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alannacouture · 4 months
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A Captain Swan Christmas ❄️ 🎄☃️
NOT MY EDITS
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statustemporary · 7 months
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and we'll put on a show
SUMMARY: “I get everyone else doesn’t want to go back, I get it. It’s nice being together and having the comfortable mattress and soft pillows and literal palace. But, actually, no, you know what unsettles me the most about being here?” she rants one day while she paces her bed chambers. Hook casually lays on the chaise lounge under the window, spearing grapes with his hook before sliding them off with his mouth, a sight that becomes more and more dangerous the more she sees it. His shirt is unbuttoned to a staggering degree and his chest hair is more of a distraction than she ever thought such a thing could be.
“Ogres? Flying monkeys? Genies?” Hook offers without any real thought.
|| Emma didn't mean to alter Pan's curse. She just wanted to keep her family together. The Enchanted Forest is interesting and all, but it would've been great if her alterations kept them together in Storybrooke where there's hot showers and a McDonalds just past the town line.
RATING: Teen
WORD COUNT: 6,572 words
TAGS: Captain Swan, Fluff, Humor
AO3
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was going to be a quick, fun, ridiculous kind of one-shot and here we are 6k+ later. also, apparently i have 187 different writing styles so i call this one "no backstory necessary".
sorry not sorry for what you're about to read.
heh :)
***
When Pan’s curse was coming and Emma tapped into her deep well of highly untrained, incredibly powerful, and equally chaotic magic, she didn’t know what to expect. All that had been on her mind was staying together – her, Henry, her parents, Regina, Neal, Hook… She didn’t care how it happened or where they were, all she focused on was not being left alone again.
Wish magic, Mother Superior had told her when the smoke dissipated and they were all in the Enchanted Forest. Wish magic is already powerful but paired with your magic, and the wish magic in your heart, it is something I’ve never seen before.
The prospect was daunting. As if being the Savior wasn’t enough, every time she turned around, she had more power than before and even less of a mind on how to use it.
It would’ve been nice if her magic worked well enough to keep them in Storybrooke with hot showers and cars and food already meal prepped. Instead she’s back to chomping on chimera when she’d kill for a bear claw or some Pringles.
“I get everyone else doesn’t want to go back, I get it. It’s nice being together and having the comfortable mattress and soft pillows and literal palace. But, actually, no, you know what unsettles me the most about being here?” she rants one day while she paces her bed chambers. Hook casually lays on the chaise lounge under the window, spearing grapes with his hook before sliding them off with his mouth, a sight that becomes more and more dangerous the more she sees it. His shirt is unbuttoned to a staggering degree and his chest hair is more of a distraction than she ever thought such a thing could be.
“Ogres? Flying monkeys? Genies?” Hook offers without any real thought.
“Wait. Genies are real too?!”
“Is there anything about this realm that doesn’t surprise you, Swan?”
Emma groans and stomps over to her bed, falling back onto it and letting her legs dangle off the side. Her trousers ride up her backside in the most uncomfortable way but she’s too focused on her frustration to bother fixing it. The clothes in the Enchanted Forest are surprisingly soft and durable with even more flexibility than she’s used to. But she misses jeans and sometimes she wants to wear a nice heel that makes her ass look great and gives her an extra two inches of height. The ball gowns are definitely not her thing, at least not the first fifteen dresses that resembled more puff balls than evening wear. The red dress that her mother pulled out for her though – that is an exception.
“Ugh, what really pisses me off is I’ll never know if the last Game of Thrones book ever gets finished and I’ll never know if Derek dies and I won’t get to watch the new Star Wars trilogy with Henry.”
Hook sits up, eyebrows raised high. “Who is Derek?”
Emma groans again and covers her face with her hands. “I can’t even complain to you because you don’t know.”
“It would be helpful if you explained it to me, love.”
His words are soft and gentle and the verbal equivalent of him offering a hand to stand up. It makes her shiver in a way that reminds her of when she was in middle school and Zackary Theed kissed her behind the bleachers when they should’ve been running the mile. The excitement of something so innocent and sweet.
Leaning up on her elbows, she catches the quick glance of Hook’s eyes on the sliver of stomach her shirt exposes with her movements. When his eyes meet hers a moment later, he smirks but holds back the usual heat, giving her his undivided attention.
The dynamic between herself and Hook has been… interesting, to say the least. Especially with the entirety of Storybrooke’s impromptu return to the Enchanted Forest. Her parents, as much as she loves them – because she is accepting that she’s starting to love them – are overwhelming. They’re trying to be comforting and supportive but they’re so excited to finally live this life with her that they’ve always imagined. They’ve talked of balls and suitors and learning to rule when all Emma wants is a nap and some alcohol.
Henry is taking everything in stride, happier than he’s ever been in all the time she’s known him. Not only does he have both moms in the same palace but he also has his dad, a whole stable of horses to choose from, and archery and sword fighting lessons are part of his curriculum now. All in all, it’s every kid’s fantasy come to life and he hasn’t thought once about Storybrooke.
Emma wishes she could say the same but she didn’t grow up here. This isn’t who she is and finding a happy medium to settle at gets more and more exhausting by the day.
She spent her first week in the castle putting her feelers out and trying to gauge the reaction to the town’s sudden relocation. While some townspeople missed the conveniences of Storybrooke, many of them were happy to be home.
Hook kept himself sparce during that first week. Not only did he want to give Emma time with her family and to begin to acclimate but he also needed to find his ship. She wasn’t sure if he’d come back once he got it. His confession in the Echo Caves and their exchange at the town line laid heavy on her mind and played in circles when she tried to sleep the first few nights. He had been honest from the start and never pushed her to reciprocate his feelings. Feelings which, though he might not believe it, are there.
But the pirate spent centuries on the sea and she doesn’t know, when it comes down to the sea or her, who the more satisfying temptress is.
It was during Hook’s absence that stretched from one week to three that Emma accepted her feelings for him ran deeper than pure attraction. She’d find herself in meetings with the council, looking around for his face only to not find it. A comment would slip just under her breath and his resulting chuckle was nowhere to be found. Loneliness crept over her shoulders like a rolling fog.
Everyone else here had… someone. And once again, Emma did not. Henry bounced around between all his parents and was doted on endlessly by everyone, and her parents divided their time with her and their many duties. Even the friends she made in Storybrooke didn’t feel like they were still hers as they fell back into the roles of councilors and advisors for the crown.
Then Hook came back after three weeks with his ship in the harbor and a bottle of spiced rum from a far-off land for them to share in secret and she felt the loneliness ebb away bit by bit. Rum wasn’t the only thing he returned with. No, he had bundles of fabrics and clothes from the far reaches of the realm and trinkets like seashells for her and Henry to use to replace their cell phones.
He promised her at the town line with a curse coming for them that a day wouldn’t go by that he didn’t think of her. The curse never came but the promise stayed true, his acquisitions showed.
Even now, as they lounge in her bed chambers in the high tower of the castle, his attention remains solely on her. The thought makes her cheeks warm and his gaze, when she meets it, churns a longing low in her stomach.
“Derek is from a television show called Grey’s Anatomy and it’s been rumored he might die this season but I’ve been so far behind that I don’t even know if he did and now I never will!” she groans. The lid has been lifted and now she can’t stop even as she watches Killian’s eyebrows rise higher and higher. “The new Star Wars movie coming out this year was supposed to be a special thing for me and Henry to do together and now we can’t even do that! We used to watch Brooklyn 99 and Law & Order: SVU and reruns of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air together because those were our things but now we don’t have a thing! How do I compete with sword fighting and horses and freaking Robin Hood?!”
“You can always bring the lad to the beanstalk.”
She bites back the urge to say the beanstalk is theirs and instead shakes her head. “I want something we can do where one of the potential risks isn’t plummeting to our deaths.”
Killian smirks and stabs another grape. “I did prevent your fall, love.”
Not quite, she thinks to herself before the thought immediately overwhelms her and she feels her walls reinforcing themselves. She likes Killian, like-likes him and all that grade school crush stuff. But she doesn’t love the guy. Their friendship is still on new ground having only become allies in Neverland. And that kiss…
That kiss is as indescribable now as it was then and her hand twitches in an ache to touch her lips at the memory.
Attraction and chemistry burning red hot is what exists between them. But love? No way.
Emma sits up as straight as the walls she’s reassembled around her heart. “You also hit me in the head with your hook.”
“You survived, didn’t you?”
I might not.
“The point is, while this move to the Enchanted Forest is great and all, we all get to be a…” she struggles to find the right word. Family should be easy to say but she’s still struggling on that front. Mary Margaret and David still don’t quite understand but they’re trying. She’s just not there yet. Emma swallows. “A unit. But this wasn’t my life and I just miss some of that stuff from the real world.”
Killian pauses in his grape escapade and eyes her carefully. “The world is just as real here as it was in your realm.”
Emma sighs and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Would you have stayed?” he asks after a moment of silence. “If you had the choice between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest – would you have stayed in Storybrooke?”
“What does it matter?” she says. “I didn’t have a choice.”
His tone edges on sad but he tries to keep it neutral, interested. “Humor an old pirate.”
“I don’t know, okay? There’s a lot that answer depends on.”
Hook eyes her. “What does it depend on?”
“A lot of things!” she fights back. He presses the question again and Emma erupts from her spot on the bed, angry that he won’t let this go, and starts to pace. “Things like where Henry would be, where my parents would be, where you –”
She cuts herself off fast, eyes wide and heart pounding through her chest. Hook stands slowly from his spot on the chaise and licks his lips in anticipation.
“Emma –”
“Mom!”
Henry comes barreling in the open door of her bedroom like a force of nature. Hair windswept and toothy grin on his face, Emma’s always glad to see her son so joyful but especially now when his appearance offers her an escape. “Hey, kid. What’s got you so happy?” She smiles softly at him while ignoring the holes Hook burns into the side of her head.
“I want to show you what Grandma taught me during archery today. It’s so cool, you have no idea.” It’s easy to agree to her son’s request and she moves to follow him out the door when he stops and turns to her companion. “Hook, do you want to check it out too? I bet you probably haven’t seen this in the last 300 years.”
The pirate in question must read the panic on Emma’s face and smiles sadly at Henry, coming close enough to drop his hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Unfortunately I have some business to attend to but if you don’t mind, I’d like to watch another day.”
“Aye, aye, capt’n!” Henry grins, salute and all, before he tugs Emma’s hand out the door. “Come on, we’re losing daylight and you won’t be able to see it in the dark!”
She feels the ghost of Hook’s fingers brushing her arm but she doesn’t look back.
*
Emma skillfully avoids Hook for just over two weeks. In all honesty, he might even be avoiding her with how little she’s seen him around the palace. Then again, she’s thrown herself wholeheartedly into learning her parents’ duties for the kingdom.
But then his ship is gone from the harbor and David has suddenly taken up Mary Margaret’s pastime of sending birds with notes so all evidence points to him leaving. Not that she blames him, no, after all, everyone leaves her eventually. Their relationship is confusing enough for her, she can only imagine he’s gotten fed up with her walls stacking themselves higher with every step forward.
Still, she thought his words before the curse would’ve lasted a little longer than this.
Loneliness sneaks up on her quick but this time she welcomes it with open arms. She has no right to Hook’s heart, not when she keeps pushing him away and hurting him. No sane man would stick around for more of that torture. No sane man has that kind of patience.
Then again, he did stay alive for over 300 years to exact vengeance on his enemy.
Nevertheless, the chaise in her bedchambers stays empty and all she has to rely on is the memories of his mouth fitting perfectly against hers in Neverland and how his breath puffed against her cheek and the absolute fuckstruck expression on his face as he was ready to dive in for more before she put a stop to it. His innuendos and never-ending confidence in her abilities echo inside her mind in the silence of her room and his presence haunts the halls as she leaves enough space to her left for where he would’ve walked.
The first time she lays eyes on him after she ran out of her room is nearly four weeks later and she only catches a glimpse of him from afar.
His ship isn’t in the harbor, that much she knows. Her bedchambers have the perfect set of windows to overlook the water and she’d lie if anyone asked but her morning routine has consisted of checking each ship docked below.
That doesn’t have to mean much, she rationalizes. His ship could be out in the water and he took a dingy to shore so he could make an easy getaway. Afterall, he did leave on the Jolly Roger four weeks ago without a single farewell to her.
Whatever the reason for his probable short stint back in Misthaven, David greets him far from spying eyes and listening ears. Even the roll of her wrist and warmth of magic bubbling in her palm does nothing to reveal the secret conversation between the two men as they travel far from the castle.
They don’t return for hours, which piques her interest. One thing she’s learnt about David, especially since coming to the Enchanted Forest, is that dinner is a requirement for all. To miss dinner means you better be sick or dying. So for the man of the hour to miss the meal completely and for Mary Margaret to not raise a single eyebrow at his absence has her mind whirling.
Emma corners David later that night when he sneaks to the kitchens for a midnight snack. Her nerves have been unsettled all evening and she falls back into her typical stakeout habits which includes eating terrible food while lying in wait for her prey. Of course it’s the Enchanted Forest though and junk food consists of a few sweets and maybe bread.
God, she misses McDonalds.
David jumps in fright when he spots her at the prep island in the main kitchen. He smiles tiredly a few moments later, steals some bread, swipes her butter knife, and closes his eyes contently as he eats.
“Are the ogres angry? Are they going to start another war?” she finally blurts out when the wait gets too long and the silence eats at her center. “Did you send Hook to prepare the troops?”
Silence answers her at first. David looks at her in confusion before a deep understanding settles so serenely on his face that Emma’s instinct is to run. Instead, she swallows it down and focuses on the part of her being nagged by Hook’s abrupt absence and silent return recently.
Shaking his head in amusement, David says, “Everything is peaceful here. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“So where did you send Killian?”
“Killian?” David replies, eyebrows raised but his amusement not flagging in the slightest. He looks like he wants to talk, or maybe just tease her about her slip-up, but Emma rolls her eyes in return and speaks before he gets a chance.
“So where did you send Hook?”
“I didn’t send him anywhere.”
She presses, barely able to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Then where did he go?”
The air in the kitchen shifts. There’s a prickling starting on the back of Emma’s neck and her senses go on alert as David gives her his full and undivided attention.
“Since when have you started caring where Killian goes in his free time?”
She fumbles. Her mouth refuses to function and her brain can barely think of a coherent response. “I – I don’t.”
“Mhmm…”
David’s stare bores holes into the side of her head as she darts her gaze elsewhere. She feels like she just got caught lying by her father which… she guesses is accurate on all accounts. Even if the admission is only to herself, her stomach clenches uncomfortably and her throat dries.
When did she start to see Killian – Hook – as someone to care about? Was it when he turned his ship around and brought them to the one place he swore he’d never return to just to help her save her kid? Was it their kiss, hot and heavy under the humid jungle leaves, a magnetic connection that called to each other so strongly it took a herculean effort for her to walk away?
Or maybe it was when they were at the town line and he told her he’d think of her every day and, when her magic decided to do its own thing, he stuck by her side. He never asked for more than what she was willing to give, every day learning more and more about her limits, her likes and dislikes. Instead, they found refuge in one another. For as much time as he spent around royals, first under their command then stealing from their stores, he felt as uncomfortable as she did within the palace walls and the pomp and circumstance surrounding it all.
He suddenly became one of the most important people in her life without her even realizing it and the thought takes her breath away.
David gives her a soft smile before stepping up to her frozen frame, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and pulling her close to press a firm kiss to the top of her head. She allows him without a fight, subconsciously leaning into his warmth and fatherly comfort, closing her eyes briefly. His whispers act as a soothing balm to her broken soul. So many breaks, so much pain. Yet his presence begins to fill the cracks.
“It’ll be fine, Emma. Just talk to him.”
She listens to his words, soaking in her father at her side. For once, it’s not overwhelming or uncomfortable. It almost starts to feel like coming home.
*
Of course, because she’s Emma, she doesn’t actually make an effort to talk to Killian the next day. Or the day after that. The conversation that’ll ensue requires courage she’s struggling to find.
Instead, she watches from windows and around corners as he is friendly with Henry and Neal, strikes up long conversations with Granny and Ruby, and even shares in a secret joke with Leroy, clapping the dwarf on his back as they chuckle and grin at each other.
