyone would have a hard time believing the worse in their hero. It takes more than someone elses opinion to knock our heroes off the pedestals we put them on no matter who that someone is. He thought he knew his brother and Emma had just met the guy. Also, Killian was dealing with a lot of guilt and remorse at the time.

Killian also apologized to Emma. Neal didn’t until he decided he wanted her back after his fiancé was dead and it was convenient for him.

“Hook said “one of these days I’m going to stop following this woman” before following her into the time portal. Regina wouldn’t have hesitated”

I LOLed at this one. First off, Hook wasn’t hesitating. He was making a sarcastic remark before letting go and following Emma to uncertain ends. And secondly, Regina stood by when Emma disappeared into the hat. Snow jumped in without hesitation. Regina wouldn’t even, initially, face her sister so that they could get to Emma after Emma took on the darkness. Killian did though. He met the issue head on. Regina would hardly ever follow Emma’s lead. In fact, I can’t think of one time Regina did … Regina always thought her plans and ideas were better than Emma’s.

And before anyone says “But what about the Wish Realm! It was Regina that went not Killian!” Well, yeah, Killian couldn’t. He wasn’t in control of the genie. Regina was. She says as much to the EQ before she makes the wish. Which by the way … why didn’t Regina just wish Emma back? Was there a reason she didn’t? Other than to make the two most ridiculous Regina Fan Service Episodes to ever exist?

“Emma kissed Hook while Henry’s life was in danger and that makes her a bad mother”

Soooo what does it make Regina when she was banging a dying woman’s husband and ignoring calls from the people looking after the son she illegally adopted and abused for 10+ years? I’ll wait.

I don’t think Emma kissing Hook in that moment made her a bad mother or a bad person. Snowing kissed a lot during that time… are they bad grandparents? Funny how I’ve never heard anyone make that insinuation!

Emma wasn’t ignoring the gravity of the situation they faced. It was a single moment. Now if she’d decided to make out with him instead of following a lead they’d just gotten then I’d listen to you… but as Killian says “you have to enjoy the quiet moments” and that was a quiet moment. And she wasn’t getting any urgent calls either… soooo… shut up and enjoy the chemistry.

It’s fine not to like CaptainSwan but can we at least stop trying to rewrite the show? Thanks.

Anything you’d like me to debunk? Send me a message or let me know in the comments!

#captain swan #anti swanfire #anti swan queen #cs hate debunked

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undergrounddweller89 · 3 years

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(look you don't have to like this, I'm not expecting anyone to, I just needed to write and if there's the possibility that even one person was hoping I'd write more and enjoys it then that's cool, just don't be a dick about it, it's more house mate au stuff, don't hope for continuity by that I mean it's just all over the place and nothing makes sense , just expect what ever came to my head at the time lol)

Walter was sat at his work table, fiddling with one of his new devices working on to perfect it, no I can't think of anything specific so I'll let you fill in that with your imagination.

The day had been long, his lab assistant Timothy Lawrence (Yea that Timothy if you know him because reasons) had been pretty quiet but done as told so at least that made it easier.

He was tired as the day had gone on his mood had sunk, what was he doing teasing Killian like that, honestly spanking him with the hair brush, he knew some of the things Killian had been up to.

But it was more likely a sign of marking territory or just because he had needs right and it was exciting to do things where you shouldn't.

The blade he was handling slipped and ran across the pad of his index finger, he hissed in pain, seeing the blood smear under the blue latex, pooling to drip, focusing on the red colour he hadn't even noticed Timothy running to fetch the first aid kit.

Pulling his gloves off he discarded them and popped open the box that had been set on the table.

"Thanks Timmy."

Walter smiled a little as he tended to his finger, he hated how the skin felt parting every time he flexed his finger.

Cleaning up and applying what was needed, thankful it wouldn't need stitches.

He wondered what Killian was up to, watching TV, reading maybe, did he eat, did he have enough to drink, was he in a depressive mood, was he mad that hed spanked him, he really should send a message.

Pulling his phone from his lab pocket he texted him.

'Hope you're day has been good, hope you're well, sorry if I upset you this morning.'

He shifted and rubbed a shoulder, he didn't realise how stiff his back had gone, being in charge of a division meant he'd somewhat lost track of self care making sure to do his stretches.

Timothy stood here watching his boss, lot better than the last one, this one was kind and genuine, always looking out for people, honestly Beckett made him feel safe and relaxed, he wasn't looking for anything serious but even he could see that furrowed bow and the lean that spelt hey I'm exhausted let me die.

Walking around and behind him he slowly massaged his shoulders, they were small and rather petite for someone Walter's age but it was more lean muscle and just body build, he just hadn't seen many men like Walter where he'd come from, he was rather pretty.

Walter had considered telling him to stop but when his fingers pressed into that one perfect spot in his shoulder blades he melted, ooooh that just felt so damn good and shit when was the last time he'd had contact, had someone be closer to him...he liked Killian...wondered if they could be more, but he didn't believe for one second that they could be lovers or bed fellows for one moment...not that he wouldn't be interested in finding out but Killian had been there a month, like he wasn't going to make him uncomfortable and feel like that the only way he could stay was if he dated him.

(I keep forgetting times or how many days set shrugs just don't expect like decent continuity, I write these because I need to just write things and moments)

Walter leaned forward arms folded and face buried in them

"Sorry sir, am I doing that badly?"

Timothy's enquired nervously, his hands going still.

"No, please don't stop, I literally didn't realise how stiff I was, you have good hands, I'm just so tired Timothy, I could really use it if you don't mind that is."

"Not at all sir."

Tim smiled happy to know he was helping, yes much nicer than his last boss, Walter was smart but he was also fragile, like him he loved his mother and when he'd heard Walters mother had died when he was small he wanted to scoop him up and just hug him.

A talk with Lance at one point and he'd learned that was a natural reaction for anyone with a heart around Walter who didn't have their head up their ass.

Which had practically been the last tech department Beckett had worked in, that totally wasn't cool that they'd done that to such a brilliant mind, it was so much fun working on items that didn't kill people and actually helped them!

Walter was imagining the fingers loosening the knots in his back were Killian, wondered what that would feel like with those pretty metal claws, but he never forgot it was Timothy, after all Timothy deserved more respect than that.

Looking over his shoulder at him, auburn hair flopping off to one side, Tim's hands on his waist he noticed the subtle blush.

"You wanna go grab some dinner or something in a minute there's a corner café I know, makes steak sandwiches and baked potatoes with a perfect crispy skin, a warm meal sounds pretty nice don't you think?"

Tim in the angle he was in was trying not to think about how suggestive this looked, he would absolutely lean down and kiss Walter if he thought it was an option, it really was a casual thing he felt, but Walter just looked so pretty and like he needed someone to carry him right now.

Continuing to rub his back Timothy nodded

"Yeah that sounds pretty nice actually."

---

At home Killian had found plenty to do, he'd read, watched tv, all in Walters bed of course, just to feel close to him as he could, he did wonder after handling himself, if Walter could see him as anything more than a friend, someone more than a few passing jokes between the other...turning his head and taking in his scent as he buried his face into a pillow again, looking forward to seeing those blue eyes...he should really get out of Walter's bed and get the covers washed.

Beckett brought comfort to his mind after his years of suffering, the sunrise after the storm.

He'd talked to Lovey, wondering if she could understand him, she was surprisingly responsive to his rambling as he worked on his arm, updating the tech and keeping up with maintenence.

Living here with Walter and slowly working past things with Lance and seeing he had genuinely started changes of his own, it made it easier with how Walter talked about him on the job, that he considered all options before violence and discussed the situations with him...it was good to know Beckett had helped Lance to.

He was glad to know Walter's field partner was a good one, though his lab partner, this Timothy Lawrence seemed to be pretty chummy didn't he, he'd seen a picture, thick brown hair, heterochromia eyes, blue and green to be exact and a chiseled jaw, in other words a damn pretty boy and he didn't want him around Walter.

He huffed folding his arms, yes he was jealous he was going to be pouty, before his injury he had thick black hair and had been known to be a very handsome man, now he looked like he'd been put through a grinder when he took off his holo mask and this Timothy Lawrence just had to be Walter's lab partner, he'd be around him alot and-

His phone buzzed, it'd been put on the side table and he read the text that'd come through and there was another one.

'Going out to dinner with Timothy, don't know what time I'll be back, have fun you probably need a break from me anyway lol 😂'

Killian's eye twitched, he nearly threw the damn phone, but how would he explain that, honestly he couldn't, Tristan sighed, shoulders drooping a little and answered his questions

'It's been a relaxing day, did work on the arm, Lovey' s surprisingly easy to talk to, watched a little television but perhaps you could suggest something to watch, it's rather hard deciding with all these options and no Walter you didn't upset me, though you left in a hurry, you do not need to avoid me. You're not a bother. Are you alright?'

'I'm so happy you're warming up to her! That's awesome! Also it's good you have time to relax, ten years of hectic stress you're more than overdue! I...well I was more embarrassed than anything, I reacted on instinct, last boyfriend liked that well that's probably more than you needed to know, but yeah I'll help you pick something to watch see you later!'

Last boyfriend? Spanking, Walter had, he had...Killian shifted well the blankets were starting to tent, the idea of being put over Walters petite lap and being told he was a very bad man came to mind.

He liked it.

A lot.

He looked at his phone as it pinged again.

'And god damn it, make sure you eat something for dinner, don't just go picking out the cupboard!'

Killian snickered and replied

'Yes Daddy, I'll make sure to eat something.'

After sending the text he realised what he'd written and wished he could take back that text, wincing as he managed to look at the response

'Behave, eat dinner or I'll put you over my knee young man.'

Killian stared and stared at that answer, he knew Walter was just teasing but, his cheeks were warm and he was...was he blushing.

----

"You all set to go Timothy?"

Walter smiled, his back was feeling a hundred times better after Timothy had dug into the knots, it wasn't a surprise that he was good with his hands, you had to have nimble ones to work with the tech they used here.

"Yeah, just coming boss!"

He pulled his satchel over his shoulder after pulling on his old brown leather jacket

"Please Timothy don't call me that, call me daddy."

Walter laughed at how silly that sounded

"I'm sorry, pfffft don't call me that god please, no, Walter's just fine."

Tim had paused a moment a slight fear he might have a streak like his last boss after all but that laugh was too warm and giggly and just shook his head with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it Walter, you're more of a kitten anyway."

Timmy felt his insides tighten a little and there was that hint of Jack Dna surfacing.

"So shall we go?"

Beckett enquired looking up at him, huh he kinda looked like Killian, just a little.

"Ready when you are."

And with that they were off.

(Alright end of this ramble, Timothy has been thrown in because I needed the gasp drama of prolongation and shit and didn't have the energy to create an oc and honestly I'll mash anything from anywhere if it's convenient bleh)

#Spies in disguise #Au #walter beckett #Killian #Timothy lawrence #I don't even know anymore #Sometimes I just write and bs comes out #I'm tired

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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Skyline Manor by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 9/13

Or on FF

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Chapter 9: Wasted Years and Endless torment

“Mom, I’m home.” Emma heard Henry from her room and walked quickly to the living room, her son came running, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I missed you so much.” He whispered and Emma looked up nervously at Neal. Henry rarely came home so emotional. He ran off to his room, shutting the door behind him.

“Uh, is everything alright with him?”

Neal shrugged. “I dunno, he’s been a bit quiet this weekend. I was going to ask you if something was going on here.”

“Why would you think something was going on here?”

“The kid mentioned your neighbor a lot. Thought perhaps you and Graham were having trouble.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “First off, my dating life is none of your business. Second, he’s friends with Killian. He likes talking about boats and sailing with him.”

“Yeah I heard he wrote his whole poem about him.” She could see the pout in his face. She knew that look, he was jealous of Killian.

“Well maybe if you spent less time in Barbados, he’d write a poem about you.” She shrugged.

“Yeah I kinda talked to him about that this weekend.” Emma’s brow raised. “Was thinking maybe he could spend more time at my place.” Emma stared at the man across the room, trying not to let her body language show her anger. They had tried this before and Henry had only gotten hurt when Neal would miss his visits, or not spend any time with him when he was there. Neal always ran off when things got real.

“Why don’t you try staying in town for a bit before we talk about visitation changes.”

“I told you, I had business in Barbados.”

“Red head or blonde this time? I can never keep up.”

“That’s not fair, I’m a grown man, I have needs, Emma.”

“Well until you learn to put Henry’s needs above yours, you get him one weekend a month.”

“That’s not fair.” He started to complain.

“Tell it to a judge, maybe you can explain exactly what your business is while you’re at it. I’m sure he’d like to hear all about it.”

He rolled his eyes and yanked the front door open. “You can’t keep him from me forever.” He argued as he stepped into the hall.

“The only person keeping you from a real relationship with Henry, is you, Neal.”

“You’re the reason he hates me.” He yelled and Emma stepped toward him.

“Henry doesn’t hate anyone, but if he doesn’t want to spend more time with you, maybe ask yourself if it’s something you’re doing that could be causing that.”

“Why do you always have to blame me when the kid gets emotional?”

“Because you’re usually the one being a dick head.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Good, then leave.” Emma yelled. She spun to head back to her apartment when she noticed Killian standing at his door at the other end of the hall. His face a mixture of anger and concern. She nodded to him and then stepped into her apartment, slamming the door in Neal’s face.

~*~

Killian grabbed his helmet as he headed out the door, only stopping when he heard loud voices in the hallway. He stepped out to lock his door and saw Neal standing in front of Emma’s door.

“You’re the reason he hates me.”

“Henry doesn’t hate anyone, but if he doesn’t want to spend more time with you, maybe ask yourself if it’s something you’re doing that could be causing that.”

Killian locked the door, trying not to eavesdrop further on the conversation, but the two continued their fight and he was afraid to move any further up the hall for fear of walking into the middle of the fight.

“Why do you always have to blame me when the kid gets emotional?”

Killian was starting to feel angry, listening to the man slinging crap at Emma. Obviously, the weekend with his father had not gone as well as he had hoped. He was concerned that it seemed like Henry was negatively effected by the visit with Neal.

“Because you’re usually the one being a dick head.”

Killian stifled a laugh, not wanting to make noise from his spot at the door.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Good, then leave.”

Emma sounded upset, her emotions boiling over and then she turned, and their eyes met. He should have stepped into his apartment but instead he was just standing there looking like an idiot at the end of the hall. She slammed the door behind her, and he started walking toward the man who had stormed toward the elevator. Stepping into the small box, he closed his eyes as the door shut.

“Are you fucking her?”

His eyes popped open. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t figure out why anyone would make friends with an eleven-year-old boy unless it was to get his mom in the sack.”

Killian was livid. “You think the only reason anyone would be interested in what your son had to say was if they were sleeping with his mother?”

“It’s not unheard of, look I don’t blame you, she’s a hot piece of ass, get it while you can. But leave my son out of it.”

“I beg your pardon; it just so happens that I am not sleeping with Emma. And your son is a very interesting kid. He has a lot of intuitive things to say, if you actually spent more than a minute talking to him.”

“Don’t lecture me about my kid.”

“Perhaps someone should.” He turned to face the man who was at least a head shorter than him and watched him cower away.

“Whatever, just don’t get what she sees in you.”

“I told you, Emma and I are not together. She’s my neighbor and I consider her a friend. Henry too.”

“Keep telling yourself that buddy.” The doors to the elevator opened and he sprinted quickly to his car. Killian just watched him leave, wondering what Emma had ever seen in the emotionally stunted man he had just spoken with.

“Unbelievable.” He grumbled to himself.

~*~

Henry spent the next few weeks hiding out in his room. He didn’t want to talk to his mom about spending more time with his dad. He avoided the conversation any time she brought it up. As far as he was concerned, once a month was more than he could handle. Instead, he focused on the fact that his mom and Killian had been acting strangely since he had returned home from his dad’s.

It wasn’t that they weren’t speaking, they spoke a lot when Henry was around. It was the moments when they didn’t realize he was watching them that told him something was up.

The first issue he noticed, was that when the two of them were mostly alone, they got quiet. In fact, he watched his mom navigate to the other side of the room when Killian had stayed for dinner the other night. Instead of taking the dishes to the kitchen after Killian entered, she suddenly needed to check on a noise she heard in the bathroom.

He also noticed that anytime Killian accidentally touched his mom, either her arm, or brushing against each other in the hall, he would jump and apologize to her. It was the weirdest thing, and he didn’t like it. It was like they were trying to stay away from each other, and that was the last thing he needed. Not if they were going to realize that they were each other’s true love.

Henry wasn’t sure at first, he had only hoped, but after the literacy fair, the way his mom and Killian had stared at each other over pizza, the way they started hanging out more, his mother’s special laugh she had just for Killian, Henry knew that Killian Jones was the one and only one for his mom.

Unfortunately, Graham wasn’t going anywhere, but that wasn’t going to stop Henry.

“So, I was wondering if you could watch Henry tonight, Graham wants to go out tomorrow night.” Will was sitting at the table as Emma put the dishes away.

“I wish I could, but I have plans.”

“Plans? With who?”

“Don’t make a big deal about it but I have a date.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide, “You have a date with who?”

“A girl. I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“I’m really happy for you Will. That’s great news.”

He blushed. “Thanks, it’s still new, been seeing her on and off the last couple of weeks, online mostly but she finally agreed to go out with me.”

“Well hopefully you won’t keep her a secret for too long.”

“Eh, yeah maybe.”

His mom looked at Henry and frowned. “Ruby has a date tomorrow too. I guess you’re coming with us.”

“What about Killian?” Henry offered.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I don’t know if he wants to stay in with a kid all night. He might have plans.” Henry rolled his eyes and stood up from the table.

“I’ll go ask him.”

“Henry…” Before she could say no, he ran out the door and sprinted down the hall, knocking on his door.

“Hey lad, come to see Smee?”

“Actually, I wanted to know if you could come over and watch a movie tomorrow with me. Maybe Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“Oh…”

“Sorry, I was going to come ask you, but this one…” Emma rushed up behind him and ruffled Henry’s hair. “Got too excited and beat me to it.”

“Ask me to watch a movie?”

“No, um, I have a dinner date.” His mom started before pausing. “With Graham and well, Ruby and Will both have date’s so they can’t stay with Henry.”

“I see, well, I’d be honored to spend time with the lad.”

Henry smiled widely, “Great.”

“I’m leaving at 6 so if you want to come over a little before I can give you the instructions.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Henry saw it again, the weird way Killian was looking at his mom, he could almost see the disappointment in his eyes that she was going on a date. He knew it, Killian liked his mom.

“Alright, well, we’ll just let you get back to whatever it is you were doing.”

“Sure, see you tomorrow, lad.”

“Bye Killian.”

Henry practically skipped back to his apartment. All he needed to do now was find a way to ruin his mom’s date so that she came home and spend time with Killian instead.

Captain Jones followed Emma into the darkened tunnel as they made their way back to the castle. They exited through a painting in the East Hall. As soon as they were inside the castle, Emma went in search of a person she swore would be able to assist in the quest to find not only Baelfire, but now her son, Henry.

Turning a corner, they came face to face with the King who was talking quietly with the court’s jester. “Emma.” The King rushed forward, grabbing his sister, and pulling her closer to him. “I’ve been so worried about you. Is Henry with you?”

“No, Baelfire took him.” She cried and the man beside the King stepped forward.

“I went to get him from his room this morning and he was gone.”

“It’s alright Will, Henry snuck out to follow me.”

“Follow you? Did you leave the castle? What could you possibly be thinking?” The King scolded and suddenly there was a commotion behind them as the Queen came stumbling toward them.

“Emma. I thought you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry Your Grace, I did not mean to concern you. I was not expecting to be gone so long, but I was helping the Captain in his quest.”

“Why would you allow my sister to chase after this man, I thought I asked you for your discretion.” The King advanced on the Captain.

“Don’t blame him, I followed him. Demanded to know what he was doing at the castle.”

“Emma. Why are you always getting into trouble? This is why you need to marry, settle down with the Duke and live a quiet life.”

The Queen hushed her husband. “Where is that boy of yours?”

“Baelfire has taken him.” The Queen put her hand to her mouth and let out a squeal.

“I need the Huntress. We found Leroy tied up in his house.” Emma tried to explain.

“Leroy, but why?”

“I can’t explain, but I believe that the Huntress can track him through the forest.” The King and Queen shared a glance.

“Emma you know we can’t release her.”

“Who is this Huntress?” The Captain demanded. “If she can track Baelfire, we may need her assistance.”

“We keep her locked up in the dungeons. She’s a danger to herself and others.”

Emma grabbed the Queen’s arm, “I need to get to Henry before he takes him away from here.”

The King nodded and they followed him through the castle until they reached the stairway down into the dungeon. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“She’s my friend.”

They entered the dungeon, a steel cage at the end of the hall, housing a dark-haired woman sitting at a desk, writing in a journal.

“What is this?” The Captain asked.

“Oh hello, who is this fine man you’ve brought me?” The woman sashayed up to the bars, reaching out to touch the Captain.

“Ruby, I need your help. The Swan Thief has captured Henry.”

The Captain swore the woman’s eyes burned red for a moment, before she turned and grabbed her cape from her chair. “How long has he been gone?”

“A few hours at most.” Emma explained. “We were at Leroy’s when he disappeared into the forest.

“Let’s go, we don’t have time to waste, it will be dark soon, and I fear the moon is full tonight.”

Captain Jones shared a glance with the Princess, who only reached for the keys, unlocking the large gate, and releasing the woman from her prison. The two women hugged for a moment before the red cape was draped over her head and she took off toward the stairs.

The Captain grabbed the Princess’ arm, leaning over to speak only to her. “Who is she?”

The Princess met his gaze, “She is our only hope. Ruby, the Huntress.”

“Why the bloody hell is she locked up?”

“Because, when the moon is high in the sky, and full as it is tonight, she becomes, The Wolf.”

Killian dropped her arm, watching her as she followed the group up the stairs. “Wolves…” He paused, staring after the Princess. “Wonderful.”

~*~

“His bedtime is 10pm tonight and don’t let him convince you otherwise.” Emma was explaining as Killian watched her going down the list of items on the paper in front of her.

“Swan, he’s eleven, not two, I think I can handle a simple evening.”

“Ok but you know Henry, he can be a handful.”

“Aye, we are going to eat some pizza and watch Pirates of the Caribbean. What could possibly go wrong?”

Two hours later, everything had gone wrong.

Killian wasn’t even quite sure how to explain half of what had happened.

To begin with the pizza delivery guy got lost bringing the order and was 45 minutes late and then when the pizza was finally in hand, it got dropped, meat side down onto the floor.

After finally cleaning pizza off the floor, Killian made grilled cheese sandwiches and they sat down to watch their movie, only to have the Blu-ray player throw sparks at him and completely shut off.

Instead of the movie, Henry suggested they play a game and after twenty minutes of whatever the fresh hell Uno was, Killian decided perhaps they should just watch TV.

Imagine his surprise when they turned on the television to see full on nudity on the screen. Groaning he turned off the television, ignoring the boy’s newfound questions about women, boobs, and if it was normal for a man’s penis to be as large as the man on that was on the screen. Trying to divert the boy, he asked the lad if he wanted to read a book.

Killian was sure that whatever parenting was, he was doing a pretty terrible job of it. Even if it was only for the evening.

“I’m not feeling very well, can we call my mom?”

Killian looked at the boy who was holding his stomach. “You were fine just a minute ago?”

“I know but now I’m not, can you call her please?”

Killian groaned but wasn’t about to take a chance after the way his evening had gone, instead getting the number from the paper on Emma’s instructions and dialing it with his phone. After two rings, she answered.

“Hello, this is Emma.”

“Emma it’s Killian, I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but Henry says he’s not feeling well and I’m not quite sure what to do.”

“Oh no, can I talk to him?”

“One second.” He passed the phone to the boy and sat on the couch.

“My stomach hurts really bad mom. Yeah lots of pain. I think I’m going to be sick and…Oh ok, see you when you get here.”

The boy hung up the phone and tossed it to Killian. “She’ll be home soon.” He was almost sure the boy smiled but then he groaned, doubled over, and sat down next to him on the couch.

Whatever was ailing the boy was a mystery.

~*~

Emma apologized to Graham, and he immediately drove her home from their dinner date. She had never heard Henry sound so sick before and she had no idea what had caused it.

“You sure you don’t want me to come up?” Graham asked as he pulled up to the curb.

“No, you have to work early tomorrow, I’ll be fine.” She leaned over and pecked his lips quicky before exiting the vehicle and heading into the apartment complex.

When the elevator doors opened, she started to exit when she stopped in her tracks. Will was standing in front of his door kissing a dark-haired woman. When they pulled away, Emma’s blood boiled as she recognized the woman as Belle French, Killian’s girlfriend. They didn’t see her as they pushed open Will’s door and disappeared into his apartment.

How could she cheat on Killian? How could Will do this? Emma was furious.

She pushed the key into her apartment door, looking back angrily at Will’s apartment before stepping into her own.

When she got inside, Killian looked panicked, her house smelled funny and there was an entire box of pizza sticking out of her trash can.

“Mom’s home.” She announced, heading into the living room to see Henry laying on the couch. The boy sat up and smiled at her.

“Hey mom, I’m feeling much better now.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Baby, are you sure, you sounded so bad on the phone.”

Killian was glaring at the boy. “You were keeled over in pain two minutes ago.”

“I know, but it’s all gone now. Must have been gas. I’m gonna go to bed, I’m exhausted.” He said, yawning. Turning toward Killian he launched his arms around his neck. “This was the most awesome night I’ve had in ages. You’re the best.”

