#can I tag this as irish lads? technically there's two lads here

[thejollyroger-writer]

Historical Inaccuracies

a/n: Inspired by a chat in the discord, this story was born out of Killian’s love for history and America’s hatred for the British while on historical tours. Up until last night, this fic was lovingly referred to as “the history nerd fic,” and it is dedicated to @welllpthisishappening @profdanglaisstuff @kmomof4 and @shireness-saysIt is, of course, Fourth of July themed, like all of Mary Margaret’s outfits on this trip. 

Read it on AO3 if that’s more your jam

3k words // rated G

SUMMARY:  When David and Mary Margaret's son wants to go on the Freedom Walk guided tour in Boston for his birthday, Emma and Killian tag along, still hiding their relatively-new relationship from their friends. But when the tour guide starts to berate a certain group of people from across the pond, both Killian's anger and their relationship come out.

-----

Killian would do anything for his godson. Of course, he would do anything for his nephew, Charlie, too, but the hour-long car trip from Boston to Northbridge is far easier than the flight across the Atlantic to his brother and his wife in England. 

But this? This is a new level of Hell, right here in the middle of Boston. 

Not all of it is terrible. He gets to share an apartment with his girlfriend, their fairly-new relationship still a secret to their best friends. They both took off work for Leo’s birthday celebration, so they get to spend a few days together, without either of them having to worry about their jobs, since she could manage a few days without going after someone who skipped bail, and his university was off for the summer. And their best friends are back in town, their seven-year-old in tow. It really was a “stay-cation” that he was looking forward to, especially since the thing Leo wanted the most was to spend days on historical tours of Killian's favorite city, some of them led by Killian himself, and others led by costumed tour guides in celebration of the Fourth of July week in Boston.  

But it's one of these costumed tour guides that is putting Killian through hell. Ben. Ben, a twenty-something year old, probably a college student, with shaggy ginger hair and a freckle-covered face, wearing an American Revolutionary War uniform.

He got through the part of the tour where Ben referred to the British soldiers during the Revolutionary War as the “bloody Brits,” paired with a terrible fake accent. He got through the discussion of the Boston Tea Party where Ben instead referred to them only as the “Colonizers.” 

But now? 

“You know,” Ben says, turning around to look at their small group as he leads them down the last few blocks towards the Faneuil Market, the ending place for their tour. “We focus so much on the Brits of the past on this tour, but what about the Brits of the present?” 

There’s a small smattering of laughter from the group, but Killian squeezes his hands into fists, tight enough for them to quickly start shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Emma turn to him, making sure he is okay, and though he is decidedly not, there’s nothing they can do without calling attention to him. 

This is one form of torture. Everyone around him learning he is one of these bloody Brits would be something more. Or, he fears it would. Hence why he hasn’t spoken since the tour started, simply happy to be spending time with the people closest to him. 

“It’s one thing to colonize countries when it was all the rage. Everyone was colonizing when the British ruled the Americas, and the Brits colonized everyone — but to still have colonies? In the twenty-first century?” 

There’s a mumble of approval through the group. 

Killian just rolls his eyes. 

“And who still has a queen, in this day and age?” he jokes, and this gets a few laughs in response. “Nowadays, the Royal Family seems more like the stars of a reality show then the people ruling a nation. I mean, why does it matter what the prince’s wife wears on a daily basis? That’s the status of a celebrity, not of a woman who might one day rule the whole country.” There are a few more laughs, the crowd now getting more into his new-found stand up comedy role. 

Killian disagrees, pressing his teeth lightly into his tongue. 

(Though he would never admit it, Killian kind of agrees with this point. The fame of the Royal Family has seemed a little irrelevant to him over the past few years — though it was never something that Killian would talk about in public.)

Emma hears Killian huff beside her, groaning under his breath. What she can’t see is the way his teeth are practically cutting into his tongue, the faint taste of blood taking over his mouth. 

He’s surprised to feel Emma’s hand wrap around his, and the warmth of it, even in the bright city sun, calms the boiling of his blood. 

She has been his best friend for years. Sure, they may not have gotten along that well when they first became neighbors her and David’s senior year of college, but that was almost twelve years ago. Since then, they have watched David and Mary Margaret fall in love, move out of the city, get married, and have Leo, with their second on the way. They have seen Killian go through two roomates: Jefferson and Robin, leaving him with Will currently. 

They have seen Emma go through more. Ruby, Belle, Zelena, Regina, and Tink, all of whom tended not to stay too long, though only Regina and Tink left because of Emma: Regina because they were too different, their schedules opposites, Regina much more meticulous than Emma could ever be. 

And Tink? Tink was insanely jealous of her friendship with Killian, even more jealous when their friendship became more. It was only a few weeks before that she heard Tink shouting Killian’s name through the thin bedroom walls in the middle of the night while she was staying in Killian’s apartment, which pushed Emma to ask her to move out. 