Everyone but her.
He doesn’t even attempt to look for her, doesn’t make an effort to come by her side even after their eyes connect across the courtyard. He merely turns back to his conversation with Marco while Emma pulls Henry closer to her side and continues their walk along the palace grounds.
She refuses to say that jealousy kicks her in the ass to actually do something but when she sees him four days later with that stupidly attractive smirk on his face being directed at Tinkerbelle before Regina joins their secret meeting, she’s had enough. Since he’s clearly too cowardly to approach her, she’ll pull up her big girl panties and do it herself.
It’s not as if she didn’t already know that she’s been running from her own feelings the entire time. Reality only sets in, however, that she’s just as cowardly when she’s strolling down one of the palace hallways and stops short at the sight of him at the other end.
He looks good.
The black leather duster shines from the sunlight streaming through the palace’s stained-glass windows. His dark hair gleams and looks softer than it felt between her fingers in Neverland. Glowing skin, straight back, confident set of his shoulders. The pirate looks like a model at ease in the middle of a clothing commercial, all carefree and beautiful. She bets that if he grins, big and wide and all his pearly whites showing, a fucking sparkle will appear with a quiet DING! to accompany it like a fucking toothpaste ad.
Un-fucking-fair.
Air leaves her lungs at the sight of him and that causes her a delay in retreating. Too substantial a delay, it seems, as Hook chooses that moment to turn on his Emma Radar and look straight at her. His face lights up and he calls out her last name, looking as if the heavens are personally highlighting him with a pitch perfect song.
Seriously?!
She turns on her heel and makes a hasty retreat. She is so not ready for this conversation. If she can even keep it together enough to not pull on that stupid vest – a deep red color that looks to be made of velvet and probably soft to the touch – to drag the pirate into a nearby closet to kiss or kill him. The jury is still out on that decision.
“Swan!” he calls again, rushing to reach her. The cool metal of his hook encircles her elbow and turns her his way. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” he exclaims, relief in his voice and clear in the way his forehead relaxes.
“Really?” She snorts so unladylike she’s sure both Mary Margaret and Regina would be annoyed if they heard. “Because it seems like you’ve been avoiding me since you came back from who knows where.”
“I –” he starts before sighing. “Not exactly.”
Hmph. So he was avoiding her. The truth tugs at her chest in such a painful way that Emma only barely resists the urge to rub at the area over her silk shirt.
“Whatever, Hook.” Anger wraps around his moniker like a hot iron. He can hear it, the slight drop of his head and the glow fading from his features when it’s said, but he doesn’t allow her to run like she so desperately tries. “What?!” she hisses.
“Just come with me, love. I promise, you can be angry and hate me again after but… just let me show you something.”
Hook has only ever looked so earnest once before and her mouth drops open at seeing the sight again. Blue eyes plead with her as his eyebrows raise in encouragement. Emma feels herself nodding before she realizes what she’s doing and suddenly he’s ushering her down the hallway and towards the wide garden space behind the castle.
“I – I don’t hate you,” she says when the silence gets too much for her. Even when they fought on opposite sides and he annoyed her to hell, she never hated him. The thought he could believe such a thing unsettles her to the core. “Just because I’m upset with you doesn’t mean I hate you.”
“Your anger is well deserved. My apologies, love.” He shakes his head, pulling them to a stop before they enter the gardens. Ocean blue eyes stare into her meadow green and her breath hitches as he comes closer. The torches that line the hallway dim as her focus zeroes in on Hook. It’s been a struggle in the past keeping her eyes off of his mouth whenever he deemed personal space to be a nonentity. But this time his gaze keeps her locked in and she doesn’t even dare to blink. “Consider this part of my apology,” he whispers. “Your heart’s desire, Swan. That’s all I want.”
He steps away before she even comprehends the enormity of his statement and pulls her into the gardens.
The wide expanse of grass is freshly trimmed, the smell filling her nostrils and reminding her of summers at foster homes wishing for a family to laze around a backyard with. The flowers and plants that border the gardens are in full bloom offering an array of colors. Red roses, yellow shrubbery, pink Middlemist flowers. She’s been in the gardens a number of times since their latest return to the Enchanted Forest but now the colors seem brighter and more vibrant.
Hook gently presses his namesake to the middle of her back. Emma’s gaze shifts forward at the touch and she chokes out a gasp.
Down the center of the gardens sits a newly built wooden stage. Wide and made of a dark mahogany that sheens under the sunlight, it takes up nearly the entire width of the flat grassy area. Deep red curtains are pulled across the front of it, hiding whatever stands on the stage. They rustle slightly from movement behind it and Emma lets out a soft giggle at the sound of Hook cursing under his breath beside her.
Six rows of chairs divided down the middle face the stage and she recognizes many of the occupants to be folks working within the castle, or the Misthaven townspeople she used to see in passing around Storybrooke. They all greet her with a smile and nod as Emma is guided to a chair in the first row with a nearly center view of the stage.
“What is going on?” she asks Hook as he stands beside her seat. Her head turns on a swivel looking for a hint of what kind of performance they’re about to see.
“Patience is a virtue, love.”
“Seriously?!” she nearly whines, earning a chuckle in response. She huffs, eyeing him with a small upward tilt of her lips before she looks away.
Chatter is quiet behind her but there’s an excitement thrumming in the air. Voices whisper from the stage but they’re too soft for her to listen for any familiar inflections. Instead, she examines the corners of the stage and the gaps in the curtain that appear every few moments.
Her eyes are still soaking in everything around her when Hook drops his duster on the chair beside hers and grins mischievously at her. “Back in a moment.” He winks at her, slow and smooth and so unlike his terrible attempt when they climbed the beanstalk. She bites her lip to keep the grin from exploding on her face.
Hook stands on the wings of the stage with her father as they whisper in a tight huddle. The two of them duck behind the curtain for a moment before Hook exits and strolls back to her side, taking the seat he reserved for himself. Before Emma can fire off her questions, David emerges from between the curtains.
She watches in awe at how her father captures the attention of the crowd, how he spreads his thanks to Marco and Pinocchio for the stage and scenery, to Jaq, Gus, and Blue for the costuming. He leads into enthusiastic applause with each announcement and she finds herself just as enthralled as the rest of the crowd.
“Finally,” David says and Hook tenses beside her. “You all may know him as Captain Hook but I know him as a friend. None of this would be possible without him.” Her father looks at Emma for a long moment before he looks to Hook and she looks on in confusion as tears build in his gaze. “Killian Jones,” he says through heavy emotion and her companion shifts uncomfortably beside her. “I thank you.”
David steps aside and the curtains pull away to show the stage. It looks like a replica of Storybrooke General Hospital but a large banner hung centerstage says Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. The entire set reminds her of Grey’s Anatomy.
And that’s when it hits her. David’s words finally sink in and Emma turns to Hook – Killian – in shock. He avoids her eyes, raising his hook to gently scratch behind his ear as he looks up at the stage from a lowered gaze.
Leroy stomps on stage talking about an urgent medical case and Granny joins him a few moments later. The two of them bicker back and forth in a way that borders on flirty, their voices sounding far away and drifting into her ear, leaving Emma confused for all of a few moments before it’s revealed that they play Derek and Meredith respectively. She probably would’ve laughed at the casting – she never would’ve pegged Leroy for McDreamy but he’s honestly incredible on stage – but her focus is set on the man beside her who organized a fucking theatre troupe so she wouldn’t be left wondering about one of her favorite shows.
“Don’t make all my hard work go to waste, love,” he mumbles, cheeks red as he glances at her before quickly averting his gaze again. He nudges at her thigh with his hook and nods towards the stage. Emma doesn’t even realize her mouth is still hanging open until she tries to swallow and finds her throat dry.
With little else to do, she turns her attention to the stage and is immediately wrapped up in the story they’re telling. It’s clear that someone within the troupe is a hardcore Grey’s Anatomy fan and was clearly all caught up on the show while she fell behind due to Neverland. The mannerisms, the dramatics, the dialogue – all of it makes her feel like she’s actually watching it.
The forty-five-minute performance goes by in a flash and she’s amongst the loudest cheers when the troupe takes their bows. Her grin is wide and it’s nearly impossible to take her attention away from the stage.
Until Killian sticks his fingers in his mouth to give a loud whistle and Emma can look at nothing but him.
The ruthless pirate who has continually proved her wrong. The scoundrel who came back to help her get Henry even if it meant returning to Neverland. The lost soul who promised to think of her every day they were apart, even if that meant forever. The man who listened to her frivolous whining and delivered her all she had wanted for and more.
Killian tries to stay behind to speak with the troupe about some matter or another but Emma grabs him by the hook and pulls him to an alcove in the garden hidden by prying eyes.
“Swan, what’s – ”
She backs herself into the alcove, pulls on his vest, and crashes her lips against his, effectively stopping his sentence. Emma feels his sharp intake of breath before he sighs into the kiss, hand coming up to cradle her head against the stone of the palace. Their mouths move over each other slowly, stroking the heat in their stomachs to a blazing inferno.
When Emma pulls away, they breathe heavily in each other’s space, swaying closer together as their eyes remain shut.
“Thank you,” she whispers, biting on her swollen lip when she finally opens her eyes. His are still shut, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“I quite like the way we show gratitude.” He cracks an eye open and grins, her own smile widening to match his.
*
Suddenly they’re courting.
Instead of Netflix & Chill, they have Storybrooke Storytellers & Garden Make-outs. A date night at the movies is equivalent to sitting in the garden as her family reenacts the original Star Wars trilogy, her parents as Han and Leia, Henry proudly swinging a lightsaber as Luke, and Neal fittingly as Darth Vader.
Killian whispers tidbits in her ear during each performance, like how Leroy and Granny fought over who was correct regarding one of their Grey’s Anatomy performances, Leroy winning at the end. “He’s got the bloody show memorized, love. Knows the whole thing front and back. Absolutely obsessed.”
Or how Henry assigned everyone’s roles for Star Wars and how it was unanimously decided that Whale would be the dead victim for their recent rendition of Law & Order: SVU, or even how Killian’s curious about the romantic comedies that Belle has brought to his attention. “The lad wants to do everyone’s fairytales as well,” he says, grin pressed against the back of her neck one afternoon. She laughs at the ridiculous image her son’s aspirations create for her, her soul feeling lighter with every moment.
It’s a little bit of the home she created in Storybrooke, right here in the Enchanted Forest. For a girl who’s searched for that all her life, it makes Emma’s heart race ahead of every performance they watch. No one has ever done something like that for her before and she tells him as much through tears one evening as they look at the stars from her balcony. He holds her close, murmuring sweet nothings into her hair and Emma realizes she wants to give him everything.
“Let’s go to the Jolly,” she says. Her head rests on his chest from their stargazing and she feels him tense under her. Eyebrows pinched together in uncertainty, she tilts her head up to look at him. “If that’s okay with you?”
He shifts uncomfortably, not at all in the way she wants him to be, and her confusion mounts. “There’s no need to go to the Jolly,” he answers with a tight grin.
She rolls her eyes, sitting up from her spot and steadies her focus on him. She says point blank, “I am not having sex with you under the same roof as my parents.” Killian sputters and Emma enjoys rendering him speechless for all of two seconds before doubt creeps in. “Do you not want to?”
At her hesitancy, he surges up to capture her mouth in a kiss that takes her breath away and leaves her dizzy. “There’s nothing more I would like to do right now than take you as you are, wherever you desire.” A growl comes from low in her throat as she threads her fingers in his hair and nips at his bottom lip. She whispers again for him to take her to the Jolly Roger only for Killian to halt everything and pull away with a grimace.
“Killian, what’s going on with you?”
Her pirate ducks his head low to his chest before he gathers the courage to meet her gaze.
“The Jolly Roger is no longer in my possession,” he confesses. A low swoop in her stomach causes her to fumble forward in her haste to press against his side. There’s pain in his eyes, the telltale sign of loss and grief that she knows so well. But it’s small and non-consuming, like a detail of life he just lives with now.
“Did someone destroy her?” she asks after a moment, her touch cautious and her gaze searching. Killian shakes his head.
“No, I – I traded her away.”
Her body is suddenly made of concrete, refusing to move despite her mind screaming at her legs to stop Killian’s restless motions. “Wh-what? Why would you do that?!”
Killian smiles softly then. The pain is miniscule but present even as his gaze softens and he reaches his hand out to cup her cheek. “Your heart’s desire, love. That’s all I want.”
*
Despite the late hour, the moon shines high in the sky and lights their way. Her fingers clutch tightly to his metal appendage, the weight of his admission weighing heavily on her, and she stumbles after him as he leads her to the old farm fields.
The area was abandoned before the Dark Curse, her father told her one time. It suffered from barren soil after years of overuse and needed time to recover. More time than thirty years’ worth offered and yet, as Killian leads them through a gate, the fields are sprawling with greenery. Vines trail along the ground and large leaves the size of their heads sprout so intensely that it’s difficult to see the soil beneath.
“What is all this?” she asks in wonder.
Killian grins and reaches down to pull up the end of one vine, a sparkling, translucent item hanging from it. “Look familiar, love?”
A magic bean glimmers under the moonlight, ripe for the taking. It is just one of what could probably be hundreds if not thousands of beans growing on the vast vines before them.
Amazed, she asks, “How is this even possible?”
She loves this man. Before he even starts to explain everything that’s been happening – taking his ship after their conversation in her bedchambers to trade it with Blackbeard for a magic bean, organizing the troupe to give her what she was missing while they waited for the beans to grow and mature, crafting a way to make the near impossible travel between realms into something as easy as tossing a coin into a fountain – she knows deep in her soul that she loves him.
All consuming, heart racing, fingers thrumming, glowing kind of love.
“Perhaps you can finally show me that Red Lobster you rave about?” he offers cheekily.
Emma huffs out a watery laugh, words abandoning her as she looks around. When her eyes lock on his, she swears he outshines the stars.
“You gave up your ship for me?” she asks quietly, hoping to convey everything she can’t verbalize in the way her hand reaches for his and grips it tight.
You gave up your home for me?
“Aye,” he says, just as simple but just as deeply meaningful, squeezing her hand in return.
You are my home now, Swan.
They come together slowly but the passion igniting between them is stronger than it’s ever been before. Her heart is bursting with so much joy that she could cry and it takes her all to keep the tears at bay, wishing to sink into the kiss forever. Her smile, however, is another story and so is his, as they grin against each other’s mouths more than they kiss.
She loves him and he loves her.
Theirs is the kind of love they write movies and shows about.
Theirs is the kind of love they write fairytales about.
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A Charming Curse
What can I tell you that you don't already know? Magic is real and your favorite fairy tales are real too. Except they happened a long time ago.
My great great great great grandmother was Snow White. She really did meet Prince Charming and was nearly buried alive in a glass coffin. How was any of that possible?
Magic.
Or specifically, a nasty, vindictive piece of work named Rumplestiltskin. But names have power, so most people refer to him simply as the Dark One.
My generation have no more belief in the ability to conjure him by name than broken mirrors causing bad luck, but we also prefer to not take chances. Besides, I know something they don't.
Magic is real.
Curses are real.
And the Dark One? Real and a giant pain in the ass.
When my ancestors went looking for a way to break the curse that held Snow White, they made a deal with the Dark One. The price he demanded? The light that touches their first born daughter.
Which would be me. I'm Emma Charming.
Tag!
@kmomof4 @teamhook @ilovemesomekillianjones @earanemith @caught-in-the-filter @tiganasummertree @everything-person @booksteaandtoomuchtv @anmylica @zaharadessert @winterbaby89 @elfiola @jrob64 @xarandomdreamx
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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 3 months
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Weekend Getaway (1/3)
AO3 | 2 | 3
RATING: M
SUMMARY: When Emma's roommate drags her to get a live Christmas Tree, she ends up trapped at a Christmas Village for the weekend. Fortunately, the village had a bar and a bartender that Emma wants to get to know better.
Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert - DM me if you would like to be added/removed from the list.
"You're coming with me," Ruby announced as she banged into the flat. The front door crashed against the wall before closing behind her. Wearing a red knit sweater with a Christmas tree on it that actually lit up and arms heavily laden with shopping bags, she was the bright spot - literally - of Christmas Cheer that Emma was certain she did not order. 
