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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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do you have any fics of john flirting with sherlock over text? maybe sherlock being utterly clueless? thank you & and much luv ❤️

Hi Nonny!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhh AGES ago, I did an Epistolary / Texting / Letters fic rec list, back before I had A System™, so it’s a bit messy but it is there :) I don’t have a lot of new ones to add to it, BUT I decided I would pull all the Texting fics from that list since I now have neater organization with tags and Chapters, and then just add my NEW fics onto that one, how about that? Would that be okay? It wouldn’t be specifically just flirting, but I think that the list is long overdue anyway!! Hope you like something on this one, and I’ll TRY to tag the flirting fics WITH flirting so that you can pick them out :)

And as always, add your own fics, Lovelies!! <3

TEXTING AND SEXTING (JULY 2020)

See also:

Epistolary / Texting / Letters (My List, 2017)

First Meeting Via Internet / Phone / Letters (Mine)

Phone Sex & Texting (Alexx’s List)

Wrong Number Texting (Alexx’s List)

They Met Online or Texting (Alexx’s List)

Message Not Sent by Queerasil (K, 762 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, One-Sided Texting, Pining Sherlock) - Sherlock texts John after the fall and during the hiatus. The messages are sent, but never received. Sequel to WORDLOCKED, TSTM, and Wait, How Do You Play This Game Again?

Texts and Tea by JillianWatson1058 (K, 959 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Texting, Humour, Fluff, POV John, Cranky John) – A John who is woken up at 2:30 in the morning is not a happy John. Sherlock, frankly, doesn’t care. He just wants his tea.

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony

Yorkshire Gold by Tammany Tiger (K, 1,467 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Holmes Brothers, Open Ending, Grief, Implied Bondlock) – Mycroft may not mourn Sherlock's death-but even if he knows his brother lives, he's not without his own grief. It ain't easy being The British Government. But at least he's got good help. Set between the Fall and the Return.

Text Me When It's Over by immaculately-flawed (K+, 1,937 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Post-TRF, Texting, Sort-Of Pining Sherlock) – After the fall Sherlock starts writing texts to John. Of course, he never sends them... Until he does by accident. Post Reichenbach fic but not angsty.

Denial Isn’t Just a River in Egypt by satanatemycat (T, 2,107 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Texting, Bored/Cranky Sherlock) – In which John makes a bet with a co-worker. If he wins, she shuts up about him and Sherlock being a couple. If he loses… well, that doesn’t matter, because he won’t lose. Because he and Sherlock ARE NOT a couple. Right?

The Art Of Communication by StillWaters1 (T, 2,679 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, H/C) – Lestrade was used to getting odd, non sequitur texts from Sherlock. But when "John went out for milk" was followed by a terse "two hours ago," Lestrade immediately understood three things: John was missing, Sherlock was quietly panicking, and this could all end very, very badly.

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

The Sweetest Taste In The World by crossroads (G, 3,121 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Fluff, Pining, Friends to Lovers) – The sweetest taste in the world is rarely ever the easiest to come by.

Entanglement by orphan_account (G, 3,218 w., 1 Ch. || Confessions, Physics, Metaphors, Texting, Pining, Christmas, Mind Palace, Sick Fic, Fluff, Humour, Praise Kink) - On Christmas Eve, snow covers London, John visits Harry, and Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson untangle some knots.

Come home. by hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles) (E, 3,763 w., 1 Ch. || Texting / Sexting, Lonely Sherlock, Nude Photos, Pining, Fluff & Smut) – When John leaves for a medical conference, Sherlock tries to entice him back home.

Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3,772 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Vulnerable Sherlock, Wedding Anniversary, Anal, Texting, Lingerie) – John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, First Person Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6,090 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Clueless Sherlock, Sexting/Texting) – Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John's lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to receive pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w., 5 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

Bread and Wine and Curry Once a Week by cwb (E, 8,737 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Stroppy Sherlock, Love Letters, POV John) – Sherlock asks John for relationship advice. Little does he know that it’s him that Sherlock is in love with.

A Building of Bridges by Unique (K, 12,325 w., 3 Ch. || Drama, Alternate First Meeting, John’s PTSD / Flashbacks, Mute John, Dialogue-Heavy, Caring Sherlock, Friendship) – No one would ever send Sherlock in to diffuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that's exactly what happened. "Congratulations, Lestrade," he called out sarcastically. "You're traumatizing a war veteran."

A Brand of Gold by aquabelacqua (M, 12,757 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, POV John, Phone Sex, Texting, Masturbation, Long Distance, Drunk Texting) – What am I doing? he wondered. The answer came back at once: Flirting. He let the vital, missing piece snap into place as surely and as cleanly as if it had always been there. He was flirting with Sherlock Holmes.

Traitor's Gate by roane (E, 17,714 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mystery, Bets and Wagers, Undercover for a Case, BAMF John, Scientist Sherlock, Teasing, Established Relationship, Military Base, Sexting/Texting, Military/Uniform Kink, Frottage, Dirty Sex, Anal, Bottomlock) – John and Sherlock go undercover at a top secret government lab to find out who is selling research. John is back in uniform and Sherlock is back in a laboratory, but they have to pose as strangers. Sherlock thinks he'll have an easy time of it, but John has his doubts. It's up to them to find out who is responsible for putting a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, and try to keep their hands off each other at the same time.

The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., 13 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Texting, Humour, Post-TRF, Awkward Romance, Idiots in Love) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

A Study In Auto-Signatures, Sniper Dolphins, and Sex Holidays by cwb (E, 32,689 w., 8 Ch. || Case Fic, Post S3, Evil Mary, Dev. Rel., Beach Holidays, Confused Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Honeymoon, Epistolary, Bottomlock, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Secret Agents, BAMF!John) – John and Mary go on their sex holiday, and Sherlock is grumpy and pining about it. Part 1 of HOT DOLPHIN SEX

A Week is Just Seven Days Isn't It? by scifigrl47 (T, 39,906 w., 4 Ch. || Humour, Friendship/Bromance, Stroppy/Bored Sherlock, Undercover/Army John, Texting, Pining-ish Sherlock, John Whump) – When John heads overseas for a week, Sherlock's forced to fend for himself. It goes about as well as anyone could have anticipated. Which is to say, very, very poorly. Don't worry, things'll be fine in just seven days.

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #texting and sexting #my fic recs #Anonymous

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

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I was just about to go to sleep and you posted MTW c12 so I abandoned my sleep and read it (cuz sleep is for the weak). And oh boi that was a lot of whump. I was torn between “oh no my poor babies” and “oh god this is so much torture I love it” lmao. We finally got to see some steamy action and cut the damn THICK sexual tension. But the more I think about it the worse the future seems. Amazing work and I’m even more scared to see how this will end. Luv u~

I feel like people are starting to panic a little about how the story ends because we’ve built up all these intense emotions/moments, so let me tell you with no spoilers—

The story doesn’t end when Cable comes back. In fact, I’ve got ten chapters planned for AFTER he shows up, and those chapters get a little longer every time I work on the outline.

Cable coming back is just the big turning point of the story, I wouldn’t even call it the climax, it’s just The Big Thing that sort of kickstarts the last third of the book!

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icecubelotr44 · 6 years

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Clear and Present Danger (3/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,250 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER THREE: Reasonable Suspicion

Killian’s ears were still ringing from the blow the woman had landed across his jaw. His lungs had only just started working again and he was sure that there would be bruises to hide from Liam in the morning. To say that she’d taken him by surprise was an understatement. He watched her carefully, the glint of the sun on the metal in her hand enough to keep him on edge.

“Gold… murdered someone,” Emma repeated, playing idly with the blade. It wasn’t a question, but Killian nodded reluctantly anyway.

“I… I can’t prove it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his frustration at that before he continued. “Yet. The bloody crocodile was in the station when it happened and everything I’ve turned up is dead ends. But I know he was responsible. I know he killed her. And if you’re here to investigate him, then-”

“How do you know that I’m investigating him?” she asked, and he could hear the suspicion dripping off every word.

Killian shrugged. “You weren’t doing much to hide it. And there’s not much else going on in the office other than Gold’s hubris, lass. Not that would draw IA’s attention, anyway. But I meant what I said, you can’t trust Isaac. He’s so far into Gold’s pocket that I’m pretty sure they’re wearing the same pants.”

The woman nodded. “I figured that out for myself, thanks.”

“Oh, you’re a tough lass.” Killian was thrilled to see her finally fold up the knife and stuff it into a pocket. “May I have the pleasure of your name now, Miss...?”

“Detective Swan,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Emma.”

Killian took her hand and, ignoring the widening of her eyes in surprise, pulled it up to kiss her knuckles in a show of exaggerated chivalry.

“Pleased to meet you, Swan,” he said over her knuckles, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. “I think we’re going to make quite the team.”

She scoffed. “Who said I was going to work with you?”

“The way I see it, we’re looking for the same thing. We can either keep working separately, or” - he shrugged again, still refusing to let go of her hand - “we can pool our resources. Put Gold and whoever’s making it so easy for him to sit pretty in that office behind bars.”

Emma smiled sweetly, drawing a grin from him that he couldn’t help, before she struck, twisting his grip around until she had him shoved face first against the brick.

“Bloody-”

“Let’s get one thing straight, buddy,” she interrupted his cursing. “Your charm might work on someone else, but not me. You give me what you have on Gold and maybe… maybe I’ll think about keeping you in the loop. But I’m not going to just trust you because you say so. For all I know, you’re just as far into Gold’s pocket as your buddy Isaac.”

“I’d never be caught dead working with him,” Killian muttered against the wall, chagrined to realize that she had him completely incapacitated. “We’re on the same side, luv.”

“Not your love. You can call me Detective.” She released him as quickly as she’d restrained him, stepping back and glaring before he could even turn around. She was strong, she was guarded, and she was dangerous. But she wanted Gold behind bars and he’d worked with less in the past.

“Detective,” he allowed with a nod, “I think we can help each other. And you could use someone on the inside, yeah?”

He could see her mulling it over, the indecision written on her face as clearly as words on a page. There was something about her, despite the knife she’d pulled on him. He knew her job wasn’t easy, knew that the majority of their colleagues would rather vilify her than praise her for taking an impossible job and making it hers. But there was more than that hiding in the depths of her eyes. A deeper hurt that resonated with him. She had the look of someone who’d been thrown away like garbage and it made Killian all the more grateful to remember that Liam had always been there for him.

Even if he was going to take the long way home to avoid the Spanish Inquisition and resultant mollycoddling that was going to come the second Liam saw the bruise forming on his chin.

Her eyes narrowed, searching him, and Killian waited for her to make a decision.