He ran off toward his room leaving Killian and Emma staring after him in stunned confusion.

“Ok that was odd.” Emma said with a frown. “Has he been like that all evening?”

“Honestly, this has been a terrible evening, the lad is being way too nice by stating that it was a anything but a disaster.” Emma had to laugh at the way his face appeared to be genuinely upset by the events of his evening.

“Ok well, just tell me what happened.”

“First off, the bloody pizza fell on the floor, your Blu-ray player almost burned the house down, Uno is the rudest game I’ve ever played, and you have porn on your television.” He ended with an exasperated sigh.

Emma stifled the laugh that was threatening to roll off her tongue. He was clearly having a bad evening. “So, when did Henry get sick?”

“That’s the thing, he was fine one minute and doubled over in pain the next. Is he always like that?”

“No, I have no idea what’s gotten into him.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s feeling better, and if there’s nothing else you need, then I shall take my leave as I have never been so exhausted in all my life.”

Emma cleared her throat. “Um, I actually need to tell you something first.”

“Is everything alright, Swan?”

Emma sat down on the couch and gestured for him to join her. He tentatively sat down next to her. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Out with it, love.”

“Belle is cheating on you.” She spat out suddenly.

“Swan, are you concerned about my welfare?” He said with a chuckle and Emma couldn’t believe how casual he was acting after hearing the news.

“Did you hear me? She’s cheating on you. I just saw her outside Will’s apartment and they were kissing.”

He laughed. “Is that so? I guess they really hit it off.”

“Killian, aren’t you upset right now? I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that Will would behave like this.”

“Don’t be too angry with the lad. He spoke to me first.”

Emma’s mouth dropped. “You approved of him dating your girlfriend?”

“That’s the thing Emma, Belle isn’t my girlfriend, she never was. Not really. We just…existed. But I’m happy for her.” Killian stood from the couch and Emma rose to follow him.

“I don’t understand, she wasn’t your girlfriend?”

“Nah, Belle and I outlived our time. I don’t do relationships.” He said quietly.

“You don’t do relationships?” Emma stated incredulously.

“They just don’t…” He sighed. “Sadly, relationships don’t work out for me, Swan.” He paused. “Love brings nothing but wasted years and endless torment.” He smiled sadly. “So, believe me when I say, I’m happy for her, I hope it works out better for her than it did for me.”

~*~

Two weeks ago

“We need to talk.” Belle showed up at his door at 7am on a Saturday and Killian knew it couldn’t be for a good reason. She had been avoiding him for days.

“I’ve found that when a woman says that I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“This isn’t working for me.”

“Aye, I know.”

“I love you, Killian. I really do.”

He sighed, “I love you too. And I don’t say those words lightly. I haven’t used them with another woman since Milah.” Belle frowned. “But I can’t give you what you want and that’s not fair to you. You deserve to be loved by a man who can promise you forever.”

“You need to stop running away from love or you’re going to be alone forever.”

“Don’t worry about me, love. I’m a big boy.”

She ran her hand across his cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Killian. What happened with Milah isn’t your ending. You weren’t the villain in that tale, you were a victim.”

“That’s a story we tell ourselves to sleep better at night.” He laughed. “I just want you to be happy, you deserve that.”

“I think I could be, but…”

“What is it?”

“I, I met someone. Nothing serious, yet, but we’ve been talking. Mostly online.”

“An online bloke?”

“About that…” She closed her eyes. “It’s Will.”

“Will, as in 4B, Will Scarlett?”

“Yes, I started watching his streaming channel and we just started chatting afterwards. He’s a really funny guy and so sweet.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He laughed. “I’m happy for you.” He wrapped his arms around the woman, hugging her tightly.

“Are you going to be alright?” She mumbled against his chest.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m a survivor, love.”

Killian let the door close behind him as he walked slowly to his apartment. Standing in the dark shadows of the room he tried to ignore the silence of the empty apartment, his feelings overtaking him for the first time in years as he wiped a stray tear from his eye.

#skyline manor #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan modern au #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan

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let-it-raines · 4 years

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Walking the Baseline (Year 2012)

Chapter Summary: He’s seen her around. Of course he has. They walk in the same circles, play at all of the same combined tournaments, and they have mutual friends. It’s not until they both win the Australian Open and start talking over Instagram that Killian Jones gets to know Emma Swan. He doesn’t expect one message to turn into more, and he certainly doesn’t expect to find himself knowing who Emma is when she’s not got a racket in her hands.

Even more, he doesn't expect to let her know who he is off the court when that's a secret he holds close to the vest.

Rating: Teen-ish.

a/n: I told you guys I had more Walking the Baseline coming, and I meant it! I did not expect you guys to be so excited about this universe, but you’re always blowing me away! So, here’s their story for part of the year 2012, four years before the events of Walking the Baseline and the RIO Olympics.

You do not need to have read the original one-shot to understand. If you haven’t, well, that just means you’ll be surprised with the ending of this collection 😂

Found on AO3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 | 2016 (Part One) | 2016 (Part Two)

-/-

2012.

“You look nice, Swan.”

She’s standing in front of him in a pair of long white paints and a matching white shirt that bares her midriff. Her lips are painted red, her blonde hair long and curled. It’s different to how he usually sees her, but the same can be said for him as he adjusts his jacket sleeves. They spend their lives in athletic wear with sweat an almost constant companion. They do not spend their lives dressed up like this.

“Same to you. How are you not dripping in sweat?”

“Oh, I bloody well am. It’s hidden under the jacket.”

Emma laughs and flips her hair off her neck. “Damn Australian summers. Been trying to kill me since I was eighteen.”

“But now you’re the queen of the court. Congratulations, by the way. That was a damn good match.”

She smiles and adjusts her trophy as he does the same, the flashes of photographers surrounding them and the water behind them. They’ve both done their individual photographs but are now doing promotion for the tournament and Nike, their clothing sponsor. Killian has the beginnings of a long flight today, and Emma has an even longer one to America. He believes she lives in Florida, but it could also be New York. Maybe California. He’ll ask Ariel if she knows, because he already knows she will have the answer to every question he asks. His manager knows everything there is to know about everybody. Somewhere in that brain of hers, Ariel Fisher has a file on Emma Swan that Killian has never bothered to ask about.

It’s not that he’s never been intrigued. She’s a damn good tennis player and a successful one at that. He’s watched her rise to the top of their sport for years now, and while they’ve done a few photo shoots and charity matches together, they’re never talked much outside of a professional capacity. He knows her brother is her coach and she’s close to Ruby Lucas, another player, and he’s read a little about her upbringing. That’s something she keeps close to the vest, but he gets it. He does the same thing. That isn’t the easiest when you’re on the world’s stage like they are. Now, everyone has to know the details of personal lives of athletes, and it makes staying private difficult when you have to brand yourself to get sponsors. Killian would rather run for five hours over doing an interview, especially now that he’s given twenty interviews since the championship last night.

It’s media overload in every way.

“Congratulations to you. I may have slept through half your match, but what I saw was good.”

“Thanks,” Killian laughs, scratching his chin. “I’m terrified that if I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up.”

“Oh, that’s definitely a risk. David had to slide me out of the bed this morning. I’m only wearing this because I was too lazy to shave. I was pretty sure I’d have to have help.”

He bites his tongue to keep from making the comment he wants to make and turns back to the camera, smiling and nodding, following the rest of the instructions. He and Emma are quickly pulled in different directions to finish out their obligations, and before he knows it, he’s on a plane, flying away from Australia. It’s been a month since he’s been home, and Oxshott has never seemed so good even if there is no one at home waiting to greet him.

-/-

Killian grabs a sweater from the shelf, pulling it over his shoulders, and heads downstairs where he fixes himself a cup of tea and settles on his couch, his television playing in the background. It’s been a long day. His first day back training after a week break nearly killed his knees, but that’s over now. He’s put in his time on the court and at the gym, and no one is going to bother him for the rest of the day. He’s muted Ariel’s name in his phone, and if she really needs him, she’ll call him from Eric’s phone.

God does he hope she doesn’t need him tonight.

Nemo better not either because Killian does not want to see his coach’s face again until early tomorrow morning.

Despite his sweater, he’s still chilled. Going from an Australian summer to a British winter is quite the adjustment. It’s nearly as bad as the jetlag.

Killian’s phone dings in his hand, and he dreads what message he’s surely gotten. He expects it to be Ariel from Eric’s phone, but it’s an Instagram message.

@EmmaSwan: Whoever said @KillianJones was photogenic needs to take a serious look at these photos.

He looks at the photographs, and it’s a series of horribly awkward faces he’s made. He remembers this moment of the shoot. A bug kept trying to fly into his mouth, and at one point, it succeeded. Emma looks great in them, laughing with a bright smile, and she’s right: there’s no part of him that’s photogenic there.

@KillianJones: So you’re saying there are people out there who think I’m photogenic?

Her reply comes instantly.

@EmmaSwan: Well, there were! ;)

Killian laughs and then clicks on her profile, scrolling through. She has several pictures from her win, a few training videos, but mostly it’s pictures of her with some of the women she’s friends with on tour or her brother and sister-in-law. His page is so different in that it’s made up of a majority of tennis photos. He doesn’t share much about his personal life there because there isn’t much to share lately, and when there was, he didn’t want the world to know who he was dating. They did, of course. There were few ways to hide it all when he had photographers literally hiding in bushes, but he imagines if it was a relationship he truly held sacred, he would find a way to keep it hidden away.

Milah was the last person he would have wanted that with, but she was a fan of the attention. She still is if what he sees around is any indication. She married some older man who is worth millions, but other than that, Killian tries not to keep up with her. Some days it goes better than others, but being disconnected from the world does help.

Social media definitely doesn’t.

And after looking at Emma’s profile a little more carefully, he realizes her profile is more private than he thought. In some way, every photo that has a person in it relates back to tennis.

Killian exits out of the app and goes to the link Ariel sent him of all the photos from his shoot with Emma. He clicks on it and tries to find one where she looks bad. It takes awhile, damn gorgeous woman, but he eventually finds one where the wind blew her hair in front of her and she’s making an awful face. It’s perfect, and Killian quickly saves it and a nicer photo to his phone before uploading them to Instagram.

@KillianJones: @EmmaSwan, if only your serve was as big as your hair.

@EmmaSwan direct messaged you.

@EmmaSwan: My serve stats are better than your serve stats.

@KillianJones: Lies.

@EmmaSwan: Okay, well, my hair is also better than your hair.

@KillianJones: Eh, I wouldn’t say that either.

@EmmaSwan: My ass is better than your ass.

@KillianJones: Now, I will fully agree with that.

@EmmaSwan: Isn’t it, like, midnight in England? What are you doing up, old man?

@KillianJones: Watching TV and having a cuppa. Truly exciting times here.

@EmmaSwan has added a picture to this chat.

It’s a shot of her legs, her feet resting on the court. There’s a pool of sweat underneath her, and he is not jealous. It’s February, and while he knows she lives in south Florida – he did ask Ariel – it shouldn’t be warm enough for anyone to sweat that much unless they put in a massive amount of effort.

He must be getting old for this game if just thinking about that makes him want to retire, but there’s no way in hell that’s happening anytime soon. He told Liam he would play until he no longer had a passion for the game.

That hasn’t happened yet.

@EmmaSwan: I’m making my mark on this court. I cannot wait to be in my pajamas watching TV tonight. If I can get up from this chair.

@KillianJones: I’m sure you can slide home in that lovely pool of sweat.

@EmmaSwan: Honestly, I have thought about it.

@EmmaSwan: I’ve got to practice my shitty serve, but I’ll think of smacking your face every time I do it. I’m sure my numbers will be higher than ever.

@KillianJones: Anything I can do to help.

-/-

“How do you eat your strawberries?”

“With my fingers,” Killian says, arching his brow at such a ridiculous question.

“You’re supposed to say with cream.”

Killian spins around behind him, and he immediately sees Emma Swan walking toward him. He hasn’t seen her in months as the tours haven’t had a joint tournament since Australia, but they’ve been chatting pretty regularly over Instagram. He’s never liked the app, but it’s one of his most used ones now.

“Excuse me, lass?”

“You’re doing a promotion for Wimbledon, idiot. They want all of us to say we eat our strawberries with cream.”

“I actually don’t love the cream.”

Emma mock gasps, covering her chest with her hands, before stepping up to him and giving him a quick hug he’s sure is for the cameras surrounding them. “Well, they should kick you out of England for saying something like that.”

“Believe me, they’ve tried, but I chained myself to the ground to keep it from happening.”

“I’m sure we could find you a place here if we had to.”

“Your place?” Killian jokes.

“In your dreams, Jones.” Emma widens her smile before turning to the camera. “I’d eat my strawberries with cream, just in case you want to use me for the promotions instead of this shameful excuse for a Brit.”

“Actually,” the producer behind the camera says, “we have a game that we’d love for the two of you to play together if you want. We usually don’t have two of the bigger names up here at once.”

“What’s the game?” Emma asks.

“It’s basically beer pong.”

Emma tilts her head back with laughter and claps her hands together. “Oh, I’m good at this. You’re going down, Jones.”

“Nice to see your competitive spirit doesn’t die off the court.”

“It never does.”

Emma shrugs and walks over to where they have a ping pong table set up on the roof of this building. Killian gets to travel a lot of beautiful places for his job, and while he doesn’t get to explore a lot of them, he does get to take in the view. He’ll never get over the oasis that is Palm Springs with its mountains going as far as the eye can see with palm trees and lush vegetation filling in so many other gaps. There’s a hell of a lot of desert, but considering Killian only goes between the tournament and his hotel, he doesn’t see that. For him, it’s all about the oasis.

“You ready?” Emma asks as they settle at opposite ends of the table. “It’s going to be a challenge to beat me.”

He winks and leans forward, hovering over the cups of water. “I do so love a challenge.”

-/-

“I mean, I wouldn’t say that you had a bad reputation.”

Killian rolls his eyes and toes his trainers off, kicking them across his hotel room in Monte Carlo. He pulls his phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker so he can change clothes while Emma talks.

“Then what would you say, love?”

He imagines she shrugs, and if he wasn’t disgustingly sweaty despite his shower at the club, he’d video call her instead of this. “I would say you had a colorful reputation.”

“For fuck’s sake, that’s the same thing.”

“No, no, it’s not,” Emma sighs. “It’s…”

“Swan, I was on the verge of getting all my sponsorships taken away at the age of twenty-two. I’d barely gotten started, and I nearly fucked it all up by drinking too much and being enough of an idiot to do it in public.”

“And now you’re England’s poster boy for all sports, so at least from a publicity standpoint, it’s all okay.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right, and he appreciates being talked down after an awful contract negotiation with one of his sponsors and what will surely be an equally awful conversation with Ariel later. They decided that they suddenly had issues with some shit he pulled six years ago, and he’s tired of having to explain himself to people.

His fucking brother died, and Killian didn’t handle it well. How is anyone supposed to handle that, let alone a twenty-two-year-old whose only family was that brother? It was too much, and while he didn’t tank his career, he did derail it, drinking and sleeping around and making horrible choices for his body. There are times when he still wants to do that, but he knows better now. His grief is private, and the world will never see it again unless it’s on his terms.

“My brother’s life was taken because of a drunk driver, and, you know, I’d give up all the sponsorships to have him back. I’d give it all up. And I know I did a piss poor job at dealing with my grief by getting drunk just like the man who killed him, even if I never got behind the wheel, but what was I supposed to do? It hurt too much to not be dulled.”

The other end is silent, and he focuses on his own breathing. It’s heavy now, and he can feel his heart thumping. He hates this feeling. He hates talking about his past, and he damn well hates having to talk about Liam like this.

He’s got no fucking clue why he’s talking about it with Emma, but she called right after the meeting and he spilled his guts out of frustration.

“I never met your brother,” Emma says so quietly he can barely hear her, “but if he was anything like mine, I can guarantee that he’d be proud of you for getting through it and continuing to move forward. Life sucks, Jones, and we all deal with those sucky moments in different ways. I, for one, eat massive amounts of icing and candy. I have an entire stash in a drawer in my bathroom so David can’t find it and scold me for it.”

Killian huffs and reaches up to yank his shirt off before falling back on the bed. He tugs on his hair before blowing it off his cheek. He needs a haircut.

“You keep icing in your bathroom? That seems unsanitary.”

“I promise it’s very secure.”

Killian hums and more silence falls between them. He doesn’t feel the need to fill it, but he does anyway. “I live alone, so I think I may not need to hide my icing stash. I’d have to get one first.”

“Cream cheese is the way to go. It’s, like, two dollars and all the calories are so worth it.”

“Have you ever considered making it at home?”

“I would give myself food poisoning. I can’t really cook.”

“No?”

“Absolutely not. Never learned how to do anything past the basics, and I’m not home enough to try. When I do, Mary Margaret always takes over so I don’t get food poisoning.”

“Where are we together next? Rome?”

“Madrid,” Emma sighs, and he hears a dog bark in the background. He’s sure she doesn’t have a dog, but maybe someone she’s with has one. Or she’s walking around her neighborhood. He never did ask what she was doing. Instead, he immediately started bitching about his sponsor meeting, and then they ended up here. Most of their conversations veer off track, so it’s nothing he isn’t used to. “I get there Monday.”

“I think the same unless I lose early here.”

“You best not. I have money on you.”

“Well, that’s a good way to get yourself suspended.”

Emma laughs, and Killian stretches out on the bed, flexing his feet. “Well, if you don’t tell anyone, I think I’ll be okay.”

“I swear I shall not say a word. Also, Swan, I don’t think we’ll have access to a kitchen in Madrid, but when we get to Rome, I’ll cook you something.”

“If I’m in Rome, I’m not wasting a dinner on your cooking.”

“We can eat two dinners then,” Killian suggests.

“I like that idea.” The dog barks again in the background, louder this time. “I have to go. My neighbor’s dog is walking over this way, and I have to give him my full attention.”

“Bye, love.”

“Talk to you later, Jones!”

The phone goes silent, and Killian closes his eyes. It’s been a rough day for a myriad of reasons, and all he wants is to sleep. His call with Emma has calmed him, as they usually do, but that’s something he often doesn’t like admitting to himself.

Getting involved with Emma would be complicated, and Killian isn’t sure he can do complicated anymore.

His phone buzzes, and he opens one eye to look at the message.

Ariel Fisher: I’m coming to talk to you because you stormed off.

Ariel Fisher: I have the key to your room, so make sure you’re dressed.

Ariel Fisher: I’m bringing dinner, so I know you at least kind of want to see me.

Killian Jones: I’m in the nude, and I’m not changing for you.

Ariel Fisher: It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

Killian Jones: That is your fault for walking into my bathroom without knocking.

-/-

Killian wins in Monte Carlo, and it feels good to have a trophy for the first time since late January. It’s only April now, and he’s only played three tournaments since Australia. Yet, he had higher expectations for himself for this year. It’s a great year by anyone’s standards, but Killian has really focused on his training this year. He wants another record year like two years ago, and if he keeps this momentum going, maybe he can do that.

That year, he’d worked off the motivation of heartbreak. This year, he’s trying to work off the motivation of doing something for himself.

Whatever keeps him in the game.

Whatever keeps him loving what he does like Liam asked him to do.

-/-

The thing about Killian’s job is that he’s constantly surrounded by bloody people. From when he’s playing a match to doing press to sitting in the living room of the houses and apartments he rents for some tournaments when he doesn’t want to stay in a hotel. Sometimes the only times he has to think are when he’s on court, which is ridiculous because that’s when he’s surrounded by the most people and is supposed to be focusing on his plan for the next point.

Tonight, Killian had planned on having Emma over for dinner, but Ariel, Eric, Will, and Rob have all shown up and are sitting on his couch watching the television and he’s desperately trying to get Emma to pick up her phone before she arrives. He’s sure Nemo and Al could show up any second by the way things are going.

“Hello?”

“Swan!”

“Hey, I was just about to get a car from the hotel to your place. Everything okay?”

Killian sighs and massages his fingers over his forehead. “It seems my team and my mates have decided they’re spending the night with me, so if you want to stay at the hotel, I would understand.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Of course, you can still come if you want.”

“Is there still going to be food?”

“Absolutely, but I don’t think I’ll be cooking it.”

“Then I’m coming,” Emma laughs. “Would you mind if I brought some people over as well? I can pay for their dinners.”

“The more the merrier,” Killian says, even if that is not how he intended his night to go. “See you soon, love.”

Killian walks back to the living area and settles down in an armchair, bracing himself for the onslaught of questions he’s about to get. “Emma Swan is coming over for dinner. She’s bringing people with her. I don’t know who yet, but I know she is.”

Slowly, everyone turns and stares at him, and Killian is already dreading everything about tonight.

“Why the fuck is Emma Swan coming over?” Will asks as everyone else nods. “I didn’t even know you knew her.”

“How would I not know her?”

“Oi, you know what I meant! You know her, but you know her in a way that has you say hello in the hallways, not that you invite her and her mates over to take our food.”

“You were not invited here tonight, Scarlet.”

“I am always invited.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ariel sighs, holding her hands up between them. “I need more of an explanation. How did this come about? Are you dating Em – ”

“No, A. Bloody hell, no.” Killian stands from the chair and straightens out his t-shirt. “We got to talking about food one day, and I casually invited her over. Believe it or not, I can have other mates besides you lot.”

“Your personality says otherwise,” Rob teases, and Killian rolls his eyes.

“Alright, alright. What should we get delivered for dinner? A little bit of everything?”

“I still have so many questions,” Ariel tells him.

“I have no more answers. I’m going to order food. You guys can keep watching the match.”

“Isn’t this who you play tomorrow?” Rob asks.

“Mhm, but Nemo will take enough notes and give them to me, so I don’t have to watch the match too closely.”

Killian walks away from the living room and goes through the contacts in his phone for the restaurants he likes, and once he settles on one, he orders several meals for delivery, chatting with the owner and promising her he’ll be in to see the entire team before he leaves Rome.

There’s a knock on the door, and Killian glances out the kitchen window. He can see Emma, Emma’s brother, and her sister-in-law. He was expecting Ruby Lucas and Anna Jergenson, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Her family is nearly always with her.

Ariel gets to the door before he does, hugging and greeting everyone. She knows David and Mary Margaret from constantly working with Mary Margaret over management collaborations, and while this is a large industry, there is always going to be overlap amongst certain people.

“David, nice to see you,” Killian says, walking into the room and taking David’s hand before kissing Mary Margaret’s cheeks. “Mary Margaret, beautiful as ever. Hey, Swan.”

“What? Am I not as beautiful as ever?” she jokes as she embraces him. “I got all dressed up for this. I’m wearing leggings that don’t have any holes in them.”

“I thank you for your effort.” He pulls back and winks. “I’m sorry for the slight change of plans, but I guess I’ll give you food poisoning another day.”

“Can’t wait.”

Killian guides them into the living room, where it’s a mess of greetings and jumbled conversation, and Killian settles himself back in the chair in the corner, watching everyone talk. They’re in the middle of one of the busiest stretches of the season, and it’s nice to have a night where he can relax. He has a match tomorrow and possibly even more depending on how tomorrow goes, but he tries to forget about those. That’s something Killian is still working on. Liam was the one who usually made him forget, and while his mates, many of them under the same pressures, do a damn good job, there are rarely times when his mind doesn’t race with the possibilities of how everything good in his life can slip away.

Killian rents this house in Rome every year because it was Liam’s favorite, so this week is always a particularly difficult one when everything reminds him of his brother.

When the food arrives, Killian spreads it around the kitchen and gets out a few bottles of wine. He won’t drink tonight, but others might want to. They fill their plates and settle back in the living room, the match that was at the forefront now in the background as Rob and Will take the piss out of each other for how badly the mangled the Italian language while asking for directions earlier today.

“I didn’t grow up speaking two languages! I’m still learning!” Will grumbles.

“You trained in Italy for most of your childhood.”

“I have no excuses for Italian, I know. I do speak French pretty well.”

“Oi, and none of us have to wonder why that is,” Rob laughs.

“You’re all wankers.”

“Why does Will know French?” Emma asks him from her seat next to him.

“His girlfriend is from France.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs, picking up a piece of ravioli and putting it in her mouth. “This is delicious. Much better than whatever it was you were planning on cooking.”

“I’m going to prove you wrong one day.”

She shrugs and puts her plate down on the coffee table next to her glass of wine. “If you say so. Where’s the restroom?”

Killian points to the hallway behind the kitchen. “Second door on the right.”

Emma nods and stands from her seat, walking away toward the bathroom. He gets a notification on his watch that he’s got a text from Nemo, and it looks like a long one. Sighing, Killian moves away from the conversation and down the hall to his bedroom so he can text Nemo back. It’s an analysis of his opponent for tomorrow, and Killian skims through it. He’ll read it more in the morning since his match isn’t until the afternoon, but if he doesn’t text Nemo back now, he’ll call until Killian does. The man is a damn good coach, but he can also be high-strung.

The bedroom door clicks behind Killian as he closes it, and at the same time, Emma leaves the bathroom. The two of them are nearly pressed together in the close quarters of the hallway, and Killian aligns himself against one wall while Emma does the same with the other. Still, he can feel her foot brush against his, and he is close enough to see the freckles on her face.

Those freckles are what have himself tilting closer, his breath intertwining with hers, and for every movement he makes, Emma makes an equal one, the voices in the background fading away as Killian focuses on the flutter of Emma’s lashes and the subtle twitch of her lips. He mirrors her, curling up one corner of his mouth and teasingly tapping his lips.