It wasn’t that Emma hated Christmas or anything quite so dramatic. But if given the opportunity to skip directly to New Year’s Eve after Halloween, she would happily accept. There was no escaping how dreadfully lonely her life had become since she’d driven away from Storybrooke after - Nope, not going there. 
"We are getting a live tree this year! Get your jacket, let's go." Ruby continued, not waiting for Emma to acknowledge her. 
"Those are fire hazards. Plus, where would we put it?" Emma gestured at their tiny, crowded living space. 
Ruby grunted as she deposited the bags on the nearest chair. She grabbed Emma's boots and threw them at her, "Put 'em on."
Scowling and grumbling, she clicked off the TV and shoved her feet into her boots. 
It was impossible to deny Ruby anything. They came to the city together a few years ago to get over their broken hearts and discover a life outside of their small town. They'd helped nurse each other through the heartbreaks, acted as both wing-woman and excuse for one another - depending on what the night demanded, and endured the challenges of being artists in a big city together. Ruby had landed a part on an off-broadway play and Emma was in her second season at the New York City Ballet. It took several failed auditions, many pints of ice cream, and the constant support from one another to get them this far. 
"Let's burn down the building then."
"That's the spirit!" 
§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§
They drove for hours, leaving the city behind for the snow-covered, rolling hills of the upstate. While singing and dancing to old favourite songs, they passed several signs advertising various Christmas tree farms. Ruby would shake her head and drive by them. After the tenth one, Emma finally asked where they were going.   “I found the perfect farm online.” 
At Emma’s sceptical look, Ruby continued, “I promise, there is something special about the one we are going to," Ruby explained. "I can just feel it, you know?" 
Emma released a resigned sigh. Ruby was impulsive and spiritual, believing her intuition was a powerful force that should not be ignored. Emma needed something a bit more concrete to guide her decisions. 
Ruby slowed at a lane that was much like any other they had passed all day, except this one sported a faded red pickup truck with rounded fenders that was wrapped in fat, colourful light bulbs. A hand-painted sign welcomed guests to the Jones' Christmas Tree Farm for sleigh rides, hot cidre, hot chocolate, and to cut and carry home their very own tree from its stand on the stained wooden slats in the bed of the truck. 
As they bounced along the uneven lane, Ruby cleared her throat. “Don’t kill me…”
“No promises.” Emma tore her attention from the endless rows of firs and spruces lined outside her window to glare at her old friend. The ice in that glare would have stopped the hearts of mere mortals. But, this was no mere mortal. This was Ruby Lucas and nothing could hinder Ruby’s excitement once it gained momentum. 
Ruby smiled brightly at Emma and pulled a duffle bag from behind Emma’s seat. “I booked a cabin for us for the weekend. We were just saying that we needed a little break and they had so many fun things and, wait until you see the farm, it is beautiful!”
Emma had planned to set up a station on her couch and binge-watch garbage telly. Not spend a weekend on a farm, much less a farm that would doubtlessly be filled with families and couples buying trees the entire time. This was definitely worse than the countless movies featuring smiling men and women in red or green sweaters in front of a highly decorated tree that were beginning to populate every channel she surfed, right? Yes, she decided, it was. Ruby had driven her directly into the ridiculous small town that featured in the background of one of those ridiculous movies and was making them stay for the entire weekend. This was not what she had in mind when they were talking about their holiday. Sun, sand, and sangrias had featured in her dreams. Not snow, cidre, and Santa. 
“They’d better have hard cidre or spiked egg nog,” Emma muttered.
“Like I would spend a sober weekend in a cabin on a farm!” Ruby shot Emma a wounded look. 
Emma snorted and shook her head. “Well, that’s something, at least.”
“Oh, hush. This will be a weekend to remember.” 
The lane opened up to reveal a stunning farmhouse with snowy Christmas trees in rows lining the hills sprawling in every direction. A red barn stood out brightly in stark contrast to the white landscape. It would have been breathtaking, Emma thought, if not for the Christmas Village that stood before the barn under twinkling fairy lights.
"Our cabin better be out of town."
"Well...it is close to the Holly Jolly Tavern, I think." 
"RUBY!"
"I know how much you hate Christmas and we are changing that this year. Your heart will grow three sizes and Tiny Tim will live after all."
"Wait...am I the Grinch or Scrooge?" 
"Yes." Ruby laughed, throwing the car in park. "I'll check us in, why don't you go find your Christmas spirit?" She mimed taking a shot before getting out of the car and walking toward the farmhouse, leaving Emma in the passenger seat of the old car, quickly growing cold, wondering why she allowed Ruby to pull her into these ridiculous situations in the first place.
§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§
The Holly Jolly Tavern was, thankfully, more Tavern than Holly Jolly. Sure, a decorated tree stood tall in the corner near the fire crackling in a large hearth and large multi-coloured bulbs were strung along the walls. And, of course, the drink specials had cutesy holiday names and instrumental Christmas songs played softly in the background. But, the bartenders weren’t dressed as elves or in tacky holiday sweaters and the tables and chairs were your standard sturdy wooden pairings found in drink establishments everywhere.
Emma sat at the long bar and scanned the wall of spirits trying to determine what best fit this situation. 
“What can I get you, love?” The low voice was charmingly accented, and it sent chills down her back. She turned toward the bartender and met brilliant blue eyes that stilled her heart. He wore a crooked smile that made her think very dirty thoughts about his lips and the amber scruff framing the sharp line of his jaw. 
“Whatever your favourite drink is,” Emma answered with a flirty smile. She thanked whatever gods were watching that her voice sounded steady, her mouth was suddenly so dry that she'd expected it to crack. 
He nodded at her request and started pulling together ingredients for her drink. She watched him at his task, mesmerised by his movements and the way he focused so completely on his task. She wondered what it would be like to have that focus directed solely on her and her pleasure. She felt her cheeks heat at the thought and turned away in an attempt to hide it, but his eyes danced with mischievous humour as he handed over her drink, telling her that she was caught. Luckily, he was kind enough not to comment. 
She studied the bright red drink, cranberries and mint floated in the glass, and a thin lime garnished the rim of the tall glass. It looked refreshing and exciting. She wondered if this was truly his favourite drink or a cocktail he had mixed for her using that special power great bartenders had - that uncanny ability to know exactly what a patron needed based on a single glance. 
“A Cranberry Mojito,” he told her, leaning on the bar before her. Her eyes lingered on his well-defined arms and the unfair way they were stretching his deep blue knit sweater. “What brings you here, um?” 
“Emma,” she answered for him, “And, oh, I don’t know. I guess that I have always dreamed of living in one of those ridiculous towns from those cheesy Christmas romances.”
“Pleasure, Emma. Killian,” he said in that musical voice. “I take it this trip wasn’t your idea, then?”
“Nope. My roommate surprised me as we were pulling in - Ohhh! This is good.”
He smiled in triumph at her approval. “The trick is making the simple syrup from scratch with fresh cranberries.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Emma said before taking another sip of the deliciously sweet and tart drink. “Is this truly your favourite drink?”
“Tonight, it is.” 
“Your tastes change so often?” She teased, her eyebrow lifting to emphasise her innuendo. 
“I’m not so fickle as that, love. I am partial to rum, but not so dull as to only take it one way.” Killian replied, meeting her gaze. The heat in the depths of his sapphire eyes made her stomach tighten in response. This man was too good to be anything but trouble. 
Mmm, but it would be some good trouble. 
“That looks fantastic! Can I get one, too?” Ruby’s voice shattered the tension building between them. 
“Coming right up, love,” Killian answered immediately. His eyes lingered on Emma’s a moment longer before he turned to mix Ruby’s drink.
“It’s a Cranberry Mojito,” Emma explained, turning to look at Ruby. “Here, try some while you wait.”
Ruby’s eyes were wide and she was biting her lips together tightly to suppress what Emma knew to be a wolfish smile. Emma shook her head subtly, pleading with Ruby to not say a word. Ruby nodded excitedly at her in approval of whatever she had read into the exchange she interrupted earlier. Emma frantically shook her head - whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it! 
When Killian returned, setting Ruby’s drink on the bar before her, Ruby pounced. “So, what is your name?”
“Killian,” he answered with amusement laced in the melody of his voice.
“And what does your girlfriend think of you making eyes with your patrons, Killian?” 
Emma sputtered and coughed as she tried not to choke on the sip she’d taken before Ruby’s obvious question. Ruby turned to Emma, earnest concern etched on her face, while her eyes danced with humour, “Are you okay, Emma? Need some water?” 
Narrowing her eyes at Ruby, Emma shook her head. Her breath was still taken by the liquid burning in her lungs. A few strangled coughs later, Emma ground out that she was just fine. Killian slid a glass of water to her anyway, the sweet gesture sinking Emma further into… well, whatever was happening between them.
“Good,” said Ruby briskly and she turned to Killian expectantly. 
“I’m not a man to make eyes with someone while involved with another,” his accent clipping the words. 
He hadn’t liked that accusation one bit. The realisation warmed Emma as much as the rum spreading in her blood. He wouldn’t cheat on her and leave her too embarrassed, too ashamed, to face the town she had lived in her entire life. He may be trouble, but he was honourable trouble and that she could handle.
“What kind of a man are you then, Killian?” Ruby asked. She sipped from her cocktail and pinned him with a look that dared him to rise to the bait. 
“Don’t do that, Rubes,” Emma snapped. Her temper was rising - she felt the need to protect Killian from Ruby’s intrusive questions. Killian sent her a grateful look before excusing himself to serve a man flagging him down on the other end of the bar.
“Ooh, you like this one,” Ruby whispered far too loudly as she waggled her eyebrows ridiculously. Emma could not help but laugh and the strange frustration that had so quickly risen in her dispersed.
“No. I just thought that was unfair of you,” Emma said simply.
“Mmhmmm.” 
Emma rolled her eyes at the disbelief in Ruby’s tone. “Fine. Think whatever you want.” 
“I do and I will.” 
“So, what is there to do in a Christmas Village?” Emma asked in a very smooth and effortless transition from the previous topic. 
Ruby perked up and started rattling off various activities that she had booked or seen on her walk over to the pub. Emma listened half-heartedly - her attention straying to the barkeep continuously. She caught him looking her way once and he sent her a devastating smile before returning to his work. 
He served them several more rounds as the night grew older, but he was unable to linger longer than getting their order or setting down their drinks as the Holly Jolly Tavern stayed busy once the sun went down. 
When they left, staggering into the night, Emma felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t seemed to notice her exit. 
Would it have been too much to ask for him to come out running to see her home safe like some Victorian gentleman? She snorted at that very drunk, very ridiculous thought and followed Ruby to the cabin she would call home for the next few days.
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nocaptainonthisship · 8 months
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First Star On The Right
A Captain Swan fic in support of @fandomstrikesback
(You can donate to the strikers here.)
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veryverynotgoodwrites · 8 months
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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones & Emma Swan Characters: Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Original Characters, William Smee, Various Characters Additional Tags: Dark One Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Alternate Universe, Thief Emma Swan, Alternate Universe - The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Romance, Eventual Smut, Slow Romance, Action/Adventure, What Have I Done, Prepare Your Souls, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Additional Warnings Apply Summary:
Emma Swan, arguably the most talented thief in Misthaven, receives an offer from the Evil Queen that she can't refuse: steal an amulet from the new Dark One in exchange for amnesty and more money than she could ever dream of. She devises the perfect plan, but this job might cost her more than she ever imagined.
A Dark Hook AU
-
Hello, hello! I hope you like long chapters lol
This was a fun one - the length and development in this chapter was really challenging, but ultimately necessary to keep up the pacing. One of my goals with this fic is learning to write stories over short timelines, and since this story is meant to take place over 8-10 weeks, I want it to feel like every chapter comes with at least one change or significant event. It’s been very fun yet somehow incredibly stressful trying to ensure that I’m hitting my goal and also remaining consistent in wrangling plot bunnies.
Huge shoutout to @caught-in-the-filter​ and @xarandomdreamx​ for the beta on this chapter! You have no idea how much your feedback truly helps. Even every flail in the doc is helpful to ensure I’m keeping everything straight since I don’t write chapters in order.
Another thank you, as always, to everyone in the CSMM discord for always being there and motivating and encouraging me and everyone else. Truly, you’re the best thing to come out of my 11 years on Tumblr.
If you’ve read this story and want more, or if you want to be tagged in any of my stories please let me know! I’m more than happy to add you to my tags list :)
@kmomof4​ @caught-in-the-filter​ @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @teamhook​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @jrob64​ @karlyfr13s​ @hollyethecurious​  @tiganasummertree​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @xarandomdreamx​ @klynn-stormz​ @omninerdgirl​
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evax3 · 2 years
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ONCE UPON A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE | CAPTAIN SWAN AU
Happy Birthday @leesielex !! I was so inspired by your wonderful story, I just had to draw them as the characters they are based on! :)
I hope you have a beautiful day today, that it's filled with laughter and everything you wish there to be. 💙
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Emma Swan-Jones: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor. Killian Jones: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.
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Hello, again 1/1
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Summary: 
Killian never saw a lover more than once, never called a past encounter again after he or she had left, never even got their phone number. He never said hello a second time. All he was every interested in since the loss of his wife was a single night. 
Emma had rules. She only ever went to bed with strangers. She didn’t do relationships or friends with benefits or second nights. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy spending time with the men she hooked up with. She’d learned young how dangerous feelings could be. 
Neither had ever met another person so strongly against any kind of romantic relationship as themselves, who posed so impossible a risk of developing affection. So perhaps, in the history of attempts at truly casual sex, this could be the first time that it would actually work. 
A silver!Hook AU
Ao3
******
HAPPY HAPPY HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO THE BEAUTIFUL, LOVELY, AMAZING @the-darkdragonfly​ . I’m sorry this is late but I hope you like your present. You are a beautiful human and the most amazing pocket bestie (real bestie) ever. I’m officially stretching your birthday out to a week to allow for late presents! Love you and I hope you enjoy slutty silver hook as much as I enjoyed writing him. 
******
Hello, again
It was dark in the bar when he saw her, dark enough that he had to look again just to be sure. But no, there she was, standing at the bar with a group of friends, nursing a beer, long, golden hair hanging down her back and making his breath hitch for just a moment. He remembered what that hair had felt like woven between his fingers, on his chest and his thighs and his jeans tightened embarrassingly in the middle of the bar at the memory of how good her mouth had felt. She was stunning, green eyes wide with laughter now rather than dark and heavy lidded, lip caught between her teeth in a way that was agonizingly familiar. 
Of course she was stunning. She had been the last time he’d seen her - the only time - when she’d shown up at his door after their brief interaction on a dating app. He’d swiped right, not expecting to match, that a woman in her mid-twenties who looked like her would even have someone twelve years her senior cross her screen, especially not with the silver that had begun streaking through his hair and beard. But she had, and twenty minutes later he was inviting her over.
He’d offered her a drink and she’d declined, walking past his kitchen and into the hall, pulling her sweater off over her head as she went. We both know why I’m here, she’d shrugged. No point in pretending it’s not what it is. Killian had pointed her to the bedroom, hurrying after her and pressing her back against the door. 
He’d liked that about her, the no-nonsense approach she had to one-night stands; he respected it. They’d both clearly indicated that they were looking for a hookup, not a relationship, not even something casual. Just one night, just sex, and the understanding that whoever came over would be gone before the sheets were dry. That was all he ever gave, all he ever wanted to be given. 
Killian never saw a lover more than once, never called a past encounter again after he or she had left, never even got their phone number. This wasn’t the first time he’d run into someone he’d taken to bed after the fact. Storybrooke was a small town after all— though most of the time his conquests were tourists, people visiting family from out of town— but every now and then he’d meet up with a local and there was the inevitable chance of crossing paths at one of the bars or even the grocery store. 
But he never said hello a second time. They were all ships passing in the night, and only closely once. After that he steered clear. Anything more than one night and they began getting ideas, ideas about things happening between them. They began to hope things would happen between them but they never would and never could. Not since Milah. He’d tried that once, with Tink, a friend he’d seen casually for a while, but it had gotten too close to something real, had started to matter more to her than he’d like. And even worse, it had started to matter more to him.
