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mrvdocks · 4 years

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Is This Love?

- It had to be that fateful day that you two stumbled into his spree. The day that would mentally fuck with you forever. - Spree AU

♫ - The thinking you’re the better man The danger I don't I understand

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Blood, language, some attraction to a serial murderer, standard final girl

pic credit: @pinkresources

You don’t know where everything went wrong. Things just went downhill so fast that you barely had a chance to even blink.

Yet here you were, covered in who you thought was your best friend’s blood, a giddy Kurt, and a million people watching.

This couldn’t be the same sweet unassuming guy you’d met before, right?

Everything about him was off now. His tone, his style, his demeanor. Maybe you chose not to see the undertones of insanity to him. Because you were just as alone as he was in the end.

Looking back now, he was definitely stalking his prey. Whether that was you or her, whoever gave him the most leverage and made him a household name. A name to either be feared or admired.

It had to be that fateful day that you two stumbled into his spree. The day that would mentally fuck with you forever.

It was supposed to be a normal day, just get your friend, in and out of some of her busiest and various interviews. You were her assistant, even if she tried to coin it some other term or just called you her friend, plain and simple.

Your pairing made you feel somewhat self conscious. Here she was, pretty, leggy, adored by fans online, the facade she had constructed for herself when in reality she was just manipulative and vindictive. This definitely wasn’t the crowd you wanted to work with, alas here you were.

“Remind me what we’re doing.” She said, eyes still completely glued to the phone.

“Variety wanted that challenge video with you.”

“Perfect, now,’ she took her eyes off of the screen and paused her typing. “Where’s the car?”

“What car?”

She rolled her eyes, “Those shitheads didn’t get me a car? How do they expect us to get there, walking?”

Sometimes you wondered how she made it this far. Probably because everyone wanted to be used by her.

“Relax, I’ll just order a ride again.” You whipped out your phone, picking a red app out of the hundreds of others that caught your eye.

“Relax? Do you know how hard it is for me? I could be in the Maldives by now but no you told me to do this stupid interview because you’re poor.”

The insult didn’t exactly sting you as much as it would’ve a year ago. As a media graduate you thought you’d be working within the big leagues, not with a prissy and bitchy vlogger who wanted everything at the drop of a hat.

Plus this interview came with some big bucks and if you could manage to nail this without fail, you could quit the very next day.

“Sorry, look, it’s just today and then tomorrow you can go out and do whatever you want.”

She whines, eyes back onto her phone and tweeting about her hardships. While the princess waited you kept an eye on passing cars, anything that would match the one on your screen.

A car pulls up in front of you both, the windows of the passenger seat rolling down to greet you.

“Kurt, right?”

He nods with a smirk, definitely inviting you in but also reminding you of someone. You make your way to the backseat, but are pushed aside as your friend takes her place in the middle of the row. You laugh nervously, glancing at Kurt as you take the passenger seat.

“What’s with all these cameras? Are you like in a reality show?” Your friend blurts out, prompting Kurt to glance at her.

“It’s just for safety. Wait are you - oh my god you are!” Kurt gushes, making the connection of the celebrity in his backseat.

Your friend flashes her pearly whites at Kurt, loving to be the center of attention.

“No way. Bobby is not gonna believe this.” He beams.

You can feel it’s almost time to dissociate in order to get through this ride.

Kurt turns his phone over to the right, capturing your friend’s image a little better. The comments pop one after the other at rapid speed. You can’t read it but you can tell by Kurt’s face whoever is commenting is in disbelief.

“My friend Bobby is obsessed with you, he always says he would make a sex tape with you.”

You cringe at the thought and at the sudden robot voice erupting from Kurt’s phone exclaiming that Julia take her top off. It doesn’t seem to faze her though, she lives for it.

“Hey has anyone told you, you look exactly like that guy from Stranger Things?” Julia laughs, You’re unsure if it’s supposed to be a jab or an actual compliment for Kurt.

Kurt’s smile drops, it’s something he got a lot as a tease from Bobby. How he looked like him but didn’t quite have his suave and lovable demeanor. If anything he was the complete opposite, pathetic.

“A bit.” He waves the thought away, and as soon as your friend begins to take pictures of herself, he begins speaking rapidly.

“If you post anything, make sure to tag me I’m KurtsWorld 96. Follow for follow.” He beams, as if this is something he normally does.

Ohhhhhh boy. This is just a twitter bot in a boy’s body isn’t it.

Your friend just giggles to herself, completely ignoring his plea for fame.

“See, I would love to do that. But my friend has to do like some background check or whatever. No hard feelings though, ‘kay?” With that she’s back to her own bubble.

It’s you who’s on the spotlight now though and you mentally curse her out for it.

“Really?” Kurt glances at you and you can read him just like all the other fans. The hopefulness in his eyes.

“I mean if you need to check out my stuff I don’t mind at all. In fact, that’s why I have all these cameras set up.”

“I thought they were for protection.”