He smiled in triumph a moment before she sighed. “I don’t like working with partners, Jones.”

Killian waited. She was going to let him help, he just had to be patient and not push it.

“But you’re right” - it sounded as if it cost her something to admit that - “that it wouldn’t hurt to have a set of eyes and ears that your coworkers wouldn’t expect. We do this my way, got it?”

“Of course, Swan. You’re in charge.” Killian held out his hand to shake hers again.

She glanced at it. “I’m not going to kiss your knuckles, you know.”

His answering grin was so wide that his cheeks hurt., but Emma didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones. Watch your back, all right?”

“I’ve got plenty of people in my corner who will do that for me, lass. Keep your eyes up, yeah?”

Killian thought he heard her mutter, “Must be nice,” before she disappeared around the corner. He nodded to himself, turning back to the main road and heading towards the subway station. There was a kernel of hope that hadn’t been there before, a tendril of possibility that Killian wanted to grab onto with both hands and tug. He wasn’t the only one anymore, the only one who saw Gold as more than just an untouchable and necessary evil. Still, they’d have to tread lightly. Gold wouldn’t hesitate to take them down to keep himself safe.

“Jones?” Locksley called, pulling Killian out of his thoughts. “What are you doing down here, mate? Get lost?”

Killian knew he was joking - mostly - but he could hear the worry in his tone. “Aye mate, thought I parked the Benz down here.” He managed to keep a straight face long enough for Robin’s hand to twitch towards the phone on his belt.

“Bugger off!” Robin spat when the grin on Killian’s face gave away the joke.

Killian sobered immediately at Locksley’s tone. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, moving out of the alley to catch up with his partner.

Robin glared at him before walking towards the subway station. “We were all worried, you know. You woke up in the ER and you didn’t know Liam.”

What?

Killian whipped his head around to catch Robin’s eye and he grabbed his partner’s arm when Locksley wouldn’t even look at him.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Robin grumbled.

Some of Liam’s hovering over the past few weeks started to make more sense. His brother could give the fiercest mama bear a run for her money on a good day, so Killian hadn’t thought too much about it. He couldn’t have named the emotion half-hidden in Liam’s eyes every time he’d fussed over Killian, not then. But he also didn’t remember much between seeing Hades in the alley and waking up to Liam’s mother henning in the hospital room he’d suffered through forty-eight hours of observation with ill disguised grace.

Maybe not so much on the ‘disguised’ end of the spectrum.

“I don’t remember that,” he muttered when Robin’s concerned stare went on too long.

His partner nodded. “We figured as much. And Liam said not to say anything when you woke up again and everything had seemed to settle.”

“Of course he did,” Killian mumbled under his breath amidst a sigh.

Fear. That was what Liam had been trying in vain to suppress. Killian had scared him again. While he remembered only a knock to the head, Liam had been forced to wait for him to wake up, not knowing if he’d remember his own brother when he did.

There had been plenty of scares in their careers - they were both police officers, after all - and injuries were par for the course. Both he and Liam had spent their share of sleepless nights at their brother’s bedside and the fear that came with that was all-encompassing, but mostly fleeting. It had to be, or they’d never get back out on the streets.

But Killian remembered when Liam had woken up shaking and couldn’t stop - not quite seizing, but close enough to send a tendril of pure terror coursing through him. He remembered how close he had stayed those first few weeks as the neurotoxin settled in Liam’s bloodstream and allowed him to resume most of his daily activities. He remembered that fear. That was what Liam had been dealing with over the last couple weeks as Killian recovered. The unknown quantity.

Didn’t mean that Killian wasn’t going to find a way to exact revenge for the super glue, though. It wouldn’t do to let Liam - and by extension, David - think they could get away with nonsense like that just because they were ‘older and wiser’ as it were.

He and Robin parted ways at the corner, the bustle of the city at rush hour serving to make the headache that Swan had exacerbated even worse. It would be sheer luck if Liam didn’t take one look at him and blow a gasket. He recalled a scene in one of the Harry Potter movies where Harry had been locked in his bedroom - it didn’t take too much of an imagination to picture Liam trying the same tactic.

Swan occupied his thoughts on the ride home, their two brief interactions playing on a loop as he pondered over her - who was she really? What made her tick? Why had she chosen to go into Internal Affairs? She was clearly tough enough to be on the streets and he didn’t think that outside perceptions of her would have swayed her away from a beat patrol before moving up the ranks.

What does she have on Gold?

Killian hadn’t been this intrigued by a woman since the day he’d first set eyes on Milah. He’d been sitting alone in Finnegan’s Tavern, a bottle of Sam Adams forgotten on the table in front of him and his brother off in another corner of the bar getting them something to eat. She’d been stunning to look at, sitting by herself as well and nursing a glass of wine as sharp eyes darted around the room. Her curls falling loose over her back, the lost look in her eyes, all of it intrigued him and he wanted to know more.

It hadn’t taken long for Killian to forget that Liam was even there with him; he’d approached her and been regretfully turned down that evening, but she hadn’t left his thoughts. Who was she and why did she look so sad?

Every minute with her was a gift - and Gold had torn it from his grasping fingers. She’d been Killian’s for a few precious-

“What the bloody hell happened?” The voice broke through his musings.

Killian sighed audibly. As expected, he’d barely managed to get the door open before Liam had pounced on him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if only in deference to the headache, and waited for the inevitable inspection.

“You’re supposed to be on deskwork!” Liam stomped through the kitchen, reaching out to turn Killian’s head closer to the light. Killian hadn’t seen the bruise yet, but he could feel it - blood pooling hot and pulsing just under the skin of his jaw, a stark reminder of what it was to be on Emma Swan’s bad side. Liam poked at the bruise, drawing a hushed grunt of pain and - if possible - the frown on his brother’s face deepened to new levels.

Mindful of what Robin had let slip, Killian tolerated the inspection as patiently as he could manage, for as long as he could manage. It didn’t take too long before he was batting Liam’s prodding fingers away anyway. “It’s fine, brother. I spent the entire bloody day sitting at my desk twiddling my thumbs like a good boy, all right?”

The smirk on Liam’s face flashed for only an instant before it was hidden behind a mask, but Killian didn’t miss it. He glared and pointedly didn’t mention the super glue nor the fact that he likely still smelled like nail polish remover. He just wanted a shower and some ibuprofen and something to drink.

“So how’d you get the bruise then?” Liam asked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to poke and prod at it some more.

Killian moved safely out of reach before he snarked back. “I was attacked by a Swan on my way home. It took us awhile to come to an understanding.”

Liam just blinked. Killian waited just long enough to see the confusion start to turn to concern before he cracked a smile, waving his brother off and rooting through the fridge for a drink. The shower would have to wait until Liam was satisfied, but at least he could get rid of the cottony feeling in his mouth.

“Killian!”

He sighed. “Relax, brother. I’m fine. There’s an IA officer looking into Gold. She and I… we didn’t get off on the right foot, so when I went to try again…” he trailed off, waving over his jaw.

Liam snickered, a look on his face that left Killian’s ears red. “I assume you put things right, little brother?”

“Younger, Liam,” he whined, cringing a little at how petulant he sounded. It wasn’t a new argument and, truth be told, it wasn’t one Killian ever expected to win. He didn’t even mind too much when Liam didn’t acknowledge the ‘correct’ moniker as he moved to pull dinner out of the oven. It would be all too easy to make a remark about him becoming a good housewife and Killian patted himself on the back for not giving in to the temptation.

It was a close call, but he’d plan something better in retaliation for his desk.

Emma sunk into the steaming bath water with an audible sigh. She’d left the light off, several candles burning away merrily and filling the small room with soothing scents. There was a glass of wine on the bath caddy and a book lying face down that she only sort of intended to read. It didn’t take too long for the heat to seep into Emma’s muscles and she relaxed into a boneless heap in the water. However much she had intended to leave work at work, she couldn’t get that interaction with Jones out of her head. She had no reason to feel bad; he’d been sneaking up on her, she had plenty of experience with loyal cops showing her how they felt about her investigations, he’d been sneaking up on her.

And yet.

Killian Jones was far more than a pretty face. If he was telling her the truth, he’d been grievously wronged by Gold and could be a valuable asset in her investigation. The key was to get in and get out without getting attached. He was a tool in her arsenal, nothing more. His sarcastic quips and the over-the-top chivalry weren’t going to change anything - she was at the precinct to do a job and that was it.

Bringing someone like Gold to justice would more than make her career. It would make the other detectives start to take her seriously, a woman in a man’s world. She would love nothing more than to wipe the indulgent smirks off the faces of the men in her office. It might be nice to be able to peek out of the armor a little bit. Occasionally.

The water slowly cooled and her glass ran dry, but Emma still lingered in the half haze of sleep that she’d slipped into. It was simple here, in the sanctuary of her apartment, away from all the drama and the politics and the intrigue of her cases and her interoffice relationships. She didn’t have to hide behind the mask she’d crafted or question every interaction she had. Here, there was just her and the safety of her loneliness.

When the water was finally a few degrees too cold to be comfortable, Emma stood and wrapped herself in a towel. She tried not to bring her work home with her; it was hard enough to deal with it during work hours. But with the addition of Jones to her arsenal - and her constant thoughts, it seemed - she’d have to come up with a new plan of attack. Emma wasn’t used to having to consider another person on her side in her investigations. They’d tried to rope her into working with a partner before but it never stuck. They were too inept or she was too prickly, too stubborn, too set in her ways to listen to their ideas.

It was better if she worked alone, that was all there was to it.

Over the next few days, Emma did what Emma did best: she ignored Killian Jones completely. She had plenty of interviews to conduct and spent half of her time driving across the state to follow up with the men and women Gold had put behind bars as well as some he hadn’t. They all had precisely the same thing to say about him.

Absolutely nothing.

Emma didn’t need her ‘super power’ to tell that they were - to the very last man - terrified to speak out against Gold. Someone had gotten to them before her and had bought their silence. It left her irritable and exhausted, unwilling to play the game when Isaac cornered her in the bullpen to “see what she needed.”

She needed to punch someone in the face.

As it was, putting her fist across Isaac’s jaw probably wouldn’t do anything but get her suspended and put the investigation that much further behind. Instead, she plastered on a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough to pass muster and asked for another batch of files that had nothing to do with Gold or the charges against him, hoping that the little weasel would run back to his master and crow about her apparent ineptitude. She’d have to steer the investigation formally towards Gold at some point, but she needed something concrete to go on before then. All she had right now were allegations and rumors that were - so far - unfounded. Emma didn’t believe for a moment that the accusations listed in her file were false, but she needed to find some kind of evidence. Even the evidence from the investigation into Milah Gold was hazy at best and - as Jones had said - didn’t point to Gold’s involvement at all.