So no, this wasn’t the first time he’d run into a past hookup, but it was the first time he considered saying hello. It was also the first time he allowed himself to entertain the idea of asking her back to his place a second time. It had been bloody fantastic sex and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it since, hadn’t taken himself in hand to the memory of it. And she was bloody gorgeous. 
He wondered if he could make an exception. She’d clearly only been interested in sex, perhaps even more closed off to the idea of a relationship than he was. She hadn’t even wanted to talk or drink to get comfortable before she’d started taking her clothes off. She’d just looked him up and down once in the doorway, making up her mind about him before taking exactly what she wanted from him - what they’d both wanted from each other. 
Maybe, with a woman who so clearly cared as little for any attachment as he did, it would be possible to fuck twice without the risk. And she really had been an amazing fuck. She’d known what she wanted, what she needed to get off, and had told him outright, none of the guesswork and time spent figuring out how to please his partner that was usually required. She’d been almost bossy - and he’d liked it… far too much.
He was still debating whether or not to break his own rules, to cross the bar and say hello, offer to buy her a drink or shag her in the bathroom if that was what she wanted, when she suddenly looked up. She looked confused for a moment, then curious and then the recognition dawned across her face. He wanted to laugh at the hesitation and confliction in her expression that matched his own uncertainty. But she didn’t look away, and when he raised his glass to her in acknowledgement, she nodded, tipping her own bottle towards him. 
This could very well be a terrible decision, breaking his own rules, but he found himself crossing the room before he even finished considering all the reasons he shouldn’t. She turned to him as he reached her table, her friends still caught up in their conversation, and he smiled at her, trying for charming and a little suggestive. 
“Leia, right?” he asked. Technically that wasn’t hello. So technically he wasn’t breaking any rules. 
Humour flashed in her eyes for a moment before she smiled back. “Yeah. Um…”
“Killian,” he supplied. 
“Right! Fancy meeting you here.” 
“Aye, I was just thinking the same thing.” She was from Boston, he was pretty sure - at least that’s what her profile had said. “Are you staying in town long?” 
She raised a brow at him. “I live here, so yeah a little while,” she teased. 
“Oh.” That complicated things. But so did the slow, appreciative way she was eyeing him, gaze casting over his face and down across his chest, not bothering with false modesty as it continued past his belt, tongue running across her bottom lip giving her something to look at. “I didn’t know.” 
“It’s new,” she shrugged. “This is my welcome wagon.” She gestured to the group of women seated with her and Killian was relieved that he wasn’t seeing any of them for the second time, apart from his friend David’s wife who beamed at him. 
“Killian! It’s so nice to see you! Sit down.” 
He froze for a moment. This was a very bad idea. “Um, I don’t know if -” 
“Sit,” she ordered, slightly tipsy and Killian was at a loss to do anything else but obey. Taking a seat across from Leia, Mary Margaret introduced him to everyone as David’s friend, and the woman he’d spent the night with as Emma. His eyes only widened in shock for a second before he had to hide his laugh behind his fist. She’d given him a fake name. Even he’d never gone that far for anonymity. He gave her a mirthful, knowing look that she returned with a blase shrug. It shouldn’t have been so goddamn attractive.
He was answering a question about work, small talk and pleasantries with his old friend, when he felt something brushing along the inside of his calf. He nearly choked, taking a deep swallow of his drink to cover it. When he looked across the table at Emma, she was speaking to her friend, nodding in interest even as he felt her foot slide up towards his knee. He tried to catch her eye, to read her. What are you playing at, love? 
But she paid no attention to him, laughing at something her friend said and stroking her bare toes along the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to where he could feel himself hardening in excitement at her little game, at her touch. And she knew it, her gaze finally flicking to his out of the corner of her eye, something wicked in them, a promise, a question, before she found the length of his cock, stroking it through his jeans. Killian sucked in a slow, shaky breath, hand fisting around his glass as he tried to steady himself and she only smirked, pressing harder. 
When he thought he would lose his mind or spill himself right there under the table, she pulled away, giving him a pointed look before standing and announcing she was going to the bathroom. Killian watched her walk towards the restrooms in the back of the bar, appreciating the view, but also confirming the invitation he was pretty sure she was giving him. She threw him a look over her shoulder, nodding her head towards her destination. Well, rules were made to be broken after all. 
Pulling out his phone and making a show of looking at it, he said that he had to take a call, thanking Mary Margaret and waving goodbye. He’d only just reached the hallway when he saw Emma ducking into one of the single-stall bathrooms. Following her in, he found her leaning back against the sink with a raised eyebrow and a suggestive smirk that caught between her teeth when he locked the door.
He didn’t hesitate, crossing the room in two quick strides and capturing her mouth with his, hands finding her waist as he pulled her hips flush against his own. She let out a small moan, mouth opening under his as she sought his tongue with hers. Killian’s hand found her breast, remembering what she’d told him she liked, having thought about that tone with which she’d demanded what she wanted many, many times since.
“Me first,” she ordered against his lips, catching the bottom one between her teeth and making him groan. 
“What happened to age before beauty?” he questioned and he swore he felt the ghost of a grin pressed to his mouth.
She pulled back, exposing her neck to him and he latched on to it, licking and sucking a bruise beneath her ear. “I thought you’d be more old fashioned, given your age,” she quipped and he nipped her collarbone, smirking at the small gasp that left her. “What happened to ladies first?” 
“Well,” he breathed, “I’m nothing if not always a gentleman.” Lifting his head to claim her mouth again, he rolled his thumb over the hardened peek of her nipple through her shirt and her nails dug into the skin at his hip. She let out a desperate and frustrated little growl and he obliged. 
Lifting her onto the counter, he dropped to his knees and slid his hands up under her skirt to tug her underwear down her unbearably long legs. Then shoving the tight leather of her skirt up and bunching it around her waist he dove between her thighs. He heard her curse, fingers fisting in his hair as she arched her hips towards his mouth and he yanked her to the edge of the sink, resting her legs on his shoulders. 
It was an unfamiliar experience, already knowing what someone wanted, what they liked, how to make them bite their lip hard to stop from screaming in a public toilet. A small shiver of anticipation passed through him as he realised that she would remember too and he tried to imagine it. If the first time had been that good, the second time…
She was getting close, knees trembling on either side of his head as his own old joints started to protest the kneeling position he was holding. But he didn’t relent, sucking on her clit in time with the hard, rough thrust of his fingers inside of her until her whole body was bending, until her grip on his hair became near painful. She climaxed with a sharp cry of release, rasping gasps for breath that distilled to a soft, exhausted chuckle. He remembered that too. 
Standing he raised a brow at her. “So Emma, was it?” 
“It’s just a name,” she giggled, amused with herself. 
Killian hummed, setting his hands down on the counter on either side of her. “I at least remembered it.” 
She shrugged, eyeing him again. “Your name wasn’t the most memorable thing about you.”  
Reaching for the hem of her shirt, he fingered the fabric and the skin just beneath. “I’m always happy to make an impression.” Killian leaned in, nipping at her earlobe before whispering, “Come home with me.” 
Emma let out a whimper that was both needy and conflicted. “I don’t usually do this,” she said. 
He blinked at her. “What? Sex with strangers?” 
“No. Sex with… non-strangers.” 
A smile tugged at his lips. So, they were just as alike as he thought. “Me neither,” he confessed. “But in fairness, I had sex with Leia a few weeks ago.” She smirked and he pulled her to him, pressing his denim covered erection against her center and she gave a small whimper. He brought his lips to her ear, speaking low and pointedly. “So I don’t think it would be breaking any rules if I took you home and fucked you.” Her legs tightened on either side of his hips. “Just this once.” 
“Just this once?” she repeated, confirming. 
“Well, just this one night,” he amended, nipping at her lip before soothing it with his tongue and then sliding it into her mouth for a kiss she moaned into. She was panting when they broke apart. 
“Let’s go.” 
***
Emma collapsed against his chest, her own heaving as she tried to catch her breath, fingers clenched in the salt and pepper hair that blanketed it. After a moment, she sighed a little laugh, patting his shoulder and rolling off of him to land heavily on her back. “Okay. Well done, you,” she complimented because the man deserved it. 
The first time they’d been together had been good - really good actually for a one night stand. But this time, she hadn’t even had to tell him what she wanted, he’d just done it and now she was laying boneless, three orgasms later and thoroughly impressed. “Must be all those years of experience,” she added with a cheeky smile, finding herself hilarious. 
Killian hummed in agreement, laying on his back with his eyes closed, blissed out and sated. “That and natural talent,” he mused. 
She breathed heavily again, waiting for her heart to slow. “I’ll head out in a sec,” she promised. “I’m just waiting until I can feel my legs.” 
He chuckled and turned his head lazily to look at her and she caught herself studying him. He was so damn attractive, older than the men she was used to being with, but also handsome in a way they never were. When she’d seen his picture, the silver at his temples and streaking through his otherwise inky black hair, the crazy blue eyes with the beginnings of permanent laugh lines crinkling at the corners, she really hadn’t given a fuck how old he was. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going to date him, so what did an age difference matter? She had to admit that on top of the whole silver fox thing he had going for him, there really was something to be said for experience. 
Killian’s eyes began to blink more slowly as he watched her watch him, something unreadable in his expression before they fluttered shut and she heard his slow, relaxed breathing. Her own lids felt heavy, his mattress comfortable and her limbs heavy and she sighed in contentment. And then panicked. 
Falling asleep in his house - in his bed - was not an option. She hadn’t been invited to and she didn’t want to. That was something else. It meant something, and Emma wasn’t interested in somethings. 
Sitting up carefully so as not to disturb him, hoping he’d fallen asleep, she began tiptoeing across the room collecting her clothes from where they were scattered - a boot under the bed, a jacket thrown on a chair, her shirt annoyingly unlocatable. She turned back to see if maybe she’d left it discarded somewhere in the sheets and jumped when she saw Killian awake and leaning up on his elbow looking at her. He smirked when she clutched her skirt to her chest, heart racing. 
“What are you doing?” she demanded. 
He only shrugged. “Just enjoying the view of you sneaking out,” he answered, gaze roving appreciatively over her standing half-naked at the foot of his bed. 
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t find my shirt. Have you seen it?”
“No, but perhaps it’s in the bed here somewhere. Why don’t you hop in and I can help you look for it.” Patting the mattress next to him, he gave her a grin that was clearly an invitation and she nearly laughed. 
“It’s almost one,” she pointed out. “I’ve got to catch the last bus.” 
“I could call you a cab.” 
“Okay boomer,” she laughed. 
He scoffed, offended. “Excuse me? I may have a few years on you, lass, but I’m fairly certain we’re still the same generation.” 
“You sure about that? Nobody calls cabs anymore.”
He rolled his eyes this time. “Fine then, an Uber,” he amended, sitting up so he could grab her wrist and pull her back towards the bed. “I hear they run very late.” 
“I thought we agreed this was going to be a one time thing… again.” 
“It still counts as one time so long as you don’t leave the room.” He tugged again, gently, cajolingly, and she put one knee up on the mattress, then the other. The man was persuasive as hell, and so were the many orgasms she could likely count on if she agreed to stay a little longer. His hand slipped around her waist, lips finding her neck as he coaxed her back down on top of him. He was convincing, and charming, and even a little endearing and Emma caught herself biting her lip against a smile. 
And that was what stopped her. Sleeping with someone twice was a dangerous precedent to set. Sleeping with someone twice who she found so annoyingly likable was a definite breaking of her rules. One night. That’s all this was supposed to be and it had already become two. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy being around the men she went home with, not when they weren’t actively hooking up. 
“No,” she said and Killian stopped, releasing his hold on her with a sigh of disappointment. “I really have to go.” He nodded as she stood back up, reaching over his side of the bed and picking up her shirt, holding it out to her. She narrowed her eyes at him and took it, hopping into her skirt and shoes. He only grinned. “Well, thanks for the sex,” she added, pulling her shirt over her head he chuckled. 
“Likewise.” 
***
Emma almost hadn’t accepted Mary Margaret’s invitation to her husband’s birthday party. It felt weird to go celebrate a stranger’s birthday, especially when she’d only known his wife for a couple of weeks. But when she'd started at the school as the new guidance counselor, the teacher had foisted her friendship on Emma almost immediately. 
“It’ll be great!” she promised. “There’ll be lots of people there. You can get to know them, make some more friends. It can be lonely coming to a new town. Oh, please come,” she’d implored and, in the end, Emma had relented.
It wasn’t until they were pulling up to the drive, her and Ruby squished into the back seat of David’s truck, that she realized what a colossal mistake that had been. Because she’d been to this house before. Twice. The little bungalow on the coast, just down from the harbour with its huge bay windows and cozy, cottage-like exterior… Fuck. 
“Emma!” Killian greeted when she walked in, surprised but not displeased. He recovered quickly, wiping the shock off his face and playing innocent. “How lovely to see you again. Settling in alright?” 
“You know each other?” David asked. 
“Only a little. We met briefly at the bar last week.” She didn’t know whether to thank him for his easy bending of the truth or glare at him for the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips that betrayed exactly how well they knew each other - at least to her. 
“Small world,” David remarked. 
“Small town,” Emma corrected. 
“Let’s get you a drink,” Killian declared to his friend, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leading him towards the kitchen. 
“I need him conscious when we leave tonight!” Mary Margaret called after them in warning. “Or you’re gonna have to come help me carry him in again!” Killian shot her a thumbs up over his head and she turned to Emma. “Come on, there’s some people I want you to meet.” 
Those people had all been men. Apparently, the second her new friend had found out she was single, she’d taken it upon herself to rectify the situation. It wouldn’t have been so terrible, if she hadn’t been so acutely aware of a specific man’s gaze on her the whole evening, or her own gaze drifting to him. It was strange to see him like this, lighthearted, a little tipsy, at ease with his friends, none of the seductive turns of phrase and looks she was used to. He was like a completely different person.
She was caught in a conversation with one of the guys Mary Margaret had thrust upon her - some furniture-maker who talked too much for her to get a word in long enough to make an excuse to step away - when she caught his eye. Killian looked between her and Walsh and he struggled to hide his laugh behind his hand, pretending to rub at the scruff on his cheeks. He shot her a slightly pitying but largely entertained look and Emma glared, turning away and making a point to seem as interested as possible in the chair Walsh was describing. 
“Emma, love?” Her shoulders sagged in relief at the familiar voice. Both of them turned to face the person who had joined them. “Mary Margaret said you put David’s cake somewhere - would you mind helping me bring it out? We can’t seem to find it.” 
“Can’t it wait?” Walsh asked, put out. “We’re in the middle of something.” 
“Ah, no, it can’t because…” Emma watched him struggle to find an excuse.
“It’s… an ice cream cake,” she blurted out.
“Aye,” he nodded, pressing his lips together. 
“And if I didn’t put it in the freezer-”
“Then we have a problem.” 
“Yeah.” She looked at Walsh. “Sorry, it’s an emergency,” she told him with as much false disappointment as she could and hurried off towards the kitchen with Killian. 
“What are you planning on doing when he realizes it’s not an ice cream cake?” he mused when they were safely in the other room.
“I don’t know - you were the one who came up with the whole cake thing.” 
“I was trying to rescue you,” he defended, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter.  
“I don’t need rescuing,” Emma rolled her eyes. 
“Sure looked like you did. And trust me, I did you a favor.” 
She raised a brow. “How do you figure that?” 
His smirk was caught between his teeth. “I know his ex.” Emma balked at him. “Really, love, I thought you had better taste.” 
“I went home with you didn’t I?” she quipped and he laughed. 
“Aye, my point exactly.” She shook her head at him. His self-esteem was unparalleled. 
“How long do you think before it’s safe to go back out there?” 
“In a rush to return to your fascinating conversation?”
“God no. But Mary Margaret seems really determined to set me up with someone here and I don’t think I can dodge her for long. If she comes in here and finds us together she might get ideas.” 
Killian’s bark of laughter caught her by surprise. “Trust me, she won’t. She’ll more likely try and warn you away from me. She doesn’t approve of my views on romance.” 
“And what are those?”
“Non-existent.” His lip quirked up and it caught her interest. It wasn’t uncommon for her to meet a guy who only wanted sex. But to meet one who had absolutely no interest in any kind of relationship, ever it seemed, was intriguing… and appealing. 