“Please,” she laughs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Emma studies him as heat swirls around them and tickles up his spine, pulling him closer to her. He watches her, waiting to see if she’ll do something, but he expects her to make a joke, to turn away like she sometimes does when things get a little too serious between them when they’re talking in person instead of over the phone. She doesn’t always do that, not when he’s the one sharing, but when it comes to her, she’s more guarded, holding everything deep within.

Emma Swan is constantly subverting expectations, however, so when she pulls on the collar of his shirt and tugs his mouth to hers, he takes a moment to reciprocate.

Bloody fucking hell.

Emma is kissing him.

And she’s damn good at it too. Killian reaches up to thread his fingers through her hair, pulling and tugging until he can take a little of the control back from her. She’s a demanding one, and while he can’t say he minds, he would like a little control too. Her lips are soft, and she tastes of wine and the spices of her ravioli. He could get lost in it all, especially when she moans in response to him backing her up against the wall. Her back arches, and Killian rolls his hips as Emma’s kiss teases him. The friction is fucking amazing, and it would be so easy to take a few steps to the right to his bedroom and…

Suddenly, Emma pulls back, lingering in his space, breath hot against his skin, and Killian can feel a smile tugging at his kiss swollen lips.

“That was – ” Killian mutters, leaning in to kiss her again.

“A one-time thing,” Emma quickly tells him, shoving at his chest until he backs away, a mountain of space between them. “I’m going to go back to the living room. Actually, I think I need to go home. I have an early training session tomorrow.”

“Swan – ”

“Thank you for dinner. It was great.”

Then she’s gone, blonde hair falling away, and Killian can’t move from his spot, standing there with his fingers against his lips. He listens to her tell David and Mary Margaret she’s ready to go, listens to her telling everyone goodbye, and then she’s gone, the front door shutting behind her.

What the hell just happened.

And when did he fall halfway in love with Emma Swan?

Fuck.

“What happened to your hair?” Ariel asks when Killian gets the strength in his legs to walk back to the living room.

“Nemo,” he lies. “His analysis for tomorrow had me tugging on it.”

Ariel studies him like she doesn’t believe him, but then she’s back to drinking her wine and talking to Eric, her life going on as normal even when his isn’t.

-/-

He gets blown out of the water in his match the next day.

He can’t compartmentalize his thoughts, putting the personal behind him and the professional in front of him. That’s been the key to all of his success. No matter what’s going on in his personal life, he can always lace up his trainers and take the court, leaving all of that behind him.

Today, it’s like everything that’s happened to him in the past decade has come flooding back, and Killian wants nothing more than the floodgates to stop.

-/-

Emma doesn’t respond to any of his texts.

He pretends it doesn’t bother him as his team leaves Rome and flies to Paris, immediately preparing for Roland Garros. Killian can fuck around at other tournaments on occasion, but he can’t do it at a major. There are only a handful of those to go around, the importance of them will never be lost on him.

Even if sliding across the clay is the last thing he wants to do right now.

“Smaller steps,” Nemo yells from his place on the sidelines. “You’re going to fuck up your ankle if you run like that.”

Killian adjusts his footwork and keeps moving, sweat slicking down his back as the crowds around the practice courts fill in while more players keep showing up. When he sees long blonde hair in her trademark braid three courts over, his step nearly falters.

It doesn’t.

He can’t.

If Emma is going to put distance between the two of them, he’ll let her. He had a life long before he began talking to Emma Swan, and he’ll have one if she never talks to him again.

He’s a liar if he says that his world would be anything other than miserable for awhile.

-/-

Killian crashes out in the quarterfinals of Roland Garros, and he immediately puts it behind him, bracing his shoulders for a month of grass court tournaments in his own country, where the pressure is always highest.

Sometimes it can be suffocating, but he has to do it.

-/-

“Okay, now that you’ve answered all of our questions, we want to show you a little video clip,” Chris McKendry tells him while Killian adjusts the mic resting on his ear.

“It’s never good when you tell me that, Chris.”

She laughs, as fake as always, but Killian goes along with it. “I promise you’ll enjoy this one.”

A producer for ESPN hits play on the video, and Killian keeps his eyes glued to the screen even as someone slides several bowls of strawberries and cream in front of him. The video of he and Emma from California plays on the screen, all of the promotional work the two of them did that day after she took the piss out of him for his answer to how he ate strawberries and cream. Killian forces a smile on his face, not allowing the cameras to see him slip, because this is what he does now. He’s a perfectly polished PR machine. If he’s going to show emotions other than happiness, they’re going to be either on the court or behind the scenes with no cameras rolling. They are certainly not going to be here.

“So, Killian,” Chris laughs as the video rolls, “we thought it would be fun to bring you some strawberries and cream with a spoon to eat them.”

Killian chuckles and takes the spoon, scooping up a large helping of the strawberries and cream and eating it. It’s not bad. He doesn’t like it, but it’s not the worst thing he’s ever had to eat because someone has asked him to. And the faster he plays along, the faster he can get out of here.

“I think I’ve got it right now,” he jokes, “though I know my last answer went viral because I failed all of Britain with it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, but we are giving you this chance to redeem yourself so you can have this crowd behind you for the fortnight. With your draw, I think you might need it.”

“Draws don’t always hold up, but nevertheless Chris, I’m ready for the challenge.”

“You always are.”

-/-

She’s fucking incredible to watch.

She moves with grace but with incredible power underneath her feet and determination set between her brows. Her play gets better with every match she plays, and Killian is mesmerized by it even if he’s been avoiding her matches over the past few weeks. But now she’s on Centre Court, and her match is playing on the screen above his bike where he’s cooling down from his match. There is no avoiding it, and he can’t say he wants to at the minute. He’s obviously a glutton for punishment.

He’s seen her draw, knows that it’s just as difficult as his, and while she might not win here, the Olympics are just around the corner on these same courts. He can’t imagine her not winning at least one of the two.

Then again, he is aware of his bias, but he is also aware of Emma’s skill.

Killian grabs his phone and takes a picture of her match, posting it on his Twitter, which Ariel has told him he has to use more since he “needs to interact with people online.”

@KillianJones: She’s graceful like a swan but also just as vicious. What a match to watch on my cool down. @Emmaswan is the type of player every kid should try to emulate when they pick up a racket

It’s an olive branch.

If she doesn’t take it, Killian will be fine. He may have fallen hard and fast, but that doesn’t mean Emma did. She is free to take things at her own pace, whatever that may mean for the two of them.

-/-

@emmaswan mentioned you in a tweet.

Killian swipes across his screen and opens Twitter, where he sees a picture of yesterday’s match. It’s from high above in what is obviously a private room, but it’s still clearly him on court, pumping his fist after a big point, the crowd standing all around.

@EmmaSwan: @KillianJones, I don’t think any of these people like you. You should try to get them on your side.

He laughs and falls back on his couch. He’s not well liked in a lot of places, but in his home country, he knows that as long as he’s winning, he has the country behind him.

No pressure.

@KillianJones: @EmmaSwan maybe you could help me out. How do I get the crowd to like me?

@EmmaSwan: @KillianJones cook them a home-cooked meal. It’s the way to everyone’s heart.

Killian nearly drops his phone. She’s joking. She has to be. This is the first time he’s so much as talked to Emma in weeks, and she either doesn’t realize the magnitude of her words or is sending him a clear message.

Emma has never cared much for subtly.

He closes out of Twitter and texts her, hoping he’s not fucking up the olive branch she took by snapping it in half.

Killian Jones: I’m making salmon tonight. It’s just me here tonight. I promise. Do you want to come over for dinner?

Emma Swan: How good is your salmon?

Killian Jones: It’s good.

Emma Swan: I’ll be there.

-/-

Emma Swan walks into his home like she belongs there. She steps inside his front door, removes her trainers, and easily walks to him in the kitchen, propping her hip against the counter while he prepares dinner. They talk, mostly about work, and Killian tries to act as unaffected by her presence as possible. The last time they were this close to each other, he had Emma pressed up against a wall. It’s been over a month since then with very little communication, and Killian constantly feels like a bucket of ice has been dropped over him.

He still doesn’t believe she’s here when he is clearly having a conversation with her.

They eat dinner on his couch, the television turned low in the background, and the conversation stays stilted. If Killian is honest, he wants to sink into the cushions and have this night be over with, but he knows better. Either this night firmly cuts the ties between them, or it ties the string back together.

He knows which one he wants, but he dare not speak for Emma.

“This is really good,” Emma says as she scoops up some of her remaining salad. “Thanks for cooking.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

“It’s a really nice place. I bet it must be nice to be able to stay home for a month while still working.”

“Yeah, it is.” Silence falls between them again, but it’s not comfortable, not like it used to be. “Look, Swan, I – ”

She holds up her hands and places the plate in front of her on his coffee table before twisting around and crossing her legs under her on the couch. “Don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t say it. Don’t apologize for doing something wrong when I’m the one who made out with you and then ran away. I fucked things up between us, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Do you want to fix it?” he suggests, knowing the line he walks is thin.

Emma shrugs, sheepish smile on her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t – I mean, I like…you’re…we’re…I don’t know, Killian. I am obviously not the most emotionally aware person, but I care. I care about my family, my friends…you. I care about you. Like, a lot, which was unexpected.” She leans forward and buries her face in her hands, all of her words coming out muffled. “I don’t know how I can do this without messing things up between us where we’ll be avoiding each other while having to walk the same circles.”

Killian arches his brow and stifles his laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing. This isn’t funny, but there is something comical about it.

“What I’m hearing is that you fancy me.”

Emma peeks out from behind her hands, and she glowers at him. “Seriously?”

Killian shrugs and leans forward, grabbing her hands and slowly intertwining their fingers. “I have no bloody idea what I’m doing either, and I don’t mean to upset you Emma. I really don’t. But we make quite the team. I think it would be foolish not to try, but I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That’s really fucking unfair to make me make the decision.”

“If I did, you would find a way to turn it around on me.”

She digs her nails into his palm, but he doesn’t flinch. “Asshole.”

“I would agree with that assessment most of the time.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but there’s also determination there, green, blue, and gold all mixed together to create the emotions hidden just below the surface. “We don’t tell anyone. Like, no one. I don’t like my private life to be public, and if we tell other people, it’ll become public. I’m already risking a hell of a lot possibly being with someone who I’ll have to see on tour if things get fucked up, so I want a safety net even if this doesn’t solve every issue.”

“You’re a romantic.” She parts her lips to protest, and he squeezes her hands, leaning forward and lingering in her space, closing half the gap. “But I agree with you, wholeheartedly. I was with this woman, and – ”

“We don’t have to talk about our pasts right now. I’ve got a match at one tomorrow, so we sure as hell don’t have time to get through everything. I’m also not entirely sure I trust you with everything yet.”

“You shouldn’t,” Killian half jokes as his lips ghost over hers, “but I hope to earn it.”

“Good,” Emma whispers, wrapping her arms around Killian’s neck and pulling him those final few inches toward her until her lips are softly gliding over his, pulling him under as pleasure trickles up his spine.

Good. This is all damn good.

They have no idea what they’re getting into, but Killian can’t wait to figure it all out.

-/-

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#walking the baseline #walking the baseline series #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #Captain Swan

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piracytheorist · 3 years

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A Kiss for Good Luck (10/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (50k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 10: Killian Jones, October 19th 2015 – May 19th 2016

Killian only holds back because Emma does; if she gave him any indication, he'd be really reaching into the kiss. She pulls back gently, her cheeks having gone slightly red.

He directs his eyes back into hers to distract himself from the fact that she either enjoyed the kiss a lot, or didn't enjoy it at all. He's about to smile at her when he sees Eloise from the corner of his eye and turns to her. She's looking at them with her typical cold expression that hides a ton of judgement underneath.

He swallows his sigh for Emma's sake; he's so tired of Eloise and her everything. He shrugs at her casually. Did she actually expect something from him?

And if she did, does he care anymore?

He turns back to Emma. “Don't worry,” he says, hoping Eloise's appearance didn't dampen the mood, and a thought jumps into words before he has the time to stop it. "Wanna add me on Facebook? It's Killian Jones, if, if you're interested...” To do what? Find something to tell her, find something! “We can share favourite songs."

Emma snorts, amused. "Like we're in high school?"

He doesn't have the best memories from high school, but he remembers enough about that awkwardness to know he feels similarly now. "I won't stalk you if you don't add me, just saying."

His stomach nearly does a flip when Emma smirks at him. She reaches into her belt bag and takes out her phone, which immediately slips from her fingers.

"Shit," she says. When she picks it up, they both can see that the screen cracked a bit. "Shit!"

"Oh. I feel as if I've caused that." As if he hasn't made things awkward enough.

Emma shakes her head. "It's replaceable. Don't worry. Killian Jones, you said?"

His chest feels warm at the sound of his full name in her voice. He should stop her; even in the slightest chance that she's actually interested, he's not the best person for any kind of connection.

But Emma is quick with her phone and says, "Friend request sent,” and he nearly leans down to kiss her again. “So we can chat about hot, new releases," she adds, still sounding amused.

He's about to ask for her last name. His battery is dying and he probably won't have the time to open the app before his phone turns off, and now that she did add him, his curiosity is skyrocketing.

"Hey," an older woman calls at Emma from the side. The woman looks at him with a slightly cautious glare, and looks a bit alike with Emma.

"Coming," Emma tells her. "So, we'll keep in touch," she tells him, actually pointing at him with her phone.

He just smiles in response, giving her a slight wave goodbye.

Watching them leave, his eye catches Eloise pouting, keeping her arms folded and staring at him from afar. He snorts and takes out his phone, impatient to accept Emma's request and find out her full name.

Instead of the Facebook app, he accidentally opens the camera, just as Klaus Meine walks right by him. He sees Killian, phone in hand, stops walking, and smiles.

"S-Selfie?" is all Killian can say, shocked.

He doesn't even see Eloise walk furiously towards him, his eyes fixed on the perfect selfie he got with the lead singer of the group they just watched perform.

"What was all that about?" Eloise says upon reaching him.

Killian looks at her, retort ready. "That was me taking a selfie with Klaus Fucking Meine."

Eloise scoffs. "You were kissing that bitch."

"Oh, come on,” he taunts her. “You're just jealous you didn't get a selfie."

"I'm serious," she says, her 's' whistling through her teeth.

"Serious? About what? We're just fucking, and you know that. You treat me like a piece of meat and you expect full commitment on my side? Maybe you're thinking of the wrong woman as a 'bitch'."

Eloise is speechless. And he is suddenly feeling powerful.

"You know what? Fuck that. We're done. You drive back to Brighton, I'm not gonna put up with a return trip if you're involved."

"And what are you gonna do?" she spits back at him.

"We're right in the center of town. I can afford to stay in a hotel for one night." He starts leaving.

"It's late! You'll get charged double!" She hasn't even taken a step towards him – she's waiting for him to go back to her.

She can wait all she wants.

He turns towards her, walking backwards. "I don't give a bloody damn," he tells her, then turns forward and leaves.

He leaves her.

How did he forget how calmer his nights are without her? The receptionist doesn't even charge him double – they'd just prepared a room that got cancelled last minute, and providing Killian leaves on time the next morning, it's just the standard price.

The room is nice, yet his mind is still going back to Eloise.

Damn, he left her. He made it.

And all because Emma was bold enough to kiss a damn perfect stranger.

He picks up his phone, now connected to a charger the hotel offered. Emma's friend request is right at the top of his notifications.

He smiles as he accepts.

His first day away from Eloise brings to the forefront how their relationship was way, way more than sex, only in a bad way. How he'd go to sleep some nights, nearly shaking with despair to go buy a bottle and with fear that Eloise wouldn't react well to him doing that. How that bled through to other parts about his life, how he had let her control it, and how she jumped at the chance to do so. He has a full day on his own to reflect on his thoughts and worries with a clear mind.

It ends on one conclusion; reconciling with family.

Nemo greets him back with open arms, and though Shakespeare keeps a collected face, he embraces Killian warmly too.

He spends the night there, falling asleep at the sight of his old drawings on the wall of his old bedroom. He hasn't picked up a pencil in some time...

Nemo doesn't ask anything the next morning. He's just happy Killian is back and willing to connect, and gets him to try playing chess with him, his new hobby. Killian doesn't even have the nerve to joke about Nemo's apparent mid-life crisis.

Once again, he's being more than Killian deserves. But maybe, once again, Killian can work towards being a man deserving of that love.

Before lunch, he's found himself with a picture of a forest landscape open on his phone, sketching from reference, when he receives a video call from Emma.

His heart speeds up. His hand is shaking slightly as he picks up the phone and looks at the screen, itching to tap “Accept”. He runs to the bathroom, making sure he's presentable, then back at his room, settles on his chair and accepts the call.

Her face fills the screen, and he gives her a cocky smile. She looks fresh from sleep; a different sight from the one in the concert, but what a sight still.

“Good morning,” he says. Is it? “Or afternoon? Have you gone back yet?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling wide, “I arrived last night.”

“How was your trip?”

“A bit more tiring than I'm used to. But safe.”

“Than you're used to? You do it often?”

Emma explains about her extended family in Norway, her visits there a few times a year, and being used to long flights.

He finds himself feeling a little jealous. The only two times he travelled abroad brought years of bad fortune on him.

Emma definitely seems to hold something back, but he pays no mind; his closet has no fewer skeletons. They start chatting about music and end up talking about their plans for the holidays.

Time flies by and it's only when he hears Nemo call for lunch that he realizes they've been talking for an hour.

Bloody hell, he thinks, why do they have to eat so early?

He excuses himself, telling her he'll see her soon, and he can't help noticing how she seems to be holding back something again. He hopes he didn't disappoint her, and ends the call.

He looks at her name on his screen and he nearly taps it to call her again.

He locks his phone and puts it down. Wait a few days, give her time, he thinks.

He goes back to his apartment that same evening, and there's a box of the stuff he kept at Eloise's place. He checks the drawers he kept for her, and they're empty as well. Eloise's spare key is inside the box, with a note for him to not bother with his spare key of her place, as she'll be changing the locks.

He actually feels surprised. That's really mature of her, and he doesn't have to see her again.

Maybe that's what she wants too. Better for both of them.

Before he goes to sleep he starts looking for therapists, and though he doesn't contact anyone yet, he considers it a step towards the right direction. He'll get there.

He calls Emma three days later, and before he's even noticed it, they develop a schedule, chatting two times a week. He wishes to talk to her more often, but he still sees the reserved expression he knows too well on her face, and he knows she needs time. Of course, half the time it's her calling him, and she participates in conversation as much as he does.

She wants it, he knows. She's just taking it slow, and if he's honest, he needs slow too. What he had with Eloise may have led to him meeting Emma, but it still had an impact on him – and not that long after he lost the woman he loved, too.

The same afternoon he makes an appointment with a new therapist – and dreading it, considering the pile of information he'd have to give them – he gets a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Is this Killian Jones?”

“Who is it?”

“My name is George Rogers, I'm a private detective. Could you confirm your name, please?”

The detective is looking into Milah's murder. He's – lawfully – found suspicious contacts between Gold, his false witnesses and two now convicted criminals in the States, and he's opening her case. Killian's case too, considering he was assaulted as well.

Killian can barely speak. He'd lost all hope that Gold would receive any judgement from anyone but Killian himself. He thought he'd just have to live with the burden that Milah's murderer walks the streets free until he would grow desperate enough to get a gun and kill him himself.

He agrees to meet with the detective at his office and he looks at his phone when he hangs up, catching his shocked expression on the reflection, unable to even close his mouth.

When Killian opens the door to Rogers' office, he freezes as he sees the man.

Rogers just gives him a warm smile. “Mr. Jones.” Then he nods at Killian's stunned silence. “I know.”

The resemblance is uncanny; Rogers has a few grey streaks and more wrinkles, so Killian feels as if he's looking into what he'll look like about ten years from now. Physically, at least.

Rogers has acquired the testimony Killian gave when he was still at the hospital, and is trying to piece the crime together and prove the two convicted criminals are the two bodyguards Gold had hired that fateful day. With a bit of luck and skill, he can lead them to a confession. They're already in prison and it seems that Gold's finances haven't been going well lately. If he hasn't been keeping his false witnesses content, they may not be hard to persuade.

Rogers excuses himself for a moment, and Killian looks dumbfounded at the chessboard Rogers has set on his desk. Nemo didn't pick the habit up, but Killian did. He starts playing on his own, trying to distract himself from the pile of questions for Rogers and the anxiety that is building up. He doesn't want to let himself hope for Gold's arrest; he won't be able to deal with the result of the case going cold again.

“Do you play?” Rogers asks, nodding at the board.

Killian shrugs. “I started a few weeks ago. I play a bit online to...” He looks up at him, still a bit shocked at their physical resemblance. “You said you opened this case. Why?”

Rogers sits down at his desk. “It's my job. I was hired to look into it.”

“By whom?”

“Confidentiality, mate. I was looking Gold up, and after some digging I found out you had accused him for murder and assault.”

“I tried.”

Rogers shakes his head. “That bastard's a few million pounds away from starting a bloody mob. Hiring a few false witnesses is a piece of cake for him. Unfortunately for him, he can't cover all his sources and expenses. Questions start piling; where did he get all that money, and where are they going to? Especially now that his businesses are supposed to be failing.”

Rogers can't promise anything, but he looks determined to do his best. Killian doesn't allow himself any hope. He focuses on his life; going back to work with Shakespeare, finding a new AA group, starting therapy again, and talking to Emma.

He doesn't realize how much he's changing his own life until Emma points out that he told her once he's an early bird, yet there he is at two in the morning his time, chatting with her. And indeed, Shakespeare was willing to give him a late shift, but Killian didn't mind it that much either. He shifts the conversation to her choice of snack, making a sour face at the pop-tart in her hand.

“How can you eat that thing? It's like sugar-coated sugar,” he teases her.

Emma laughs, saying it's European candies that need a good dose of sugar instead.

With Christmas approaching, Rogers takes time off officially but keeps doing some work from home, and he calls Killian one evening to discuss some details about his testimony.

Killian finds a taxi fast, which manages to avoid all traffic and red lights and he arrives early at Rogers'. He's in a bathrobe and his hair is wet when he opens his door.

“You're early,” he says. “Come in.”

Killian steps in, immediately noticing the girl sitting cross-legged in front of a coffee table, playing chess.

“That's my daughter, Alice. Perhaps she can teach you a couple tricks,” Rogers says, smiling. “I'll be back in a minute.” He disappears behind a door.

“Wow,” Alice says, looking at him. “You do look like papa. He told me so but I didn't believe him.” She turns innocently to her chessboard.

A lump forms in Killian's throat; neither he nor Rogers commented much on their resemblance, but with another person so close to Rogers pointing it out, he can't help the possibilities that fill his thoughts. His deadbeat father had already left two children; what would one more before them change anything?

Could it really be?

“Can I ask you something?” Killian asks when Rogers is done with his questions. “How old are you?”

Rogers looks a bit taken aback. “Forty-five. Why?”

Thirteen years older than him. Which means his father would've been fourteen when Rogers was born. Unlikely, but still...

“Were you born here?”

Rogers sits back in his chair, his eyebrow raised. “Actually, I was born in Seattle, but my folks moved us back to Plymouth when I was five.” He pauses. “Are you curious...” he points between their faces.

Killian shrugs, but relaxes. The possibility of his father, at thirteen years old, travelling to Seattle and impregnating a woman are downright impossible.

“I was also curious, when I found your file and saw your picture. But I see a lot of people in my line of work, and trust me, there is a notable number of almost twins out there.”

Feeling comforted, but still vulnerable, Killian confesses. “It's just... my father was not much of a parent. I wouldn't put it past him to have another child he never mentioned to us.”

“I understand. I can assure you, though, it's just a coincidence.”

“It's also that... my mother's name was Alice.” He smiles at that, though.

“Oh. That is peculiar. But I simply liked the name for my daughter, and it's not like it's a super rare name.” He then turns to look at the clock as a thunder rumbles somewhere not too far. “I'll be making some dinner, would you like to stay?”

“No, it's alright.”

“You can either help, if you want, or keep Alice company as she teaches you tricks.” Rogers rubs at Alice's back, who has come to stand next to her father.

“How long has she been playing?”

“Since before I could read,” she says, proudly crossing her arms.

Killian smiles at her.

“For real,” Rogers says. “She was still in preschool when I started teaching her. That's more than six years of experience.”

“Which is why I always beat you,” Alice tells him.

Killian stands up. “Then I have no hope against you. Thanks for the offer, but you've already done enough.”

“Come on, mate, it's pouring rain outside.”

Killian smiles a little wider. “I have a good feeling about it.”

Indeed, the rain slows to a drizzle and the taxi he calls arrives quickly.

Most of his nights for the past four years have been plagued by the thought that he'd never see Gold pay for his crimes. He had a few nights of blissful calm, either brought by alcohol or the occasional good time the last couple months, but this is the first night that he feels at least relieved. Not confident or hopeful, yet; he knows better than that.

Emma confesses to him that she won't be spending Christmas with her extended family and that she lied to her friends so that they wouldn't cancel their plans for her sake.

He sneakily looks into flights for Boston while he's still on chat with Emma; a cold dread spreads in him when he's reminded of what both his trips to the States caused him.

He goes to bed very late that night, hating himself. Emma needs someone to spend the holidays with, she wants someone, and he's too afraid of his own superstitions to be that someone for her. And the worst part is, he used to be lucky. He knows what's it like to throw caution to the wind and still everything coming out fine. It's the first time in four years that he's started to feel that things have started going well. He's too afraid to push his luck.