The case had, very pointedly in fact, implicated Killian Jones in her murder. Even if Emma hadn’t heard it in his voice the day she’d nearly knocked him out in that alley, she was no longer uncertain about how much Jones had loved Milah. It was written all over the interrogations, the track the evidence had taken, in every entry from the detective who’d investigated. Killian had been cleared quickly - which surprised Emma given Gold’s power - but the damage must have been done.

The problem was, it was all too clean. There was no way that the woman’s brake lines had been cut and no one had been spotted near her car in the police station’s parking garage. The video surveillance gave Emma - and anyone else who had investigated, namely K. Jones on a near-weekly schedule - a perfect view of Milah’s car. Emma watched as the woman got out of the vehicle and walked out of frame, then stared at nothing of note for the half hour she’d been gone, and finally saw her come back to her car and drive away.

All of it was too clean. Every case that Gold had closed, every murderer that he’d convicted, on paper they were all perfectly by the book. Every ‘i’ was dotted and every ‘t’ was crossed. On paper, there was no reason to suspect that he’d ever stepped a toe across the line. But all it took was one look at him to know that he was dirty. All it took was one readthrough of the case file that had been compiled to get the sick feeling in her stomach. Gold needed to be tried for his crimes and, hopefully, the evidence against him would be compelling enough that not even whoever was backing him would come out with their hands clean.

That was Emma’s job, and she looked forward to the end results. She did not, however, enjoy the monotony that came with trying to keep her investigation under wraps. She had Isaac pull Jones’s case files today, trying to get a glimpse into the lieutenant’s process in attempts to understand him better. The mole at her side grinned snidely when he’d commented that it was only a matter of time before Jones was investigated.

“His promotion was a little too convenient,” he crowed before elbowing her in the side in apparent camaraderie, “if you know what I mean.”

Emma stepped pointedly away and resisted the urge to roll her shoulder and stretch where he’d impacted her ribs. Instead, she smiled in feigned interest and cocked her head to the side. “Oh, really?” she asked, hoping Isaac would latch on to the ruse.

He did.

“Oh yes, I could tell you all about Lieutenant Jones and how he came to be in our humble department. Did you know that he was still on patrol just over a year ago?”

She hadn’t.

“Captain Gold requested that his promotion track be accelerated personally. I’ve never understood it, of course. Jones is nothing but a problem. The captain tolerates him, but if you ask me, there’s something fishy about it, because the two of them… well, to say they’re like cats and dogs would be insulting to those poor animals. And yet…” Isaac trailed off meaningfully, his eyes tracking across the bullpen to where Jones had just entered. Instead of finishing his statement, he just shrugged as if the lieutenant’s presence was answer enough.

It didn’t make any sense. From what she could tell, Jones was a Boy Scout. She wouldn’t be surprised to find an Eagle Scout award in his history. She’d known there was no way that he was being backed by Gold - even before she knew what she did about his history with the captain’s former wife. But the mysterious benefactor… Emma didn’t know anything about him. Yet. It was possible that Gold was just an unfortunate middle man, or that they were both trying to force Jones into a position where he couldn’t get free of them. It was possible, she supposed, that Jones was in on the whole thing and was playing her to get information.

Even as she thought it, the voice inside her head laughed at her. No, Jones wasn’t involved with Gold or his backer. If he was, then she would turn in her badge and gun and take up a job at the local Walmart. Emma wasn’t good at people, but she was good at reading them. It made her successful as a detective and horrible to play poker against, but she’d take the former over the latter any time. A cop who couldn’t trust her gut was a dead cop and Emma liked breathing too much not to hone that skill.

Emma focused on Isaac’s retreating back as he headed for the file room - now he was definitely working for Gold, and not in the official capacity. She’d do anything to have him far away from her and her investigation, if only for the drop in stress that would entail.

She almost missed the note on her desk, tucked away under the file marked K. Jones that she’d purposely left out. Who had been near her desk? And what did they want?

Atlantis Marina, 8pm tonight.

It’ll be worth it.

Emma supposed she’d have to go to the marina to find out. She wasn’t naive, but she wasn’t cautious by nature, either. She would, however, be there well before eight in order to get the lay of the land.

Emma worked for a few more hours, digging into Killian’s past just in case her gut was wrong. She finally dug past the insubordination claims that Gold seemed to file on a regular basis and burrowed deep enough into his file to find a redacted report of drunk and disorderly conduct that had never been closed or prosecuted. Further digging, however, revealed that the date of the report coincided with the date of Milah Gold’s funeral, so Emma put it out of her mind. If the man needed a little bit of liquid courage to say goodbye to a woman he clearly loved, then who was she to judge him?

Five o’clock came all too suddenly and Emma locked up the files she didn’t plan on taking home with her before signing out the ones she did. With evening traffic, it could take twenty minutes or it could take forever to get to the marina, and she wanted plenty of time to walk the perimeter and see if she could get an upper hand on whoever had left the note for her. At the very least, she wanted escape routes and a good vantage point of the entrance before whoever planned on meeting her showed up. Emma texted the address to Ruby and Dorothy in case she needed back up, but declined their offer to come down and stake out the place. She had a sneaking suspicion as to whose handwriting that had been, and didn’t think she’d need any of the precautions she was taking.

But Emma had been burned before.

The marina was well maintained. The lights in the parking area and along the docks provided very few shadows that someone could ambush her from and there were men and women in security uniforms patrolling the docks at random intervals. Emma found that she already had a reserved parking space in the guest lot, and the attendant there knew who she was - pointing out that the boat she was looking for was in its slip on B-dock.

The Jolly Roger.

Emma could see it from where she was standing on another dock - she wasn’t entirely sure which dock it was - sitting jauntily in the water and inviting her to come aboard. As if a boat could be jaunty and inviting. There were lights on in the… she thought it was called a cockpit but wouldn’t lay money down on it. But no one was aboard.

It wasn’t new by any means, but it was clearly well cared for. The hull gleamed in the lights and the name on the back was crisp-lettered and pristine. There were a few dings here and there along the hull and the railing, but the metal shined and the windows were streak-free. She had a feeling that whoever owned the boat would be put off by the small imperfections, but was clearly proud of his - or her - ownership.

“You can see her up close, if you like,” Jones’s voice whispered in her ear.

She whirled around, fists up and ready to defend herself. There was a moment of terrifying weightlessness as she stepped back, expecting her foot to impact solid wood and instead finding open air. Emma’s eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught in her throat even as she flailed and caught Killian’s outstretched hands. He pulled her close and Emma latched onto his shoulders, fingers tight in his leather jacket as she tried to convince herself that she was on solid ground again.

“Damnit, Jones!” she shouted in his face. He was terrifyingly close.

He shrugged, the muscles under her fingers bunching with the movement. She realized, a bit belatedly, that she still hadn’t let go of him. Nor he of her. Emma shoved him back, putting enough space in between them that her heart finally started to slow down. It rankled her a bit that he didn’t stumble, just swayed with the push and stood tall.

She glared at him. “I could have fallen in!”

Killian just smirked, something dangerous in his eyes. “That’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You wish, buddy.”

He finally stepped back, although Emma got the feeling he’d have stayed there if he thought he could get away with it. He clasped his hands behind his back, instead, and rocked back on his heels. “I meant what I said, though. You can see her up close, if you like.”

Emma just looked at him in askance.

“You… you did get my note, didn’t you?”

She pulled the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“I signed it,” he explained with a funny little grin, taking the note from her and smoothing it out against his leg. “See?”

Emma looked where he’d turned the paper over, the small caricature of a hook and a swan in the bottom corner. She’d seen the drawing, of course, but she still didn’t understand. She stared at him incredulously, before asking again, “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly sign my own name, could I?” Jones shrugged. “Not with your little shadow combing every piece of paper on your desk at all times. It’s all very cloak and dagger, you see, and who’s better at that than a pirate?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder to the nameplate on the back of Killian’s boat. “You had an unhealthy obsession with Peter Pan as a child, didn’t you?”

“Never liked the little demon,” he replied, matter of fact. “Always thought that Captain Hook was the hero of that fairy tale.”

“Even with the waxed moustache and the perm?”

Killian smirked. “You never read the book, did you? Captain Hook was devilishly handsome, after all. Like me,” he preened a little.

Emma just shook her head. He didn’t need the ego boost - clearly. “So what are we doing here, Jones?”

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention. You’ve been avoiding me, lass.” Killian shrugged. “I thought…”

“We can’t exactly be seen working together,” Emma defended her actions. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

She totally had.

One of Killian’s eyebrows raised pointedly. “You might find this a surprising attribute in a detective, Swan, but I’m actually quite perceptive and this” - he gestured between them - “this is avoiding me.”

Emma nodded in spite of herself. There was no use denying what was painfully obvious anyway. “So… what? You thought you’d lure me here with a mystery and…” she shrugged emphatically, waiting for an explanation.

The tips of Killian’s ears went a little bit pink. “One of the first things my brother taught me after I graduated the academy was to limit the amount of work I brought home with me. I know that with Isaac lurking about you’re probably trying to throw him off and that’s got to be exhausting. I thought that you… that we could use the Jolly as some kind of, I don’t know, an in between or something.”

Emma blinked.

Killian just shrugged. “I want to help, Swan. I need to help put him away. For Milah. For… for me. We can’t exactly advertise that we’re working together, I get that. But I can help you.”

There was a reason Emma didn’t work with a partner. She did her own thing, her own way, on her own terms. The only one who she risked being hurt was her and the only one who was responsible for the outcome of her cases was her. She had worked with someone else a time or two, but not since she’d moved to Internal Affairs; she found it just wasn’t worth it.

But maybe just this once, with a case this big and a willing pawn in Killian Jones, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. The appeal of having someplace away from both prying eyes and her own sanctuary was strong. Part of Emma still balked - she was better off alone, history had shown her that time and time again - but she pushed past it for the sake of her case.

“All right, Jones, let’s see this boat of yours.”

It didn’t take them long to cover the entirety of the aft cabin in paperwork. Liam would have a fit if he decided to take her out for more than a brief afternoon, but seeing Gold’s demise come together piece by piece was worth the strife Killian knew he’d hear about. Emma had already cobbled together a timeline of Gold’s career, listing cases and complaints alike along with his promotions and the men and women he’d promoted himself.

Killian bristled when he saw his own name listed, the blue star next to his name signifying Gold’s personal involvement in the transfer. “Swan, just so you know, this wasn’t… I didn’t…” he trailed off, still looking at his name on the timeline and uncertain how to explain.