Kurt chuckles, “That too, but I mean when stuff like this happens you have to document it, right? Gotta let everyone know what you’re doing all the time.”

The extreme level of desperation from Kurt almost scares you. You’ve seen this before, you were this before. His problem is he doesn’t have a Julia.

You nod, smiling easily.

“After all, we’re only as good as our last performance.” Kurt says suddenly.

You do a double take.

There’s a familiarity to what he says. You’ve seen or heard it somewhere before. Something only known to you in private.

Your brows furrow as you both look at each other. There’s a certain tension between you now, you get goosebumps from the way he looks at you. The feeling in the pit of your stomach confuses you.

The times he glances at you in silence just to raise his brows or to do some facial quirk to make you laugh feel pleasant.

You watch him intently, the way his fingers grip the wheel, the way his hair could use just a touch of hydration, the way the corners of his lips lift into a smirk.

Julia doesn’t notice the eye fucking at all, not surprising.

The later half of the ride consisted mostly of just Kurt talking about something he was planning and that if you two were interested he would love to have both of you back.

Julia, though always eager to have a camera shoved in her face, surprisingly declines because Kurt just doesn’t seem like he’d suit her brand. You feel the embarrassment for him and want to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

Your prayers are answered and the minute you see Kurt brake, you rush out just as your friend holds up a finger for you to wait. Kurt offers her a water bottle which she takes happily because it’s “free”. You wait but he offers you none.

She takes small sips and then crams it into her bag.

Kurt simpers, but you don’t know what exactly is in the bottle, yet.

“Thanks, Kurt.” You can’t help but meet his gaze. It’s not desperate anymore, no. It’s almost.....darker.

“My pleasure.”

You both rush into the building, Julia forgetting about him already. But he sits in your mind the entire time.

Julia cries as she doubles over in pain, her hand basically gripping yours for dear life as she coughs up blood. She had left the interview early due to a stomach ache but you’d never seen anything so severe.

“Julia, okay listen to me, we have to get you to the hospital.”

She shakes her head, hurling crimson onto your shirt and hands.

“Julia! You need help, we need to go!” You yelled adamantly.

She wasn’t like this until the car ride with Kurt.

You sprang into action, going back to your phone and putting in Kurt’s info to find where he was. The only perk about being an assistant to an influencer, is people will come when you call. And Kurt was sure to come.

You order a ride, and cover up Julia’s face which already is starting to look like something out of a zombie movie. Her face is swelling up and her lips are bleeding.

You take her by the arm and lead her down to an awaiting Kurt, joining her in the backseat.

He looks different. More rugged and somewhat cleaner, he’s changed clothes since the few hours you saw him. Even the car is different, it wasn’t his Prius.

He’s not even fazed by her sudden reaction to the water and instead, the moment you close the door he drives off in the opposite direction.

“Kurt this isn’t the way to the hospital.”

“Oh I know, I’m taking you home.”

“I don’t live this way.” You were beginning to feel the panic rise in you.

He chuckles to himself as if he just made a killer joke. “No, no, my home.”

Your eyes widened. You scan the car filled with cameras. Certainly anyone watching would call the police. You can’t help but freeze, your shaky hands trying to grip Julia as she continues to hurl uncontrollably.

You pass streets you don’t recognize and making contact with drivers is out of the question while you’re paralyzed.

Kurt pulls onto a rocky road, a house completely devoid of light staring back at you. You wish you could scream once he gets out of the car but when he opens the door to your side and helps you with Julia into the house, you’re on autopilot.

“Honestly I’m surprised she made it this long. Everyone else lasted only a few seconds.” He guffaws, completely in awe as if this was some kind of achievement.

You stare at him, in deep thought of who else he’d done this to.

“Why are you doing this? Why - why would you-” the sheer panic in your voice doesn’t seem to affect him.

He dumps Julia onto the couch mindlessly, as if he just came home from a long day of work.

“Because I love you. And I’d do anything for you. And.....I didn’t like the way she was talking to you.”

He faces you now, coming to hold your face in his hands. You don’t recoil yet but shiver at the way his oddly cold fingers feel against your warm flush face.

“How do you -”

“We’re only as good as our last performance.” He echoes from earlier.

It all clicks suddenly. The reason why he didn’t give you a bottle. The comments on her videos defending you. The anonymous messages between you two. It was him all along.

To say that the now dead body next to you while he professed his love to you was very unsettling would be an understatement. Much less it being broadcast to millions of people watching.

“If you loved me you wouldn’t be doing this,” You tried to reason, bringing his hands down to his side.

You liked Kurt. Even if you hadn’t known what his intentions were. But the messages made you feel like someone was on your side. Like he understood you. Now you weren’t sure if the past few weeks even meant anything to him or if he really was just using you to get to Julia.

“You let her walk all over you the same way I let Bobby. But not anymore! You and me, we can be bigger than they ever were.”

“Kurt you’re insane! We have to go now.”