“Oh shit, I think they’re looking for me!” She nearly dove behind the kitchen island and Killian bit his lip hard against his laugh. 
“You’re welcome to hide in the bedroom if you like. I’m sure you know the way quite well by now.” There was the suggestive smirk she was used to. 
“You need to watch that mouth of yours, bud,” she warned and regretted it the second the mischief clouded his eyes. 
“Apologies, love. Please let me know if you have any suggestions for how it could be put to better use.” 
She raised a brow at him. “You’re a bit of a slut aren’t you?” 
He only grinned invitingly.
***
“This was a mistake,” Emma told him, pulling her jeans back on while he lounged, sated and content, against his headboard, bare apart from the thin sheet across his legs. 
This time had been an accident. They’d stayed too long hidden in the kitchen, David had had too much to drink and had to be taken home early. Mary Margaret felt too guilty, refused to make Emma leave and begged Killian to drive her home. They’d been cleaning up after the last guest had left and she’d bumped into him when he was moving to put a glass in the dishwasher, and then he’d kissed her and she hadn’t stopped him and now here they were. 
“Absolutely,” he agreed even as his lazy grin betrayed his words. 
“I’m serious.” 
“I know. But it does seem to be a mistake we continue to make.”
“Yeah. And we’re gonna stop making it,” she told him firmly.
“Aye,” Killian nodded, lip caught between his teeth. “Or…”
Emma looked at him in disbelief. “Or?” 
This could be a very bad idea. He knew that. But he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t want to see her again. This was by far the best sex he’d ever had and he’d had too many partners to count. It felt like a shame to give that up. 
“Or we could do it again,” he suggested. 
She frowned. “What, now?” 
Killian smiled. “Aye, certainly, if you like. But I meant another night.” 
“That won’t work.” 
“Why not?” 
“Because you’re not a stranger anymore.”  
“I don’t know about that… What's my last name?” He raised a brow in amusement as her forehead wrinkled, trying to find something he never gave her. 
“You know that’s not the point. I don’t do anything serious.” 
“I’m not asking for serious.” He’d thought that was obvious. “I’m not even asking for casual.” She still looked unconvinced. “I thought that perhaps we could work out some sort of arrangement.” 
“... What kind of arrangement?”
“Sex, love. Was that not clear?” 
“That never works. And I don’t do friends with benefits either.” 
Killian waved a hand dismissively. “The friends part isn’t crucial. Look, I’ve never met a woman so clearly as uninterested in any kind of romantic relationship as myself. I’m not going to fall for you and I’m certain you won’t develop any feelings for me. So this might be the first time in the history of attempts at casual sex, that it could actually work. Storybrooke is a small town, love. You might not find it so easy to meet strangers here,” he added. 
That seemed to sway her. While there was no shortage of women coming to town for girls’ weekends or bachelorette parties, the men, he knew from experience, were few and far between and often dragged here by a wife or girlfriend.  
She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him suspiciously. “I’m still gonna sleep with other people.”
“Naturally.” She’d insisted on using protection the first time they’d been together, as had he, as did he always, so he wasn’t worried about any risks there. 
“How do I know you’re not gonna change your mind about wanting something more serious and make me regret agreeing to this? Because that’s what’s happened every time I’ve tried this.” 
He hesitated, but felt he owed her the truth. “My wife died.” Her face dropped. “Seven years ago.” He cleared his throat at the memory, trying to banish the grief that would never truly go away. “So while I’m sure you have many amiable qualities, believe me when I tell you that I have no interest in ever falling in love again.” Something in his confession seemed to strike a cord, her demeanor less opposed to the idea than it had been had a moment ago. “You have to admit,” he smirked, trying to break the heavy mood that had creeped in. “We are very good at it.” 
She smirked. “I’m amazing at it. You’re alright.” 
Trying not to laugh, he stood up off the bed, not missing the way her eyes drifted lower when the sheet fell from his hips. “Funny,” he started, stalking towards her. “I remember you having a very different opinion a few minutes ago. You were quite vocal about it, in fact.” 
She hummed as he tugged at the waist of her jeans she’d just buttoned, unfastening them once more. “Refresh my memory.”  
With a growl lifted her up off the ground, turning and tossing her unceremoniously on the bed. Yanking the offending jeans and underwear down her legs and landing on top of her, he dragged his tongue across her neck and his teeth over her nipple before pulling it into his mouth. His fingers slid between them, dipping into her center and finding her still wet from before, her clit sensitive under his touch and she hissed as he flicked it.
Killian ducked his head, dragging his mouth down the length of her stomach to between her thighs and drawing his tongue between her folds. Emma let out a small whimper when he slid it inside her, fucking her with his tongue as she arched her hips into his face in time with his thrusts. When he pulled back and wrapped his lips around her clit she cried out, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him away. 
“Just fuck me,” she demanded and he raised a surprised brow.  
“Well, alright, then.” 
Pushing himself up so he could kneel between her open legs, he wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking himself so he could take her. They had just finished their first round after all and he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. The way the twenty-something spread out on the bed was watching him, tongue coming out to wet her lips, certainly helped. 
“Need a hand there, old timer?” she teased and he narrowed his eyes at her playfully. 
“No, but if you’re offering…” he trailed off suggestively. 
Eyes darkening, Emma rose, swatting his hand away and pushing him onto his back as she crawled over him. Her fingers wrapped firmly around his cock, so much better than his own as she stroked him once and then leaned down to drag her tongue along the length of him. Bloody hell. She was right, she was amazing. His hand fisted in her hair as she pulled him into her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue against his shaft. He was already hard as she took him deeper, mouth hot and wet, lips soft and swollen around him, humming when he thrust his hips up by accident, only moving faster. She would be the death of him. 
“Enough,” he managed to bite out, dragging her off by his grip on her hair and growling when she flicked her tongue out against his head in defiance. 
Killian pushed her back on the bed and he could see her self-satisfied smirk as she flicked her gaze down to his straining member. Grabbing her waist, he flipped her over onto her stomach and she complied eagerly, pushing up onto her palms as he lifted her hips into the air, exposing the gorgeous curve of her ass to him. He trailed his hand across one cheek, giving it an experimental smack. She gasped and he made note of that for later. 
Reaching over her into his bedside drawer he fished out a condom, ripping it open and rolling it on before lining himself up with her entrance and thrusting in to the hilt. Emma choked out a wanton, needy sound and pulled back, dragging himself nearly all the way out before slamming back in. The pace he set was punishing but the moans and curses she let out with every thrust and the way she pushed back greedily to meet him only egged him on. 
His hand slid over her sweat-dampened spine to her waist and then around to her breast, rolling her nipple under his thumb. She arched her back, cursing again and then grabbing his wrist, guiding his hand to where they were joined, pressing his fingers where she wanted them and crying out when he worked her in tandem with his hips. 
“What was that you were saying?” he smirked against her ear, folding himself over her back and taking the lobe between his teeth. “About my being just alright at this?” 
“Shut up,” she breathed and then “fuck” when he thrust into her harder. “You’re so full of yourself.” 
He chuckled. “The only one full of me right now is you, love. And I’d like you to take it back,” he continued. 
“Make me.” Killian grinned wickedly, nipping at the crook of her neck before snapping his hips hard against her, arm hooking around her hip to pull her into him each time, fingers working relentlessly against her clit. Curses and words tumbled from her mouth, rambling, stumbling over each other as he felt her start to shake in his arms, falling to her elbows.. 
“Better than alright?” he pressed, his own words and muscles strained with effort. She made a sound that was neither confirmation or denial and he lessened the pressure of his fingers. 
“Killian,” she whined, somehow still managing to make it sound like a threat. 
“If you want to come you’re going to have to say it,” he warned, hoping he could hold his own climax off long enough to get this bloody stubborn woman to give in. 
“Yes,” she yielded, spitting the word at him and he chuckled triumphantly.
“There’s a good girl. Do you want more?”
“Yes.” There was no bite left to her words this time. 
“Harder?” he asked, finger pinching her clit as he slammed into her. “Faster?” 
“Yes. Yes,” she keened, answering both of his questions as he resumed his pace from before. 
She breathed the word once more before she was shaking again. Fingers fisting in the sheets, face pressed to the mattress, his grip became bruisingly tight against her hip as she broke, walls vice like around his cock as she went slack in his arms and he spilled himself with a guttural groan. 
His lips pressed between her shoulder blades, along her spine, teeth closing over the skin there before he pulled out, helping to lower her hips back down to the mattress. She lay limp on her stomach as he disposed of the condom and then collapsed on his back next to her, spent. Emma turned her head to face him, cheek squished against the pillow, arms tucked under herself and looking half asleep. She gave him a lazy grin. 
“Okay, maybe this could work.” 
“I’ve no feelings for you apart from the desire to fuck you again,” he promised mirthfully. 
She laughed. “I think I like you even less.” 
“Excellent.” 
“So how would we do this?” 
“I’ve no idea. Maybe you give me your number?” Her eyes widened in terror and he had to laugh. “Relax, Emma. It’s not like I’ve asked you to marry me. I just want to be able to call you to set up another rendez-vous.” 
She scoffed. “First of all, nobody calls anymore. You’ll text me. And how about you give me your number. Then I’ll text you if I decide I still want to do this in the morning.”
“Seems reasonable.” 
She reached for her phone with great effort, opening her contacts and handing it to him to fill out. He did and handed it back and Emma looked at it, then at him. “Jones, huh? I guess this means we know each other now huh?”
“Certainly not. We’re not friends or even acquaintances. We’re just… non-strangers. Or at least I am to you, Emma…” 
She hesitated but then sighed. “Swan.” 
Swan. He liked it. It suited her, perhaps even more than Emma. But he didn’t tell her that. She lay beside him for another moment and then stood up, dressing and grabbing her things. He had to admit he’d never tire of watching her walk around his room naked as she got ready to leave. 
“When we do this next time - if we do this -” she corrected herself. “We're gonna do it at my place so I can fall asleep while you get your shit and take an Uber in the middle of the night.” 
“Fine by me.” 
“Cool. Okay, well, thanks for the sex. See ya, maybe.” 
“Feel free to message me next time you’re horny,” he waved as she headed out of the room, a ghost of a smile just caught on her face.
***
It was a week before he heard from her again. His phone lit up with an unknown number, the sound of it vibrating against his bedside table having woken him from his sleep. Squinting at the screen, he’d tried to make sense of her message. re u awaje? 
What? He debated deleting it, thinking it was spam before he remembered that he’d given Emma his number. The ellipses of someone typing showed up on the bottom of his screen for a very long time, as though someone were writing a lengthy message. 
are you awake? He tried not to laugh at the obvious effort it had taken her to type the message with no spelling mistakes. 
Swan?
yeh. are you awake?
Obviously, or I wouldn’t be answering… 
The ellipses returned, and then two messages followed in rapid succession. 
You’re an asshole.
Come over 
Killian glanced at the time. It was after 2AM. Another text: an eggplant emoji. He wished he could say that he thought about it, even for a little bit longer than he did, but he was already typing when she sent him three water droplets. Where are you?
my place
He sighed. Yes, I gathered that; I don’t know where you live. 
you even text like an old man. who uses the dot comma thing in a text?
A semicolon. Adults do, Swan. She sent him an eye rolling emoji, but it was followed by an address. He was surprised at how close they lived to each other. It was a small town, he supposed. On my way.
hurry up
Killian didn’t have to be told twice, jumping out of bed and finding something to wear before getting into his truck and making his way the few blocks to her apartment. There were no names on the apartment numbers in the lobby and it was almost two thirty. He really didn’t want to risk waking up an irate neighbor, so he pulled out his phone and called the number he’d saved as Swan in his contacts. When she didn’t answer he called again. 
“Why the hell are you calling me?” 
“Lovely to hear your voice too, love.” She really wasn’t kidding about the not calling thing. “I’m downstairs. I don’t know which number to buzz.” 
“Oh,” she said, sounding mollified. “108. I’ll let you up.” He couldn’t fight the silly grin that tugged at his lips the whole way up to her apartment, biting it down as he knocked.
She’d barely opened the door, barely given him the chance to step inside before she was on him, cutting off his greeting with her mouth. Her hands caught hold of his lapels, dragging him into the hallway and he only stumbled after her for a second before kicking the door shut behind him and turning them so he could press her against the wall beside it. It wasn’t until she was shoving his jacket from his shoulders and he noted the taste of whiskey on her tongue that he pulled back. 
“Hey!” Emma protested, trying to drag him back to her.
“Wait.”
“No thanks.” She tried to kiss him again.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” 
“Like three - maybe four?” she answered offhandedly, rising up on her toes to try to catch his lips. “I dunno. It was a while ago.” 
“Perhaps this isn’t a good idea.” 
“What? Why?”
“You’re drunk, love.” 
“Oh my god,” she sighed, dragging out the last word and rolling her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m barely drunk. And I’ve had sex drunker.” When he didn’t answer she finally pulled back, crossing her arms and leveling him with a look. “You said I could message you next time I was horny. Drinking makes me horny.” 
“I did but…” 
“Hey, look,” she said, putting a hand on his chest and giving him a sympathetic look that was just slightly endearing in her state. “I don’t wanna make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. So we don’t have to do this and you can just go and I’ll text someone else. No big deal.” Her smile was a light and silly. “You’re just really good at it so I texted you first,” she shrugged. 
“Wait, hold on.” He followed her as she walked away towards the kitchen where her phone was. “Emma,” he insisted, taking the phone from her hand as she unlocked it.
“Hey! That’s mine.” He tried not to laugh at her childish frown, tried to take it seriously. He wasn’t going to just let her call some random guy to come over and do god knows what. Killian wasn’t perfect but at least he knew she was safe with him. He didn’t like the idea of not knowing if she was without him. 
“Maybe we should get you some water and get you in bed.”
“Now you’re talking,” she beamed, grabbing for his shirt again. 
He smirked. “I meant to sleep.” 
“Nuh-uh. This is not gonna be some cute little moment where you tuck me in and kiss my forehead and nothing happens,” she said, gesturing between them. “That’s not what we are. That’s a friends move. That’s a boyfriend move,” she said, making a disgusted face. “If you wanna stay we’re boning.” 
Killian laughed. “Boning?” 
“Mhm. Boning.” Her hands slid up around his shoulders, her smile and limbs still relaxed and lazy, her eyes mostly clear and heavy lidded as they met his, and his hands reached for her waist on their own. 
“Trust me, Swan, I absolutely want to stay. Only you’ve been drinking -”
“A little,” she interrupted.
“And I haven’t.” 
Emma perked up at that. “I’ve got the perfect solution!” Then she was running to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of dark liquor. “Problem solved,” she beamed. 
Killian chuckled. “You want to get me drunk?” 
“Do you want me to want to get you drunk?” she smirked, raising a brow. 
“... A little.” 
She turned, grabbing two tumblers and filling them halfway. “What?” she asked when he eyed her as she picked one up and handed it to him, keeping the other. “I’m gonna let you catch up but I don’t want to lose my buzz.” 
It was probably a bad idea, but Killian brought the glass to his lips and drank. 
The problem with Emma trying to keep her buzz, Killian realized, was that he couldn’t seem to catch up to her. The fact that she was only in her mid to late twenties and about a hundred pounds soaking wet probably didn’t help either. By the time he was tipsy, she was a little drunk, giggling and silly. By the time he was giggling and silly, she was hyped up, putting on music and insisting they dance. And by the time he was hyped up enough to dance, she was swaying in his arms in that lovely, careless way that felt like being high. 
That was when they finally got on the same level, when he stopped her from having another drink while he had a few more and she laughed at all his ‘old-fashioned’ dance moves and he called her jealous. The world was fuzzy around the edges, but in a pleasant way and she was right at the center of it, vivid and bright and happier than he’d ever seen her. She kissed him, slow and lazy and without purpose before letting him twirl her around to his ‘grocery store music’ as she’d dubbed it. 
She kissed him again, breathing deep, arms draping over his shoulders and fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair. His hands found her back, palms sliding up over her shirt, pressing her to him as his tongue sought out her own in a slow, lazy caress. 
Somehow they ended up on her couch, Emma sat astride him, the weight of her warm and pleasant in his lap as she continued to kiss him. He had the fleeting thought that this was the longest he’d spent kissing a woman - only kissing - since Milah, and it didn’t hurt him the way he expected it to. Didn’t feel like a betrayal the way he’d always expected it to. 