Emma slid another paper over the top of that one, this one listing unsolved cases that Gold had sent to the Cold Case division. “You can tell me in your own time,” she allowed with a small smile.

He nodded. Killian couldn’t deny that the promotion had been a bit of grabbing the tiger by the tail. He knew Gold had it out for him, would try his best to make Killian’s life miserable. But Liam and David had already been in Homicide before Milah’s death and Killian had longed for the chance to work beside his brother. Then he’d met Milah and thought that the price he would have to pay for falling for her was his dream of being partnered with Liam. After her murder, he’d stopped caring how he got to Liam’s side, he just knew he couldn’t do it anymore without his brother. Any of it. The transfer had seemed like the universe paying him back - a little - for stealing Milah from him. And then Liam had been injured because of him and now… well, now it was all about taking down Gold. Killian couldn’t deny that he didn’t really care what happened to his career after that.

Or to himself.

Maybe he should take Liam up on that offer to move to the private sector, after all.

“Are you even listening, Jones?” Emma’s annoyed question made him realize she’d been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

He shook his head apologetically, scratching behind one ear and attempting a smirk. He could feel how forced it was and the look on Emma’s face proved that she wasn’t buying it either. “Apologies, lass, I got a bit caught up in my head.”

“I said, it’s getting late and we should probably get out of here. Do we need to pack this up, or…” she looked at him in askance.

Killian shook his head. “No. No one but myself and my brother have keys to the cabins and I’ll let him know that this is all here.” He groaned internally at the idea of telling Liam about all this - the mess and what he was about to do next. Regardless of Liam’s opinion on the matter, however, he reached into his pocket and handed her a keychain with a pirate ship on it.

Emma stared at it for a moment.

“It’s not going to bite you, lass. I just thought that…” he shrugged. “Well, you need access to the cabin and I might not always be able to get you here. Smee is the parking attendant you met earlier; he knows to let you have the guest parking space whenever you’d like it and you’re on the list of approved guests with access to the boat. No one will bother you.”

She finally reached out and snagged the key, turning the little ship over in her hands. “It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Emma asked with a smirk that made the tips of Killian’s ears go hot.

“The appeal of Neverland as a child - an escape where time would stop and I could have all the time in the world to figure out how to get what I wanted - it was intoxicating. I guess it’s never really left me.” He paused and raised one eyebrow. “Although I still think the bloody demon of that island would have made life miserable there.”

Emma laughed, finally putting the key in her pocket after further inspection. She followed him out onto the deck, but didn’t make a move to climb onto the dock again.

“And what did a young Killian Jones want that he couldn’t have?” she asked lightly, a glint of something in her eyes that Killian wanted to understand.

He shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance. That wasn’t a tale he was ready to get into yet. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he deflected instead.

There was a look in Emma’s eyes that told Killian she might just understand what it was he and Liam had been searching for all those years - a home.

“Perhaps I would.”

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

#csbb #cs fic #captain swan fic #cs ff #ouat ff

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icecubelotr44 · 7 years

Text

To Every Thing a Season (8/16)

Summary: After witnessing the tragic murder of his brother Liam, Killian Jones is more determined than ever to discover the secrets of time travel. Fast-tracking his education at Storybrooke University, Killian is assigned a lab assistant, one Emma Swan. Together, they find a way to break through the veil of time so Killian can set things right. But what will be the price for changing the past, and is it one they’re willing to pay?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @optomisticgirl made imagesets for all the chapters and @ab-normality made a video and a gifset for this fic. You can find the imageset for this chapter above and here on @optomisticgirl‘s blog. The video is linked here and on @ab-normality‘s blog here and the gifset is posted here!

Beta readers: The as-always wonderful @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, thanks so much for all of your help and cajoling and reassuring! And a huge thank you to the spectacular @spartanguard who stepped in to help beta read as well!

A/N: Written as part of the 2017 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Thursday from now until its completion. And yes, there is a happy ending after all this… just so you know.

Word count: ~ 5,400 (80K+ Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: ao3 | ffn

Current Chapter: AO3 | FFN

Chapter 8: To Embrace and to Refrain from Embracing

Killian led Emma through campus and onto the shuttle, ushering her into a seat and pulling a thermos that had seen better days from his backpack. She settled in, leaning against his chest when he wrapped an arm around her.

"What's this?" she asked, tugging off her mittens to get a grip on the lid.

"Just some hot chocolate to keep you warm, luv. I know how you hate the cold." He smiled and waited patiently, the corners of his mouth ticking up a shade further when she hummed appreciatively at the taste. It was a good look on him, she thought.

A hint of fire filled her mouth and Emma grinned. "You didn't forget the cinnamon!"

"Of course not!” he tried to sound affronted, but he was speaking through a grin. “What do you take me for?"

Emma laughed and tucked her head under his chin. They rode in silence into town, the bus's other occupants clearly engrossed in their own business. His heart pounded more fervently as they approached the stop nearest Granny's, she could hear its pace quicken with every moment.

Emma wanted to tell him to relax, but his nerves had set off her own. She’d been careful not to tell Killian that it was her birthday, didn’t want him to go to any trouble on a day that just reminded her that she had never been good enough for anyone - not even the people who had created her.

All this day had ever been was a disappointment. It was better just to move on and forget the day had any significance at all.

A strange feeling settled in Emma’s chest and she was hard pressed to name it. She shouldn’t be upset - it was just another day and she was spending it with Killian. Whether or not he knew the significance shouldn’t make a difference. She’d just have to take the reprieve where she could get it.

Killian stood as the shuttle came to a stop in front of Granny’s diner. Emma followed him down the steps into the chilly autumn air and hustled past him and the outdoor tables to the front door.

“Come on, Jones. It’s freezing out here!”

He smiled indulgently and reached over her to hold the door. “Always depriving me of the opportunity to be a gentleman, aren’t you, luv?”

Emma huffed and allowed him to usher her inside. She expected the hand at the small of her back to guide her towards one of the booths, but he led them, instead, towards the back stairs.

“Killian?” she asked hesitantly.

His ears turned a little pink. “Do you trust me, Emma?”

“Yes.” Her reply was immediate.

A boyish grin lit his face, but then he bit his lip nervously. “Follow me, then.”

Unsure of where they were going - but never of him, not any more - Emma climbed the stairs behind Killian and was confused when he reached into his backpack for a key.

And a blindfold, she realized a moment later when Killian turned to face her.

“Just for a moment, luv, I promise,” he whispered as the fabric fell over her eyes. She felt the knot being secured behind her head, but she wasn’t afraid.

Confused, yes. But she’d follow where he led.

Emma heard the door in front of her open and felt Killian’s fingers tangle with hers.

“A few steps forward, Emma. Now turn. Just there. Wait a moment and you can take off the kerchief.” His voice was quiet, hesitant.

The door snicked shut behind her and a quiet ‘click’ sounded in front of her. The noise was familiar, but Emma couldn’t place it at the moment, straining as she was to hear where Killian was.

“Jones?” It was half question and half warning.

“Now,” he commanded quietly.

Emma pulled off the blindfold and blinked in the soft darkness. The only light came from two candles - a blue 1 and a red 9 - sticking out from the middle of a cake.

A birthday cake.

Emma stood, speechless, for a long moment. Her eyes were glued to the flames in front of her, her mouth working but unable to find words.

“Bloody hell.”

His whisper and his hurried steps startled her out of the shock.

“I… I shouldn’t have listened to Ruby. I’m sorry, luv. We can just… go, if you want. I should have thought-”

“Thank you,” she forced out, still caught up in the emotion of the surprise. She’d never felt this way before. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. “It’s perfect.”

Killian took her hand in his own, brushing a kiss over her knuckles before he moved to swipe away the lone tear that had escaped her usually well-controlled hold on her heart.

“Are you all right? Truly?” He sounded frightened, unsure, lost.

Emma just nodded, finally moving to blow out the candles as she made her wish.

Please let him love me as much as I love him.

She blinked and squinted as Killian finally flipped on the lights. The room was a bit dated, but definitely one of the inn’s rooms for rent. There were two covered plates and silverware on the little card table he must have sweet talked Granny into setting up for them. Emma turned to find Killian, but a flash of something shiny caught her attention.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! was hung on one wall, the ‘H’ bent and a little bit torn. The sign wasn’t quite straight, and the streamers that were taped up next to it were in danger of falling off the wall.

It was perfect.

Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Ruby said you shouted at her last year when she suggested throwing a party, so we thought this would be better. No surprise party, luv. I promise. Just us.”

Emma could feel the tremor in her smile as she turned in his embrace to face him. “Thank you,” she whispered again.

“It’s my pleasure, luv. We should eat before Granny’s good cooking gets cold.” Killian pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit before he lifted the cover in front of her with a flourish.

There was a grilled cheese and onion rings spread across the plate, a little sprig of something green garnishing the meal.

“I’ve almost forgotten…” he trailed off as he searched in his backpack. It took him a minute to pull his treasure from the depths, but he finally emerged victorious with a battered pair of candleholders and two tapers.

The noise Emma hadn’t been able to place earlier was the lighter Killian used to light the birthday candles. He set the pair on the table before he took his own seat and revealed a cheeseburger and fries. They ate in companionable silence, the quiet only working to put Emma even more at ease.

The cake was clearly store-bought, but it was chocolate and it was the first birthday cake she could remember having that she hadn’t shoplifted for herself. Emma savored each bite, ignoring the way Killian watched her eat.

“What?” she mumbled through a mouthful.

Killian ducked his head and scratched behind his ear. “Nothing, Swan. I’m just happy you like it.”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.” She took another bite of cake.

He smiled ruefully back at her. “I gathered that when Ruby was the one to tell me about your birthday and not you. I wanted to.”

Emma didn’t have an answer for that.

When they were finished eating, Killian pulled out what was obviously not his laptop and set it up on the bed. Emma curled into his side, biting back a grin when she saw the flowery desktop image. “Mary Margaret’s computer?” she asked quietly.

She felt Killian nod against the top of her head. “Everyone helped a little. Those were David’s mother’s candlesticks, Ruby convinced her grandmother to let us have the room for the evening, everyone helped.”

Emma felt like she was going to cry again. She’d never thought…

The DVD player started up and the title screen for The Princess Bride came up.

“Belle said you borrow this book from the library so often that it must be one of your favorites,” he said. “But I have others if you’d like to watch something else.”

Emma tangled their fingers together and settled in. “This one, please.”

The kiss he left to the top of her head was accompanied by a soft, “As you wish.”