Because after everything, they fell in love. 

The only issue with that is they decided not to tell David and Mary Margaret yet. It’s not that they don’t think their friends would be happy for them — Mary Margaret would probably start screaming, and after David stopped leveling him with his gaze, he would crack a smile, as well. 

But it’s only been five months. They decided to wait longer until they told their friends, and holding hands in the middle of Boston is not the way to keep their relationship secret. 

It helps the angry pounding of his heart, though, which is almost enough for him to not care.

“Why is their flag so busy?” Ben asks, pulling an old-fashioned American flag out of his pocket, one with thirteen stars. “All those lines going every which way and all that — not to mention the colors. Red, white, and blue, so original.” 

At this, Leo turns around to Emma and Killian, standing at the back of the group. Just the night before, Killian had gone through the history of the British flag with the lad, who sat cross-legged on the floor of his apartment, his bright eyes wide with interest. 

But when he sees Killian and Emma standing behind him, old enough to know what their intertwined hands means, his eyes widen in a completely different way. Emma can swear that everything around her slows down as Leo opens his mouth to say something, and she presses her finger to her lips before he can make a sound. He looks worried for a moment, until Killian winks and smiles at him, and the smile returns to the seven year old’s face and he turns back to the tour guide. 

This time, when Killian turns to Emma, she lets out a sigh of relief. 

“And don’t even get me started on tea!” Ben says, pulling Killian’s attention back to him. “Why are they so high and mighty about their tea? We all know that coffee is the far superior hot beverage.” 

To none of his friend’s surprise, this is when Killian cracks: if Killian Jones has strong opinions about anything, it's coffee. “Oi, really, mate?” he yells, and he couldn’t have sounded more British if he tried. When every eye in the group turns towards him, his face reddens even more, and Emma’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger. 

Probably both. 

Though when she sees David’s gaze fall to their hands, his eyes widening in surprise, her cheeks redden in her own embarrassment. 

“Not a single piece of information you just supplied is correct, do you know that? Or if it is, it’s completely biased.” He’s on a roll, not stopping now, and even as he runs his fingers through his hair, his grip on her hand tightens, as if it's the one thing stopping him from truly losing control. Emma fears it just might be. “Yes, okay, Great Britain still has colonies, but do you know who else does? America! Australia, Denmark, the Netherlands, France, they all have colonies! It’s more than just us bloody Brits. And do you know that the queen doesn’t actually ‘rule the entire country’?" He definitely has not stopped to take a breath, which worries her. "There’s a whole system of people who work with her, who keep her in check, and it might be a system that’s a few hundred years old, but I’ll tell you this, our checks and balances work much better than whatever bullshit that happens here.” 

A few of the younger people in the group all go “Oooh!”, some of them laughing, others outraged, but it’s all nothing compared to the surprised outrage written across Ben’s freckled features. 

When he starts again, the words are tumbling madly from his lips, much angrier when he conveyed the same information to Leo the night before. “The British Flag is a culmination of the British, Scottish, and Irish from when King James I of Scotland inherited all three thrones, so it’s technically not just one flag, but three all out together. It represents the same kind of unity that your American flag is also supposed to represent, three countries coming together in unity, though of course that’s not the flag that we use anymore. It was redesigned when Great Britain and Ireland were united in 1801, and that is the flag that you all recognize as our Union Jack.” 

He stops for a moment, looking around the group, his blue eyes wide with anger, with madness — pausing for a moment on David, whose eyes are not on his face, but on his hand, which he realizes in this moment is still wrapped around Emma’s. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

His free hand raises to scratch at the spot behind his ear that always seems to itch when he finds himself embarrassed. “I’m not even going to start on the tea comment, because that’s just plain bullshit,” he says after a silent second, his voice even again, and he even laughs lightly, which makes the tension that has filled the group lighten a bit. 

Except for Ben. 

Ben looks like he’s never been more embarrassed in his life. It’s a definite possibility that he actually hasn’t. 

A beat passes. The group is silent. 

And then Ben, still red in the face, claps his hands together, standing on the steps in front of the market before them. 

“I would like to thank each of you for joining me on this Freedom Trail Walk during this year’s 38th annual Boston Harborfest. I hope you’ll all join us on Thursday for the Parade of Lights and Fireworks, which starts at 8:30. If anyone still needs to find a place to sit to enjoy them, let me know, I have a few suggestions. Enjoy the rest of the celebration!” 

The group begins to dissipate, David leading their whole crew a few steps away from where the bulk of the group still stands. Killian moves to let go of Emma’s hand, to try and make the conversation he knows is going to happen a little less awkward, but Emma refuses to let go. Killian turns to her, David and Mary Margaret still leading them with Leo between them. He catches her eye, and when she turns her head and smiles at him, he pulls their hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

Her smile widens. 