He resorts to sending her a collection of his favourite seashells that he's gathered over the years as a gift. He's happy to hear it arrives in time, and he has a celebratory video chat with Emma on Christmas day, going along with her and her pop-tarts.

He regrets not going to Boston, or at least offering to help pay her tickets so she could come visit him, when it's New Years Eve and he has to show a happy face for his family while he knows Emma is all alone.

Just two hours before midnight his time, he takes Nemo's car and manages to find an open toy store. The owner says Killian is the luckiest bastard of the year, as he was about to close for the night. Killian buys a confetti cannon, thanks him, and wishes him a happy new year.

He allows himself exactly two hours of celebrating with his family before he goes to bed. He wakes up at half past four and sets everything up for a surprise celebration for Emma, checking at least three times that he's got his timezones right and it's still before midnight in Boston.

He starts calling her at quarter to five, but she's not online. Then again at ten to five. When she doesn't answer at five to five, he sends her an SMS to turn her WiFi on. As he waits for her to become active, he prepares to tease her for falling asleep on the one night most people want to stay up. He sets into a smug face and calls her immediately after her dot turns green.

His face falls when she accepts his call and he sees her tear-stained face, broken by a sorrowful expression.

“Oh, Swan,” he says.

Emma bursts into sobs. He waits for her, he doesn't give a damn if they miss the countdown, they can do one of their own. As long as Emma is alright.

As her sobs slow down, he feels tears in his own eyes. How he wishes he could reach over and hold her.

What a coward he was. When she wipes away her tears, he gives a silent promise to never let her experience anything like that again.

“Thank you,” Emma says.

Killian looks at the clock he's set up. “It's thirty seconds now. Do you want me to count with you?”

“Yes, please.”

He sees the smile on his preview turn more cheerful.

Emma looks at him, her smile widening as the seconds go down, contrasting her red and puffy eyes.

Killian pops the confetti cannon, but his eyes never leave her reflection. “Happy New Year!” he says.

“You stayed up,” she says.

“I... woke up,” he admits. “I mean, I went to sleep a bit early, and even I would say two is early for New Year's, so I snuck in a few hours of sleep before the alarm went off.”

Her face is so vulnerable, and the wish to hold her overwhelms him.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” she says.

“I wouldn't forgive myself if I let you change the year alone.” Nor if I let it happen again. “Especially after you told me what you didn't tell your friends. Losing a bit of sleep is nothing.”

He has a whole array of snacks prepared for his late night with her, but he sets it aside when she says that all she has is the few pop-tarts left from Christmas.

She seems to love them so much. “Perhaps I chose the wrong flavor,” he says. “If I visit Boston one day you'll get me all kinds and I'll taste them all.”

He almost says 'when' instead of 'if'. But he has to be rational; financially he cannot yet support a trip, and he owes Emma an honest promise only when it's possible.

There's not much he's wanted from life; and by now he's learned to not push for more than he has. But is it too much to think that he's in love with her? That he's reminded what it feels like, to feel his heart full of love and not thirsty for revenge?

Is it too much to hope he can have something with her?

He makes himself some coffee, determined to stay with her until she falls asleep. Her eyes are drooping closed when he takes the phone to the window, to show her the lighter blue streak of the early sunrise. Her eyes are already closed when he sits back and sings Auld Lang Syne to her. When the song ends, he lets a few seconds go by before he calls her name once.

When there's no response, he ends the call and sends her “Happy new year, love,” in text.

The new year arrives promising. Only three days in, Rogers calls him to tell him one of Gold's fake witnesses confessed.

Killian needs to attend two sets of trials; one for Milah's murder, and one for the assault against him. Both are draining, but Nemo is beside him, and Killian bursts into tears when Gold gets life sentence.

He thinks about Milah's boy, Jack; he's barely fifteen years old, and he's dealing with what Killian had hoped he never would; seeing one – or in his case, probably both – of his parents as a monster. Gold had remarried; right after divorcing him, Belle, his now second ex-wife, was the one who had hired Rogers to look into Gold. She attested against Gold in the trial, but she seemed to care a lot for the boy.

Three weeks later he hears that Belle took custody of Jack. Killian is sure the boy hates him already; all he can do is hope his stepmother will care and provide for him.

His heart had stopped aching for revenge, but that doesn't mean it's not relieved that a murderer who chose to ruin him is now behind bars.

And with Emma, it soars. Through those emotionally taxing months, talking to her is his one constant.

Before either he or Emma realize it, their chats become a daily habit, even when there's little to say. Sometimes they just synchronize their Netflix to watch something together. Sometimes just each other's presence there on the phone screen is enough while doing housework.

Killian has completely switched to late shift at Shakespeare's boat rental, so that he can stay up late and talk with Emma after she's done with her shift.

For years, his mind was consumed with thoughts of revenge. His consciousness felt lighter, but his heart still felt empty after Gold was convicted. With Emma, he remembers how it feels like to care for someone that way, the way he did before Gold took that away from him.

Emma is in no way a replacement for Milah; but he knows it's time he moved on, and he can see in her someone he can do that with. Someone he can be happy with. Milah would want him to be happy, as he would want that for her.

Killian shares the story of his family slowly coming apart; his mother dying, his father leaving, and the final straw when his brother died. He tells her how he was nearly lost himself, how he has no idea where he'd be if Nemo hadn't, quite literally, saved him.

Emma shares her story of growing up an orphan, of being adopted and finally feeling she belonged, until her adopted mother was deported and she had to fend for herself, resorting to trusting the wrong person.

It's yet another time that Killian wishes he could reach into the screen and hold her. It could've been him, the one who trusted the wrong person and lost everything. And Emma is still standing on her feet.

He tells her about Eloise, she tells him about having done time – which makes her current standing even more admirable. Where would he be if his lawyer hadn't managed to get him on probation for breaking and entering on that stupid, desperate night?

He tells her about staying off of alcohol. How he'd thought he'd never stay clean for good. What he doesn't tell her is that it happened to be that he got the strength to keep up his sobriety just after he met her.

He loves her, he knows that. And he doesn't think lightly of their kiss at the concert, but he's not sure she's ready to hear she's had such a positive impact in his life.

And all because he was cheerful enough to hum a song and Emma happened to hear it.

With his emotions muddled by the trial, the stress, the anticipation for the results, and eventually the worry for Milah's son, he is surprised to realize it's late April and he can afford much, much more than a trip to Boston, thanks to the eighty thousand pounds he got from Gold as compensation for losing his hand.

He chooses to not wait too long for Emma. He wants her, and he wants to be good enough for her. Even though he'll need time for that, and he feels she's not ready for anything too quick either, he feels excited to meet her again.

When he tells her he's thinking of visiting her in May, she immediately offers her place for him to stay at.

His heart soars, he smiles widely – and Emma's connection cuts off.

When she comes back in, her smile reflects his. It's a relieving conversation that night, to tell each other that they want something more, but that they both need to take things slow. And one first visit can clear the path, so to speak.

He's still slightly nervous to get on the plane; he treated himself to a first class seat, however – not provoking karma by sneaking into someone else's unclaimed seats this time – and he's surprised to be awaken by a flight attendant when they've already landed at Logan Airport. There were apparently disturbances that delayed landing for an hour, and he slept peacefully through it all.

He turns on his phone and he feels a little relieved seeing Emma's message that she would have to be late. At least she wasn't left to wait for him.

He spots her as soon as the automatic doors leading out of arrivals open. She smiles and waves at him.

When they embrace, his chest feels lighter than it's felt in years. He pulls back and looks at her calm, happy face, then his gaze drops to her lips.

She closes her eyes when she pulls up to give him a peck.

(A/N: Finally, things start happening! And not just with them getting together at last!)

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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When We Collide (Part 3)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So we are back again for another installment of this new fic, and I have to admit it’s been so fun to write this. It’s a strange new tone for me, but I’m trying to marry my love for fluff, and the intrigue/peril of this story that my muse dreamed up. There’s much more to come, but I am also trying to keep chapters shorter this go around. I definitely will end up with more than the 12 I was planning originally, but just in terms of pacing, it’s a changeup to have the shorter chapters that I use to have. Anyway, regardless of length, I hope you will enjoy this installment, which shows Emma and Killian post-Gold while also providing a flashback too. Can’t wait to see what you all think, and thank you so much for reading!

Five days into their drive towards destiny, and Emma was really starting to wonder – how far away was home exactly?

Okay to be fair, she knew where they were headed – a tiny town not far from Big Sur, clear across the country from Gold and his crew. Killian had told her as much weeks ago, but only when he was certain they wouldn’t be overheard. She loved the idea of California, never having been there herself, but she didn’t really account for how long it would take to travel that many miles. They rode and rode every day, but they could be traveling further if Killian would let them. She tried to tell him as much, but he disagreed. Responding every time with thoughtful things that made her heart melt a little more:

“I won’t risk you hurting, love. Not when you are everything, my heart and my soul.”

“You may not realize it yet, but the road can be unforgiving. Best to take it easy, especially when the cargo is as precious as you.”

“Please, Swan, let me have this. Let me take care of you. Trust in me, Emma – I promise, I won’t ever let you down.”

At every stage of this journey Killian had put her comfort first, which was wild since they were really on the run. Still Killian treated this like it was a trip to be remembered, instead of one to be rushed through. Emma was amazed at the places they’d been staying, and how each one was out of the way while still being beautiful and well-kept. They never stayed anywhere too populated, always choosing local hideaways over hustle and bustle or household names, but every place had its own organic beauty and charm. They explored these little safe havens, talking and loving and living together, and every stop along the journey, Emma felt the weight of her fear ease away. The further they got from New York the freer she felt that she was. And the thought of her freedom was so perfect, especially if she could spend that freedom with a man she loved as fiercely as Killian.

“What’s put that smile on your face, love?”

Killian’s words washed over her at the same time his arms wrapped around her, hugging her from behind. She closed her eyes and let out a happy sigh, loving the fresh air and the hum of the natural world around them on the balcony at this little bed and breakfast they’d happened upon. They had ‘the best room’ in the house, which was to say a stand-alone cottage at the back of the inn, and it felt private and peaceful and perfect.

“Just this guy,” she teased, loving the growl that Killian released. Leave it to her man to get jealous over nothing. There were no men in her life like him, certainly none that mattered, and he knew that. Still it was fun when he got all worked up, and the vibrations of the grumble he’d let out mixed with his roaming hands made her body tense in the most pleasurable way.

“Ah, anyone I know?” Killian joked, nuzzling into her neck and laying a kiss on her skin that made her shiver. Unable to resist, she spun around in his arms and melted into him, her hands resting on his chest.

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. You see not a lot of people know him – the real him. He’s mysterious that way.”

“And you?” Killian asked, his voice taut with sincerity as he dropped the charade. “Do you feel you know me?”

Looking into his eyes, Emma saw how important this question was to him. After years of hiding himself in darkness, working with Gold and other evil, vile people, Killian was wary of himself and his worth. She saw the doubts that he carried, the worry in his heart, but she knew this man completely. Honestly, she’d known there was more to him from the start. Something honest and real. But if she’d still needed convincing that he was good and true and kind underneath it all, he’d handed it to her in one perfect, thoughtful moment that sealed the deal and stole her heart…

And there it is: I, Emma Swan, am officially homeless. Again.

The weight of that knowledge cut Emma to her core. For years she had worked day in and day out to claw herself into something resembling stability. After years in her foster homes, and more on the street and living in her car, it meant everything to her to have a place, a real place, to call her own. In fact, it meant so much to her that she’d paid up front to her landlord. She didn’t want to risk him looking for new tenants, so she always paid promptly and in full. This time she’d actually taken it further, giving three whole months rent, just before this all went down. Her landlord was grateful, but still clear with her – just because she paid up front, didn’t mean he’d accept late payments. And now she was late. A full month behind, and just entering the window for eviction. When the clock struck midnight, she’d passed the final day. Her home would now be vacated, cleared out, and everything she owned would be tossed, sold, or stolen.

The reason she knew how this would all go was because she’d seen it many times. Her building was filled with people who for, whatever reason, could not pay the bills. As such, a number of them had been evited, and always with the same cold, calculated precision. The landlord didn’t even show himself. He hired workers to clear it all and used the cops to intimidate people into leaving. It was awful, but it was life. And now it was her life. Damn it, why the hell was this her life?

“Yo, blondie, you gonna get us our beers, or you gonna keep staring at the clock some more?”

The rude call from one of the patrons snapped Emma back into the moment, and she fought tooth and nail to force the tears in her eyes from falling. She had yet to let these men see her pain, and she would die before she ever did. As badly as this hurt, as agonizing as this was, she couldn’t let it show. She had to keep moving, keep going, and just remember that the most important thing was to survive.

The next few hours were all a blur of rowdy miscreants and a lot of ballsy drunks. The worst part, though, was that Killian wouldn’t be by. He mentioned to her the last time he was in that he was going on a run. He’d be out of town for some time, and wasn’t supposed to be back until the end of the week. She’d only known him for a little while now, but it was a disappointment when he didn’t stop in. Seeing him made all the difference in her day. He kept the savages at bay, and though they both did their best to be discrete, she felt his presence, sensed his eyes on her any time they could be, and savored every moment when he came close, asking for a drink or paying his tab at the end of the night.

Thinking of those good moments ultimately got her through the rest of her shift, and through some kind of small mercy, Sydney let her out a half an hour earlier than he normally would. She was excused from after-hours clean up, and for once she took the out, rushing upstairs, hoping to get away from everyone and everything. She reached for her keys, as she came down the hall, but her door was open as she got closer and immediately her guard went up. No way in hell she’d left this door open. She was always meticulous about keeping it shut. Then there were footsteps inside and she looked in to see the one man she’d been missing most of all.

“Killian?” she asked, shocked at seeing him as she raced inside. How was he back so soon? And what was he carrying in that cardboard box? Wait, was that…?

“Emma, love, you’re early,” he said, looking totally caught off guard at her entrance. “You’re shift’s never over at this time. You’ve usually got -,”

“That’s my stuff,” She said interrupting him.

“Aye,” he said, looking defeated. “Well it’s what I could salvage any way. As soon as I heard, I tried to get back sooner, Emma, I swear I did. But by the time I made it, so much was already gone. This was all I could save.”

Emma reached to the item on the top of the box, the one thing she actually cared about – her blanket, emblazoned with her name, and still bearing the same scent of honeysuckle and an ocean breeze that it always seemed to have. It was like magic, that smell, imprinted on the woven bands that made this knitted shrug as long as she could remember. No matter where it was or what it had seen, the smell always remained, comforting her, and making her believe that it must have been crafted with love. It was a sign to her that there had been people who loved her, for however brief a time, and this was their one precious gift to her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma. If I had known this was happening… I tried to reason with your landlord, to pay off what’s due just to buy you more time but -,”

Dropping the blanket back into the box, gently, Emma pulled the cardboard compartment from his hands and tossed it onto the couch beside them. Then she stepped into Killian’s arms, cupping his face, and kissing him surely. There was no other way for her to make him see how much this meant to her. No words could be uttered, no thanks could be shared. All it took was a single second for him to be there with her, holding her close, wrapping her up in a warm embrace that made her feel whole when for so long she was broken. It was transcendent, so much more than just a kiss, and when they finally broke apart to breathe, Emma looked at him and saw the heat and the care and the goodness in his eyes. She knew then that she trusted him. That he was honorable and true, despite the line of work he was in, and that she was scarily close to falling for him, in a total and irrevocable way.

“I can’t believe you did this. No one’s ever cared, I mean, no one even thought…” Emma felt tears threatening again, and she closed her eyes. Unbidden, they fell, and then she felt Killian’s thumb swipe them away as he came to hold her. She opened her eyes again, and smiled through the little bit of crying. “Thank you, Killian. Thank you so much.”

“You deserve the whole world, Emma,” he said, staring at her so intently, a battle going on in his mind that she couldn’t quite read. “Fuck me, just one more taste.”

He growled out the words and pressed his lips to hers again, this time taking things even further than before. This was a kiss of hunger, of passion, of wanting. It was a spark that flared brightly, a flame catching into a burning fiery force, and she loved it. She needed this, needed him, and didn’t realize how dulled and cut off she’d been. To get through this she’d been numbing herself, surviving but not living, but in his arms and with this kiss, she felt so alive. More so than she ever had in her life.

Too soon the kiss was over, and this time, when they broke away, Killian straightened, putting a bit of distance that she hated between them. “Much as I might like to take this further, Swan, I can’t. You’re vulnerable still. Reeling from the day, and if we continue…”

“When we continue,” she said boldly, causing him to shake his head even as that wicked, sexy wanting sparked back to life in his blue eyes.

“If we continue, I won’t ever stop. One taste could never be enough, and two will damn near kill me. If I taste you a third time, you’ll be mine.”

“Yours?” she asked, her heart thudding in her chest even as the voice in her head pleaded with her to make that jump.

“Aye, mine. Right now, my world is ugly, Emma. Far too ugly a place for a woman like you. I need to make it better. Need to find some light before I let you in. But I’m only so strong. The next time you kiss me, there will be no turning back. You’ll seal our fates. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Emma whispered.

“Good,” he replied, grabbing his leather jacket, his hands curling into fists as he put it on and made for the door. Then he looked at her, a million things left unsaid between them for a beat until he finally nodded at the door. “Lock up behind me.”

She nodded, and was going to ask him to wait, but she was too slow. He raced out of the apartment, like he was scared to make good on his word, and Emma was left stunned. Her lips still tingling from the feel of him, and her whole body buzzing in kind. She made her way to the door, following his order to bolt everything in place and then she leaned against the wood, pressing her back against the cool paint finish. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she looked around the room, her eyes catching on the box once more. Then she smiled and closed her eyes, knowing that the next chance she got she was kissing that man. Consequences be damned – she was going to be his, and she sure as hell hoped he’d be hers in return...

“I don’t feel that I know you, I know that I do,” Emma said honestly, coming back from the memory and into this moment with Killian once more. At her words, he let out a sigh of relief and she ran her hand along his jaw. He leaned into the motion, clearly loving the feel of her soft skin against his rough beard, and she wanted to give him that comfort and certainty. “We may not know every little detail about each other yet, but that doesn’t change the way I feel. There are ghosts in our past, and dreams of the future that we maybe haven’t shared, but I know you, Killian. I know you and I love you.”

“Gods I’ll never get enough of that,” Killian said holding her close, before making a heartfelt confession of his own. “And there will never be another woman I love so much as you, Emma. You were it for me the moment I saw you. You’ll be it for me until my final breath.”

“Only until then?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood and laughing when he growled again and pulled her so close they were centimeters away from a kiss.

“You know what happens when you tease me, love.”

“Mhmm,” she said, breathlessly confirming that she did as she licked her lips. She waited agonizing moments for him to kiss her but then he surprised the shit out of her throwing her up over his shoulder and heading downstairs and out towards the lake. She shook with laughter, confused as to what he was doing until they reached the sand and he put her down.

“Loose the dress, Swan. I make no promises on your salvaging it if you leave it to me.” She shivered at the command in his voice. Damn he was hot. Especially when he went all alpha like this. Luckily, they’d been dressed for a possible swim, so she had a newly purchased swimsuit underneath.

Holding his eyes as much as she could, Emma delighted in how focused Killian was on her. But then he returned the favor, losing his shirt and she was lost. She always got dizzy seeing him like this, and that feeling lingered through their swim and as they sprawled out on the dock some time later. Letting the heat of the fading summer sun dry them off, Emma hummed out a sound of contentment. Okay, honestly, this right here was the life. But as that thought went through her mind she shot up, looking all around them suddenly frantic.

“Emma what is it?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“We can’t be like this, can we? I mean we’re on the run,” she whispered. “Gold could find us. He could -,”

Killian silenced her with a kiss, thoroughly distracting her before explaining his seemingly lax behavior. “Gold has been successfully brought into custody and is none the wiser of my involvement in his demise. His lieutenants have also all been charged, and the henchmen have gone to ground. The syndicate is bleeding, Emma. There’s no one around to ask questions, and you and I are not the only ones in Gold’s service who’ve made a run for it.”

“How do you know?” Emma asked.

“I have my ways,” he grinned, and she rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “And don’t think for a second that I’ve made any compromises on your safety. We’re relaxing as we are because I have complete and total confidence in the safety of our stops.”

“What did you do, set up some trip wires or something?”

“Didn’t have to – the whole place has surveillance capabilities set up already.”

“It does?” Emma asked, shocked and Killian laughed.

“Aye, love. Tiana’s special forces.”

“You’re kidding,” Emma said, looking at him for signs of jest. “Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. Her mother runs the inn when she’s deployed, but this place is a haven of sorts. Most of the places we’ll land over the next week will be.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me there’s like a secret, high tech, military bed and breakfast system scattered across the country?” Killian laughed heartily at that and shook his head.

“Not quite. As you’ll recall, not every place we’ve stayed has been like this. There are simply many, many favors I had to cash in from my days with the SEALs. This is one of them.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Emma asked and Killian’s look softened as he held her close.

“I’d be anything for you, Emma.”

“All you have to do is be yourself,” she promised, kissing him sweetly but pulling back just as the kiss was set to begin. He groaned at her absence, and watched with warry eyes as she stood up, moving away from him. With motions so fast and controlled she marveled at them he got up too, never letting too much space between them.

“Change your mind, on something, love?”

“Hardly,” Emma said grabbing her dress and toying with it, but not putting it back on. “I was just thinking…” she said, letting her gaze run down his body as she licked her lips. God he was gorgeous, and time was doing nothing to dull the effect he had on her.

“What were you thinking?” he ground out, moving forward again, but she put her hand up.

“Trust me, honey,” she said, knowing how much the little pet name riled him up. “Nothing I’m thinking is fit for this place. Way too public. For what I want, we need a bit more privacy.”

“As you wish,” he promised, once again sweeping her into his arms and making her melt against him. And as he carried her away, no doubt towards a night of steamy passion in his arms, Emma felt what it was to be truly happy. For though the road was still uncertain, and their future might not be totally clear, she had faith it would all work out, as long as they had each other and many more moments like this one.

Post-Note: Okay so some of you are no doubt cursing me for not writing out the smut. I know exactly who you are, and let me just say, I have no intention of defending myself. I was mean like this on purpose, but trust me, I’ll make up for it in this fic many times over. In the meantime, I hope that you guys enjoyed this little glimpse into the present and the past. I want to include some memories from their shared from the dark days as much as I can, and from their lives before Gold too, and the only way I know how to interact with that kind of angst, is to wrap it up in present day fluff. Anyway, hope that you all enjoyed, and I appreciate your cheering me on and letting me know what you think. See you all next time!

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

As Luck Would Have It

Summary: What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

It’s just too bad none of her fantasies will ever come true though. And it’s not because there’s zero chance he would ever be interested in her because, well, she works at Walgreens and he’s way too good for her.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

A/N: This is something short and fun that I wrote for @onceuponaprincessworld. I talked to you about writing this before, well I finally got around to writing the thing. I hope it at least puts a smile on your face. Happy Friday!

Thank you @resident-of-storybrooke for looking it over!

Rated: a very Mature Teen for salty language and mature topics

For someone who hasn’t had sex in faaaaaaar too long (much longer than she cares to admit) Emma knows way too damn much about condoms. Like more than any one human being should. There are flavored condoms, ribbed condoms, dual-action condoms, pleasure shaped, lubricated, colored, french ticklers and even edible condoms. Who the hell even comes up with this shit? There are twisted condoms, her pleasure sensations, intense, warming, and pleasure packs. There are latex and ultra-thin and bare skin and ultra-smooth. The list goes on and on.

Way too much.

Emma never even uses them, or at least she hasn't in years, but she works at Walgreens. She’s a Designated Hitter, so she does a little bit of everything there, and when she’s not working in the pharmacy or behind the checkout counter, she’s working in the feminine hygiene/baby/contraceptive aisle which means she orders the products, stocks them, prices them, hangs up sales tags and does it all over again the next week.

At first, she would get all squeamish whenever she was working with condoms. Every time a male customer passed by or stopped to take a gander at the condoms, she would move down the aisle, pretending to work on something else. Now, she sells them like she’s selling candy to a child. When the male customers are browsing through the selection, she asks what kind they’re looking for and happily suggests one, grabs it off the shelf and hands it to him.

Tonight she’s working behind the front counter on a Friday night, selling lots of alcohol and snacks and wishing she was on the other side of the counter, buying wine and chocolate so she can go home and veg out on the sofa of her lonely apartment watching her favorite rom coms. Instead, she’s here at work, forced to engage in monotonous small talk with strangers while doing her best to ignore the thieves who wander in and out of the store because she’s not allowed to say anything to them, even when she sees them taking packs of hand soaps or household items off the shelves and stuffing them into their bags so they can sell them on Facebook.

She has to put up with these antics until midnight before she closes the doors and prays she doesn’t find a drunk, homeless person on the restroom floor again while cleaning. Yep, that’s happened twice since she’s been here. And she’s only been working here for eight months! Which is one of the many reasons why she’s going to school to get a decent job. The pay isn’t too bad, and the insurance is great, but she sure as hell doesn’t see herself selling condoms and waking up hobos in the restroom when she’s eighty years old. Because if that’s what she has to look forward to when she’s eighty then, Lord, just end it now and get it over with.

The only thing she can look forward to while working at Walgreens, however, is Mr. sex on legs—a Greek god with a pair of the most alluring blue eyes she’s ever seen. She’s never had a particular thing for men in uniforms, men with dimples, men with accents or men in general, really, but Killian fuck-me Jones is hotter than a scolding cup of coffee in his uniform, has the most adorable dimples on his cheeks and has a sinfully decadent British accent that makes her panties melt.