The look in the police officer’s eyes was a mix of compassion, wariness, and something else that Killian couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was almost like regret mixed up with anger, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing really mattered any more.

He looked up without raising his head when the man cleared his throat. “What do you want?” he growled. Liam would have clapped him upside the head for the disrespectful tone, but Killian had no control over it at the moment.

The officer’s brow rose incredulously, but then his face dropped and Killian thought he looked sad.

“We got a hold of your father, son.”

Killian glared at the moniker.

The man cleared his throat again. “He said that your br… that you already had adequate transport home and that you could travel by yourself.”

Killian’s head shot up, the familiar feeling of disappointment at his father’s indifference towards him now made worse without Liam as a buffer.

“If you want, we can arrange for a social worker to travel with you as far as the ferry stop in Dublin.”

Somehow, that made the feeling even worse. Killian shook his head ‘no’ and tried to huddle further into Liam’s jacket. He’d have to get used to fending for himself soon enough. No use delaying the inevitable.

“No, sir. That’s fine. But I will need a ride back to where we were staying to pick up my things. I don’t have much money, but I can get a cab from there.”

“We’ll get you to the station at least. You keep your money.” The officer sounded apologetic when he added under his breath, “It sounds like you’ll need it.”

Killian nodded reluctantly. “And what about…” he trailed off, the words caught in his throat.

Thankfully, the officer seemed to understand. “We’ll need to do an autopsy before we can release him. It will be a few days. Should give your family time to make arrangements.”

His family?

Killian wanted to rail, to yell that his only family was lying still and cold in a freezer somewhere, alone and half-forgotten already.

But Killian wouldn’t forget him. No, he was going to save him.

So instead of yelling and letting loose the hold on his anger like he wanted to, Killian just shut down. He followed the officer to the car and robotically packed his things. He sat alone in the terminal, clutching his knapsack filled with some of Liam’s shirts and items he was afraid his father would get rid of otherwise. He crossed the channel in a daze, sitting as alone as he could manage with his arms wrapped around his knees.

His father wasn’t waiting for Killian when he got off the train after the long ferry ride, so he took a cab back to their flat and let himself in. The darkness and stark silence that greeted him made Killian shiver. After he hid the knapsack in his closet, he curled up in Liam’s bed, wrapping himself in the warm blankets that still smelled like his brother.

Killian wasn’t sure how long he slept for, his eyes dry and puffy from letting his guard down before he fell asleep. He had been awoken by the light from the hallway streaming across his face, his father leaning against the doorframe. Even from across the room, Killian could smell the alcohol.

“It should have been you,” his father slurred before staggering away.

Killian’s eyes shot open, his cheeks surprisingly damp. Emma was leaning over him, her long hair tickling his neck where the ends brushed back and forth.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

Was he? It wasn’t like his father’s disappointment was anything new. And it wasn’t like he’d had any reason to even think of the man lately, not with how the evening had gone. But clearly, his subconscious had had other ideas in mind as he nodded off with Emma tucked into his side, the slide of her skin against his tiring them both out.

“Better now, luv,” he settled on for an answer, smiling a bit tremulously when she reached up to gently brush the tear from his cheek. Her fingers ghosted over the scar his father had left there and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch. Killian locked the memories that had disturbed their sleep securely away and-

-Emma’s lips brushed against his, the soft touch startling him a little bit. Before he could look at her, she kissed each eyelid, then his cheeks, then moved back to slant her lips over his again.

Killian let everything fall away from him then, the memories and the disappointment and the scars that were his upbringing, and concentrated solely on her. He moved with her, allowing himself to just feel under her gentle ministrations. Bloody hell, did he love her.

He thought she had drifted back to sleep after they came down together, but her quiet words drifted up to him.

“I never thought it could be like this,” she whispered, her hands wrapping tightly around his forearms when he tugged her back to his chest. “Before, with other… it was different. It wasn’t… like this.”

Killian’s heart clenched at the sadness in her tone. What little he knew of her last few years in the system made him appreciate the stability he’d had in Storybrooke’s accommodations for him. He may have had to stay in the freshman dorms for most of his tenure there - only just managing to move into the sophomore dorms this semester with Will and his friend John - but at least he didn’t have to contend with irritable foster parents or crass ‘siblings’ who would seek to take advantage of someone like Emma. Determined to erase those memories from the moment for her the way she had for him, he pulled her closer, burying his nose in the hair just behind her ear.

“If you’ll let me, I’ll make sure it’s always like this from now on,” he whispered back.

Emma turned her head so she could capture his lips with hers.

“Happy birthday, Swan.”

He fell asleep to the sound of her even breathing.

And was awoken hours later by the sound of harsh knocking on the door. Granny’s voice filtered through the haze. “Jones! I need this room clean and ready to go in an hour! Up and at ‘em, boy!”

Emma’s muffled laughter came from his side and he turned to kiss her ‘good morning’. “Come on, luv. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

He rushed through getting dressed and cleaning up the room, the sound of the shower running in the background as he did. It only took him a few minutes to pull down the sign Granny had found for him and to trash the streamers he’d dug out of Mary Margaret’s ‘just in case’ box in her room. He had just finished packing everything in his knapsack when Emma sidled up behind him and draped herself over his back.

“Thank you again, Killian,” she murmured, the warmth of her skin against his back making him question why they’d gotten out of bed in the first place. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

He smiled and turned in her arms so that she was pressed against his chest when his arms came up to wrap around her shoulders. “Well, I intend to do something like this for you every year from now on.”

“Why?” she asked hesitantly.

Killian smiled down at her, brushing a kiss over her forehead. “Because I can and I want to. After all, Swan, I'm just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, Killian froze. His heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest, his breath trapped in his lungs, a chill down his spine. Too soon, Jones. Too bloody soon.

Emma stared at him for a moment before she broke into a grin and pushed up on her toes to kiss him. Pulling back, she asked, “Did you just quote Notting Hill to me? Who even watched that movie?”

The breath left his lungs in a ‘whoosh’, time speeding up as she stayed where she was. “I…” he smiled. “I might have done some research.”

Emma laughed then, a sweet and light sound that Killian wanted to bottle up and take everywhere. “Into what? Cheesy chick flicks 101?”

He smiled, but he could feel how it stretched across his face. His tone was a little more serious than he intended when he replied.

“No, Emma. Into how to do this. I’ve never done this before.”

She pulled him in close and whispered in his ear, “You’re doing just fine on your own.”

“I just want to do right by you.”

Emma shuddered. “Kil-”

“Now, Jones!” Granny’s voice echoed through the room and both he and Emma jerked apart, searching around the space frantically.

When he was assured that the formidable woman was, indeed, still outside and not breathing down his neck, Killian took Emma by the hand and pulled her into one last hug. “Come on, luv, let’s leave the charming widow Lucas to her work.”

When she nodded, he picked up his knapsack and guided her towards the door. Emma kissed him chastely before she bent down to pick up her own bag.

“What is it?” she asked, and it must have seemed to her like he was looking at her as if he was afraid this was all a dream.

It certainly felt like a dream.

Killian smiled, recalling another of the movies he’d watched - huddled in the corner of the library for hours at a time with earbuds jammed in his ears and praying that no one saw what he was studying so intently. “I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my life the way I feel when I’m with you.”

Emma smirked, but her smile turned soft and she squeezed his hand.

“I am, too,” she whispered before tugging open the door.

The rest of the semester flew by, classes and his application to the graduate program and Emma's constant support at his side making the days seem a little less long and a lot less lonely than his first three years had been. The nights she wasn't wrapped in his arms were cold and the few hours of sleep he did manage were fraught with nightmares. Killian hadn't relied on another human being as much as he did Emma since his brother had died, and it frightened him how much she meant to him now.

But it frightened him more to think of what might have happened if Archie hadn't paired them up.

The Thanksgiving break was fast approaching, and Killian was so busy trying to convince David that the engineering department would let him work on a Masters' candidate's project in his senior year that he didn't realize when the University shut down for the long weekend. All he knew was that the lab door was locked and his research was inside. Killian banged his forehead on the door and gripped the door handle until his knuckles went white. He was getting more and more frustrated as the days went by - between the grants he'd been promised getting pulled and the lack of new funding being provided, Killian was starting to think that he'd been a fool to turn down Oxford for the promise of more distance from his father.

"If you stare at that door any harder, Jones, it's going to combust." Emma's voice echoed down the hallway, but Killian didn't have the wherewithal to lift his head from the door.

He felt her hand fall between his shoulder blades, and the warmth eased some of the tension from him.

"I had a feeling you'd forget the lab would be locked this weekend," she said, her other hand coming up to jangle a jump drive in front of him. "So I saved all your work to this last night before Dr. Hopper kicked me out."

Killian whipped his head around to stare at her incredulously. "You... that's my..."

Emma nodded.

“Take love, multiply it by infinity and take it to the depths of forever… and you still only have a glimpse of how I feel for you,” he quoted from Meet Joe Black, pulling an incredulous smile from her.

“How many movies did you watch?!”

Killian just shrugged, a small smile starting to pull at his mouth.

“Come on. I have frozen chicken nuggets, instant potatoes, and the suite to ourselves for the next four days. We're going to have Thanksgiving dinner and then you can try and concentrate on this”- she jiggled the drive again -“while I yell at whatever football team is playing horribly.”

He didn't touch the drive all weekend.

Monday morning, however, began with Emma waking him far too early with plans to spend their last hours alone lazing about in bed and working up a sweat.

Ruby had just stomped into the common room as Killian got out of the shower, Emma discreetly behind him, when he noticed the notification that he had an email from Archie on his phone still thrown haphazardly on the futon. With his glasses still fogged up from the shower, he had to squint at the screen when he picked it up.

Mr. Jones, could you please stop in my office this afternoon at 1pm to discuss your ongoing project for the Physics department. -Archie

“As much as I like the free show, Killian, I think Emma’s gonna get jealous if that towel slips,” Ruby snarked, startling him out rereading Archie’s words for the fifth time.

He automatically reached for where he’d cinched the towel, his cheeks burning at Ruby’s appreciative growl. Before she could make another remark, Killian ducked into the bedroom, adopting a glare when he found Emma leaning against her desk with a look that he could only describe as saucy.

“Looking to add a little spice to-”

“Nope!” he interrupted, his whole face aflame now.

Emma swung her hips as she moved across the room to him, her hand coming up over his on the towel. She stood on her tiptoes so she could whisper in his ear. “Good.”

They locked the door and missed their first class.

When they finally emerged, Ruby still sprawled out on the futon and grinning maniacally at them, Killian tugged Emma into his side and whispered, “I’ve got another one, if you’ll let me…”

“Oh, go ahead, Jones,” Emma laughed.