He hears her unspoken words, a question she desperately wants to ask him: are you sure? He hopes that the smile that takes over his face is answer enough. 

Because he's sure. He may never have been so sure about anything in his life as he is about Emma — as he is about loving her, about wanting to be with her badly enough to have to incur the wrath of their best friends — of her brother — finding out like this. 

God, he loves her. It's not the first time he's had the thought, but it's the first time he's realized just how true it all is. He's not ready to tell her, to tell anyone, but he's ready enough to believe it in his own mind. To think it when he looks at her, when he wakes up curled around her in the morning, when he's buried deep inside her. 

Sure, they've only been together for a few months, but he's been in love with her for years. He tried to bury it beneath bottles of rum, tried to hide from it by using other women, but every time when he woke up beside one of them, he would dream it was her, wake up hoping it wasn't just a dream, and regret when that was not the truth.

Needless to say, the first morning he finally woke up beside her, golden locks strewn all over his face and his chest, his arm asleep from refusing to move away from her during the night, was the greatest morning of his life. 

"Alright," David says, turning back to the two of them to turn their group into a circle. But when his eyes go wide, they are not focused on Killian and Emma's joined hands, but instead just over Killian's shoulder. 

Not a moment later, he feels a tap on it, paired with a soft-spoken, "Excuse me, sir." 

He whips his head towards the sound, now releasing his grip on Emma's hand, and when he meets the eyes of the person standing behind him, he remembers why Emma reached over to grab his hand in the first place, which he's both happy and angry about. 

Ben. 

He still looks like he's never been more embarrassed in his life. 

Good. 

"I, uh, I just really wanted to apologise for what… happened," he says, his eyes falling to the pavement. "I really have no problems with the British, just to clear that up. I just — I never had anyone on my tour that's not American — not that you're not American, of course, that's not what — not what I'm saying, it's just — " 

Finally, Killian stops him, raising his hands up between them. "Listen, lad," he says, and Emma can't help but think that his accent is stronger than it usually is. Or maybe she's just focusing on it more. "I appreciate your apology. I just hope this is a lesson to really know who's in your group before you go poking fun at other countries, especially ones whose residents are such hard-headed gits, aye? Not everyone will be as forgiving as I am." 

It's not until he smiles at him that Ben realizes he's serious. "Th—thank you," he stutters, his voice soft, and after a moment passes (one Killian is pretty sure neither of them breathe through), he turns to walk away. 

When Killian turns back towards his friends, the sigh he lets out is both audible and visible, the rise and fall of his shoulders obvious. "Well, that was exciting," he says after yet another silent moment passes between them, and then turns to David. "What's the plan, boss?" 

But it's Mary Margaret who responds. "Oh, no, uh-uh, no way." She shakes her head, crossing her arms over the third different stars-and-stripes dress that has made an appearance this week. 

When David mirrors her appearance, Leo looks back and forth between them a few times before he does the same. If they weren't teaming up against her, Emma would think they're adorable. 

But since they are teaming up against her, that ruins it a bit. 

"Yeah," David says, his bright eyes narrowing into slits. "It seems the two of you have to explaining to do." 

"Yeah!" Leo adds, though his glare is not as piercing as his parents'.

"What's there to explain?" Killian asks, his voice much calmer than Emma's would have been, especially once he reaches out to wrap his arm around her shoulder, pulling himself closer to her. "We're dating. It's still relatively new to us, and we didn't want to get anyone's hopes up in case it doesn't work out." 

At his words, David's face softens, but when Emma turns to Mary Margaret, hers has not. "How long has this been going on?" 

Now it's Emma's turn to answer, the lump in her throat almost completely gone now, but her voice is still soft when she manages to speak. "Not very long. Just a few months, four? Maybe five?" 

This does not make Mary Margaret any calmer, either. "Five months! You've been dating for five months and you haven't told anyone?!" 

Emma feels her face growing hot. This is why they haven't told anyone. 

"And why do you think that is, hm?" Killian asks, gesturing towards Mary Margaret with his free hand. 

This silences the woman, enough for her to snap her mouth shut. 

"I guess, uh, it makes sense now," David says, realizing exactly what Killian and Emma hoped he had: that Mary Margaret's response was exactly what they had expected. 

But the best thing about David and Mary Margaret finding out happened two nights later, when Killian realized he didn't want to move back into his apartment when David asked if they could stay a few days longer than expected. 

They even invited the rest of their friends over to help move his things into her apartment, sitting out on the balconies to watch the fireworks over the bay. 

A year later, he stood in the exact same place to ask her to marry him, and was sure to tell everyone the very next day at the Nolan's first annual Fourth of July barbeque. 

#cs fics #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cs ff #captain swan #snowing #killian as a godfather #and a history nerd #and a poor british man #secret dating #apartment sharing #literal fireworks #and boats #well ships #and i did a little research for this to make sure everything was accurate #so please dont come at me with that #history nerd fic