“My legs are asleep,” she mumbled against his lips and he found himself disproportionately concerned about it. He turned them so she could lay back on the cushions, an awkward, giggly shuffle passing between them as he tried to find a way to settle comfortably beside her. When he finally did, wedged between her and the back of the sofa, he pulled her back to him, not quite done kissing her yet. 
His eyes and limbs were growing tired, heavy with the early hour of the morning and the alcohol buzzing in his veins, but not in a bad way, in a cozy, soft way that had him reaching for her, seeking more. It was like making love in the morning, when the world hadn’t sunk in yet and bodies were still relaxed from sleep. He hadn’t realized how much he missed that until now. Emma hummed in pleasure, her own soft sounds matching his mood, as he trailed his mouth to her neck, tongue and lips drawing lazy patterns over her skin and she arched into him.
“Touch me,” she sighed and he chuckled softly against her collarbone that she could still be demanding even when both of them were being so temptingly pulled towards sleep. His hand found her breast over her shirt, teasing gently, enjoying the weight of it in his hand. “That’s nice,” she breathed dreamily, and rolled her hips against his, leg hooked over his own. 
Killian hummed at the warm, slow wave of desire that settled in his stomach. “That’s nice too.”
“I’m sleepy,” she told him and he nodded into her neck, eyes having drifted shut long ago. “We can’t fall asleep though,” she insisted, voice growing quieter, breath steadier and deeper. 
“No,” he agreed. “Breaking the rules.” But neither of them moved. 
“We gotta bone,” she reminded him, words so mumbled that he barely caught them. 
“Mhm. Absolutely,” he breathed into her skin as the world drifted further and further away. 
When he opened his eyes again it was morning. It took him a moment to figure out where he was, to figure out why his back was sore and his arm was numb until he noticed the beautiful woman tucked against him, still asleep.
“Shit,” he cursed, realizing their mistake and sitting up quickly. “Oh fuck,” he cursed then as the sharp, splitting pain sliced through his head. Oh god. His head, and his back and his stomach. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His mouth felt and tasted like sandpaper. He was pretty sure he must be dying. 
Emma stirred, looking over her shoulder at him. “Killian?” she frowned, still half-asleep. And then he saw it hit her. “Oh shit!” 
“Shhh,” he begged, holding his head, eyes squeezing shut against the light. “Please.” 
“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice at least lower. “It’s morning.” 
“I’m aware,” he said with more sarcasm that he probably would have otherwise. “I swear I was just trying to sneak out but then my brain decided to have an aneurysm.” 
She sat up, pulling one of his hands away and making him look at her. He struggled to keep his eyes open but noticed the concerned line forming her brows. “Are you okay?” 
He nodded. “Hangover. Much, much worse after forty.” He saw her press her lips together against a smile, the effort not to mock him clearly immense. 
Killian waved weakly. “Could you save any age jokes for later? Write them down or something. I’m sure they’ll be just as hilarious when I’ve stopped dying.” 
She huffed out a little laugh. “You’re not dying.” Standing, he heard her walk out of the room, heard the incredibly loud sounds of a cupboard being open and a glass clanking against another and then the tap before she was back and holding out a cup of water for him. “Drink,” she ordered and he took it gratefully. 
“Thank you,” he rasped, downing the whole thing in one shot. 
“What’s your hangover cure?” Emma asked. “Maybe I’ve got it here.” 
He chuckled humorlessly. “Those stop working after thirty, I’m afraid.” 
“What?” 
“Shhh.”
“Sorry.” 
“Just give me a second, I’ll be out of your hair,” he promised.
“Killian, can you even drive like this?”
He laughed and it hurt. “It’s a hangover, love, not a head injury.”
“You could still be drunk.” 
“I don’t think it would hurt this much if I was.” 
“Just…” she hesitated, sighing, “stay until it passes okay? Or at least isn’t so bad that you can’t open your eyes.” He tried to open them to make a point, but ended up making hers instead as he winced in pain. “Hold on, I’ll get you some Tylenol.” 
She came back with another glass of water and some pills and he took those gratefully as well, glancing at her out of the corner of one half-closed eye. “You’re just fine aren’t you?” 
Emma shrugged. “I’m a bit tired. And I could go for a grilled cheese.” His stomach rolled at the mention of grease and bread and dairy.
“I’ll be fine. I just need a minute for the world to stop spinning.” 
“Killian…” 
“I can call a taxi if it makes you feel better.”
“What about your car?” 
“I’ll come back for it tonight.” He gave her his best attempt at a seductive smile. “Maybe I can make it up to you for last night too.”
She laughed. “If you’re conscious.” 
“No promises.” 
“Last night was fun,” she said to his surprise, shrugging. “Definitely shouldn’t happen again, but so long as you’re not in love with me now, no harm no foul.” 
“Aye,” he chuckled. “Not in the slightest. But next time I agree to get drunk with you, don’t let me.” 
Emma held both hands up in defense. “Hey, you were the one who wouldn’t hook up with me unless you were drunk too.” 
“Call me old fashioned but one doesn’t take advantage of inebriated women who barely know him. Even if she is begging for it,” he added with a quirk to his lips. 
“Please,” she scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I offered to call someone else. I wouldn’t call that begging.” There was a pause. “For the next time though, I’m giving you permission to hook up with me when I’m drunk,” she declared, smiling ruefully at him. “You are a non-stranger after all.” 
“Good to know. But perhaps nothing we haven’t already done before.” 
She fought a giggle. “Well, you know what they said about old dogs and new tricks.” 
“Write it down, Swan,” he sighed. “I’ll laugh later.” 
***
Emma gasped with pleasure as she moved over him, nails scratching down his chest when he canted his hips up into her, making him hiss at the red lines that appeared beneath the dark and silver hair that blanketed his skin. It had become a regular sort of thing, sleeping with Killian. Over the past few months they’d gotten in the habit of meeting several times a week, sometimes meeting before to hang out with their now mutual friends at a bar or a restaurant, sometimes having dinner or breakfast together after - because they had to eat, didn’t they?
She tried to remember the last time she’d hooked up with someone else and couldn’t, realizing it must have been before they’d started their agrangement. It was just so much easier, more convenient to have someone she could call who was almost always available and willing to meet. Someone who knew her body so well that she didn’t have to explain it to him, she loathed the idea of having to talk someone through how to get her off like she always used to need to, and that was without the guarantee that they’d succeed. 
And the truth was, he wasn’t terrible company. Yes, he had awful taste in music and he turned his nose up at her love of junk food, and he sometimes made references to shows or movies she’d never heard of, but he was fun, and nice and made her laugh, and he was so goddamn sexy. 
She didn’t know when she’d developed such a weakness for the silver at his temples and flecked through his beard, or the way his body was soft and hard at the same time, muscles strong from labor working down at the docks rather than hours spent at the gym. And he cooked, and he dirty talked like a character out of a Victorian romance novel and Emma didn’t know if it was all older men or if it was just him, but she found herself craving it all the time, craving him. The fact that he was also so amazing in bed just seemed unfair. 
He flipped her over onto her back, hooking an arm around each of her thighs and kneeling between them, dragging her towards him until her hips were in the air, shoving a pillow under her ass and driving back into her.
“Fucking fuck,” she swore at the change in angle, toes curling into the sheets. How had they not tried this before? How had she not tried this with anyone before? That was the thing. Why would she sleep with anyone else when this was what she got with him? She could make all the jokes she wanted to about his age (and she did) but she would be forever grateful for his years of experience on her. Emma was far from inexperienced, but still he found things to teach her, new ways to make her fall apart.
“I need you to come, love,” he groaned, brow pinched tight, taking her hand and bringing it to her center, urging her to touch herself. “I’m not going to last much longer.” She nodded, face turned into the pillow biting her lip hard, her climax already building as they worked together to bring her over the edge. “That’s it,” he praised, the lines of his neck going taut as he held himself back and she cried out, back arching off the bed with the shock of her orgasm ripping through her. 
Killian followed, crying out his release before collapsing beside her, arm draped across her stomach, legs still tangled. They never cuddled, never even held each other. That was against the rules; it would be crossing a line. But these few moments right after finishing, when they were both spent and boneless and relaxed, when she liked to be touched and he liked to touch, this small amount of intimacy was allowed. 
“Are you staying over?” he asked when he’d gotten up and gotten rid of the condom, bringing her a cloth. 
“You could just stay here,” he’d offered a couple of weeks after the night they got drunk together. Emma had been at his place and they’d lost track of time and it was nearly three in the morning by the time she realized she should leave. She’d frozen, staring at him in disbelief. “Look, I invited you over here after midnight and now the bus has stopped running and it’s too late to walk and the Uber ride is a waste of money. Besides, we slept together before, remember? It didn’t change anything. I’m not in love with you,” his grin was rueful. “I’m just offering you a place to crash.” 
She’d eyed him wearily. “You’re not gonna try to like… cuddle me, are you?”
Killian had rolled his eyes. “I can sleep in the guest room if you’d rather.” (He hadn’t.) “And you can sneak out before I wake up,” he added with a cheeky smirk when she still hesitated. 
“Yeah, okay,” she’d agreed. And, after they’d woken up on opposite sides of the bed and he’d gone on to wish her good morning with his head between her thighs, the occasional sleepover had been deemed acceptable.  
Emma shook her head. “Mary Margaret’s coming over for breakfast tomorrow. I don’t want to have to wake up early enough to go home and make myself look like I didn’t spend the night fucking her husband’s best friend.”
He waggled his brows with a cocky grin. “Think she’d be jealous?” 
“You wish,” she laughed, tossing her pillow at him as she got up to gather her clothes.
“Do you still need a ride to Robin’s barbecue on Sunday?” 
“Yes, please,” Emma nodded, sitting down to pull her boots on. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Hardly a detour.” 
“Awesome, thanks,” she said, standing and pulling on her jacket. “And thanks for the sex,” she added, making that private little smile cross his lips. She wasn’t sure when exactly it had become an inside joke. He’d said it the first time he left her place after hooking up, making fun of her words that night after the bar when they’d both broken their rules for the first time. Now it was just the way they said goodbye, and it always made them grin like idiots. 
“Anytime.”
***
“Emma,” Mary Margaret ventured carefully. “Are you seeing someone?” 
Emma froze. “What? No. Why would you ask that?”
“You have a drawer of men’s clothes in your dresser.” Shit. She’d forgotten about that when she’d told her friend to go ahead and grab the shirt she wanted to borrow for tomorrow’s barbecue. 
“That’s just - sometimes guys leave things behind,” she lied poorly. By now her friend had given up her matchmaking efforts, realizing that Emma wasn’t a relationship type of woman and that her efforts were fruitless. “They’re like trophies,” she laughed, hoping she’d buy it. 
“You keep their boxers?” Mary Margaret questioned, not buying it one bit after all. “And they just leave your place without their shirts on?” 
“I…” 
Emma didn’t know how to get around this one. She should have said that they were hers, that she liked to sleep in them or something. But she was pretty sure there was a pair of jeans in there too and she’d already chosen the wrong lie. 
The fact was that after a few months Emma had started keeping a few little things at Killian’s apartment. Just leave some stuff here if you like. No sense in you carrying a bag with a whole separate outfit every time you come over. I know you hate putting the same clothes back on in the mornings. After a while, she’d offered him the same courtesy, and before either of them knew it, they each had a small, dedicated drawer with their things in the other’s apartment… and a toothbrush. 
“You don’t have to tell me,” her friend promised. “I was just curious.” 
“It’s nothing.” 
“Okay. But…” she ventured. “Would it really be so bad if it were?” 
Yes. It would be. The last time Emma had had feelings for someone, had been in a relationship, had loved someone, he’d sent her to jail for his crime. Maybe love was easy for someone like Mary Margaret, but for her, it was a threat, a weapon to be used against her. She knew that it led to nothing but pain and loss. So did Killian. It was the reason they worked so well, why their arrangement was possible. They understood each other. 
“You know, they’re not all like him,” her friend added when she didn’t answer. 
“Like who?”
“Whoever it was that hurt you.”
Maybe they weren’t, she acknowledged. But she wasn’t willing to risk betting on the wrong one. Not again. Never again. 
***
“Killian, what the hell?” Emma demanded when he showed up at his house the next day. He’d called her that morning asking if she could meet him at his place for the ride to Robin’s rather than him picking her up.
He stared at her blankly. “What?” 
“What the fuck happened to you?” He looked down at his arm, currently wrapped up in a sling, like he’d forgotten about it. 
“Oh this? I dislocated it yesterday at work,” he shrugged with his good shoulder. “...Wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing and - what?” 
“I didn’t know you were hurt,” she got out weakly. 
“I’m fine. It’s happened before. I just walked myself to the hospital and they fixed it up right quick. Really, it’s nothing.” 
“You walked yourself? You were alone?” She didn’t know why it upset her so much, she could tell how irrational she was being, but the thought of him in the hospital, in pain, alone… He’d been hurt. He’d been hurt and she hadn’t known about it and now she had unwelcome stupid tears burning at the back of her eyes and anger burning in her skin.
“What’s wrong?” 
“What’s wrong is you should have told me! I could have helped, given you a ride or something -”
“You don’t have a car, love.”
“That’s not the point! The point is when you get hurt you’re supposed to call the people in your life so that they know you’re okay! You’re supposed to call your friends so they can help! Or at the very least so you don’t have to be alone when it happens!” 
 “Okay,” he said gently, soothingly, reaching for her and wrapping his uninjured arm around her shoulders to pull her to his chest. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He rested his chin on the crown of her head, and she tucked her cheek against his neck. “I’m really okay,” he assured her again. “I only have to wear this thing for another day or two and then I’m right as rain.” 
Emma nodded. “Just tell me next time so I don’t show up and see you like this and start imagining the worst.” 
“I promise. But I’m an old man, love,” he teased and she could hear his smirk even if she couldn’t see it. “I fall apart all the time.”
“All the more reason,” she grumbled, pulling back, feeling normal again. “Plus,” she teased, “don’t you know that getting hurt means you get sympathy sex?” 
He gaped at her. “Well if I’d known that I’d have called right away!” 
“Too little too late,” she shrugged. 
“I don’t know about too little…” Emma rolled her eyes as he laughed at his own joke. “You’re going to have to drive though,” Killian told her, handing her his keys. “That’s why I asked you to come here.” 
“And you still didn’t think it was worth mentioning.” She shook her head at him in disbelief. 
“I said I was sorry,” he reminded her as they walked out to his car. Once they were inside and she’d adjusted the seat so she could see over the hood of the massive truck, she found him grinning at her, amused. 
“What?” 
“So we’re friends now, are we?” 
“Shut up,” she grumbled, annoyed at how smug he seemed to be feeling, turning the engine over and starting the car. “You know we are.” 
It wouldn’t be until a few weeks later, when she’d get a call from the hospital, telling her that Killian had come in with a cracked rib that she’d realize he’d put her down as his emergency contact. 
“I was afraid of what would happen if I forgot to call you,” he’d tell her, the slightly teasing chuckle dying away when he winced in pain. 
“He’s on a healthy dose of pain meds,” the nurse would tell her. “He’ll need you to drive him home. 
She’d tell Killian he was an idiot, ask him what the hell he and the guys were thinking when he’d tell her it happened falling through the kitchen window of Will’s house when the two of them, David, and Rob had gotten themselves locked out after a few too many drinks.
“It’s not my fault Will lost his keys!” he’d insist, offended. “Also, this is not the treatment I was promised if I called you when I was injured,” he’d pout, drugs making him loopy and ridiculous. “I thought you were supposed to take care of me and feel bad for me… not yell at me. Don’t I get pity sex?”
She would roll her eyes at him like she had a hundred times and would a hundred more. “Not when you’re a fucking idiot you don’t.”
***
“So what’s up with you and Emma?” Will asked that afternoon at the barbecue, handing Killian a beer and clinking his own against it as they stood on the deck waiting for the burgers and hot dogs to be done. 
“What do you mean?” 
“Mate, you arrived here together. You always arrive places together. We can’t invite one of you out without the other one just showing up anymore. You’re a bloody packaged deal.” 