“I've come here with no expectations,” he began. “Only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.”

She looked impressed. “Sense and Sensibility? You really did do your homework.”

“Well, I am an A-student, Swan. I like a challenge.” He paused. “Will you be at the lab after my meeting?”

“Of course.”

With a kiss for luck, Emma finally let him out of her suite and he rushed across campus to get to Archie’s office. He was only a few minutes late - an inconvenient flock of Canadian geese had waylaid him by chasing him halfway back towards the dorms - but the look on his advisor’s face made it seem like he was hours behind.

“Ah, here he is, now,” Archie gestured wildly at Killian, a proud grin stretched across his face.

Killian’s brow wrinkled, wondering who Hopper was talking to.

And then, like a snake slithering out of its hidey hole, a man stood from where he was perched against the wall and limped into Killian’s line of sight. He was slight, shorter than Killian was, and hunched with age. There was something about the man’s eyes that made him seem cold, dark, and untrustworthy.

If Killian were more prone to dramatics, he’d have called the man evil.

Whatever the man wanted here, Killian was determined that he wouldn’t get it. He entered the room warily, keeping one eye on the stranger as he took his seat on the opposite side of Archie’s desk. His shoulders tensed when the man came to stand behind him, gnarled hands resting on Killian’s shoulders and keeping him in place.

“Mr. Jones,” Archie spoke as if Killian wasn’t being held against his will in the seat. “I’d like you to meet Robert Gold of Gold-Pan Financial.”

Killian tried to rise under the guise of being gentlemanly, but the hands tightened imperceptibly and kept him seated.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “Professor, I can come back if you’re not through here.”

“Nonsense, dearie,” the man finally spoke and Killian forced himself not to shudder. He wouldn’t give the man the pleasure of knowing how uncomfortable he was. “I’m here for you, you see. I’ve been looking for a worthwhile project to invest in for some time now. My company gets in on the ground floor of endeavors like this, and I’d be happy to fund your entire project.”

Archie was grinning, but Killian frowned. “And what do you get in return?” he asked warily.

Gold laughed, a high-pitched giggle that set all of Killian’s nerves on edge. He needed to get out of here. Soon.

“You’re right, of course, Dr. Hopper. He is a very intelligent boy”- Killian snarled at being called ‘boy’ as if he were beneath this man -“I would leave all the science to you, my boy. I know nothing of what you study. But I would be the one to market your project down the line - for a cut of the profits. And one more thing,” he trailed off.

Here it bloody comes, Killian thought angrily.

“I…” Gold choked up a bit. “I lost my family years ago. An unfortunate situation that my wife misconstrued. It was all my fault; I see that now. But she took my son from me and I’ve not been able to convince them to give me another chance. My boy is half-grown by now, and I’ve lost them both. Should your project be successful” - he squeezed Killian’s shoulder again - “all I would require from you is a chance to fix that. To save my family from the heartbreak we’ve all experienced.”

Killian wanted to gag, but Archie was beaming like Gold had just delivered him the Nobel Prize. How could he not see that Gold was playing them, playing him?

He was already shaking his head before Archie could speak. “No, that’s not it. Or at least, that’s not all of it. There’s some kind of trick here and I’m not buying it.”

Archie’s face dropped. “Killian, maybe you don’t understand what’s going on here. You’ll still be in charge, Mr. Gold only wants to make a profit from your future success. All this allows you to do is get the materials you need without having to deplete the department’s resources.”

He felt like a bobblehead doll as he continued to shake his head no. “No deal. Not with the likes of him,” - Killian stood abruptly and finally shook off Gold’s grip - “I don’t need his blood money.”

“Killian Jones!” Archie exploded angrily. “I don’t know what your problem is-”

“My problem is that I’m not going to get into bed with a crocodile and expect not to get bitten! I’ll find another way, without his help!”

“Mr. Jones,” the oily voice behind him cajoled, “this isn’t a lie or a trick. We can be mutually beneficial to one another with the right deal. Perhaps it’s just a matter of-”

“-of twisting your words into something that sounds like a red-letter choice. No. Thank you, but there won’t be a deal today.”

He stormed out of the room before Archie or Gold could register his absence.

The slamming of the door echoed down the empty hallway, but Killian’s head was too swamped with voices to even register it. His father’s patent disapproval - I always knew you’d fail, you lunk. Don’t come crawling back to me, now. Archie’s confusion - This is everything you want, Mr. Jones, I don’t understand. Emma’s tacit support - We’ll find another way, Killian, don’t worry.

His brother.

Liam’s voice was echoing above all the others, and Killian couldn’t figure out which was his response and which was Killian’s own jumbled thoughts.

I’m proud of you, little brother. Stick to your principles and you’ll be just fine.

Why haven’t you saved me yet?

What are you doing with your life? You have the world in your hands and it’s slipping through your fingers.

It’s okay to move on, Killian. I’m happy for you.

Is Emma Swan really more important to you than I am?

Killian needed to find Emma and let her silence the cacophony in his head. He needed her support now, more than ever. She’d said she’d meet him at the lab. That’s where he needed to go. That’s where everything would make sense again.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Emma shouted, her voice echoing across the lab as he finished explaining what had happened. “Archie told you already: there’s not enough money. They’re pulling your grant entirely. If you ever want to move this away from the theoretical science, Gold’s deal is the only option.”

Killian threw the pen he’d been fiddling with across the room. It bounced off the wall and clattered on the tile floor. “No. No, there’s got to be another way that doesn’t involve getting into bed with that… that crocodile. I won’t be beholden to him, Swan.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “Why? What possible reason could you have for not wanting to accept this man’s money? He’s already told you he knows nothing about the science and only has an eye for potential and finished projects. Gold has no intention of slowing you down. He just wants to help you, Killian!”

“What? Out of the goodness of his heart?” he sneered. “No, Swan. No, there’s a catch. There always is.”

“Of course there is. He wants to go back and save his family. Just like you do! He wants the same thing as you.”

Killian shook his head, surprised that she couldn’t see the man for what he was. He lowered his tone, almost to a whisper. “No, he doesn’t. My brother was torn from me for no reason. He was mur-murdered. Gold lost his family fair and square. Whatever happened, and I have no doubt that he’s lying about it, that man wants to manipulate something. And I won’t make a deal with him to get what I want when there has to be another way!”

Emma shook her head and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand you. He just wants the love of his family back. He just wants another chance to make things better for them. If I had the chance to have a family, to have grown up knowing that kind of love…” she trailed off and Killian could see the tear as it tracked down her cheek.

He felt horrible. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her cry. He knew what she thought family should be. He knew the hurts that she carried deep inside her weren’t easily healed. He knew he couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up an orphan.

But she didn’t understand either. “Just because you have a family, Emma, it doesn’t mean that you know love. Not every father is capable of loving his wife or his child.”

Killian left it at that, slinking out through the door and leaving behind the regret and, possibly, his entire project.

Tagging: @gusenitsaa, @katie-dub, @kiwistreetswan, @lenfazreads, @xhookswenchx, @killian-whump, @eala-captian, @kmomof4, @onceuponaprincessworld, @couldnthandleit

#cs ff #csbb #cs fic #ouat ff #ouat fic

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icecubelotr44 · 7 years

Text

To Every Thing a Season (5/16)

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @optomisticgirl made imagesets for all the chapters and @ab-normality made a video and a gifset for this fic. You can find the imageset for this chapter above and here on her blog. The video is linked here and on her blog here and the gifset will be posted later in the story!

Word count: ~ 5,400 (80K+ Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: ao3 | ffn

Current Chapter: AO3 | FFN

Chapter 5: To Weep and to Laugh

There was an army of little men inside his skull, chiseling out random numbers that danced around his head and using tiny jackhammers to do it. The taste of cotton and spices dried out his mouth and his tongue felt like sandpaper stuck to his upper palate. The light from the window stabbed at his eyes, and Killian was sure that if he dared to open them, the sun would burn his retinas irreparably.

He had never felt so physically awful in his entire life.

The sound of crackling plastic next to his ear made Killian whine audibly, then grimace as the sound of his own whimper intensified the work ethic of the men in his skull. Soft fingers carded through his hair, the gentle scratches quieting the headache for a moment.

“Drink some of this,” a whisper caressed his ears without making the headache worse. “Just a couple sips.”

Killian’s stomach rolled at the thought of drinking anything, but before he could work enough spit into his mouth to make a sound of protest, the hard plastic of a water bottle tapped his lips and he took a sip. The cool liquid swept away some of the cotton and loosened his tongue a bit. He wanted more and tried to chase the bottle when it was pulled away. “In a minute, Jones.”

“Emma?” He wasn’t entirely sure it was her, but it sounded like her.

“Shh,” whoever it was soothed, the water bottle catching on his lower lip again. “I have some Advil here, do you think you can swallow it?”

That was definitely Emma’s voice, and he nodded without really thinking about it. He didn’t remember where she came from, but the promised pills would help clear his head. At the very least, the ibuprofen would settle the numbers into a weave rather than a waltz.

He didn’t even want to think about how scrambled the equation was at the moment. That was what he had notebooks for.

Later.

Emma’s palm was at his mouth now, the small pills tipped into his mouth followed by more of the water that was quickly becoming his favorite drink. Killian swallowed quickly and grimaced at the aftertaste from what must have been a knockoff brand.

The fingers settled in his hair again and Killian didn’t think too much about snuggling back down into the comfortable place his head had fallen. Whatever he was resting on was more firm than a pillow, but warm and soothing all the same.

“Sleep, Killian. Go back to sleep.”

He thought he nodded before falling back into the darkness of his dreams.

When Killian woke some time later, the headache had abated somewhat and he thought he might be able to risk opening his eyes. He had some vague recollection of Emma’s soft voice, but that was preposterous - he had practically stumbled his way into every surface in his dorm room, and Emma clearly wouldn’t have been with-

“You with me this time, Jones?” Emma’s soft, albeit somewhat wry, voice cut over his internal monologue, startling him badly enough that his eyes shot open of their own accord and locked on the emerald gaze that he’d thought about far too often in the waking moments - and sometimes in his dreams.

She was here, in his room, acting the part of his pillow.

“Hi?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but his brain still hadn’t caught up to his actions.

Emma smiled and reached out to cover his eyes with her hand. “Hello there.”

The darkness was comforting, the warmth of her hand moreso. He wanted to bask in the simplicity of the moment, but the taste of spice and… was that coconut… reminded him all too well of how his night had begun - if not how it apparently ended.