What Emma wouldn’t give to make one of her many fantasies starring her favorite customer come to life (one that either takes place at work and involves a good, hard fuck on the break room table or against the stockroom shelves (hey, what can she say, she gets bored) or one that takes place in her bed). She wouldn't be too picky about the location, just as long as she had a chance to be with him.

No, it’s too bad because he’s totally and completely gay.

Of course he is. After getting her heart stomped on years ago by he who shall not be named, she hasn’t been with anyone, not even for a one-night stand. And the one time she actually has eyes for someone, the one time she meets someone she’s even remotely interested in, he’s gay! It's like the devil is mocking her.

It’s just her luck.

Officer Jones frequents this location with his partner on a daily basis. They work together and she’s pretty sure they’re not only partners on the streets but also partners in the sheets.

At first, she thought they were only joking around, like the one time when Killian was trying to pay for his purchases but was short on change, and David handed him a dollar bill and said, “Here’s a dollar, sweet cheeks. Keep the change.” He slipped a dollar bill into Killian’s pocket, kissed him on the cheek, winked at Emma and said, “I’m his Sugar Daddy,” He walked out the door, leaving Killian blushing adorably as he handed her the cash for his morning blueberry muffin and energy drink.

He rolled his eyes and his deep, rich laugh warmed her heart. That's right, even his laugh is fucking perfect.

“I can’t take him anywhere.”

“I see that.” Emma giggled with him as she took the cash from Killian’s strong-looking hands, which certainly did not play a vital role in her fantasies. Which also does not bear any sign of a wedding band, she had noticed at the time (and several times before that). She’d brushed off Killian’s interaction with the other cop at the time, thinking there was actually a real connection between them and not one between the two men. The signs were all there, she just read them all wrong.

But now they’re both standing at the front counter in their street clothes, buying two jumbo packs of condoms, claiming it’s because the Trojans are on sale if you buy two. But she has a feeling that’s not the only reason why they’re buying in bulk, because if she had a lover like Killian, then she too would be having sex with him all the freaking time. In fact, she wouldn’t let the man leave the damn house. So yeah, she can understand why David would want that fine piece of British ass all the fucking time. And no, she’s not insanely jealous of a dude. Definitely not!

~*~

“Buying condoms isn’t gonna get me laid, Dave.”

“Well no, but then you won’t have an excuse to back out when a gorgeous woman hits on you. And who knows, maybe you’ll finally gather the courage to ask the checkout girl out.”

“Don’t call her that,” Killian chides, scolding his friend briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “She has a name.”

David holds up his hands in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. I just meant you’ve been obsessing over Emma for six months and it’s time you make her more than your checkout girl, don’t you think?”

“What does that have to do with buying condoms? You think buying condoms will automatically get me into bed with her? Even if it did, Emma’s too good to be someone's onetime fling.”

“I’m just saying, buying condoms is the first step. The next step is to ask her out. What happens from there is up to the two of you.”

Killian chuckles as he pulls into the Walgreens parking lot. “Thank you for the inciteful advice on how to pick up women, but I’m not some horny sixteen-year-old boy, and this isn’t my first rodeo.”

“I know that, but you haven’t dated anyone in five years. You fell off the horse, and I’m afraid if I don’t give you a boost, you’re never gonna get on that horse again.”

Killian rolls his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt once he parks the car. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back on the horse without your help.”

David cocks his head at Killian and shrugs, unconvinced. “Then prove it.”

“I will.” Killian accepts David’s challenge and hurries out of the car, determined to prove his partner wrong. He doesn’t need help getting Emma. He just has to be himself, right? If only it were that simple because as soon as he steps inside Walgreens and gets one look at the beautiful blonde behind the counter and those sparkling green eyes, his mind becomes an empty void of darkness and his brain turns to mush.

He quickly makes his way through one of the aisles to avoid her. Now he remembers why he hasn’t asked her out already. He’s never been this nervous around a woman, but Emma… she can turn him into a complete nervous mess just by casting a glance his way.

He can feel her stare burning into his back as he stops and turns in the middle of the aisle to make it look like he’s nonchalantly browsing the razors rather than coming here to ask her out but failing miserably to gather the courage to do so the second he saw her lovely, smiling face. She’s so fucking adorable, he can’t even turn his head to look at her without grinning like a fool.

God, he’s in love.

He remembers the first time he saw her. He came to the pharmacy to get pain medication after he broke his arm during a softball game with his colleagues. He stepped up to the counter and saw her long golden hair, dazzling emerald eyes and the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen in his life. Since then, he never starts his day without stopping in and getting his daily energy drink and muffin. Even if she’s not working at the front counter, just seeing her and saying hi is all he needs to get through the day.

Fuck, he’ll never be able to ask her out.

Killian lets out a frustrated sigh as he looks at the razors again.

David was right. Damn bastard.

Speaking of his partner, Killian hears David’s arrogant whistle; he’s obviously gloating as he enters the store and sees that Killian had hidden in one of the aisles instead of going up to Emma and asking her out. The aisle with the razors is in front of the checkout counter, giving Killian a clear view of Emma, so he can hear David when he approaches Emma and asks her in a loud and rather obnoxious voice, “Hey, Emma, where are your condoms?”

Bloody fucking hell.

Killian curses under his breath as Emma leaves the counter to show David where the desired merchandise is. He can smell Emma’s intoxicating perfume when she passes him. David follows behind her with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, Killian, Emma is kind enough to show us where the condoms are.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Grumbling under his breath, Killian begrudgingly follows David. He’s going to kill his best friend.

The three of them reach the condoms, and Killian is contemplating murder when David asks, “What do you recommend?”

Okay, now David is just trying to mess with him. David doesn’t need help picking out condoms, and he certainly didn’t need to be directed here in the first place. He and his girlfriend are sexually active and they always use protection.

“Um… besides the obvious, what are you looking to achieve with condoms?” she asks, glancing between Killian and David. “Something to get the job done or to add to the sensation?”

Oh, God.

Killian buries his face in his hands to hide his burning cheeks; he could die from mortification right about now.

When he drags his hands from his face, David still has a stupid grin on his face.

“These are buy-one-get-one-free with your Balance Rewards card, so you might as well get two,” Emma suggests, handing David two boxes of the condoms she’s referring to, which are jumbo-sized. Of course they are. Because Killian doesn’t need anything to add on to the humiliation he already feels burning his cheeks. Certainly not. Then again, it’s not like things can get more embarrassing than they already are.

“Great, I think I will. Killian, you like ribbed too, right?” David asks casually as he tries to hand one to Killian.

Correction. It can get ten times more embarrassing.

Killian’s face is on fucking fire and he wants the floor to open up and consume him because it beats being humiliated by his best friend, who he’s doing his best not to punch in the face.

He snatches the box from David’s hand and storms away to avoid seeing the look on Emma’s face right now. She’s probably laughing at him with her eyes, either that or she’s glaring at him, thinking he’s a total douchebag or maybe she assumes he’s in a committed relationship. Or maybe she’s indifferent and couldn't care less. Neither thoughts are good ones as far as he’s concerned. He wants her to care enough to wonder why he’s getting them, but he’s too embarrassed and flustered to think that’s a feasible possibility.

Killian grabs a six-pack of beer as he thinks about how he will murder David. But if he did, he’d spend the rest of his life in a lonely prison cell and he’d never get to see Emma’s pretty face ever again. So he supposes he won’t kill his best friend. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t get to see Emma’s face every day during his morning commute. She’s a good enough reason to not want to go to prison.

He and David place the items on the counter as Emma returns to her spot behind the register and rings them up. Killian reaches for his back pocket to retrieve his wallet, but David puts out his hand to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I got it,” David offers. “I’m the sugar Daddy, remember?”

Killian forces out a strained chuckle and doesn’t argue as he slips his wallet back into his pocket. After the shit David just pulled, he owes Killian. Big time.

Emma calls out the total, and Killian finally gathers the courage to look at her face. She’s offering him a warm smile, a small amount of blush painting her cheeks.

She doesn’t hate him. That’s a good sign at least.

She starts to put the boxes of condoms in a bag, but David stops her.

“That’s okay. We don’t need a bag.” He grabs one of the boxes and hands it to Killian before picking up the other one for himself.

Killian manages a small smile at Emma and leaves the store without his dignity or his pride. He doesn’t kill his best friend, but he does make a promise to himself; he’s never taking David with him anywhere ever again. He may just have to find a different partner.

~*~

Emma yawns and slowly nurses her coffee. She hates closing and then opening the very next morning. She’s told her boss several times to stop scheduling her like this, but he never listens.

She hears the automatic doors slide open and has to force herself to remove her lips from her coffee lid so she can lift her head and greet the customer who’s just walked in.

She’s not prepared for sex on legs today or those smoldering blue eyes, or how ridiculously attractive he looks in just a t-shirt and snug-fitting jeans, but she’s not complaining when he walks up to the counter without even purchasing anything.

“I was hoping you’d be here…” he says with a timid smile as he scratches behind his ear and draws a shaky breath. “Although I’m a little surprised you’re back at work so soon.”

Emma shrugs. “I know. They should give me a cot in the back because it feels like I’m always here anyway, so why not sleep here too?”

Killian flashes a small smile, and she can’t help but notice that the air between them is more tense than usual. He seems nervous and she’s not sure why.

“So, how can I help you today?” She narrows her eyes at him. “You didn’t use all those condoms already, did you?”

He chuckles, his cheeks turning crimson. “God no, actually, I wanted to…” he pauses and scratches behind his ear again, taking in a long, wobbly breath. “I wanted to… will you have coffee with me tomorrow… or whenever you have a morning off?”

Emma hopes the shock she feels isn’t evident on her face, but she finds her mouth opening on its own accord. “Sure,” she blurts out, “but… well…” She stumbles for words. She’s not opposed to hanging out with Killian as a friend, but she’s not exactly sure how same-sex relationships work. Do gay men get jealous when their male partners hang out with female friends? “Would David be okay with that?”

Emma’s surprised when Killian laughs at her question. “Why wouldn’t he be okay with it? He’s the one who’s been trying to get me to ask you out for months. Not that he’s the reason why... ” He buries his face in his hands. “Bloody hell, I’m severely fucking this up,” he mumbles into his palms. Dragging his hands away, he reveals those stormy blue eyes again, and he looks completely wrecked and apologetic.

She’s utterly confused. “David suggested this?” Wait. Is Killian bisexual and David was trying to find his partner a woman to scratch an itch of Killian’s? Are they swingers or—what the fuck is going on?

“No, he just encouraged me because I’ve been too fucking nervous to ask you out. You’re...” He plants his hands on his hips and closes his eyes briefly, taking another long breath. “I like you, Emma. I’ve liked you for a while, and I would very much like to take you out on a date, that is, if I didn’t completely screw this up already.”

“Wait, I’m confused. So David’s okay with this?”

He furrows his brows in confusion. “Love, I don’t need his permission to ask you out,” he chuckles. “I’m a grown man.”

Emma frowns in frustration. It’s too damn early for mind games right now. “Yeah, you’re a grown man who’s in a relationship with another grown man,” she says louder than she had meant to. Her words draw the attention of other customers passing by and she receives some odd looks.

“Wait a bloody minute. You think David and I are…” Killian pauses to burst into laughter.

Emma wrinkles her brows. “Wait, you’re not?”

Killian shakes his head, laughter still booming from his chest. “No, I can assure you, I’m very much into women. David and I are best friends and partners when we’re on the job, but we’re not gay.”

“Oh.” Now Emma’s so thoroughly and utterly confused, her head is spinning. She hasn’t had nearly enough coffee to deal with something so confusing and her head’s starting to pound. “But what about the condoms?”

Killian presses his hands against the counter, drops his head, shaking it furiously, like he’s silently cursing. “I’m going to kill David.” He lifts his head, his expression etched with apology. “The condoms weren’t for us. David was buying them for himself and his girlfriend. He was only taking advantage of the sale and wanted me to have the other box because he thought if I carried condoms on me then I wouldn’t have an excuse to not ask you out.”

Oh. Now it makes sense. Kinda sorta. “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Emma sucks in a long breath, “you and David aren’t lovers, and you’re currently single and asking me out on an actual date?”

“Now we’re on the same page,” he says, his eyes lighting up as a smile curves his lips.

Emma sighs in relief. But now remains the other question weighing on her mind. “But why me?”

He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I work at Walgreens.”

“I fail to see the problem, love.”

“But you’re…” she waves her hands, gesturing at him and his glorious form, “you’re you, and I’m… well,” she shrugs, “I’m me.”

“I know.” He smirks, and it makes her heart do a little flip. “That’s why I’m asking you out. Because you’re you, not because of where you work at.”

Emma’s heart flutters at his statement and she smiles. They’re silent again, but this time it's a comfortable silence as they stare into each other’s eyes. She knows the moment is about to be ruined though because a customer approaches the counter, impatiently waiting to be rung up as Killian backs away from the counter. Emma really doesn’t want this conversation to end, but she knows it has to, at least for now.

“So, is that a yes or a no?” Killian asks, his lips slanted into a grin when Emma starts ringing up the customer without giving him an answer.

She looks up from her task of scanning the items and flashes him a frail smile. She knows what her answer is, but she doesn’t want him to leave yet. “Can you wait outside for a few minutes?”

Killian nods without hesitation. “Sure, love.”

Emma sighs in relief and finishes ringing up the customer. When she’s done, she quickly picks up the store phone to page another cashier so she can take her fifteen-minute break. Once Emma is relieved by her coworker, she hurries out of the store and searches for Killian, her heart slamming in her chest. She sees him, leaning against the building with his hands in his pockets. Emma marches up to him and takes his hand, leading him to the side of the building, where they'll be less visible.

"Where are we going, love?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, but she's pretty sure the determination in her step says it all. She presses him against the wall when they reach the side of the building, and without any sort of warning, she grabs a fistful of his shirt and crushes his lips with hers.

Killian responds with a groan as he cards his hands through her hair. His lips are even softer and more luscious than she’d imagined. And God he’s a good kisser; she’d nailed that part in her fantasies. They get caught up in a delicious, mind-numbing kiss that has her heart racing and her breathing shattered. She can't believe she's kissing Killian fuck-me Jones, sex on legs , the man who's been the star of her dreams for six months.

How did she ever think this guy was gay? Because judging by the way he kisses her and teases her bottom lip with his teeth, the way his tongue greedily explores her mouth to find her own tongue, the way he wraps some strands of hair around his fingers and grabs her hip with his other hand to tug her toward him, pressing her against him, judging by the hard bulge in his pants that causes the heat to spread to her core, he’s definitely not gay.

When they break for air, they’re both panting as he gently leans his forehead against hers. He caresses her cheek, his eyes flickering with hope as she licks her lips. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“No.”

His face clouds with disappointment, and his expression makes her heart hurt.

“You asked me to go out for coffee with you tomorrow, but I’m thinking; what if we went out for dinner tonight after I get out of work instead?”

A slow grin spreads across his lips. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Emma smiles vibrantly and blushes. “Good, then it’s a date.”

He pulls away, taking a shaky breath of relief. “And just so we’re still on the same page, I don’t want you to think I’m expecting anything more than dinner since David bought me those condoms last night. As I said, that was David’s twisted attempt at trying to get me to ask you out.”

Emma laughs. “I’m not worried. Either way, there’s no rush to use them up. Condoms have a shelf life of five years.” She flashes him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I know way too much about condoms.”

Killian chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, love. I told you I don’t care about your occupation… or that you thought I was gay.”

Emma swats him playfully on the shoulder. “In my defense, David did call himself your sugar Daddy.”

Killian blushes.

God, he’s so fucking adorable when he blushes.

“You’re right, he did. He likes to joke around like that… and embarrass the hell out of me.”

Emma laughs. "I've noticed."

He takes out his phone to punch in her number and address and agrees to pick her up later tonight. Then they go back to making out until she has to get back to work. They bid each other farewell, and she practically floats through the automatic doors with a smile blooming across her face, her lips red and swollen.

She’s so glad Killian’s not gay.

They end up making use of the condoms David bought him, but it sure as hell didn’t take five years to use them all. More like two weeks. If that.

#cs ff #captain swan #with a side of captain charming #my fic #for onceuponaprincessworld

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

Text

as it should and shall always be

Happy birthday @winterbythesea! Since it is your birthday and since your idea of celebrating it seems to be giving us an EPIC chapter of Given The Choice, I feel like you should have a little something for yourself as well.

And it truly is yours, since it’s based on your fake dating AU outline. I hope you enjoy my take on it!

HUGE thanks to @ohmightydevviepuu for the last-minute ninja beta-ing!

@thisonesatellite @stahlop @mariakov81 @kmomof4 @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @snowbellewells @snidgetsafan @tiganasummertree @shardminds @jonirobinson64 @jennjenn615 @superchocovian @courtorderedcake

Rating: T Words: 3k Tags: fake dating, friends to lovers, modern au, mutual pining, idiots in love

On AO3

Emma tugged at the neckline of her dress wondering for at least the hundredth time since she’d arrived at the ball—half an hour ago—what the hell she’d been thinking to agree to this. She glanced over at August, who was staring into his drink like he expected to find the secrets of the universe concealed within its depths and sighed. She was doing a favour for a friend, that’s why. Even if that ‘friend’ could be a bit annoying and pretentious at times and was always correcting her grammar and mansplaining her job to her, he had helped her move to a new apartment that one time and—whoa.

Wait.

What?

What what what?

Damn, he cleans up good.

“Oh great, Jones is here?” grumbled August. “I guess that’s goodbye.”

“Wh—what?” Emma tore her gaze from the mouthwatering sight of Killian in an honest-to-goodness goddamn black tie tuxedo with an embroidered vest beneath it—it’s called a waistcoat, Swan, he’d say with a smirk—because of course that’s what he’d wear, and frowned at August. “What are you talking about?”

“Just that you’ll want to go talk to him, I suppose, like you always do.”

“No, of course not, I’m here with you. And he’s here with—Ariel?”

Since when?

But there he was, giving every appearance of the doting date, his hand on the small of Ariel’s back as they moved into the room, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handing it to her with a flourish. Emma felt a sneer curl her lip. Well, wasn’t he just the gentleman?

I’m always a gentleman, love. She could practically hear his voice speaking the words in her ear and that combined with him looking even more lickable than usual sent a shiver of lust across her skin.

Being insanely attracted to your best friend was not the easiest situation to be in, but Emma had, more or less, learned to live with it. Killian flirted with her, she parried him; the harder he flirted the more she clapped back, that was just their vibe and always had been, ever since she’d mistaken him for her skip five years ago and tackled him to the ground outside his brother’s pub.

“Oh,” she’d said, when she got a good look at his face and realised her mistake. “Sorry.”

“No worries, lass,” Killian had replied, “I’m delighted to be the one to break your fall, as you have clearly tumbled straight from heaven.”

Emma had stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” she’d gasped, clutching her stomach. “What a line!”

And they’d been friends ever since.

And okay, maybe there was a small, just a teeny-tiny part of her that wished they could be more, that had been wondering lately what it might be like if he actually meant all the things he said. If the heat in his eyes when he looked at her was real, and not just part of his game. Maybe if he meant it, she might be able to take a chance on him. He’d be worth the risk.

If he meant it.

But he clearly didn’t, if he was here with Ariel. Emma scowled, forgetting how much she actually liked the perky redhead, thinking only how Ariel could always keep Killian in check, how she didn’t buy his bullshit any more than Emma herself did. But they’d only known Ariel for less than a year, since she moved in across the hall from Killian and… and maybe stuff had happened between them that Emma didn’t know about. Maybe they’d been seeing each other for a while and were only just going public. Killian always proclaimed his affinity for tough lasses, and Ariel was surely that.

But, thought a little voice in Emma’s head, so am I.

Killian had always said so.

So why Ariel and not her, when she’d known Killian longer and—

And had always rejected his advances. If they were advances?

What if Killian had always meant what he said, what if he wanted her and she had pushed him away one time too many?

What if he’d given up on her?

—

Killian had just swept Ariel into a dance when a flash of crimson caught his eye and he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Bloody hell, he thought. She cleans up well.

Not that she was ever anything less than gorgeous. Even, or perhaps especially, when her hair was in a messy bun atop her head and her glasses perched on the end of her nose and her ratty old sweatshirt—which was in fact his ratty old sweatshirt, as he had long since stopped trying to remind her—falling off one shoulder as she snorted with laughter over something he’d said. That sight never failed to take his breath away. But this sight, well, it was giving the other a fair run for its money.

Emma Swan in a floor-length crimson ball gown, her hair swept up to reveal her graceful neck with curling tendrils teasing her collarbones, right where he’d always wanted to nibble her—

He did stumble over his feet then, completely losing the steps of the dance as he stared at Emma and nearly crashing to the floor and dragging Ariel along with him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ariel frowned at him. “I know you can be clumsy but it’s usually things knocking you down and not you actually forgetting how to walk.”

“We’re dancing, not walking, and aye, I’m fine. I just got a bit distracted.” He couldn’t help glancing back at Emma as he said it.

Ariel’s eyes followed his and she smirked. “Emma looks great tonight,” she remarked. “That colour really suits her.”

“Aye,” he replied gruffly.

“Who’s that she’s with?”

“August Booth.” Killian couldn’t quite keep the snarl from his voice. “An old friend of hers from high school. Bit of a prat.”

“Hmmm.” Ariel’s eyes widened and Killian spun her sharply so he could see what she was looking at. When he saw that August had put his arm around Emma’s shoulders the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

What the actual fuck?

She couldn’t really be here with Booth? Obviously she was here with him, but as friends, surely? There wasn’t anything more between them, there couldn’t be. Emma had known August forever and she never dated. He knew she never dated because she had told him so, many times, and if she hadn’t repeated it so often he’d have bloody well asked her out himself.

He just—didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to risk pushing her away. He was just on the edge, millimetres away from being hopelessly in love with her and only managed to keep from falling that last tiny bit by reminding himself how disastrous it would be to feel that way about her if she would never feel the same. The fact that she didn’t date anyone, not just him, was a small but vital consolation.

And now it seemed that consolation was gone.

For August bloody Booth. Of all people.

Killian ground his teeth as he whirled Ariel in a complicated spin—because he could dance, damn it, and dance well—too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice his dance partner’s sudden distraction as she caught sight of a handsome dark-haired man across the room.

—

Emma pasted a smile on her face, trying not to squirm as August’s arm held her in a tight grip. His ex-girlfriend—Julia? Jenna? Emma couldn’t quite recall the woman’s name—was watching them through narrowed eyes and she had promised to help August out by posing as his date. To make the ex jealous. So she didn’t ‘win the breakup.’

Which was dumb as fuck, Emma had pointed out.

But still, a promise was a promise and the sight of Killian dancing with Ariel almost made her understand where August was coming from. It wasn’t that she wanted Killian to be jealous, but she definitely didn’t want him to think she cared about who he danced with.

Even though, she could now admit to herself, she did care. She cared a lot. And she wished she could go back in time and tell him so, before it got to be too late. Before he found someone else.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Killian spun Ariel in a graceful twirl. They made a good-looking couple, she thought, grinding her teeth. Killian’s dark handsomeness and the bright fall of Ariel’s hair, and—

“Don’t you think so, Emma?”

“What?”

She turned to see August giving her a glare somehow disguised as a fond smile. “Oh, um, yes, absolutely. Completely agree.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re so happy,” said Julia/Jenna through clenched teeth of her own. “Have a wonderful night.”

“You too,” said August to her retreating back.

As soon as J-whatever was out of earshot, Emma pulled out of August’s grip. “Just so you know, buddy, that’s as far as this is going,” she hissed. “It’s already pathetic enough that we’re even here, I’m not going to kiss you or anything.”

“Of course not.” August looked faintly repulsed. “You’re like my sister.”

“Well. Exactly. Just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

—

Killian managed to keep his eye on Emma while remaining on his feet and even moving them quite gracefully if he said so himself, but Ariel was not so smooth.

“Whoa, lass!” he cried as she stumbled, catching her and doing his best to make it look like a dip rather than a rescue. He spun her back into the dance and frowned when he saw her flaming cheeks.

“No need to be embarrassed, it happens to the best of us,” he quipped.

“It’s not that, it’s—” she broke off, her blush deepening.

“It’s what?”

“Nothing.”

But her eyes, not unlike his own, betrayed her, and he followed her gaze to a man standing on the other side of the room. A handsome one; if not quite as handsome as Killian himself, then certainly a healthy runner-up.

“Do you know that bloke?”

“No.” Ariel, to her credit, didn’t pretend not to know who he was talking about.

“Do you want to?”

“What? Killian, no—”

But Killian ignored her protests and danced them over to the man, spinning them both to a stop directly in front of him.

“Killian!” Ariel hissed, tugging at his sleeve and making frantic hushing motions with her other hand, but he ignored her.

“Good evening,” he said, giving the man a friendly nod. “My name is Killian Jones, and this is my friend Ariel.”

“Uh, hello,” the man replied. “I’m Eric.” His words were directed at Killian but his eyes were all for Ariel.

Excellent, Killian thought.

“Lovely to meet you, mate, would you care to dance?”

“Um—” Eric’s eyes flew to him, a bit panicked.

“With Ariel, I mean,” Killian clarified, as Ariel herself surreptitiously dug her elbow into his ribs.

“Ah,” breathed Eric on a wave of relief. “Um, I’d love to.”

“You would?” squeaked Ariel. “I mean, uh—”

Eric gave her a small bow and held out his hand. “If you would do me the honour.”

Killian grinned. He approved of this Eric. The man had style.