Killian scoffed. “She doesn’t have a car. And we’re friends. So what?” 
“Bollocks. We’re friends and I don’t see you lookin’ at me like you’re tryna figure out what bloody undies I’m wearing.” 
“That’s because she looks like that,” Killian explained, gesturing to Emma who was laughing with Ruby and wearing an unbearably small sundress. “And you’re an ugly hobgoblin.” 
“So you’re shagging her then,” Will concluded and Killian nearly choked on his beer. “Bit young for you ain’t she?” He didn’t answer. Not wanting to risk giving away anything unintentionally. “Well, whatever you guys are doing, you better figure it out quick. You’re getting too old to keep picking up women in their twenties - especially women like her. You better lock it down before you can’t get anyone at all.” 
“Cheers, mate.”
Will beamed. “Anytime.” 
When Emma drove them home that night, Killian didn’t miss the smug look Will shot him. 
***
“What about this one?” Emma asked, dragging him to another car in the lot, this one an old red Mini Cooper that was definitely priced for more than it was worth. 
“Swan, you can’t just keep picking cars based on how ‘cute’ they are.” 
“First of all,” she said, looking up from the window she’d been peering in and holding up a finger. “That’s sexist. And second of all,” another finger. “Yes, I can.” 
“It’ll cost you a fortune in upkeep,” he explained. “All these fancy foreign cars will. You have to special order the parts.” 
“Fine,” she sighed. “What do you suggest then?” 
“A Delaurian. So we can skip ahead to the end of this whole day.”
He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten roped into going used car shopping with Emma this weekend. He wasn’t even sure she’d even asked him, she’d just kind of… implied they were going and then he’d been picking her up and driving her to the lot. A whole Saturday wasted. He only got every other one off of work. 
“I’m serious.” 
“So am I.” 
“Come on, Killian. I don’t know anything about cars. I need your help or they’re gonna try to scam me because I’m young and cute.” She gestured at herself like it was undeniable and completely out of her control.
“And what does that make me?” he asked, small smile tugging at his lips. Emma smirked, biting her lip against a grin in a way that she knew drove him crazy as she sauntered over to him. 
“Mature. And sexy,” she answered, stroking his ego and he let her even though he knew she was doing it to get what she wanted. She combed her fingers through the hair at his temple, the silver she seemed so fond of. “Dashing.” Okay, now she was really trying to play him. “And,” she added, fingers dancing over his chest along the buttons of his shirt. “The guy who’s probably gonna get laid in the back of whatever car he helps me pick today…” she trailed off suggestively. 
“Let’s try over here,” he suggested immediately, taking her hand and leading her towards a set of newer models, her giggle trailing behind him the whole way.
“Wait! Hold on,” she said, stopping abruptly and nearly ripping his only recently healed arm out of its socket. “This is the one.” 
“Which one?” he asked, scanning the row of cars before them, following her gaze to the one she’d fixated on. “That one?” 
“Yeah. That one. That’s my car.” Killian cocked his head at the old, beat up VW Beetle. “Can’t you picture me in it?” He could. The yellow bug was somehow very fitting. But he could also picture her in it when it broke down, stranded on the side of the road somewhere when the engine decided to give out. 
“It’s like I said with the Mini, love. It’ll cost a fortune in repairs. Especially a vintage one like this. 
“I don’t care. I love it. It’s a good car.” 
He sighed, knowing there was no winning this battle. There was no winning any battle with Emma, not when she’d set her sights on something and especially not when she’d declared she loved it. Killian went around to the back, popping open the compartment and taking a look at the engine. He had to admit it was in pretty good shape. As was the mileage when he checked it. 
“I’m right aren’t I?” she asked, pleased with herself when she saw his expression after he’d finished his inspection. “It’s a good car?” 
“It’s a good car,” he agreed. “And a good price too. But you could probably negotiate.” 
“Or you could negotiate for me.” Her smile was sickly sweet and he shook his head, chuckling. 
“Swan…” 
“Killian…” 
“You negotiate. I’ll stand by and make sure you don’t get swindled, alright? You’re a tough lass. Don’t let him underestimate you.” 
The look that crossed her face was unreadable, unfamiliar to him even after knowing her all these months. He wondered how often someone had bothered to tell her that she was strong, that she was capable. It hurt a little bit to see how strongly such a simple truth affected her. He wanted to do more but he wasn’t sure what. Hug her? Take her hand? Kiss her? Luckily the salesman came and joined them before he could do anything so stupid. 
In the end, she’d gotten a pretty good deal, even used his argument about the upkeep as a way to talk the guy down in price. Within an hour she’d signed the paperwork and was being handed the keys. Killian couldn’t help the smile on his face at the sight of her own shining bright and proud and accomplished. 
“Not too shabby, huh?” she asked. 
“Aye, it seems we make quite the team, Swan.” 
“Come on, get in,” she told him, pulling open the driver’s side door for herself. 
“I drove us here,” he reminded her, laughing. “I can’t just leave my truck behind.” 
Her smirk was playful and wicked and it sent his blood rushing. “I just thought you’d want to let me give you a ride. It looks like it’s got some pretty spacious backseats but -” 
He was already yanking the passenger door open. And when they were pulled over on a quiet road, Emma’s hips rocking over his as she gripped the headrest and cried out his name, he decided that there were worse ways to waste a Saturday. 
***
“I need to ask you a favor,” Emma hedged when they were in bed one afternoon draping herself across his back, looking at him over his shoulder. 
“Oh?” He tilted his head towards her, amused brow lifted. “The fun kind?” 
She pressed her nose to his shoulder blade, hiding her face, teeth closing gently over the skin there. “No… the real kind.” He waited and Emma tried to muster up the courage to ask. She wasn’t sure if this was breaking the rules. Technically it probably wasn’t but it felt dangerously close. “I have to go home to Boston next weekend… for a wedding.” 
“And?” he pressed. She hid her face again, horribly embarrassed. 
“My ex is going to be there.” She could remember the dull, empty feeling in her chest when Elsa had called her with the news. 
Anna, the bride and four years younger than her and Elsa, didn’t know the truth of what happened between her and Neal, too young at the time to understand, and they’d never told her. They’d only said then that Emma had needed to go away to a different home for a while - far away. By the time she was old enough, Emma had just wanted to forget it. “Apparently he plays hockey with the groom.” 
“Do you have to go?” 
“Yeah,” she sighed, laying her cheek on his shoulder. “She’s my foster sister.”
Killian turned then, rising from where he’d been laying on his stomach, arms crossed under his head, and propping himself on his elbow to look at her. “I didn’t know you had a foster sister.” 
Emma nodded. “I have two. Well, technically I had a lot more than two but they were the ones I was with the longest.” And at the end. 
“And you can’t ask your sister to uninvite him because…” 
“Because I’d have to tell her what he did and then she’d be upset and I don’t want to cause a whole drama around her wedding day.” 
“What did he do?” Killian frowned, trepidation marring his brow, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know or was afraid of her answer. Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him. But she remembered the honesty he’d offered her about his wife that night he’d asked to see her again. He’d shown her why he was broken, why love couldn’t work for him anymore. Now it was her turn. 
“He framed me for a crime he committed.” His mouth fell open, shock and anger obvious in his expression and something else she couldn’t read. “It could have been worse. I had to do a year in juvie. He’d have had to do real time so I guess he figured if I -” 
“Juvie?” he demanded, sitting up. “How old were you?” 
“Seventeen.” 
“And when you say he’d have had to do real time, that’s because he… ” he pressed, his jaw and shoulders tight. 
“Wasn’t seventeen,” she confirmed. 
“How old was he?” Killian asked, and Emma couldn’t name the feeling that crossed his expression or the one that settled in her chest. 
“Twenty four - twenty five?” She’d never actually been sure of Neal’s age. She’d only known that he was older and interested in her and she’d felt special because of it, mature. 
Emma didn’t tell this story very often, and rarely did she get the same reaction twice. But she’d never seen anything like the outrage and fury that was burning through Killian. Maybe close, in Elsa, but they’d been teenagers then; they hadn’t really comprehended just how fucked up what Neal did really was. 
“Is the favor to take out a hit on the guy? Because I must say I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.” 
Even as anger flared in his eyes, his hand was gentle against her cheek, tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear and she was overwhelmed by the desire to keep him there, to press her cheek into his palm and let him comfort her, let him be angry on her behalf. She wanted to tell him more, let him know the truth of who she’d been and all the shitty things that had happened to her when she was young. She wanted him to care - like she cared when something bad happened to him. 
“No.” She shook her head. What she wanted to ask was somehow more nerve wracking than murder. “I was hoping… you’d come with me.” 
He seemed surprised. “As your date?” 
“As my friend,” Emma corrected. “With benefits,” she added with a little smirk. A small one pulled at his lips too. 
“I thought you ‘didn’t do’ friends with benefits.” 
“Well, you’re my friend and we fuck,” she laughed. “What would you call yourself?” 
His arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her to him. “A bloody lucky bastard,” he smirked suggestively, teeth nipping at her shoulder before nosing at her collarbone. “So you  want to what? Make him jealous? Confront him?” 
“No, I want to avoid him at all costs.” 
“So you need me to..?” 
“I don’t know, distract me I guess? Stop me from doing something stupid?” They both knew that wasn’t the real reason. She could ask anybody to go with her for that. But she wanted him there. She wanted him to be the one to help her face this because nobody else made her feel like she could. “I just want,” she started, looking away, avoiding his gaze, fixated on picking at a nail bed as she admitted, “to feel safe.” 
“When is it?” Her eyes snapped up to his, having half expected him to say no, but his expression was soft, kind. 
“Saturday. I know you work though so if -”
“I’ll figure it out,” he promised and Emma found herself doing something she never imagined. She hugged him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as she shifted forward into his lap. Both of them were still naked, but his hand only stroked the length of her back, the other holding her to him. 
“Thank you,” she sighed, voice small in the quiet room. He turned his head, kissed her neck. Her heart raced, a flutter of something other than lust. 
“I’m your friend, Swan,” he said softly. “I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe. Besides,” he added and she could feel his grin against her skin. “In addition to being an excellent lover,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m also an excellent dancer, which is essential in a wedding date.” 
She laughed. “You know I’ve seen you dance right? You can just be one of those awkward dudes who spends the whole night at the table.” 
“Out of the question,” he refused, flipping her onto her back easily and she squealed. “Though you raise a good point. We definitely need some ground rules.” 
“Like what?” 
“If I see this ex, am I allowed to hit him?” 
She giggled. “No. Probably not.”
“Hmm. So then light maiming is probably out of the question too?”
“Killian.”
“Fine. I won’t hurt him. Perhaps I’ll just… threaten him a little.” 
“You’re gonna be with me, helping me steer clear of him, remember?” 
“Ah yes. Which brings up another set of rules. For instance, are we telling people we’re ‘friends who fuck’, as you so eloquently put it?” He leaned down to press a kiss below her ear. 
“Absolutely not,” she groaned and he nodded. 
“So I take it that means I can’t kiss you,” Killian continued, catching her lips as she began to shake her head. It was a slow, drawn out, heated kiss, mouth slanting over hers and tongue teasing her own. 
“No,” she answered shakily, panting when he pulled back. 
“Not here either then,” he continued, mouth trailing the length of her neck to her collarbone. “Or here,” he agreed, moving between her breasts and over her stomach.
“Uh-uh,” she shook her head, the sound coming out breathy and wanton. 
“And what about touching?” he asked, looking up. “Can I touch you?”
“Depends.” His hand slid over her waist and she nodded, then up her arm and over her shoulder and she nodded again. Then his playful smile turned wicked as he dragged his palm down over her breast, gathering it in his hand and pinching her nipple between two fingers.
She let out a small moan. “I think that’s generally frowned upon in polite society.”
“Aye, you’re probably right. So is this,” he added, pulling her other nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue. “So that’s out of the question.”
“Mhm,” she agreed weakly, grunting in annoyance when he pulled away. 
“Here?” His hand started a slow journey across her stomach and she nodded, continued to nod every time he looked up at her, brow raised in amusement. When his fingers slipped through her folds and she sucked in a breath, he gaped at her with false shock. “I can touch you here?” Killian gasped, sliding a finger inside of her and she shook her head even as her lip caught between her teeth. 
“You can kiss me there.” 
“At the wedding?!” he demanded, sounding scandalized. 
“Now.”
“Well alright,” he conceded, lips pressing to her thigh. “But don’t blame me if I get confused on the night of.” Then he slid his tongue over her clit and she really didn’t think she’d even care if he did. 
***
Emma was radiant, her long, silky gown falling perfectly over her curves, the soft, pale skin of her arms and back exposed, golden hair curling down to her waist. Killian couldn’t take his eyes off her. Standing with her in his one good suit, the same one he’d worn to David and Mary Margaret’s wedding almost a decade ago, he felt both unworthy of and bloody lucky to be the one on her arm tonight. 
He’d met one of her sisters and some of her friends, all of whom had looked at him in shock and then at Emma in disbelief as she introduced him. It didn’t take long for Killian to realize that, like himself, Emma was more the type to leave a wedding with a date than arrive with one. And from the way she was squeezing his hand, white knuckled as they made their way towards their seats for the ceremony, it was clear that she really had been terrified of coming here alone to have broken that pattern and asked him. 
“You alright?” he whispered against her temple as they sat. She nodded distractedly and then tensed and he tried to follow her gaze across to the groom’s side. He was the one to squeeze her hand this time. “It’s gonna be okay,” he promised and she nodded, somewhat focused on him this time. “Which one is he?”
Emma tilted her head across the aisle, only a few rows back. “Him. In the brown suit.” 
Killian searched the crowd, finally finding the man in question and it took everything in him not to let his anger get the better of him. That bastard had been with a teenage girl as an adult and he’d used her and sent her to jail to save his own ass and now here he sat, completely carefree and without consequence. But Emma didn’t need him to be angry right now. He’d promised to distract her. 
“Him?” he repeated, scrunching his brow in disbelief. “Really? Had you not started wearing your glasses yet?” He saw her press her lips together against a smile. “Clearly your tastes have improved or I need to re-evaluate my self-image.” 
“Stop it,” she smirked, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Don’t make me laugh.” But even as she said it she bit her lip, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed giggles. 
“But I am prettier than him, right?” he insisted.
“He’ll hear you!” she whisper-hissed at him, still trying to get herself under control. He did hear them, the man looking up and spotting Emma. A look Killian didn’t like crossed his eyes, expectant, like he assumed she’d be desperate to meet his gaze. Killian reached out, wrapping his hand posessively around Emma’s thigh and her breath hitched, lip slipping between her teeth again. The smugness in Neal’s expression weakened, doubt creeping in, and jealousy. Good.
“If you’re gonna keep your hand there for the whole ceremony you better be planning to follow through tonight,” she warned him, voice low so only he could hear. He smirked, sliding it higher, running his thumb over the silky material that hid her skin from him. Emma cast a glance around the room, checking for onlookers and finding none - apart from Neal perhaps - and parting her legs just a fraction. 
“Rest assured, love, I have many things I plan on following through with tonight.” 
***
“You’re not going to go try catch the bouquet?” Killian teased her when Anna was getting ready to throw it, all the single women there lined up in hopes of catching it. 
Emma scoffed. “Not on your life.”
“It’s tradition!”
“So is the groom taking the bride’s garter off with his teeth and then flinging it at a bunch of dudes,” she pointed out, eyebrow raised. 
He smirked. “Point taken. I prefer to keep all the garters I remove to myself.” 
“Is it hard? That women don’t wear garters and petticoats like when you were young?” 
“Watch it,” he warned, hand at her waist pinching her side and she giggled. 
He was surprised at how well the evening had gone so far. He’d managed to keep her distracted like he promised, had done his best to charm her friends and subtly steer her in another direction whenever Neal was near. 
The death grip she had on his hand before hadn’t returned, but he couldn’t help noticing that every now and then her fingers would slip between his own, or that when he reached for hers she didn’t pull away. He also couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t mind it, that he even liked it. He also liked standing here with her now, arms wrapped around her waist as she leaned back against him. 
Both of them were a little giggly off of champagne toasts, though Killian feeling more drunk off the smell of the skin at her neck that he kept turning his nose into than the wine. He hummed at the way she shivered when he brushed his lips against the spot below her ear, her neck tilting a little to give him more room. 