“I’m sorry, luv, if I did anything… untoward last night. Did I call you?” Killian hesitated, praying to anyone who would listen that she wasn’t angry with him.

The soft peal of her laughter settled him. “You were fine, Jones. And no, you didn’t call me. Will did.”

Killian grunted incredulously. He’d have figured that the sod would have left him for dead on the carpet.

“You talked a little bit about your brother.” Emma started to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck when he tensed up at the mention of Liam. “You don’t have to tell me anything else about what happened, but I need you to know that I promised you last night that I’m going to help you save him. I needed you to hear it when you’d remember it.”

Her tone was fierce and there was no questioning that she was serious. Killian’s breath stuttered in his chest as he realized the depth of her sincerity. He’d been terrified what would happen if anyone - Hopper, the University, his father - figured out that his childhood obsession had turned into a rescue mission.

But here was Emma, not condemning him nor ridiculing him nor trying to stop him, but vowing to help him break all the laws of physics and ethics and ignore the butterfly and ripple effects. To bring back his brother.

To save Liam.

“I… thank you, luv. I don’t… I can’t…” His mouth was running faster than his brain, and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the words that would explain what this meant to him.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Killian. It’s my job, remember?” His head was starting to ache again, but Killian could hear the softness in her tone that let him know it was more than her job - that it had been about more than that for a long time now.

“Aye, luv. I’ll make sure that Hopper knows you’re doing your job well. Above and beyond, I’d say.” He laughed, then cringed at the noise.

“All right, let’s get you up and going.” Emma kept speaking over his sputtering protests. “The next shuttle to town leaves in half an hour, and we’re going for breakfast.”

Killian’s stomach turned at the thought of food, and he glared at the bottle of rum still hidden under the television stand. Why on earth had he thought that his father’s brand of cowardice would work for him? It was an experiment he wasn’t likely to recreate any time soon.

Emma laughed. “We’ll hide that for Scarlet, shall we?”

Killian shook his head and sat up gingerly. His thigh brushed against Emma’s own, and he almost blushed. “Wasn’t his. Got it from Jefferson. He doesn’t deserve it back for not warning me about this.”

The snort that burst free from Emma colored her cheeks in a startling shade of pink, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Killian grinned in spite of himself.

“Well, maybe save the rest of it for a special occasion then.” Emma paused, and her smile grew softer. “Like when we get your brother back. Now get up and get in the shower. You smell like a distillery.”

Killian huffed out a laugh of his own, but it caught in his chest when Emma wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him in to kiss his hair. The feel of her lips lingered long after the door shut behind her, the command to meet him downstairs in twenty minutes barely registering.

It was the second time she’d kissed him, brief and chaste little things that left him frozen in time and helpless against the onslaught of emotion. When was the last time someone had sought to comfort him with a touch, a hug, a kiss? Was it really so long ago now that Liam had ruffled his hair and roughhoused with him on the streets of Ireland?

Was it really so long that he’d gone without knowing someone cared?

Killian was going to latch onto this feeling and treasure it just as reverently as he did the equation that would bring him back to his brother’s side.

The disapproving look that the new door monitor gave Emma as she swiped the ID out of the system was a little haughty, if she did say so herself. Just because the upperclassman had nothing better to do with her Saturday morning than judge Emma coming out of the boys’ dorm didn’t give her the right to sneer quite so much.

“Leave off it, your majesty,” Scarlet’s sharp accent carried through the entryway as he swaggered through the front door. “She was doin’ me a favor, so spare us the look down your ever pointed nose.”

He turned to her. “Mornin’ lass. Did the wanker make it through the night?”

Emma nodded, shoving her ID back in its slot in her wallet. “Although he probably wishes he hadn’t. He should be in the shower now. Tell him if he isn’t, I’m not helping the next time he needs to glue a model together.”

Scarlet saluted her sloppily before swiping in with a flourish and practically bouncing down the hall.

Emma glanced at the monitor out of the corner of her eye and resisted the urge to sneer. Instead, she slipped out the front door to sit on the steps of the dorm.

Killian found her there fifteen minutes later, and she had to bite back a laugh at the ball cap pulled so low that the brim rested on the rims of his aviator sunglasses. It did little to mask the pinched look on his face, and somewhere Emma didn’t want to think about, she realized that he was only on his feet and out of the dorm because of her.

She took Killian’s hand in hers and led them to the shuttle stop.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he asked when they were squashed into one of the bus seats again - this time due to the sheer lack of space as everyone tried to get off campus for the day.

“Granny’s. She’s got a great cure for your ailments - or so Ruby assures me.” Emma shrugged, leaning forward so that her shadow fell across his face instead of the early morning sun. His quiet sigh of relief curled in her belly like a warm cup of cocoa.

Killian dropped his head on her shoulder and mumbled something that sounded like acquiescence. Emma twisted a little in the seat so he could bury his eyes in her neck, her arm coming around his shoulders and scratching at the nape of his neck. She smiled into the top of his head, the ratty baseball cap smelling just a little musty.

Granny’s was packed, and Emma slumped a little when Ruby told her it would be a wait for a table. Her roommate took one look at Killian, though, and scurried off to the kitchen. She came back a few moments later with a glass of what looked like liquified grass.

“I’m not drinking that,” Killian whined incredulously and recoiled from the drink that Ruby shoved under his nose. “I’m not even sure anything living should be drinking that. It smells like a dead animal.”

The waitress shrugged and left the glass on the countertop near where Emma and Killian were tucked away. “Your loss, but I promise you it works. You won’t even remember you had a hangover. Granny’s magic.”

Emma burst out laughing at the bewildered look on Killian’s face. His gaze kept darting back and forth between the concoction in front of him and Ruby’s back as she danced between the patrons.

“Just drink it quick, Killian. If Ruby says it works, then it works.” She bit back another laugh when he turned his tortured gaze on her, looking every bit the part of the little boy who has just been told to gag down the nasty cough medicine that would burn and taste awful, no matter how much it was sugarcoated.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, Killian dutifully chugged the putrid green liquid as quickly as he could manage. Some kind of aborted noise came from the back of his throat and Emma would swear later that he turned the color of the drink. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she could feel the minute tremors that ran through him.

Ten minutes later, however, he was a new man.

“I’m telling you, Swan, we need to figure out what Granny sacrificed to whatever mystical beings created that concoction and pay her triple for it,” he crowed, perusing the menu as they waited to be seated.

In case she had any thoughts to him trying to be noble and mask his symptoms from her, he dispelled those notions with the size of the breakfast he ordered. Emma watched, transfixed, as he munched on a little bit of everything from his plate.

Then he tried to spear one of her potatoes, and she lost any sympathy she’d had for him, smacking the back of his hand with her fork and then brandishing the tines at him.

“I have no reservations about sticking the pointy end of this fork in your hand if you try that again, Jones,” she whispered hotly.

Killian gulped audibly.

Then looked affronted when she snatched a piece of bacon off his plate.

“Oi! No fair, Swan!” he cried as he tried to snatch it back.

Emma grinned around the crunch and swallowed, savoring the taste as Killian continued to sputter.

When she finally made it to the lab on Monday after her classes for the day had finished, Killian was nowhere to be found. Shrugging to herself, Emma logged onto the computer and looked around for his notebook. She knew that he had scheduled a couple hours in the morning between his classes when she couldn’t make it, but he usually left her with a list of variables to input into the program.

She found the notebook wedged into a book on quantum physics that looked as if Killian had scribbled over every single page in various pens and markers. Shaking her head, Emma flipped through the pages looking for the day’s instructions.

Swan,

Good afternoon, lass. I hope your day has gone better than mine. Professor Hopper needs to speak with me after my last class, so I will probably be late to our afternoon session. Don’t forget to eat lunch if I don’t get there in time to remind you! You’ll find the different variables for today’s tests listed below. I truly hope we find something soon so the real work can begin.

Alas, I have to run or I’ll be late to my philosophy class - bloody waste of time if you ask me, but the powers that be insist on core courses, so I will have to suffer through. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon after you finish reading this, and won’t be held up too long by Archie.

Don’t forget to eat, Emma, please!

Yours,

Killian

Below his note, in a mess of barely-legible cursive and printed letters, were a number of different variables to play with. Emma suppressed a smile when she thought about how awful his penmanship was when it came to his experiment - the note to her was written in careful, looping script that he clearly took pride in. They had spent the first month of working together in various iterations of: “Killian, what on earth did you write here?” and “Swan, that quite obviously says…”

Emma wasn’t sure if she should be awed or afraid that she could now read his chicken scratch as easily as her law books.

With an ease born of too many hours in the lab, Emma input the first set of tests into the computer and turned to those law books. She had a paper due in Police and Society, and she wasn’t looking forward to the research associated with it.

Emma had an idea of an independent study project she wanted to undertake, but wasn’t quite sure how Killian would react. Better to get a foothold on the case before she brought it up. If there really wasn’t anything to find, then there was no use upsetting him, was there?

There was a small voice in the back of Emma’s head berating her for thinking like that, but she shushed it with a definitive mental flick.

When Killian finally slunk into the room, any thoughts Emma’s conscience had of telling him about her project flew out the window. He threw his backpack onto a spare chair and then wandered listlessly over to her, draping his upper frame over her shoulders and burying his nose in her neck.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, luv,” Killian rumbled in her ear.

Emma reached behind her until her fingers tangled in his hair. She scratched lightly at his scalp and was rewarded with a soft groan. “Bad day?”

“Aye, but better now. Have you been here long?” he asked, standing up again and shuffling his feet self-consciously.

Emma missed the warmth of his body against hers immediately.

“Just a few minutes,” she assured. “I’m still on the first set of numbers for today.”

“Third. Liar,” he whispered with a nod at the screen and a wry grin on his face . It didn’t reach his eyes, but he turned back to the lab bench before Emma could catch his gaze.

Part of her wanted to pester him until he opened up, until he told her what was running rampant through his head and stomping on his usually jovial mood. If it was Liam, she could be a sounding board or a supportive shoulder. If it was classwork, they could definitely gripe together about that. If it was her... God, what if it was her?

Emma was frozen on her lab stool, staring at his back until the computer buzzed a failure result.

It sounded like the computer was razzing her about her spiraling thoughts.

“Just, forget it, Emma. It’s never going to work,” Killian sounded so lost, so defeated, that Emma was on her feet and crossing the room before he even finished speaking.

This was foreign territory for her. What would she want someone to say to her if she were… how did Ruby do this every time?

“Talk to me, Killian,” she murmured as she stood next to him, her hand rubbing softly between his shoulder blades. She didn’t know where to start - she just knew that blanket platitudes wouldn’t work, for either of them.