Blushing even more furiously, Ariel took his hand and he spun her off onto the dance floor. Killian’s grin widened as he watched them go.

And then he remembered. Emma. In that dress. With August. As his date.

The grin faded, replaced with a scowl. He needed a drink.

—

Emma and August returned to their small table, where August resumed glaring into his drink and Emma resumed watching Killian and Ariel. Which… where had they gone?

She scanned the ballroom until she caught a flash of auburn curls. There was Ariel dancing with a tall, dark-haired man… who was not Killian. Emma frowned, resuming her search. He didn’t appear to be dancing with anyone else, so where was he?

Ah, there he was. At the bar. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, and yet… his shoulders were slumped and he was glaring at his drink even more wrathfully than August.

A drink sounded good, thought Emma. She could definitely use a break from August and his stupid relationship drama.

—

“So,” said a voice at his elbow, and Killian turned to see Emma sliding onto the stool next to him. “You and Ariel. That’s new.”

She was using that voice, the one she used when she was trying not to be upset about something that deeply upset her. He looked at her closely. She was smiling with her mouth but her eyes looked… hurt?

Surely not because he was here with Ariel?

Killian supposed he should probably play it cool considering she was here with August, but the idea of Emma hurting because of something he did, even unintentionally, was more than he could bear.

“No, love, I’m not—I mean, yes I am but it’s not—we’re just friends.”

Her face softened, just a fraction, but enough to ease the ache in his chest. “Really?”

“Aye. Do you really think I’d be sitting here while she slow-dances with another man if this were a date?”

“Oh. Right.” Of course he wouldn’t.

“Ariel’s family’s been trying to set her up a lot recently, and they take this ball very seriously, so she asked me to come with her. To get them off her back,” he explained.

“Oh. That’s dumb as hell.”

“Aye, that’s what I said, but she asked it as a favour and I didn’t like to refuse.”

“No, of course not.”

“Aye.” Killian returned his attention to his drink, finishing it in one gulp and signalling the barman for another. Emma must have come over here for a reason and if that reason was to tell him about her new relationship with August he was going to need to be a hell of a lot more drunk to withstand it.

—

Emma’s heart was racing and she felt light enough to fly. Killian wasn’t dating Ariel, which meant it might not be too late. For her. For them.

“I bet I can top it, though,” she said.

“Top what?” The bartender slid a fresh drink in front of Killian and he gripped it like a lifeline.

“Your dumb fake-date story. I’ve got a better one.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I’m here with August because he found out his ex was gonna be here and didn’t want her to ‘win the breakup.’” She rolled her eyes and made air quotes with her fingers, then watched emotions parade across Killian’s face like a marching band. Amusement, confusion, comprehension, shock, realisation, and then finally that wide, joyous grin that always made her heart flutter.

“What a wanker,” he said.

“Dumbass is the word I used, but yeah.”

—

And just like that, Killian’s world righted itself. Emma wasn’t on a date with August because of course she wasn’t. He was a daft moron for ever thinking she would be interested in that prat. And if she wasn’t dating August, then that meant…

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Swan, but I’m glad you’re not here on a date.” His relief was so powerful he couldn’t hold the words in and her response made him fear his grin might split his face.

“Yeah? Me too.”

She was grinning too and he got lost in it, and in her eyes which held a relief that echoed his own and also hope.

A hand slammed onto the bar, startling them, and they turned to see the barman watching them with a slight sneer. “So are you two just gonna eye-fuck all night or do you want a drink?” he asked, in an accent that was pure London. His name tag read ‘HELLO MY NAME IS will AND I AM PLEASED TO HELP YOU.’ Killian appreciated the irony.

“Actually, Will, I don’t want a drink,” said Emma. “I want a dance.” She held out her hand to Killian.

“I thought you didn’t dance?”

“Oh,” Emma’s smile wobbled. “Right, I don’t, and I’ll probably step on your feet, so—”

“No,” Killian grabbed her hand. “I’ll take my chances.”

Her smile bloomed bright again and he thought that crushed toes were a small price to pay to put that look on her face.

—

She totally stepped on his feet.

“Sorry!” she cried for the third time in as many minutes, and Killian definitely winced this time though he’d managed to smile through the first two. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s nothing, lo—” Killian began, and then she stepped on his foot again and all he could do was laugh.

“Sorry! Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

Killian gave a dramatic grimace. “I fear this wound may be mortal, Swan,” he groaned. “You’ll have to kiss it better.”

Her expression immediately turned sardonic. “I am NOT kissing your feet.”

“No? Not even to save my life?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me say that the wound is mortal, Swan?”

“I did, but there are limits, pal.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I’d settle for a kiss on… other places. Tell you what—” he twirled her around and into a dip, “—you pick.”

He whisked her back up again and Emma felt breathless and light as air, despite her awkward feet. “How’s that gonna make your foot better?” she asked.

Killian was looking at her intently, like she was the only person in the room, smiling at her like she was all he ever wanted to smile at. He’d looked at her like that before, she realised, but she hadn’t believed that what she saw in his eyes was real.

She believed it now.

“I promise you, Emma, if you were to kiss me I would immediately forget any and all pain,” he said softly.

Typical Killian, she thought. Ridiculous. Drama queen. Hotter than hell and hers. She knew now that he always had been.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, and laughed through the pain as he stumbled and stepped on her toes.

“Where do you suggest?”

“My place? Ice cream and Netflix?”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he smiled. “Love to.”

Emma took his hand and dragged him to the door. Ariel and August could fend for themselves, she thought.

—

The door had barely closed behind them when she was on him. Hands fisted in his shirtfront, dragging him to her lips, kissing him like she meant to claim him.

Which, to be fair, she did.

He froze and she could almost taste his surprise, then his arms came around her and he spun them so that she was the one plastered against the door, urging her lips apart and groaning at the hot slide of her tongue over his. She tugged at his tie and ripped his shirt open as he licked down her neck and nipped at her collarbone. She yelped then sighed as his tongue soothed the pain.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met,” he growled.

“What—ah, fuck—what else have you wanted to do?”

“I can show you.” He pulled back to look into her eyes. “If you want me to. If you’re sure, love.”

She pulled him back down for another kiss, one that ended with her pressed against the door, skirt rucked up and legs locked around his waist. “I’m sure,” she gasped. “I’m sure. Fuck, Killian, please.”

He looked down at her flushed skin and glazed eyes, the pleasure on her face that he had put there, and felt himself tumble over that razor edge and into a love from which he knew he would never escape. But it didn’t matter anymore, he was happy to fall because he knew Emma was right behind him.

“As you wish, Swan,” he said.

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piraticalarchive · 3 years

Text

@twistedwit : i’m sorry, are you saying you were jealous?

A scoff rests somewhere on the pirate’s lips - flavored with rum and tempered by the tongue that sweeps across it. The salt that once coated it is no longer there, lost to the empty ponds and still waters that call this place home... and the captain grimaces, brows furrowing as he follows the taller man out of the tavern door. Light from the door way shines before them and black boots stumble amongst the shadows, blue eyes focusing as he tries to right himself. The laughter behind is like a siren’s call, willing him back to drink away old memories, drink away all the things he has lost... Bloody hell.

The faintest breeze stirs dark hair, eyes fluttering closed as he stills himself for a moment, swaying where he stands - his ship creaking in the wind, as eager to set sail as the one who calls her home. The sounds are there, old noises echoing in empty ears, creating a hollow music that swims around his head. His love calls to him, beckons him closer - and each day spent in the ruddy town he’s found himself in tears them further apart. And yet, he stays.

Aye, for the gold, that was all - Killian Jones has never been a man to turn down a hand at helping himself to riches. For a brief moment his heart stutters in his chest, an unwelcome reminder of the lie he has fed himself.. anger at such a realization snapping gaze open with a growl. Perhaps its the rum flowing through his veins, perhaps it’s the simple desire to wipe that bloody smirk off of Guy’s face - or perhaps it’s just the simple wish to once again have the pride to call himself pirate. Whatever it is crawls up the back of this throat, threatening to come out in violence even as he keeps it locked away behind tightly clenched teeth - jaw ticking near his throat.

It’s over before he can stop himself, a blink and he’s suddenly pressed against the knight who always claims to be in charge, pinning him against the tavern’s wall. The logic in his brain fights for control - fights for a well thought out plan to whatever he tries next. Instinct says to kill him, make a show of it and let his lifeblood spill over black boots, but still that muscle in his jaw ticks in defiance and Hook stumbles back slightly, pressing curved steel against the other man’s throat. It’s lunacy what he’s doing, the sun and the heat and the close stone walls have driven him mad... but the picture of golden light reflecting off the waves and into the other’s hair flows and ebbs within him like the tide. The steel that adorns his wrist pushes tighter against the older man’s throat as he leans in once again, brow quirking even as words are low and hushed, meant for Guy’s ears alone.

To anyone else they would look like two men settling a score after some drunken argument - and maybe that is what they are - but the pirate can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t understand, the welling of emotion that drives him to take ... and so he pushes it down with a swallow of fear, refusing to ponder what it might mean.

“Pirate’s don’t get jealous” A lie - as evidenced by the situation he’s found himself in, and Killian does his best to ignore the way his thumb swipes so hesitantly across the other man’s arm, above the scar that he knows to be there, hidden by the confines of the man’s leather jacket. Blue eyes shine with anger, an unheeded frustration .. and perhaps something else - something that he can only hope the other man doesn’t notice, so he keeps his face hidden in the shadows as best as he can. Lips curve up in the slightest smirk as he recalls the way Guy had eyed him earlier - stormy blues lingering too long on the lines that nails left in their wake.

Black boots stumble slightly as he sways, head cocking to the side even as he steps back - not willing to push too far, even as his mind rebels against it. The taller man’s temper is one that rivals his own, the pirate has been privy to it more times than he can count in their short time together - and he has no desire to end his life run through with a sword. So instead he throws the gauntlet between them, a declaration meant to acknowledge whatever the bloody hell this was.

“But maybe knights do.”

#twistedwit #v. not in nottingham #my laptop froze three times during this and i almost cried in frustration #if i had lost it i would have thrown our christmas lights off the balcony #anyways i hope this is okay #obviously this is early days #before they've um *ahem* admitted their feelings #i have a feeling this is where that changes ... along with maybe some other things xD #oh my god its actually 7 paragraphs i thought i was kidding #i am so sorry

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branlovestowrite · 5 years

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The Decoy Groom (2/5): A CS Fanfic

This is my CS AU loosely (very loosely) based on the movie The Decoy Bride (starring Kelly MacDonald and David Tennant; it’s super cute and highly recommended). Brennan Jones is in this story, and, as it’s a no-magic AU, Tim Omundson will be playing that role.

Title: The Decoy Groom

Rating: M for language and some suggestive scenes in future installments

Summary: After a failed turn as a musician in Los Angeles, Killian Jones has returned to his home: Storybrooke Island, a remote, tiny island off the coast of Maine. Emma Swan is a famous actress that just wants one day out of the spotlight so she can get married. Storybrooke Island, just two miles long and accessible only by ferry, seems like the answer to her prayers. But will she really be able to keep her nuptials a private affair? And can Killian find the solace he craves when there’s a world-famous actress in town?

Need to catch up? Ch1 Also on AO3

The next morning Killian walked to Granny’s for breakfast, as was his usual routine. In his short time back on the island, he’d learned that if he didn’t keep himself busy, he would go stir crazy just sitting around the house. He supposed he’d need to see if Will’s boat was taking on new guys so he’d at least have some employment.

After entering the diner and taking his usual seat, he was waited on by Granny herself, who poured him a coffee while scrutinizing him with a raised brow.

“Is there something amiss with my appearance?” he finally asked after he could no longer take her glare.

“Something happened with those visitors upstairs,” she replied, her voice low.

“How do you mean?”

“Well… you know I don’t like to gossip…”

“Naturally,” Killian responded with a smirk. One of Granny’s favorite pastimes was gossiping about the tourists. She hated when autumn came because the tourist population dwindled and she had less fodder for discussion.

“There was some big shouting match last night, and later someone caught a chopper ride back to the mainland.”

“So they’re gone then?”

She shook her head. “No one’s checked out yet. Whoever left wasn’t the girl who rented the rooms. But,” she said with a sigh, “I guess we’ll have to wait to see who’s still here. Sun’s hardly out. They’re probably not awake.”

This new information piqued Killian’s interest. He couldn’t help but look up more information on Emma Swan the night before. The more he learned about her fiancé, the less he liked her choice. Walsh Ozman was a slimy Hollywood producer who appeared to treat everyone with disdain. Killian could not understand why Emma Swan, who, according to her former castmates, was a genuinely nice person, would choose to marry a jerk like Ozman. The news that there’d been a fight last night made him think that maybe she’d finally realized he was no good for her.

He shook his head at his fanciful notions. It wasn’t like she would be interested in himself. He’d admired Emma Swan’s work in the past, and couldn’t help but want to know her after the things he’d read about her the night before. But, in all likelihood, she would be leaving the island later today, never interacting with him again.

Granny headed back to kitchen, preparing him a breakfast that he’d never actually ordered, and he took advantage of the quiet to scroll through the news on his phone. He was distracted from his reading a few minutes later by the jingle of the bell over the door. A squirrely looking man walked in, with tanned skin, close-cropped curly hair, and a beard to match. The color was more gray than the black it had likely been in his youth.

He met Killian’s eye and smiled. “Hello, I’m looking for the proprietor of this establishment.”

“You found her,” Granny said from the doorway of the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you might have a room available for rent.”

“Sorry, we are all booked up, but try back again later today. I have a feeling something might open up.”

“Thank you,” the man replied. “Let me give you my card. If you find yourself with a vacancy, I would appreciate a call.”

Granny took the card and pocketed it without looking at it. “If you want to sit down I can bring you some coffee and make you something to eat. None of the other restaurants on the island are open at this hour.”

“Thank you madam,” the man said, taking a seat at the booth directly adjacent to Killian’s. He sat with his back to the door, effectively facing the other man with only the barrier of a bench seat between them.

Granny returned to the kitchen, and, as Killian suspected he would, the other man began speaking to him.

“Do you happen to know anything about the patrons currently staying here?”

“Even if I did,” Killian responded, “I doubt Mrs. Lucas would appreciate me discussing them with someone else.”

The other man stood and joined Killian in his booth. “Forgive my impertinence. My name is Sidney Glass, and I’m a freelance journalist. I received a tip that there may be someone of interest currently staying on the island. I could pay handsomely for any information that might help me find who I’m looking for.”

Killian stared at the other man. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like some solace while I drink my coffee.”

Effectively dismissed, Sidney Glass stood. “Please make my apologies to Mrs. Lucas. I’ve just remembered a previous engagement.” He left the diner, and Killian had to fight back to urge to run upstairs and warn the lovely lady Swan that the press had somehow found her here.

Laying in her bed, Emma sank deeper into the pillow and groaned. She’d cried so much the night before. She was mad at Walsh, of course, for cheating on her. And at herself for being so blind. And at Zelena for sleeping with a man she knew was engaged to another woman. And herself for being so blind. She had spent the whole night crying and drinking the champagne that was supposed to be for her post-wedding toast.

Elsa had been by her side for most of the evening. Emma was so grateful to have her friend here. Elsa was technically her manager, but over the years they’d worked together, their relationship had evolved to be so much more. Elsa was like a sister to Emma. As terrible as she felt this morning, she would be much worse off if she hadn’t had her friend with her.

A few minutes earlier, Elsa had offered to go downstairs and fetch some coffee before they started making plans for their next steps. Emma sat up slowly, longing for the caffeine that would help her feel more normal.

A knock came at the door and, before Emma could get out of bed, Elsa stepped inside the room. “That was fast,” Emma remarked. She then caught sight of her friend’s empty hands and sighed in realization. “Because you didn’t actually get it. Where’s the coffee?”

“I’m sorry,” Elsa said as she closed the door. “I went downstairs to get it, but Sidney Glass was down there!”

Emma paled. “Shit! What the hell is he doing here?! Did he see you? Could he be here for another reason?”

“No, he didn’t see me. I don’t think he’s here for another reason. The cute guy from yesterday was down there, and Sidney asked him for information on the people who were staying here.”

“Cute guy from yesterday?”

“Yes, Emma,” Elsa replied with an annoyed look. “You know. The one with the dark hair and blue eyes. We met him outside before we checked in.”

“Oh yeah. Did he give anything away to Glass?”

“Thankfully no. But you know Sidney! He won’t give up so easily. Short of confining ourselves to this room, I don’t know how we’re going to escape him.”

“That might not even work," Emma said with a sigh. "If he gets wind that there was a helicopter departure yesterday, he might talk to the pilot and find out Walsh was the passenger.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh hell. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa replied, looking defeated.

“I’ll get massacred by the press if they get wind of the breakup this way.”

Her friend stared at her disbelievingly. “Wait, you want them to think you and Walsh are still together?”

“On principle, no. Walsh is a slimy son of a bitch and I don’t want my name associated with him any longer than it has to be. But in practice, I don’t have much of a choice until I can get back home. If the story leaks that we broke up and then I come out two weeks later saying he’s a misogynistic asshole, I just look like a jealous ex.”

“I hate to be Debbie Downer, but what’s to stop Walsh from doing that now? He’s most likely back in LA today.”

“He’ll want to time to spin it.” Emma paced the small length of the room. “Fuck…”

“What if…” Elsa began, but stopped herself short, snapping her mouth closed.

Emma gave her a curious look. “No, go on. Any idea will help brainstorm.”

Elsa stepped closer to her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me get through this before you interrupt.” She took a deep breath and walked the same path Emma had a moment before. “What if we beat Sidney at his own game? Let him think there was a wedding today. He publishes it, but then when the breakup comes out next week, he ends up getting discredited.”

Emma looked at her friend with a furrowed brow. “How would we do that?”

“We stage the wedding with a decoy groom. Sidney thinks we don’t know he’s here, so he’s going to try and get pictures surreptitiously. He knows how much you want to keep the press out, so he’s going to try and be sneaky. We make sure he only gets photos from the back. We keep your veil on the entire ceremony so it’s not entirely clear that you’re in the pictures. Worst case, he goes to press with inconclusive photos.”

“Who would we get to be the decoy groom? There’s only 60 people on this island, and the average age is 50. I doubt we’ll find anyone who looks like Walsh, even from behind.”

“We’ve already found him! The cute guy. He’s about the same height as Walsh. He’s got dark hair. I brought my shears with me. I can cut his hair to look like Walsh’s. He doesn’t have to be an exact match. Just enough to make Sidney think it’s legit. Once Sidney thinks he has his story, he’ll leave the island.”

“I don’t know…” Emma replied. “Maybe we’d be better to just stay in the room today.”

“And what about tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that? Sidney Glass hid out in the attic of Regina Mills’ pool house for six weeks to get pictures of her when she was having an affair with Graham Humbert! He doesn’t give up easy.”

“You make a good point.” Emma sat down on the edge of the bed in a huff. “Is cute guy still downstairs?”

Elsa smiled in triumph. “I’ll go see.”

“Bring back coffee,” Emma said before her friend left the room entirely.

Killian was just finishing his eggs with he noticed an attractive blonde woman approaching from his left. Not the blonde he’d secretly been hoping to see, but her companion.

He looked up and met her steely blue eyes. “May I help you?”

“Do you mind if I sit?” she asked, her tone business-like.

“By all means.” He gestured to the bench seat on the opposite side of his booth.

She took a seat and extended her hand across the table. “Elsa Frost.”

“Killian Jones,” he replied, taking her hand in his.

“I’ll get down to business, Mr. Jones. I represent a client that I’d rather not name in public, although I suspect you may be aware of who she is.”

“I had an inkling…” He was intrigued by what this woman could want.

“My client has a request of a somewhat… unusual nature. I was hoping you could join us for a cup of coffee upstairs to discuss in a more private setting.”

Killian sat back and stared for a short moment, pretending the think on the idea. He held out just long enough to temper his excitement about a chance to meet Emma Swan in person. Leaning forward once more, he smiled and said “How can I say no to that?” Standing, he walked to the bar, stepped around the counter, took out three paper cups, and filled them from the carafe. “Do either you or your client take cream and sugar?”

Five minutes later, Killian stood alone in one of the rooms in the Inn, waiting on Elsa to retrieve her client. Part of him could not believe he would be face-to-face with Emma Swan in a matter of minutes. It all seemed so surreal. To calm himself, he stared out the window of the room and watched the seals play on a rocky outcropping. It had been a long time since he’d just watched the seals, and he quickly became mesmerized. He did not realize the two women had entered the room until Elsa cleared her throat.

He turned and faced Emma Swan, his heart immediately breaking for her. Her red-rimmed eyes indicated she’d been crying recently. Her beautiful blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she wore a baggy cream-colored sweater with leggings and thick socks. However, even with her casual attire and tired appearance, he found her more beautiful than the publicity photos he’d been looking through the night before.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment longer before Emma extended her hand. “Mr. Jones, thank you for speaking with us. I’m Emma Swan.”

He took her hand and shook it dazedly. “Of course, Miss Swan. It’s a pleasure…” he trailed off.

“So…” Emma began, seemingly just as much at a loss for words as he was. “The reason…”

Before the situation could become more uncomfortable, Elsa jumped in. “Emma came to the island to get married, but her fiancé had to leave due to an emergency. However, we don’t want the press to know he is gone. Surely you’ve heard of the struggles Emma has had with the press?”

“I have,” he replied.

“And I think you are aware that there is a journalist currently on the island, looking for information about this very situation?”

“I am.”

“We have a proposition for you. We would like Mr. Glass to leave this island thinking he has photographs of a wedding between Ms. Swan and Walsh Ozman. As Walsh is not here, we are in need of a stand-in.”

“A stand-in?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t look like Walsh Ozman.”

“Not from the front, no. But with a little trim of your hair, I can make you look like him from behind. And that’s all we need.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“You look to be the same size as Walsh, and I have the wedding clothes with me in a separate bag. I can do some minor alterations.”

“I’m still not sure about this…” Killian said, feeling his right hand fly up to scratch behind his ear, his old nervous tick.

“This was a stupid idea,” Emma suddenly said. “Let’s just give it up, Elsa. Let Sidney run a story about how Emma Swan can’t keep a man. It’s not like they’ve never said that before.”

Killian felt anger flare in his chest at her defeated tone. “Now hold on, lass, I didn’t say ‘no.’” Her head snapped up and she met his gaze for the first time that morning. “I’m willing to help.”

“What do you want in exchange?” Emma said, her eyes narrowed.

“It would be bad form to require something for helping out a lady in distress.”

“Bad form? Lady in distress? Where are you from? The nineteenth century?”

“No, I simply possess a broad vocabulary and enjoy using it,” he replied, a bit put out by her comment.

“Nevertheless,” Elsa interjected, “you will be compensated for your time. And for signing a standard Non-Disclosure Agreement stating that you will not share the particulars of this situation with anyone without first obtaining mine or Miss Swan’s express permission.”

“I’ll sign an NDA if it makes you feel better, but I have no intention of telling anyone.”

“We’ll take that in writing. Please stay here. I’m going to return to my room and pull up an agreement on my laptop. Are you comfortable with providing an electronic signature? Otherwise I will need to see if Mrs. Lucas has a printer I can use.”

“Electronic is fine.”

“Great. Why don’t you and Emma stay here and get acquainted while I take care of that?”

Elsa exited the room and Emma looked at him nervously. Killian groaned quietly to himself. What the hell was he getting into?

Emma looked up at the attractive, blue-eyed stranger before her. Standing even closer to him now, she noticed his broad chest and muscular arms. As her eye traveled down his arm to observe his strong, elegant hands, she felt a jolt of lust. Her traitorous mind couldn’t help but think about how it would feel to have those hands slide down her back or dig into her thigh as he…

Killian cleared his throat and looked at her with one eyebrow raised and she realized she was biting her lip whilst staring at his hands. She blushed and shook her head to clear her dazed mind. What was this strong attraction she felt to him? She’d noticed it first yesterday, but in the wake of Walsh’s betrayal, it was as if her carnal mind wanted to bed someone else in retaliation.

“So,” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and hugging herself tightly, “do you live on this island?”

“Aye, though I only just returned after living in L.A. for five years.”

“Really? What were you doing there?”

“Trying and failing to make it big as a musician.”

“What do you play?”

“Guitar.”

“Are you any good?”

“I think so.”

“Then why was it a failed endeavor?”

“A combination of things. Some of my bandmates were less than cooperative. And we had some creative differences. And it is a rather difficult business to make it big in. I think we just didn’t get our big break, and I tired of the struggle.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it would still have been a struggle if you had ‘made it big.’ Take it from me, fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Do you mind me asking why you were so against the press at your wedding? Seems like you made the problem worse for yourself by fighting against them.”

“You’re probably right,” Emma sighed. She moved over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. “When I was a kid, I was a big nobody. A foster kid who jumped from home to home and never had a family of her own. Then, when I was fifteen, I got a foster mother who wanted to be a stage mom, and she took me to every audition she possibly could. I found out that I was good at acting. For the first time in my life, I had something that made me unique, you know?”

“Yeah,” he replied in a near whisper. She looked up at him to see an earnest stare. He seemed truly mournful for the child she’d been.

She sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “So, I got a part in a TV show, and that was my big break. But Victoria, that was my foster mom, she pocketed all the money I was making. And she was greedy, selling me out for appearances or ‘exclusive’ interviews. The press fed off of it. And I rebelled, which only made them chase me more. By the time I was seventeen, I couldn’t go anywhere without being hounded by them. And, to add to my trouble, I was flat broke because Victoria wouldn’t give me any of the money I made. It was ridiculous. I was making more money than I’d ever dreamed I could, but I still had to steal tampons from the drug store.”