You make a break for the front door, only to be pinned down by Kurt. You struggle but Kurt’s figure hovers over you. Your breath hitches at the sudden closeness of your faces and bodies.

“I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that.” He says grimly.

“Kurt please, I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Look we can - we can leave and go somewhere they won’t find you.”

He scoffs. “Live in anonymity? You know I can’t do that.”

You know you’ve lost the battle right then and there.

You have to appeal to his nature, his blood thirst. You’re quick on your feet because the stench of the blood on your hands is beginning to make your stomach churn.

You crane your head to the side and lean into him, pressing your lips together. He’s frozen for a second, taken aback by your sudden change of heart. He pulls back and stands, leaving you on the floor still.

He’s laughing now, almost manically.

“You love me! See? With everything you and I know, we could be a power couple!”

You stand, watching him as he celebrates prematurely.

The comments on the stream were going crazy. Most of them not believing that your friend or Bobby were dead now. A variety of sounds coming from the phone fill the room and muffle your quick breaths.

You take small strides to him slowly, keeping your eyes on the phone. “You’re right. No one can tell or make us do something we don’t want to anymore.”

He’s coming down from his high, raking his hands through his hair and muttering to himself.

“We have to clean house.” He says, rushing to Julia’s body, grabbing her feet and dragging her to the garage.

You take this moment when his back is to you to run to the door again, flipping the lock open and running as fast as you can out into the freezing air. The adrenaline fuels you. Kurt curses as he drops the body and runs after you.

He lurches forward when he’s close enough, dropping the both of you onto the rocky dirt. You scramble to get up but he takes hold of your head by your hair and brings your head down onto the ground roughly.

You’re disoriented for a moment, unable to see.

“You’re making things harder than they need to be.” He sighs, flipping you over on your back and taking you into his arms in a bridal carry back to the house.

“Please don’t kill me.” You manage out, feeling a stinging pain in your head.

He pouts. “I’m not gonna kill you. I need you.”

He sets you back down onto the pool table in the garage, going back to talk to the millions watching him and you now.

You don’t see what he types but from the looks of it he disagrees severely. “No I’m not going to kill her! She’s the Bonnie to my Clyde.”

If anything, this was going to be Romeo and Juliet. Only you weren’t dying for this.

You feel around for anything on the table with your limited view. A ball, a stick, anything. You grasp a hard triangular shape, gripping it with with the little strength and adrenaline you can muster.

He’s too distracted by what everyone’s saying to notice you behind him, rack high in the air. You yell as you bring the rack down to the nape of his neck, he goes down hard and fast but you’re quicker.

You pounce and straddle him, bringing the rack up again to gain more momentum and aim down at his face.

He’s cries out in pain, hands coming to shield his face. “What are you doing?! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!”

“Sorry babe. Change of plans.” You grit through deep and fast breaths. You get a few more hits in before he seemingly goes limp.

Your chest heaves, trying to get back to normal as you wait with bated breath for any sign of movement from him. You make a move to climb off of him, seeing the phone thrown to the side, still documenting the entirety of what just happened.

You toss aside the rack, crawling to the phone as you read the comments. Things calling for Bobby to come out, some asking if Julia was okay, others insulting Kurt and you. One catches your attention.

Watch out!

You turn in the nick of time, avoiding Kurt’s swing of the rack. You try to crawl away but he grasps your ankle and drags you back. You manage to get a kick in with your other foot, earning you a second or two. Kurt bellows out in pain.

He persists, climbing on top of you to grab your throat firmly. The action and pressure of it is enough for you to abandon the phone and try to pry him off.

“We could’ve been great!” He yells, his bloody face painting yours. You cough roughly, trying to get some air back into your constricting lungs.

You can’t hold him off any longer, and if you don’t get any oxygen, he’ll win his twisted legacy.

Remembering the phone, you let go of his hands and feel around until you are able to grab it firmly and hit him in the eye with it. He falls back and screams in pain.

You’re on top again, taking hold of the collar of his shirt to hold him as you attack with abandon.

“We’re.” Hit.

“Only.” Kurt groans.

“As. Good.” Another dastardly good hit.

“As. Our. Last.” He sputters, choking.

“Performance.” You let a guttural yell rip from your chest as you deliver the final blow. This time he stays down.

The silence rings in your ear long enough to spur you out of the moment. You can hear sirens in the background, not long now. You glance back to your anonymous lover, your hand coming to lift the hair out of his bloody face.

Your fingers linger on his face for a second. You bring the phone to your face and laugh mirthlessly, “Fuck you all.”

You climb off of Kurt, heading to the welcoming breeze of the outside world.

You sit on the porch chair, covered head to toe in a mixture of blood, eyes fluttering shut as the sirens get louder with each second.

You smirk.

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #spree 2020 #spree #not smut but hey at least it's almost sort of realistic within the movie's standards #figured it was better to stick to the final girl aspect

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wistfulcynic · 4 years

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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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