He didn’t speak, just a simple shake of his head as he continued to stare off into space. It wasn’t that the numbers were dancing for him - she knew that stare by now - it was as if he were searching for the path that would lead him out.

Emma started to pull away, sharp tendrils of hurt beginning to prick at her, but Killian leaned back into her hand, forcing her to keep it there to steady him. When her hand didn’t move, he huffed out an audible sigh and visibly relaxed.

Emma relaxed as well, relieved by the simple fact that he needed her there. It was a heady feeling. Determined to keep that feeling going, she leaned into Killian’s side and let her hand travel up to his shoulder. She squeezed the bunched muscles there, trying to untangle the knots that signified Killian’s stress. He groaned in response and the muscles tightened under her hand.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered as his chin dropped to his chest.

Emma moved to stand behind Killian, using both hands to dig into the knots in his neck and shoulders. She kneaded at the skin for a few minutes, gently pushing him forward until he pillowed his head on his arms. Killian relaxed in increments, and as the muscles unbunched, he finally began to speak.

“I had to meet with Dr. Hopper today about my requisitions for next semester so we can start building some of the components.” His voice was muffled against the bench and interspersed with incomprehensible sounds as Emma tugged and prodded. “He had promised me that I could have the supplies if I made an effort to get along with you, and obviously I’ve-”

“What?” Emma stopped the massage suddenly and Killian’s head rolled on his arm until he could pout at her for leaving the knot she’d been working on.

“He didn’t think I’d give you the time of day without adequate incentive. In case you’ve forgotten, luv, I didn’t exactly jump at having you working with me.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, trying to sort out her thoughts in her head. She wanted to be angry, or hurt, or defensive. He should have told her that their partnership came at a cost. But then she remembered - she hadn’t exactly been upfront with him, either.

Determined to let it go, Emma took up the massage again. “That’s all right, I was never really supposed to help you with the science. I was supposed to make you get out of the lab and eat from time to time.” She spoke lightly, hoping that he would move past her subterfuge as easily as she was trying to get around his.

To Emma’s relief, Killian chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t possibly be that afraid of going to the cafeteria by yourself. The only thing I’ve seen you terrified of is spiders.”

Emma scowled. “I’m not… terrified of them! I’m just… they’re scary, all right?”

He laughed out right, this time. “As you say, luv. I’ll come to your rescue any time you find one in your humble abode.”

“You’d better,” she mumbled, finally dropping her hands away from his back. “So what did Hopper say?”

Killian sat up and rolled his head along the back of his neck. “Thank you, Swan, I needed that.”

“Killian,” she dragged out his name until it was more of a warning than anything.

He shook his head. “The department doesn’t have the money for my supplies. Since this is a ‘theoretical construct’ at this point in time, they can’t justify the expense for more materials. Archie said that he’d put in another requisition after the fiscal year turns over on July 1st, but as of right now, it might be another full year before I can get some of the supplies I need for the components.”

“Oh, Killian,” Emma tugged on his knee until he turned to face her. Before he could question it, she wrapped Killian in a tight hug, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling lightly. His hands fisted in the back of her shirt after a moment’s hesitance, and he practically yanked her to stand between his knees.

They stayed wrapped up like that for a long time - long enough for the motion-activated lights to shut off and shroud them in darkness.

Killian pulled back from Emma with a laugh, the quick flash of light making her squeeze her eyes shut against the glare.

With her eyes still closed, Emma didn’t have any warning when Killian brushed his lips against hers - once, twice, three times, and then pulled back abruptly.

“Was… was that okay?” he whispered, and Emma could hear the fear there.

She opened her eyes and smiled softly at him, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his face. His brow was furrowed, his breathing short and choppy. Emma leaned forward, brushing her nose against his and then meeting his lips with her own.

It was a chaste kiss, far more innocent than Emma was used to people taking from her. She wanted to take it further, wanted to explore how they fit together, but Killian didn’t seem in a hurry, so she pulled back and let it be.

His brows were still furrowed, his eyes searching hers uncertainly.

The poor idiot still wasn’t sure of her answer.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma tugged on his ear and then interlocked her fingers behind his neck. “That was okay.”

He beamed at her, a full-fledged grin that showed his teeth and his dimples. Emma left one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, laughing into his smile, and then stepped back.

“Now,” she admonished, “we’re here to work. No more goofing around, Rico Suave.”

“Aye aye, Captain,�� Killian called out. He saluted her sloppily and then turned back to the components he did have access to.

Emma watched him work diligently for a moment before she leaned in, kissed the back of his head, and moved back to the computer. She input the next set of variables, then settled in with her homework.

Spring break was quickly upon them, and then final exams were looming. More often than not, Killian found Emma holed up in a corner of the lab surrounded by books and PowerPoint printouts. He had told her numerous times to study where she was comfortable - that he was perfectly capable of typing numbers into the computer as well as manipulating the motherboards for the computer. They’d had some limited success isolating photons in the computer models, and he had a veritable treasure trove of data to further manipulate the constructs of time within the vacuum tube.

But Emma stubbornly showed up at each lab session and didn’t open her own books until several equations were queued up. Killian admired the tenacity, and he certainly appreciated her company at every available moment, but he also saw the dark circles under her eyes and the tired gaze as she highlighted and made notes in the books.

He wanted her with him, but he didn’t want her to get sick, either.

“Emma, luv, what do you have left to do tonight?” he asked hesitantly. Depending on how frustrated she was with the subject matter, this could be a minefield.

She didn’t even look up from the paragraph she was highlighting. “Just need to study for an hour or so, and then I’m going to work on my final paper for philosophy.” Emma groaned loudly at the prospect.

Killian waited. If that was all she had to do, she wouldn’t be starting now - Emma was a queen at procrastinating.

“And then I need to copy my notes for my speech tomorrow and finish the conclusion on my physics lab report.” Emma did look up this time, and her nose scrunched up at the prospect.

“Did you want some help with that?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ve got this one. But you should come with me to…” The computer beeped and interrupted her.

“I can get that, luv. You keep worki-”

“-I’ve got it!” Emma glared at him as she uncurled from the nest she’d made in the corner with a blanket and pillow and stomped over to the computer.

Killian raised his hands defensively and turned back to his own work.

Twenty minutes later, and Killian happened to look up, his thoughts wandering far from the numbers and to the stubborn lass he was coming to understand he had real feelings for.

She was sound asleep, her chin perched on one knee and her highlighter resting in the binding of the book. There was a haphazard line drawn across the whole page.

Killian smiled softly and eased off his lab stool quietly. His shoes long-ago kicked off, he padded over to the computer in his socked feet and turned off the speakers before the experiment could finish and wake her. He input a new set of numbers into the queue and scowled at the number of red “x”’s on the data output. Killian pushed his glasses more securely on the bridge of his nose and sighed audibly. He needed to successfully manipulate a photon if he were ever going to move this experiment up to large scale tests.

His next stop was at Emma’s side, taking a moment to cap her marker and close the book with a scrap of paper marking her place. She looked softer, somehow, like this - the weight of the world gone from her shoulders and the walls and distrust she presented to the world outside the lab and his arms nonexistent in sleep. Killian brushed the hair out of her face gently, tucking the strands behind her ear and just memorizing the look of serenity.

He wanted her to look this way when she was awake, too.

Setting the timer on his phone, Killian vowed to let her sleep until the top of the hour - forty minutes from now - and then he’d wake her and insist she join him at the library. He wasn’t making any progress tonight anyway. He could use the study time, himself, lest the rest of his classes suffer.

Killian didn’t intend to get caught up in the numbers, didn’t intend to follow a rabbit trail until one section of his equation went emerald green, didn’t intend to lose all track of reality.

But he did.

And it was three hours after he’d intended to wake Emma from her nap.

His own stomach growling, Killian changed his plan from the library to the cafeteria. He knelt down next to where Emma had managed to sprawl out across the floor, her head pillowed on the blanket and the actual pillow she’d brought cushioning her knee.

“Emma?” he whispered, reaching out to shake her shoulder lightly.

“Wha- wha’s goin’ on?” He smirked, waiting for her to wake up fully.

When she shot straight up, knocking her head into his chin and sending them both reeling, Killian wasn’t entirely prepared.

“What the hell, Jones?!? What time is it?” she yelled, rubbing at her forehead where it must have hit him.

Killian was seeing stars. His head was spinning and the numbers that he’d kept carefully at bay were all scattered around the room. He tried to herd them back into the order they’d been, when he’d been on the cusp of a breakthrough, but they were lost.

“Bloody hell!” he howled, the ache on his chin compounded by the clenching of his jaw muscles. It was gone. It was all gone again.

“You let me sleep for three hours?!” Emma yelled in his face, shaking her phone as if he didn’t know what time it was. “You knew how much work I had to do!”

Killian saw red.

“I told you I didn’t need you to help me!” he yelled back. “I told you that you could go do your work elsewhere! You’re the one who chose to stay here and fall asleep, Swan. Don’t blame that on me!”

“You’re the one who let me sleep for so damn long, Jones! What were you thinking? What was I thinking, coming here trying to help you? I was trying to help despite everything I need to do. Damn it, Killian! Your crusade is going to screw with my grades now!”

“My crusade?” he shouted angrily. “This isn’t some crusade, Swan! This is my life, and if you can’t understand that, then you can just leave me the bloody hell alone!”

Emma growled and shoved him backwards. Killian stumbled, but it only served to fuel the fire further.

“I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to make sure you succeed! You’re just being an ass about it.” Emma popped a hip and glared

Killian lost it. “I don’t need you here! You’re just slowing me down!” he seethed. He didn’t believe it, but he wasn’t exactly in control at the moment.

“I’m slowing you down?” she called back incredulously. “I am?! Me! I’m slowing you down? Fine! Go ahead and do it all without me then!”

Emma bent to shove all of her belongings in her bag, then stormed past him. She knocked the Storybrooke University: All Happy Endings Begin HERE mug full of mechanical pencils off the bench as the door slammed shut behind her.

The silence in the room assaulted Killian’s ears and he slumped down against the wall. He stared at the closed door, silently fuming. He didn’t even know what they were fighting about, couldn’t make sense of how everything had escalated so quickly. But he knew one thing for certain. He hadn’t needed her before, and he didn’t need her now. Killian was better off alone with his numbers.

If Emma Swan wanted to be like that, then she could just stay gone.

Tagging: @gusenitsaa, @kiwistreetswan, @lenfazreads, @xhookswenchx, @killian-whump, @eala-captian, @kmomof4, @onceuponaprincessworld, @couldnthandleit

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #ouat fic

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