“And then you got caught,” Killian filled in.

“Yeah… I got arrested for shoplifting. But, the silver lining to that is that I met my lawyer, David Nolan, and he helped me file for emancipation and sue Victoria for the money she was keeping from me.”

“Did you get it back?”

“Not a penny. She’d spent most of it as fast as I made it. At least, since I was emancipated, I was able to keep what I made going forward. But by then I had a reputation with the press, and they expected me to be a bad girl. Every move I made was scrutinized. And I’ve never been able to shake that, even now, ten years later. I just wanted to have one day where they weren’t judging my every move. Where I could just be myself.”

“That makes perfect sense.” Emma looked up at him again, and found nothing more than understanding in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for… getting it.”

“Well, my story is different, but we have some of the same themes.”

“Yeah? What’s your story?”

“Well,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I was born in England, and for a few years it was nice. Mum and Dad and my older brother Liam. Then Mum got sick, and she passed before I was five.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved his dismissively. “Thank you, but it was a long time ago. What hurt more was that not long after that, Dad abandoned Liam and I. He was part of a auto theft ring, and when one of his partners was caught, he ran to avoid getting arrested himself. Just up and left us one night.”

“What did you do?”

“We went to live with a distant relative. Uncle John never had any kids of his own and I believe he rather resented us. He left us to fend for ourselves quite often. Then, just as I was entering secondary school, John was contacted by our father. He’d cleared his name and was living in the States and wanted us to join him. John shipped us off on the first flight to Boston and we haven’t seen him since. When we arrived, we learned Dad had remarried and was living here on the island with his wife and their son, William.”

“Isn’t that…”

“The anglicized form of Liam? Aye. Believe me, my brother and I were right pissed off at Brennan Jones for essentially trying to replace us. But we eventually came around. Not for him, but for Will and his mother, Angie.”

“Are they still here?”

“Liam moved back home a few years back, but Dad and Will are still here.”

“Angie…?”

“Died last year.”

“Damn. Your dad’s a widow twice over? That’s fucked up.”

“The old man’s cursed.”

“So why did you come back here? Why not join your older brother?”

“Dad hasn’t been the same since Angie died. And Will works on a fishing boat and has a young wife and a child on the way, so he can’t be around as much.”

“So you came back to care for the dad that abandoned you when you were little?”

“He’s a right bastard, but he’s still my Dad.”

“You’re a good man, Killian Jones.”

“I hope so,” he replied, his eyes glassy.

Thirty minutes later Killian stood in a room with Elsa, wearing the suit Walsh Ozman was meant to wear at his wedding. He was still struggling with the idea that he would be spending the day pretending to marry Emma Swan.

“This fit isn’t too bad,” Killian said, tugging the sleeves of the jacket down. Although he and Walsh were roughly the same height, his limbs seemed to be longer than those of the other man’s.

“I think I need to take the hems out an inch on the jacket and pants, then you should be good,” Elsa said. “I wonder if Mrs. Lucas has a sewing machine I can use. It’d be much easier if I didn’t have to do this by hand.”

“I believe she does, but truly, you needn’t go to the effort. Who’s going to notice if the suit is slightly ill-fitting?”

“It has to fit you like a glove,” Elsa replied. “Sidney isn’t going to buy the story if there’s any indication that you aren’t Walsh, and Walsh would never wear an ill-fitting suit, no matter how slight the problem.” She stepped back and took him in. “Thank god I kept the suit with me instead of letting him pack it,” she muttered to herself. Looking up to his face again she smiled. “Go ahead and change out of it while I run down to see if I can borrow the sewing machine.”

She was out the door before Killian could say a word. He removed the suit and once more donned his jeans and henley. As he laid the garments back on the bed, marveling at the expense of them, he heard a knock at the door.

He surmised the visitor must be Emma, since Elsa would have charged into the room after a perfunctory knock. However, when he opened the door, he was met with the face of a smaller man with red curly hair, wearing a very ill-fitting suit and thick glasses. “Can I help you?” Killian asked.

“Hello, yes, sir. My name is Archie Hopper, and I’ll be the officiant for the ceremony today. I need you to fill out some paperwork.” He handed Killian a small stack of paperwork.

Killian held his hands up and refused to take the documents. “I’m not sure that’s necessary…” he trailed off.

“Don’t worry. Mrs. Frost explained everything to me. This is just a formality.” He pushed the documents in the other man’s direction once more

“Are you sure?” Killian replied, reluctantly taking the pages and thumbing through them.

“Indeed,” Hopper responded. “We want this to be convincing, do we not?” The man leaned forward and winked, the gesture oddly magnified by his eyewear.

“Erm… yes.” Killian moved to the desk in the room and took up a pen, beginning to fill out the forms.

“I’ll need to see your ID as well,” Hopper said.

“Sure.” Absently, Killian fished his wallet out of his back pocket and extracted his license. It was still his California ID. He hadn’t yet obtained a new Maine driver’s license. He handed the card to the other man.

Hopper took a picture of the front and back of Killian’s ID and placed the card on the desk while Killian continued to complete the documents. He was done a moment later, and Hopper gathered everything up and turned to leave. The door opened just as he approached it and Elsa entered.

“Mr. Hopper. Is everything in order?”

“Oh yes, Miss Frost. Quite so. I was just speaking with our groom for a moment before the ceremony.” He said groom in a slightly mocking tone, and Elsa gave him a tight smile in reply.

“Remember the agreement you signed, Mr. Hopper,” she said in a commanding voice.

“Of course, Miss Frost. I’ll just head down to the church now and meet you there later today.”

“Thank you. And, if you would be so kind, the photographer is also downstairs in the common room. If you could point him in the direction of the church, I will be very appreciative.”

“I’ll do you one better and walk with him,” Hopper said with a silly smile.

“Thank you Mr. Hopper. I’ll see you at the church.”

Hopper thankfully knew a dismissal when he saw one, and left the room. Elsa turned back to Killian, donning a pair of shears. “Alright Mr. Jones, are you ready for your haircut?”

Emma walked down the aisle of the picturesque church. She took her place next to a tall man with dark hair who, after Elsa’s intervention, looked so much like Walsh from behind that Emma had been momentarily fooled into thinking that the last 18 hours had been a bad dream. Which of course made her feel like crying all over again. The only thing holding her tears at bay was her fear of ruining the beautiful makeup Elsa had applied an hour earlier. This was supposed to be her perfect, private, wedding that she could share with the people who meant the most to her. Instead she was play acting with a stranger. She felt incredibly grateful that they’d decided to keep the veil over her face, thereby masking her expression of pain.

“Shall we proceed with the ceremony?” the kind man named Mr. Hopper asked, looking to Elsa. This was Emma’s first time meeting the man, and she found his sweet disposition calming.

“Yes,” Elsa replied curtly. She’d ensured Emma that, after a thorough search, there were no bugs in the church, but just to be sure, they’d decided that they would play out the ceremony as realistically as possible. As far as the walls of the building were concerned, Emma Swan and Walsh Ozman were being married that day. Still, Emma kept her eye on her friend as she paced the perimeter of the small room, keeping an eye out for Sidney.

The church was beautiful, with stone arches, an intricate wooden ceiling, and lovely stained-glass windows. The structure of the room worked to their advantage, as the ceremony took place up front, in the chancel, which was cut off from the rest of the room. The triptych of stained-glass windows behind the altar, while allowing plenty of light into the room, were impossible to see through. There was absolutely no way a person could get a picture of their faces without being in the room with them.

Speaking of which, the photographer they’d hired stepped gracefully around them, quietly snapping pictures. Emma had wanted to turn him away, but Elsa had felt it would be better to proceed as planned with him, so that there was one less person in on the secret. She had told the man that the couple was extremely private and did not want any close up shots, and that there should be no pictures taken of the kiss.

Emma disagreed with her friend on that point, but the entire plan made her so nervous that she was ready to agree to anything just to get through the day. She only needed to get through a few more minutes, and then hopefully Sidney would get his picture and Emma could return to her room to hide out in peace.

They’d just been declared man and wife when everything went to hell. A sound of breaking glass came from behind them, and a man awkwardly fell through a panel of one of the other windows along the side of the building. Everyone looked over their shoulders to see the face of Sidney Glass trying extract himself from an awkward, and likely painful, position.

Elsa immediately stepped into action, yelling out “what the hell?!” as loud as she could while crossing the room toward the man. Emma noticed that Killian was still looking at the man and nearly about to turn around and go help him. Her internal alarm bells screamed as images of Sidney discovering the whole story and using it to destroy what remained of her reputation flashed through her head.

Roughly she grabbed Killian’s arm, still wearing her veil, and pulled him toward a door off to the side of the chancel.

“What are you doing?” he protested. “That man’s bleeding! He needs help!”

“That’s Sidney Glass, and he deserves to bleed!” she hissed as she yanked open a door and shoved Killian inside before following him in. It took a few tries to get the door to close because the damned lace train, which had seemed so sensible when she purchased her dress, was now getting stuck in the door jamb. She finally extracted her skirts and pulled hard to close the door behind her. Her body immediately collided with Killian’s. She had a momentary lapse in judgment, where she couldn’t think about anything other than how firm his chest felt and how good he smelled. But then she came to her senses and whirled around.

“What the hell are you doing?” she whispered. “Back up and give me a little space!”

“Sorry to say, love, but there isn’t any space to give you.” He reached above his head and pulled a cord that was connected to a single light bulb. When the dim light flooded the area, she realized what he meant. She’d thought they were going into a hallway, or at least an office, but it turned out that they stood pressed tightly together in a cleaning closet.

“Oh fuck,” Emma cursed.

“Oh fuck indeed,” Killian echoed.

Thanks to all those who liked and reblogged last week! I tried to add everyone who reblogged to the tag list, but Tumblr’s giving me trouble.

@artistic-writer @bubblegum1425 @captainkillianswanjones @fairytaleprincessatlast @flslp87 @gingerchangeling @hollyethecurious @hookswan25 @initiala @jonirobinson64 @kday426 @kingofmyheart14 @kmomof4 @kymbersmith-90 @laschatzi @nerdyhuntress @nikkiemms @objectsatsleepstayatsleep @princesseslikepirates @resident-of-storybrooke @searchingwardrobes @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @snidgetsafan @snowbellewells @teamhook @thejacketandthehook @thejollyroger-writer @thislassishooked @welllpthisishappening @winterbythesea @winterbaby89 @wingedlioness @withheartfulloflove @wyntereyez

#cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #captain swan #captain swan au #the decoy groom #branwrites

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narniaandplowmen · 5 years

Text

Neighbours

Also on AO3 Rated: General Audiences Fandom: Once Upon A Time

I rewrote the little drabble I wrote for csvalentine on tumblr in 2015, for @saaviorspirate

When Emma meets David's new roommate and she accidentally agrees to go on a date with him, things do indeed go as bad as she thought. Or don't they?

“Emma, can you open the door, please? I am just about to take a shower!” Mary Margaret called after the ringing sound of the doorbell startled them both. “Okay!” Emma walked to the door, one eye in her textbook: “Federal Rules of Civil Procedure”. Just one more year and she would finish her Law studies, something she was desperately looking forward to. She carefully moved towards the door, silently whispering the text as she read. Still eying the text, she grabbed the handle and pulled, revealing a handsome stranger. Suddenly, her exam tomorrow seemed a lot less important. The man had raven hair and intensely blue eyes, with cheekbones one could cut bricks with. 'Hello?' 'Hey!' The stranger held out his hand. 'My name is Killian. I just moved in next door.' He quickly nodded in the direction of his new apartment whilst Emma looked at him, with open mouth. Not only was he very attractive, he was also British? That was simply unfair. Suddenly her eyes fell on the still outstretched arm and moving her textbook from her right to her left hand she quickly shook it. 'Hi. I'm Emma.' A melodious sound came from behind her as Mary Margeret started singing her favourite song of the day. 'That's my roommate, Mary Margaret. Did you move in with David?' She had heard the man talk about his search for a new roommate to share the costs of the rent. Graham, his previous roomie, had moved out and taken a job as a Sherriff in a small town a little while away. 'I did, a friend of mine knew him and heard he was looking for someone. I just started my masters here and was looking for a bit more permanent place to live. My previous place was on the other side of town, and extremely expensive. This Mary Margaret is David's girlfriend, right?' Emma nodded. The story of how the two had met was actually quite funny. David had lost his keys and was waiting for Mary Margaret to come home, as their balconies were connected. He had hoped to be able to enter his home through the balcony door, but Mary Margaret had panicked when she saw a stranger leaning against her door when she came home from doing groceries and she had hit him with a packet of butter. After the situation was properly explained she felt so guilty she had invited him in for a cup of tea, and the rest was history. 'Yeah, she is. You'll see her around soon enough, she's busy now. What do you study?' 'Marine biology, you?' he eyed the textbook she was still holding. 'Law, I have an exam tomorrow.' 'Then I will not disturb you much longer. I just wanted to say hi and introduce myself.' he smiled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. 'I'll see you around?' 'Sure.' 'Good luck with your exam!' he turned and walked away as Emma stared. Shit. She was in a lot of trouble.

'Who was at the door?' Mary Margaret asked as she came back into the room, all washed and ready. 'David's new roommate. He came to say hi and introduce himself. His name is Killian.' 'Oh! David told me, I am sorry, I forgot to tell you. You were so busy studying and I had to prepare for classes, it totally slipped my mind. How was he? David showed me a picture, he is very handsome.' Emma looked up and saw a familiar expression on her friend's face. It was Mary Margaret's personal life mission to get Emma happily married, sooner rather than later. 'He's nothing special, honestly.' she told her. 'He studies Marine biology. You'll meet him soon enough.' 'Nothing special. That didn't exactly cover the mischievous smirk, bright eyes, handsome beard, bulging arm muscles she was sure were hidden underneath the leather coat. But she kept repeating the words to herself anyway, as she resumed studying. Nothing special, nothing special, nothing special. She didn’t really know who she was fooling. She knew she couldn’t fool herself. But she couldn't, shouldn’t, wouldn’t allow herself to make that mistake again. No love for her. Not after Neal. She shouldn’t think about Neal. Nothing special, nothing special. Focus on her studies instead. Law was something she was able to handle. Rules, logic, argumentation. As a lawyer, she would be in a position of power. She would be able to defend those who couldn't defend herself, give others a chance she didn't get. 'No,' she berated herself, 'don't think of Neal.'

A laughing voice echoed through the hallway as the door swung open and Mary Margeret entered after her date with David. 'Emma?! Why are you still awake? You have an exam tomorrow, you should be resting!' 'Hey MM, just revising the last chapter.' MM was the nickname Emma had given her closest friend. It was shorter, and 'Emma and MM' sounded nice. 'How was your date?' 'It was so romantic! He took me to Granny’s Diner, the cute little diner on Main Street, do you know it? There were fairy lights everywhere, it was gorgeous.' The brunette opened the fridge to grab some OJ but halted in her tracks. 'Pancakes?' she looked at Emma with a curious face. 'Why did you make pancakes?' 'I received my grade for the Criminal Law exam I sat last week. I got an A-! I thought we should celebrate.' A high scream pierced her ears as Mary Margaret enveloped her in a hug. 'That is so great! Congratulations! We should definitely celebrate that! You know what, I'll put on my PJ's whilst you revise your last chapter. Then I'll warm up the pancakes when you get dressed and we can have a PJ party.'

'That Killian lived quite a dramatic life.' MM said as Emma shovelled a blueberry pancake in her mouth. 'Apparently he got his BA in Marine Biology in England, and he got offered a job at his fiancée's research project.' Emma felt her heart drop. He was engaged. Of course he was, how could anyone as handsome as him still be single? Not that it mattered, he was nothing special after all. 'That was two years ago.' 'Two years? That's a long engagement. I mean, I assume they aren't married because he's living with David now.' 'She died. Something involving her jealous ex-boyfriend, some completely mental guy who broke out of prison several times.' 'Wow.' 'Yeah. And he had lost his brother just a year before that. The two grew up together, they were orphans.' The 'just like you' hung in the air, unspoken. 'Shit man.' Emma simply said. 'Why is he here?' 'To get away from everything, I guess. Britain probably drags up too many painful memories. And the masters Marine biology offered here is the best in America, so I guess that helps.' MM shrugged as she drowned her own pancake in Maple Syrup. 'But what an awful life. I don't envy him.'

“Happy birthday David!” Emma smiled and hugged the tall blonde. 'You're getting old, man!' she teased. 'Here is your present, but I should have bought you a rocking chair.' David laughed as he opened the package, hugging her tightly when it revealed a gorgeous watch she knew he had wanted for quite some time. 'Thank you so much! It's gorgeous! How did you know?' The apartment was already filled with people and Emma carefully made her way to the table with snacks. As she arrived she suddenly heard a British voice behind her. 'Hey! Emma, right?' She turned to face the handsome stranger that had rang the doorbell only a small week ago. 'Hey Killian.' 'How did your exam go?' 'Okay, I guess. I am not sure, I don't have the grade back yet. How are you settling in?' Before she knew it the two had talked through the night, and when she woke up the next morning with a huge hangover her phone somehow contained his number and her planner reminded her that in two days she would go on a date with one Killian Jones. She groaned and chugged a big glass of water before facing herself in the mirror. 'He's nothing special.' She told her reflection, 'You will not make another mistake again. Remember Neal. Remember-' she ran towards the toilet to puke her guts out. Forget Neal. Forget Neal.

She had hoped that he would have been drunk enough to forget about it, but the following morning she had met him in the hallway and he had made it clear the date was still on. She didn't have a good excuse not to go, so she was stuck with it for the time being. She tried not to think of Neal and she reminded herself, once again, that he was nothing special. It seemed to have become a personal mantra. Nothing special. Don't think of Neal. Nothing special. He picked her up at home right on time and took her to a little Italian restaurant hidden in an alley off Main Street. As they sat down a small man with a heavy Italian accent, apparently the owner, approached the two, carrying a stack of menus. ''ello Killian, 'ello beautiful lady!' He greeted loudly, handing them each one menu. 'Killian, 'ow are you? Where did you pick up this beautiful lady? What is 'er name?' She smiled and introduced herself. 'Emma? What a beautiful name, fitting a beautiful lady! You are one lucky man!' The man turned around and started to leave them, but he bumped into a new customer that had just entered the store and dropped all of his menus. 'Mamma mia! Mi dispiace, I am so sorry!' Emma started to smile at the fact that the man actually used the phrase 'mamma mia', but she soon froze as she saw the face of the person who entered. 'Emma.' 'Neal.'

As if it couldn't get any worse. She was on a date she couldn't even remember going on, with a man that she found way too dangerously attractive, the first date she had been on since Neal- And now he was there, right in front of her. She hadn't seen him since- She didn't want to think about it. She practically felt Neal's eyes bore into her skin as he looked at her and Killian. A wicked grin spread across his face. 'Emma, I haven't seen you in ages. How's the baby doing?' The words cut straight through her, piercing her heart like poisoned arrows. 'You- You know perfectly well. What are you doing here, Neal?' 'May I introduce you to my finacée? Tamara, Emma. Emma, Tamara.' She suddenly noticed the woman behind him. 'Hello!' Tamara greeted happily, completely ignorant of the tension in the air. 'Tamara, be a dear and get a seat. I'll be there soon, I just want to catch up with some old friends. Nothing interesting to you.' The woman smiled and turned, walking towards a table on the other side of the room.

'So, Killian,' Neal now turned towards the Brit sitting opposite of her. They knew each other. Of course they did. Because why would Emma ever be allowed to trave anywhere or meet anyone that was not somehow connected to her awful past. The universe didn't allow her to forget. Not that she ever could. Her hand briefly brushed her abdomen. 'How is it to fuck a used bottle?' Neal continued. 'Perfectly new once you’re 3 inches in.' Killian simply replied, his jaw tense. 'Oh really? Well, I suppose you are used to second-hand girlfriends, aren’t you?'. Emma blinked and suddenly the two men were on the floor, throwing punches. The owner, who had finally collected all of his menus, dropped them again and tried to tear them apart, but the man was way too small to have any chance of success. Emma simply stared at the chaos, frozen in place, unable to move, or think, or do anything, really. Neal was here. He knew Killian. He was fighting Killian. Now Kilian knew about- Neal was here. She could never escape him. He had a new victim. Neal was here. She wasn't safe. Neal was here.

After what seemed like ages, but must have only been seconds, a tall man rose from a nearby table as his red-haired wife looked at the fight in shock, and before Emma could take another breath Neal and Killian were separated. 'What the fuck is wrong with you two?! If you want to fight you can go take boxing lessons, don't do it in a restaurant where I'm trying to have a romantic dinner with my wife.' The stranger spat, obviously disgusted at the sudden outburst of violence. 'What are you two? Twelve? Get out of here, and take your fiancée. The blonde lady and her date were here first.' It seemed like Neal wanted to protest, but as he looked at the man towering over him he changed his mind. 'Tamara, let's go. I don't want to eat at the same place whores go for their date. Let's go somewhere else.' The diner seemed to hold its breath after the door slammed shut behind the pair. 'Thank you sir, you will get your dinner on the house.' The owner was the first to break the silence. 'Thank you so much for saving my restaurant, Mr...?' 'Eric. And there really is no need.' 'I insist!'

Emma and Killian ate in silence, but the mood for the night was pretty much ruined. 'I'm sorry about that.' He said as they were parked in the McDonald's parking lot with their McFlurries. 'I knew him back in the day. I assume Mary Margaret has informed you about my past?' Emma blushed and nodded. 'She's not very good at keeping secrets. And David shares everything with her.' 'I assumed so. He is the son of- of the man that killed my fiancée. He and I- We don't get along.' It was silent for a long time. 'I knew him when I was younger.' Emma started, not sure why she was telling this story to someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger to her. But once she started, she couldn't stop. 'He was my boyfriend. I met him- I met him when I tried to steal his car. I- I am an orphan, I grew up in the foster care system. But I ran away a lot. I didn't have anything, so I stole to get by. We were a team, or so I thought. I loved him. I got pregnant. When I told him I thought he was happy, but less than a week later he framed me for stealing over $10.000 worth of watches. I only ever stole to survive, never- never something big, like this. He made sure I got caught, and I ended up in jail. He claimed he didn't know that I was a thief, and he broke up with me.' Tears were streaming down her face. 'I got an abortion whilst in prison. It was either that or let the child grow up in foster care. Death is a kinder fate.' They ate the rest of their ice cream in silence and then drove home.

'I'm sorry for everything that happened tonight. I hope you still enjoyed the food.' Killian waited for a moment, and then looked down and whispered, 'and my company.' Emma smiled. 'I did. Thank you. And thank you for hitting him, I am sure he will have quite some bruises after what you did to him.' She bit her lower lip. 'And thank you for listening. For not judging. I haven't really told anyone about that before, save for Mary Margaret.' Killian looked up. 'Thank you for your trust.' It was silent once again. 'So-' 'Now-' they both started. 'Sorry, you first.' Killian hesitated, then nodded. 'Are you free, tomorrow night? Maybe we can do this over again. I mean, not this, but another date. Better. Somewhere where I don't have to punch someone to the ground. Don't get me wrong, it was very cathartic, I have been wanting to do that for ages, but-' 'I'd love to.'

Not a single thought in her head focussed on Neal. Only on the soft lips touching hers.

#captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #mary margaret blanchard #david charming #ouat #ouat ff #cs ff #written by me #onceuponadisneyqueue #q

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let-it-raines · 4 years

Text

I’m married, I used to be a wedding planner, I’ve been to far too many weddings. All this said, I still struggle real hard to write a wedding. So, nonnie, I hope you like this! It was nice to get it out of my head and have it put in actual cohesive words, even if it took longer than I intended❤️

found on ao3 | here |

*I’m having to repost because something super funky was happening with the “keep reading” as can be seen in the screenshot of the ask. Sorry about that!*

-/-

June 19th, 2021

Ruth wants them to stay apart tonight.

It’s some kind of tradition or superstition, and as an athlete, Killian gets it. He does. He is all about doing the same stupid thing over and over again because it was happening on a day where something good happened. When he made it to his first post-season, he didn’t shave until the last ball was played. In 2018 when they made it to the World Series, he wore the same pair of socks every day. He washed them, but it was still the same pair of socks.

(He’s too particular about cleanliness not to wash things.)

But those were things he needed in order to convince himself that they were going to win, that he was going to be able to do it, and that everything was going to be alright.

He doesn’t need to spend the night away from his wife the night before their wedding.

The thing is that they can’t exactly tell anyone that they eloped over a month ago. It would break their family’s hearts, and he and Emma are committed to keeping that secret between the two of them.

That was their day, just them, and it’s not something to be shared.

He’s been wearing his wedding ring on a chain around his neck for the past month, and God, he can’t wait to get to put it on his finger tomorrow even if he’ll have to put it right back on the chain for games.

They likely shouldn’t have picked a wedding date right in the middle of baseball season, but this is the date that worked for everyone.

No game happening.

No work for Liam and Elsa.

Ruth could come to town.

And no one was so pregnant that they couldn’t attend.

(Anna told him that if they got married while she was eight months pregnant with twins she would murder him, so they obviously changed the original date.)

“Mom, I’m not doing that.”

“It’s tradition.”

“I stayed apart from David when we got married,” Mary Margaret adds in as they walk down the hallway after paying the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.

“I’m staying in my own damn apartment,” Emma huffs. “I like my bed and my stuff, and I don’t want to have to sleep on the rock-hard bed in your spare bedroom.”

“Okay, well, you stay home, and Killian can stay at Liam’s.”

Emma stops walking and crosses her arms over her chest before briefly glancing at him. She is not happy, and if she didn’t love her family, he imagines there would be some kind of strangulation happening right about now.

Well, if there also wasn’t the threat of jail as well. That might also keep her from doing it.

“I appreciate you both looking out for tradition and any possible horrible things that may happen to us if we don’t stay apart,” Killian sighs, “but this wasn’t something we were planning on doing and neither of us are interested in it. If down the road we don’t work out, feel free to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Are you serious?”

“As anything.”

Killian glances over at Emma, at the small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. If he looks at her, he can ignore the disapproving stares of Mary Margaret and Ruth. It was Ruth who was insistent, but now, he might be a little more scared of Mary Margaret.

“Emma,” Ruth sighs, “won’t you please do this? It’s tradition, and it would mean so much to me to get to spend this night with you.”

Emma sighs and tilts her head up to look at the ceiling. She’s got on a short white dress tonight, and it flows off her body from the waist down, but it’s tight around her chest where the material barely covers her breasts. He’s been distracted by it all bloody night and the way that his mother’s ring hits in the concave between her boobs, but now as her neck is elongated, all he can focus on is the smoothness of her skin and the way her summer tan accentuates all of her features.

Beautiful.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Emma finally says. “I will see you both at nine tomorrow morning, and you will be with me until I walk down the aisle at six. That’s so much time, and I would much rather spend the night with Killian. I don’t think we’re going to be cursed.”

“Let the woman go,” David yells from the elevator door. “I’m ready to go to sleep.”

“David speaks the truth,” Killian laughs, reaching over to thread his fingers through Emma’s. “It’s been a long, wonderful day, and I cannot thank you both enough for it. Let’s all go home, though, get our beauty sleep. We’re all going to need it. There’s only so much editing the photographer can do.”

Mary Margaret and Ruth finally relent, and David manages to drag them out of the restaurant where they have been camping out for the last several hours, toasts given and delicious food eaten as half of the people they knew came up to he and Emma to congratulate them and talk about their excitement for tomorrow. The wedding has ended up being much bigger than either of them intended, mostly because of the sheer number of people they know and getting carried away with the help of Mary Margaret, Ruby, Elsa, and Anna. It’s honestly been insane and a whirlwind with the season taking up most of his time, and after they got married last month, neither of them have cared much about what this wedding will be like.

It’s a celebration with their friends and family, and if everyone else is happy, he will be too.

Though, he is excited to see Emma’s dress. He’s not seen it yet, but he knows he’ll find her beautiful in anything.

Killian tugs on Emma’s hand, and they start walking to the elevator, heading down to the lobby to get his car from the valet. There are photographers waiting outside, and he hears Emma groan. He squeezes her hand, wishing there was some other way to comfort her from the nuisance that are gossip reporters, but there’s nothing they can do now besides get his keys, get in the car, and go home.

“Was Ruth driving you crazy too?” Emma asks as they start slipping out of their clothes in their closet. “I know she means well, but oh my gosh, I never realized how much of a traditionalist she could be until the past few weeks.”

“I mean, it’s not unheard of for couples who already live together to stay apart the night of the wedding.”

“No, it’s not, but I still didn’t want to do it. I mean, have you slept on the bed in the guest room at David’s? It’s awful.”

“You could take the couch.”

“I promise they wouldn’t let me.”

Killian chuckles and hangs his shirt up before taking off his belt and his pants as Emma unclasps her bra. “Tomorrow you’ll wear the pretty white dress and carry a far too heavy bouquet, and everyone will be so amazed by your beauty that they won’t care that you kept bucking their traditions.”

“Getting a little cheesy there, Jones.”

“It happens sometimes.”

Emma shakes her head and bends over to grab one of his t-shirts. She doesn’t bother to hang up her dress or put away her bra or her shoes, and one day he will stop hoping that she’ll clean up her clothes.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Probably not.

He ends up picking up her clothes and putting them away after he’s changed into a pair of shorts, and he finds Emma in the bathroom taking off her makeup and washing her face. It takes her a little longer than usual to do it, and by the time she’s finished, he’s scrolling through Netflix trying to find something for them to watch as they fall asleep.

“You went ahead and got yourself comfortable, huh?” Emma laughs as she gets into her side of the bed and pulls the covers up to her chest.

“You took forever to take your makeup off.”

“Had to make sure there wasn’t any left. I’d definitely get, like, the biggest zit in the world, and believe it or not, I want the pictures to look nice tomorrow.”

“They could always airbrush it out. As long as it’s not too big. I was kidding about the photoshop thing earlier.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, reaching over to gently shove him. “Did we bring any leftovers home?”

“No, but I know Scarlet took a box home. You could always call him.”

“Would it be crazy if I did that?”

“Yeah, love, yeah it would.”

“It was really good food.”

Killian puts the remote down and leans over to wrap his arm around Emma’s waist and pull her closer to him. She’s warm, even if her feet are cold, and he breathes in the lingering scent of her perfume as she settles against him.

“We have some food in the fridge. Or I can make you something.”

“None of that will be the same as Will bringing me the leftovers.”

Killian laughs into her neck and then kisses the skin there. “I know for a fact that you’re going to brunch in the morning, so I think you’ll be able to make it.”

“Don’t be jealous that my friends plan on me having better food than Liam plans on you having.”

“Well, maybe I’ll have to attend the brunch as well.”

Emma twists around in his arms, elbowing him and kicking him before she settles so that the tips of her nose brushes against his. “I’m so glad we got married at the courthouse. I mean, I’m excited to wear my dress and to have the big party, but I really liked that day.”

“Aye, me too.”

She presses forward to glide her lips over his, soft and slow, and neither of them are in a hurry to get anywhere. He loves when they get to be like this, when they have time to tease and explore and not be in a rush to get to a certain destination.

There’s always somewhere to be, something to do, a game to play, someone to talk to. There’s always a rush.

Right now, however, the only rush is the beating of his heart and the way that the woman in his arms makes him feel.

Frustrated and exasperated and so damn in love that he’ll pick up her shoes when she leaves them around, which is always.

When they come together, it’s in that same gentle, slow motion that they were following earlier. Emma’s hair is cascading down her back in long, soft waves, and when she bends down to mold her lips to his again, he shifts his hips up to keep their rhythm as his hands settle on her back sides and hold her down to him. Who knows how many times they’ve done this and how many times they’ll do it in the future? It’s the past and present all at once, but he doesn’t care to be in any moment other than this one.

Damn is he glad that she’s not staying at the Nolans’ tonight. He can’t imagine her being anywhere else other than here with him.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s to the softness of Emma’s lips pressing against his chest, her mouth tracing his skin. Slowly, Killian blinks his eyes open, a smile curving on his lips, and while he expects Emma to be still be naked next to him in bed, she’s not. Instead she’s clothed in a button-down and a pair of shorts, her hair freshly washed and her face bare of makeup so he can see her freckles.

They come out more in the summer, and he’s rather fond of them.

“What are you doing out of bed?” He mumbles, reaching over for her and pulling her back to him. She easily falls into him, resting half on top of his leg while his hands reach out for her. “It’s not time for you to go yet.”

“We were up pretty late there, twenty-nine, and you slept in. So, yeah, it’s time to go. Elsa said she’s almost here to come get me.”

Killian juts his lower lip out. He knows Emma will find it ridiculous, which is exactly why he does it. “We’re technically already married. Want to play hooky?”

“No,” she laughs, getting up to lean back down over him so she can kiss him. “I’ll see you at the end of that aisle.”

“Well, technically you’ll see me for the pictures beforehand.”

“Semantics.” She kisses him again, lingering this time. “I love you. I will see you later. You’re going to be the most handsome man there tonight.”

“I better damn well be. I love you, Emma.”

And then she’s getting up and walking away, picking up a large tote bag, a backpack, and her dress before she’s walking out the bedroom door.

What a lucky son of a bitch he is.

Killian doesn’t have anywhere to be until noon. None of his friends or his brother are calling and texting and badgering him to do things, so he gets up and gets dressed to go for a run. It’ll be hot later, June in New York not exactly pleasant weather, but this morning, it’s nearly perfect, even if he has to avoid a few photographers as he makes his way to the park. They’ve been worse than usual lately, the wedding putting them into overdrive looking for gossip and exclusives, and Killian’s doing his best to ignore them. He always has, especially when people are trying to attack Emma.

He is not going to let them ruin is mood today, not when he’s got miles ahead of him and a damn big party to attend tonight.

He runs for almost an hour. Technically today should be a pitching practice day for him, but Al took him out of the rotation so he’s only missing one game while in Spain instead of the two he was slotted to. He’ll have to do some kind of practice, but how many times does a man get to have a honeymoon?

Well, considering all goes well and all that.

He stops for coffee before he goes home, drinking it on the walk back, and he slips in the back entrance of his apartment complex before taking the elevator up and hoping into the shower the moment he gets inside. It’s like it’s any other day.

Except it’s not.

“Where are you?”

Killian jumps at the sound of Liam’s voice, and he quickly turns off the water and grabs a towel to tie around his waist. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re not still asleep.”

“It’s almost noon. Have I ever slept in that late?”

“All the time.”

“Since I was a teenager then?”

“Eh, maybe. Not that I know about, though, unless you had a late travel day. You going to put some clothes on?”

“You come into my place, unannounced, and you’re going to complain that I don’t have clothes on?”

“I’m your brother. That’s what I do. Now, come on, Elsa told me I should take you out for lunch. I apparently didn’t think about that.”

“You’re a spectacular best man.”

He shrugs. “I do what I can, which has mostly been keeping Addy and Lucy out of their dresses so they don’t stain them before tonight. Who puts kids in white?”

“Your wife picked out those dresses.”

“Of course she did,” Liam chuckles. “But seriously, finish getting ready. Robin is getting us some food, and we’re going to eat at the venue.”

“What? I don’t deserve to dine in?”

“Do you want to?”

“No, I’d much rather sit on the couch and eat.”

“Exactly. Let’s go.”

When they get to the pier, Robin, Will, Eric, August, Kris, Graham, and David are already there, food and drinks spread out across the table in front of them. They’re in the middle of some debate about Thursday’s game, Will arguing with Robin about him misreading one of Will’s signs, and they don’t notice when Killian sits down and grabs a bowl of pasta from the center of the table.

“Pleasant, don’t you think?” Killian asks David.

“Exactly how I would want all of my friends to be acting on a day when we’re all supposed to get along.”

“It’s worse if they’re also your coworkers.”

David chuckles and takes a sip of his water. “Did Ruth break into your house in the middle of the night to try to separate the two of you?”

“God, no,” Killian laughs. “And if she did, I’m sure she would have been in for quite the sight.”

“Please remember that you’re talking to Emma’s brother when you speak to me.”

Killian shrugs and smiles. “What? You don’t want to be having this conversation?”

“I want to be having anything but this conversation.”

“Okay, we can talk about last year’s Christmas when you – ”

“Jones, shut the fuck up.”

Killian chuckles and pokes his pasta with his fork. “No, Ruth didn’t come and get Emma in the middle of the night. I was almost convinced she and Mary Margaret would, so I’m thankful that she didn’t. Emma left so damn early this morning, though, that she might as well have stayed somewhere else.”

“A lot goes into them getting ready for today. Though, honestly, I’m pretty sure Ruby has all of them getting drunk on mimosas.”

“Oh, I would bet on that.”

“What are we betting on?” Will interrupts. “Are we betting that Emma doesn’t walk down the aisle tonight? Is she going to be a runaway bride?”

“Don’t be an asshole, Scarlet,” Robin mutters. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“What? We all know I’m joking. Emma is far too good for the man, but she loves him. She’s definitely going to show up…probably.”

Killian flips up his finger at Will and keeps eating his pasta. “I feel like I was much more supportive on your wedding day.”

“Oh, you were, but I like to switch things up. I keep it interesting.”

They keep eating and jokingly arguing and not agreeing on a single thing, but then they turn on the game tapes that most of them are supposed to be watching for Monday’s game. It’s like it’s any other day, all of them messing around and groaning about mistakes, except after a few hours, they start changing out of their lounge clothes and into black tuxes with crisp white shirts that they’re under strict instructions not to spill anything on. Emma is just across the hall from him now, and Ariel keeps walking over to make sure that nothing has been ruined.

Between Ariel, Mary Margaret, and Ruth, none of them have any room for error.

Maybe those three should be their coach instead of Al.

The photographer comes and gets Killian and all of his groomsmen around four, they take all of the pictures on the list that he and Emma made up, and then Killian is told to walk out onto the large deck that’s just outside the ballroom. The Hudson is right below them, an expanse of sparkling blue water that makes a spectacular backdrop, and he tries to focus on it even though he knows that he’s standing out here so he and Emma can take their pictures.

She’s been texting him on and off all day, little updates about how things are going, and it’s been odd knowing she’s just around the corner but not with him. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t curious what her dress looked like. He never thought he would be a man who cared about something like that, who thought that a dress could make any difference in how he looks at the woman he loves, but he knows that Emma loves this dress. If she does, that’s enough for him to look at her that little bit differently.

Like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, because to him, she is.

What a day for some sentimental thoughts.

“Hey, handsome,” she sighs, and he immediately turns around at the sound of her voice. “I know you love the water, but I don’t think jumping in is really an option right now.”

“I mean, I could, but this was a bloody expensive tux.”

“Be a shame to ruin it and all that.”

Killian’s finally able to look away from her face and the bright smile there to look down at her dress. It’s not a bright white, exactly. It’s off a little bit, and it hugs her until it gets to her waist where it loosens and begins to flow until it hits the floor. Pearls cover it, a few at the top and then more and more as his eyes scan to the bottom of her dress. It’s different than what he expected, but it’s Emma.

This is Emma.

And she’s gorgeous and radiant, and while he’d marry her again in a courthouse with no pomp and circumstance, he’s glad they get to do this too.

“You look – ”

“I know,” she finishes for him. “We clean up pretty well, Jones.”

“Don’t I know it?” He leans in and brushes his lips over her cheek, lightly so he doesn’t mess up her makeup. “All of our friends are staring at us from inside.”

“Is it creepy?”

“It’s terrifying.”

“Addy and Lucy are very excited. Have you seen them yet?”

“I haven’t had the honor, but I have talked to them on the phone several times. They want to know if they get to tear up your flowers.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I obviously told them yes, so you best watch out for that.”

“I’ll be on the look-out. You want to take some pictures until our faces hurt?”

“Obviously. It’s what I’ve dreamed of since I was a young lad wondering just what this day would be like.”

She gently pushes at his chest. “You had anything to drink there, twenty-nine?”

“I had one small glass of rum, which is nothing compared to the mimosa fest you went on.”

“Hey, now, that was mostly Ruby and Elsa. I, too, only had one glass. Wanted to make sure I’d be able to recognize you. You’re wearing almost the exact same thing as Liam. Wouldn’t want to marry the wrong Jones.”

“Don’t even suggest that.”

“Are you two going to make out now or what?” Ruby yells from the entryway. “Because I need to know which parts of Emma’s makeup I have to fix!”

“She’ll never change, will she?” Emma laughs, her smile as radiant as he’s ever seen it.

“Never.”

They seem to take pictures for hours, pose after pose with just the two of them before they add in the bridal parties and family and have ticked off everything on the list. Emma wasn’t kidding when she said their faces would hurt from smiling so much, and he knows that she has heels on so he imagines her feet are killing her. But soon enough, he’s having to leave Emma back up in the bridal suite while he lines up at the front of the ballroom, ready for Emma to walk down the aisle with all of these people looking at the two of them.

What a weird tradition.

But hey, he gets to marry Emma twice, and he can’t really complain about that.

-/- -/-

“How drunk is Kris right now?”

“Well, he’s starting talking about how much he loves ice, so I think he’s at least five drinks in.”

“Is it six-drink Kris that gets a little frisky?”

“Babe, he’s a married man and a father of two now. His tolerance dipped, and it’s now drink two where he gets frisky.”

“That would explain why he tried to touch my ass earlier.”

Emma laughs and moves her hand to gently shove Killian. His eyes crinkle with his smile, his summer tan making everything seem brighter, and she idly wonders if his face still hurts from smiling for pictures from earlier. Or, well, still smiling now. It’s got to be getting close to ten, and it doesn’t seem like anyone has left the reception. She can’t even remember a time where her face didn’t hurt or where her feet weren’t killing her despite the fact that she chunked her heels at least an hour ago.

It’s been a good day.

Like, really good.

She’s never really had an idea of what her wedding day would be like. It’s not something she imagined in much detail. Maybe it would be a small crowd, just her closest friends and family. This isn’t some extravagant thing, but it’s definitely much bigger than any sane person would call a small crowd. That’s all thanks to Ariel and her constantly coming up with people they forgot or Ruth asking if they could invite some of her friends since they all wanted to see her daughter getting married.

Emma’s heart still flutters every time she thinks about Ruth calling Emma her daughter.

But the extra people and flowers and lights really just make it one better, bigger party, and despite the fact that for awhile she kept getting pulled away to talk to everyone, she really hasn’t had to have that much interaction with the people who aren’t in her close circle.

That’s been nice.

Being able to dance with Killian and eat in a hidden room and not constantly be pulled apart at the seams has been that way too. Half the reason they got married at the courthouse was for fear that they wouldn’t be able to enjoy their wedding day, but that’s not at all what’s happened.

She’s happy. That still, somehow, surprises her sometimes, and she doesn’t want to take it for granted.

“You’re ridiculous, Jones,” Emma laughs, her hand sliding back to rest around Killian’s neck. They’ve had two slow songs in a row, and she’s enjoying the change of pace. “How much longer until I can get you out of this tux?”

His brows raise, and his smile turns salacious. “Look who’s getting frisky now.”

“I mean, I am expecting to get lucky tonight.”

“As you should be. Though, I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to get you out of your dress. Are you sewn into it?”

“There’s a small zipper on the side. Don’t break it.”

“Why? You planning on wearing this thing again?”

“I am obviously going to lounge around the apartment in it. No more sweatpants for me. Only gowns.”

“Seems practical.”

“I am always practical.”

Killian dips down and tugs her close as his mouth closes over hers. She can taste rum and cake on his tongue, and she appreciates the mixture of sweet and spice. His kiss doesn’t linger for long, but the feeling of it settles somewhere deep in her belly.

“I love you, my wife.”

“You just love calling me your wife.”

“I do. It’s got a nice ring to it. Makes me feel far more responsible than I am.”

Emma chuckles and shakes her head. He’s an idiot.

“I love you, too. Do you want to – ”

“Hey,” David interrupts, “can I borrow Emma for a minute?”

“What, mate?” Killian laughs, already letting go of her. “Do you not want to dance with me?”

David winks. “We’ll have our time later.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Oh my God, stop.”

“Never, love.” Killian winks and starts stepping away. “Do you want another glass of wine?”

“I do. Oh, and one of those popcorn bags. The – ”

“The cake flavored kind, I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a popcorn bar at a wedding before,” David says as he takes Emma’s hands in his and pulls her close. The song is changing to something faster, more upbeat, and while everyone else is changing how they dance, they don’t. “That’s kind of ingenious. I’ve always thought most wedding food was stuffy.”

“Says the man who had the most classic wedding menu in existence.”

David shrugs. “I can’t help it that I didn’t know I could sneak in some classic stadium food but put a gourmet twist on it so we didn’t seem cheap.”

“Eh, screw wedding traditions. Most of them are outdated anyway.”

David smiles and then spins her around, gently letting her go before pulling her back in as laughter rumbles in her chest. Never let it be said that David Nolan doesn’t know how to dance.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I don’t remember if I got the chance to tell you that.”

“You did, but thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“What a roundabout way to say I am the most handsome man in this room.”

Emma rolls her eyes. Her brother is also an idiot.

“Maybe to Mary Margaret.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, “I guess I can allow you to think that your husband is the most handsome man in the room. How’s that feel, by the way? Any different?”

Emma hums and looks over David’s shoulder to see Killian already holding a glass of wine in one hand, some rum in the other, and a small bag of popcorn sticking out of his shirt as he talks to Will and Belle. He looks ridiculous, and she really should have thought more about having him carry three things.

“Not different,” she answers, trying to figure out what to say. She’s technically been married to Killian for over a month now, and she still hasn’t quite been able to articulate the feeling in her gut. “I don’t really know. I mean, we’ve been pretty much committed to each other from the beginning, and we’ve been living together for a year and a half. I feel like everything is the same, but it’s like…I don’t know. It’s like it feels more permanent that I get to have this family that I found.”

And that, she thinks, is exactly what she’s been trying to say this entire time.

Family.

She’s had David, Mary Margaret, and Ruth for a decade and a half now. She’s had Ruby and Graham for a little less time than that. Then came everyone from the team and all of their partners, including Liam and Elsa and their kids.

And Killian.

He’s her family. She’s known that for a long time now, but there’s something nice about it being official.

Mr. and Mrs. Killian and Emma Jones.

Some kind of official unit who pays joint taxes and argues over what’s for dinner and who has pictures of the two of them on the bookshelf and on the walls.

Never in a million years could she have imagined her life going this way, but it did.

And it really all started because David took her to a Yankees game when she was a teenager. It’s funny how life works like that.

“You deserve all of it and more, kid,” David whispers as he leans down to kiss her forehead. “Tell Killian I’ll steal him for a dance later.”

“Oh, I promise you he’ll somehow find you first.”

David lets go of her hands, and Emma maneuvers away from the dance floor to go get Killian. He’s still talking to Will and Belle, and when she walks up to him, he hands her the glass of wine, and she takes a sip while trying to figure out what the hell they’re talking about.

“He fucking misread my signal.”

Never mind. She knows exactly what they’re talking about.

“Scarlet,” Emma sighs, “just for tonight, let it go. You and Robin can keep having your lovers spat tomorrow when I am not in the country to hear about it.”

“I have an international plan. I can still call you.”

“He is not going to call you,” Belle promises. “I will make sure of it.”

“I know he still will, but maybe I won’t answer.”

“And after all the nice things I said about you today.”

“What nice things did you say about me today?”

“I said you looked beautiful and that you are definitely Killian’s better half.”

Emma smiles into her glass and glances over at Killian. He is simply shaking his head.

“That was last night,” Emma tells Will, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Emma,” Lucy interrupts, tugging on Emma’s elbow. She’s miraculously still got no stains on her dress, but her flower crown is a little worse for the wear. “Anna says that we can throw the confetti soon.”

“Yeah? Did she tell you what time, kid?”

“In thirty minutes.”

“Well, I will be sure to be ready for you to throw the confetti at me in thirty minutes, okay? Make sure to get a little on your uncle.”

“That’s what Daddy said too.”

“Hey,” Killian grumbles, “tell your father he can – ”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Emma laughs, turning back to Killian. “Do you think we can get Ariel to pilfer us a few more bags of this popcorn and send them home with us before we leave?”

“I’ve already had it arranged.”

“Ah, you’re knocking it out of the ballpark already, babe.”

“I see the awful sports-related puns never stop.”

“Never.”

Emma’s not really sure where the time goes. One minute she’s talking to Killian, and then the next she’s being pulled away by Ruby and Mary Margaret for some pictures. Then there’s another bite of cake and half a glass of water, and she somehow talks to everyone she knows in half an hour before they’re all throwing little pieces of confetti up in the air as she and Killian walk down a hallway on their way to the car that’s going to take them back to the hotel they’re staying in tonight.

Even the ride to the hotel seems to go in the blink of an eye, like they’re carefully putting a seatbelt over her dress one minute and then trying to figure out how to get her out of the car without the material dragging against the concrete the next.

Time does seem to slow, though, when they get inside the room and Emma can feel Killian’s lips against her neck. They’re warm, much like he is, and a shiver runs down her spine until it settles deep in her belly so that she can have some of Killian’s warmth as well.

It seems to be never-ending.

“On the side, you said?” Killian whispers against her skin.

“What?”

“Your zipper? Where is your zipper?”

“Oh,” Emma laughs, craning her head back against the door, “yeah, it’s on the side. Don’t yank on it. We don’t want a pearl disaster in here.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Emma’s chest heaves with want and with laughter, and it makes it difficult for Killian to get her zipper down. There was some kind of complicated part, and she ends up helping him, cursing under her breath when it gets stuck before they both get it down.

Team works makes the dream work and all that.

She really has to stop with the sports puns tonight, but her brain seems to always have them now.

Consequences of her job and her husband’s job, she guesses.

After her dress is finally off and carefully draped over a chair, they easily get Killian’s tux off, Emma’s fingers fumbling with the few buttons that are remaining before she tugs his pants down so that everything is resting on the floor. The bed is soft when she lands against it, but she really doesn’t have that much time to think about it when Killian’s head is suddenly between her thighs and she’s reduced to having no thoughts at all.

Damn, he’s good at that.

He’s also good when he sinks into her, warm and steady, and his hands interlace with her above their heads. It’s a gentle rhythm, loving and slow, and she savors the push and the pull, the give and the take, the want and the need.

The way that they fit together in some kind of far too cheesy, puzzle-like kind of way.

And tonight, there’s no added meaning to the way Killian thrusts into her. It’s the same as it almost always is, as it was when they first got together, when they fell in love, when they got married for real. It’s got her gulping for air as Killian kisses her and her hands squeezing his to hold onto the feeling of him for as long as she possibly can.

They’ve got forever, though, so maybe she doesn’t have to hold on too tightly.

Then again, why wouldn’t she when this is everything she never allowed herself to wish for?

-/-

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