“I thought we agreed that was a bad wedding kiss,” she reminded him. 
“Did we?” he asked and she sucked in a breath, hands tightening in the sleeves of his suit jacket when he dragged his teeth over the spot. “It’s my memory, love; it starts to go with age.” He kissed her again and she sunk into him a little, ass pressing back against the front of his pants and he had to remind himself that they were in public. “What’s an appropriate amount of time before we can make an Irish goodbye and head back to that hotel room you so graciously booked?” 
“After the cake,” she said so quickly that he laughed against her neck.
“Hungry?”
“It’s free cake!” 
“If I buy you cake, can we leave earlier?” He let his fingers trail a little higher, over her ribs, the fabric of her dress slippery and soft under his touch. Emma caught his wandering hands, holding them firmly at a more appropriate level - but still around her, he noted. 
“Maybe. What kind of cake?” 
“Any bloody cake you want,” he promised and she was the one to laugh this time. 
“Okay then, after Anna and Kristoff have made their rounds and said hello.” 
“Well, it looks like they’re heading out to the dance floor now,” he pointed out, others joining the couple, the floor filling quickly. “Might be our best bet.” 
“Is that you trying to ask me to dance?”
“It might be. Depends on if it worked.” He was nervous. Never in his life could he remember feeling nervous asking a woman to dance. Not since junior high anyway. But she was Emma, she hated romance and feared anything that could be construed as such - even if they were currently holding one another at a wedding. But still, he asked. “Do you want to? Friends can dance, right?” She only hesitated for a moment.
“Yeah, okay.” 
The song was slow and Killian shook his head at her amused smirk when he took her hand in his, the other going around her waist, enjoying the bare skin under his fingers and that he had an excuse to trace them along her spine. “You have to let me lead, Swan,” he sighed, rolling his eyes when she seemed to move against his every step. “I know it’s not your strong suit -”
“Watch it.” Emma narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this,” she reminded him sharply and he was surprised at what he picked up beneath it - nerves. Perhaps she was as nervous agreeing to dance with him as he’d been to ask.
“Just… trust me,” he smiled softly, trying again, slow, easy steps and after a moment she seemed to relax, following his lead. She grinned up at him proudly and his chest warmed at the sight. 
“How did you learn how to do this?” she asked as the song transitioned to another. He felt himself go stiff, fingers at her back tightening at the question. 
“For my wedding,” he confessed. He’d hated it, finding the classes trying and pointless. But Milah had loved it; she’d wanted them to have a ‘proper’ first dance. And he’d loved her. 
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly and he shook his head. 
“It’s fine. I don’t hate talking about the good parts.” 
She raised a brow. “Dancing was one of the good parts?” 
“The wedding,” he corrected, a small smile pulling at his lips. “She wanted to have it outside under the stars, but it was pissing rain. David and I spent hours on a bloody ladder sticking those stupid little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. Nearly broke my neck.”
“Killian Jones,” she accused. “You lied. You’re a romantic.” 
He laughed, shaking his head. “No. Perhaps once upon a time. Now I just lure beautiful women onto the dance floor so I can seduce them with my superior waltzing skills and have my way with them.” She rolled her eyes, smiling ruefully as he slowed them down a little bit to match the pace of the music. 
“You’re stunning, tonight, Swan,” he told her, because he’d been wanting to say it all evening.  
A blush spread on her cheeks, one he’d never seen before, coloring the skin under her freckles. And it was mesmerizing. She pressed her nose to his shoulder, hiding her expression from him. “You don’t clean up so bad yourself.” 
“Was that a compliment?” he dipped his head, trying to catch her eye so he could tease her. She gave a long-suffering sigh. 
“Just accept it, would you?” 
He chuckled, letting it go, chest to chest now, her temple resting in the crook of his neck as they danced. It was nice, the feel of her in his arms, her hair against his cheek, the smell and the softness of it familiar, comforting. He stroked his fingers over her back, drawing patterns across her skin and she sank into his touch. 
Suddenly Killian’s brow darkened, trying not to stiffen, trying not to alert Emma when he saw the man he’d never met but hated crossing the dance floor, clearly looking for someone, for her. He held her closer, as though he could physically shield her from him, knowing that he would if he needed to. Emma’s arm slipped from his shoulder to his waist, tucking inside his jacket.
Neal spotted them and for a second Killian thought the bastard might come over, that he thought he had some possible right to ask anything of her. Fierce protectiveness took over him, like nothing he’d ever felt before, an overwhelming need to keep her safe, to keep her from those like him who would cause her harm. 
Neal froze when Killian leveled him with a glare, a threat he’d be more than happy to follow through on regardless of the fact that he’d technically agreed not to hit him. Emma was strong, she was self-assured and she was a force when she wanted to be. But he’d seen the way she’d shrunk when she’d told him what Neal had done, had felt the vulnerability in the way she’d wrapped herself around him. He watched the other man slink away, Killian’s fingers tangling loosely in the ends of her hair that tumbled and curled down her back. He would keep her safe.
“Thank you, by the way,” she said then, as though she knew. “For coming with me tonight.” 
“Of course, love. Anything you need. I hope you know that.” 
And as he said it, he realized that it was true. He would do anything for her. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, if it had been all at once or slowly, little by little since that night she’d first showed up on his doorstep, but there it was. He’d broken his own rule… he’d fallen for her. 
And while fear burned like adrenaline through his veins and his own once broken, damaged heart screamed at him to run, he didn’t want to. This was everything he’d been afraid of; she was everything he’d been afraid of. But right now, holding all of that fear in his arms, holding her to his chest and against his heart… letting go was a thousand times more terrifying. 
“Emma…” he started, not sure what to even say, how to begin to tell her something he was just figuring out himself. 
She lifted her head, green eyes soft in the dim light. The little line he’d discovered appeared between her brows when she was concerned about him starting to form. The one that had been there that first morning in her apartment, that afternoon when she’d found out he’d hurt himself and didn’t tell her. The one that told him she cared, even if just a little.
He leaned down, pressed his lips to hers, kissed her slow and careful, heart racing when she returned it, when she didn’t shy from it. The hand that had been holding hers moved to her hair, fingers carding through the soft mess of curls as he held her closer, tried to pour every feeling and revelation that was pounding in his chest into it. 
Her hands now both slipped under his jacket, fisting in his shirt at his back, pressing herself closer where he couldn’t pull her anymore. Her mouth opened under his and he tasted her lips with his tongue, the heat of her against him unbearable even as he craved more. 
“Do you want to…?” he rasped, ripping his mouth from hers. He needed to get her somewhere, somewhere away from here, where he could tell her what he felt, where he could show her. 
“Yep,” she nodded immediately and they hurried out of the ballroom. 
They raced down the hallway to their room, on the same floor but far enough from the party that they couldn’t hear the pounding of the music. Still, Killian felt the pounding through his veins regardless, heart racing, breath unsteady. Kicking off her heels she caught his waist, dragging him inside and towards the bed where she pressed herself against him, rising up on her toes to kiss him with the same passion they’d shared on the floor. 
He wanted nothing more than to let her, to help her as her fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt and began working them free, to take her right then. But he couldn’t. Because he’d broken their rule. And she needed to know, deserved to know that he’d done exactly what she’d made him promise not to. 
“Emma, wait.” Her fingers paused against his chest, caught in his own as he tried to get himself under control, to make sense of the thoughts rushing through his mind. “I can’t…” 
“What’s wrong?” A hand slipped free, coming to his cheek and frowning at him, worried as she made him meet her gaze. 
Killian sighed, shutting his eyes, and letting his forehead fall against hers. “I lied to you. I didn’t mean to but - I promised that I wouldn’t make you regret this, that I wouldn’t change my mind and want more from you…” He took another hesitant breath, “That I wouldn’t fall for you.” He pulled back, enough so that he could see her eyes, afraid of what he might find there. He couldn’t read the green staring back at him, too many emotions playing across them too quickly to name. “But I do want more,” he confessed. “I never thought that I would again, not after I lost Milah. But I -”
“Killian, please don’t say it.” 
“Emma…”
“Look, it’s a wedding. Everyone says things they don’t mean and feels things they don’t really feel.” 
“What do you feel?” 
She sighed. “I feel like you miss your wife.” 
“Of course I miss her…” he said gently. 
He would always miss her. That was what grief was - it never truly went away. But with time the pain started to dull and the longing began to subside until they became bearable. When he’d lost her, Killian thought his heart was broken forever, that it would hurt forever, that nothing would ever fill the space she’d carved out in his soul and then left barren. 
And for a long time he’d been right. Then he’d met Emma. And she hadn’t filled the space that Milah left, no one ever would. But she’d carved out her own little space, settled there without him knowing, and the emptiness had shrunk to make room. 
Her nod was sad and he saw her harden, hide from him behind those walls she’s built so well. “But, Emma,” he said quickly, hoping to stop whatever thought was forming behind that dampened green, whatever untruth was telling her to run from him. “What I feel for you has nothing to do with her.” 
She looked almost sympathetic. “I think what you’re feeling is lonely. And you’re hoping that I can fix that for you, but I can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” he frowned. 
“I can’t be a stand-in for the love you lost, Killian. It doesn’t work like that. I’ll never be Milah.” 
He took her hand, held it to his chest. “I don’t want you to be.” He shook his head, dismayed that she would construe his feelings for her as loneliness, as a need to fill a void. “I want you.” It broke his heart that she couldn’t see it. “We’re alike, you and I,” he reminded her. “We know what it is to lose everything, to be left behind and forced to pick up the pieces. And we rebuilt ourselves stronger, harder, indestructible so that it could never happen again.” She looked at him then, really looked at him and he felt a flicker of hope. She knew him, saw herself in his words and his pain the same way he did in hers. “But it did happen. You happened to me. And you’re not some ghost or surrogate, you’re the first person to make me believe that the risk could be worth all the pain again.”
Her voice was small when she spoke, and he could hear the tears making it rough, shaking as he words left her. “What happens when that’s not enough anymore?” There was defiance now when she looked at him, hiding the pain and the fear of being vulnerable that he knew all too well. “What happens when I’m not enough anymore?”
“How can you even ask that?” 
She swallowed, like she could force down the emotions she so valiantly fought, push them back into her chest where she wished they would stay. “I never have been.” 
His heart broke for her, for every time someone had made her feel small, had made her feel worthless, less-than, unworthy of the love she so intensely deserved. He took her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over the few tears that had managed to break free and stain her cheeks. 
“I love you.” His declaration took them both by surprise, but he knew it was true the moment he said it, he was sure on some level he’d known it was true for a very long time. “I’ve been with countless people since I lost Milah, women, men, confident, funny, exciting and beautiful… But I couldn’t love any of them. I didn’t want to love any of them. Because they weren’t you - passionate, kind, brilliant, brash, beautiful, stubborn, uncompromising you.”
“Those last two mean the same thing.” She narrowed her eyes at him, sniffling slightly, and he chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.
“And infuriating even when I’m trying to confess my love for you,” he added and the corner of her mouth turned up. “How could you ever not be enough?” 
She didn’t say anything, reaching for the back of his head and pulling him down until his lips met hers. Killian shut his eyes tight, kissing her with everything he had, relief pouring through him as he wrapped himself around her, until she was pressed to every inch of him, until she was there and real and his in his arms. 
“I love you too,” she breathed into the moment that passed between them, between their mouths parting and finding each other again. 
He didn’t need the words, but they were everything coming from her. He knew how terrifying they were to say, how much weight they carried with them, leaving her vulnerable and unguarded, bared to him. But he’d already vowed to keep her safe, to make sure she spent every day knowing that she was loved, that she was enough, and he carried her trust inside of him like something to be cherished, to be protected and returned. 
“What do we do now?” Emma asked when the fire of emotion had settled into a comfortable, slow-burning warmth that they’d nestled into, wrapped up in each other in the middle of the room. She was tucked against his chest, cheek pressed to his collarbone as it had been when they’d been dancing and he only held her more snuggly to him, turning to speak against the crown of her head. 
“I think we just… carry on as we have been,” he admitted. In hindsight he realized that they’d been in a relationship for months now, both stubbornly blind and in denial of their own feelings. Idiots. Afraid. 
“Do I still get to make fun of your age?” she ventured and he could feel her smirk against his shirt. 
Killian chuckled. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t.”
“I guess we tell everyone too.” The smile that split his face at her suggestion was one that pulled at his heart, his whole body lightening with it.
“Aye.” He couldn’t keep the joy from his voice. “And you let me take you on a date.” 
“We’ve been on dates,” Emma pointed out, looking up at him. 
He tilted his head to meet her gaze, to grin mirthfully at her. “Ones that don’t serve the sole purpose of getting each other in bed.” 
Her eyes widened. “You want to stop sleeping together?” 
“Gods no! I just want to spend more time with you, clothed as well as unclothed. Perhaps even in public.” 
“Probably better to be clothed for those ones.” 
“Unfortunately. But I do like the idea of being able to kiss you when others are around, and even maybe hold your hand.”
She laughed softly, fingers lacing through his own as she tucked herself back against his shoulder. “You really are a romantic aren’t you?” 
“I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I never intended on being one again - on even seeing you again after that first night. But it seems we were inevitable, Swan.” He felt her kiss against his neck, warm and soft and sweet before they fell into a gentle kind of silence once more. 
“Killian?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m really glad you decided to come over and say hello again at the bar.”
“Aye, love. Me too.” And he always would be.  
*****
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anmylica · 1 year
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Something About December (Throw a Wrench in Your Plans)
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Summary: Killian and Emma have been secretly dating for close to a year, only none of their friends know it. They’ve agreed to keep it a secret until they know it’s real, but what happens when Emma’s brother, David, starts to become suspicious? One thing is for sure, this Christmas will be one that none of them forget!
Inspiration for this fic: @xarandomdreamx and @kmomof4 encouraged me to write this fic (fondly referred to as the procrastination fic) based on a prompt in the CSMM Discord that said: “Christmas prompt: Emma and Killian have been dating about a year or so but they kept it secret because Killian is Emma’s brothers best friend. So Christmas comes around and they have to act like they haven’t been sleeping together so David won’t give Killian a black eye for Christmas.” My idea was based on the Buzzfeed article where someone wrote about how they knew two people were dating (“At a place I worked at about 25 years ago, my co-worker had dropped her screwdriver, and our boss picked it up and stuck it in her pocket. Later that day, my buddy said, 'She did not flinch or look away from what she was doing when his hand went to her pocket — his hand has been in that pocket before.” —u/CathyTheGreatsHorse). I also blame @everything-person and @teamhook for this fic, as they were the ones who either came up with the prompt or encouraged me to add another WIP. I’m debating adding a part 2, as I couldn’t work my other ideas into the narrative, but we’ll see!
This is my (surprise) gift to them, but also to the fandom as a whole. May your days be merry and bright!
The title is also from a Christina Perri song, in case you recognize it!
Read Here on AO3
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Read under the cut!
Something About December (Throw a Wrench in Your Plans)
David tried really, really hard not to disturb his sister before 9:30 in the morning on her days off (and let’s be honest, he tried not to disturb her before he had to on days she wasn’t off anyway), as Emma “Swan” Nolan wasn’t a morning person in any interpretation of the word. But his wife, and Emma’s best friend, Mary Margaret Nolan, wouldn’t hear of his excuses and forced him to brave his sister’s wrath and bring her her favorite leath jacket (that she had inconveniently left at his place last week and thus subsequently nagged him to death about delivering it to her). He rolled his eyes, but he liked to remain on his wife’s good side, so he reluctantly agreed to run it over to her early on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
He had just parked his truck, thankful that he didn’t have to work today himself, when he saw her door open. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘she’s already awake. I won’t have to slay the dragon today, after all. This makes this easier.’
He was just about to open his door when he saw his best friend and fellow sheriff’s deputy, Killian Jones, step out of Emma’s apartment. He stopped in his tracks, his hand on the handle of the door and poised to throw it open. He stared at the sight before him, turned his eyes briefly back to the dash to check the time, and then turned his eyes back to his best friend and his sister. He watched as Emma followed Killian out, wearing nothing but the button down shirt he could have sworn he saw Killian wearing yesterday while they worked their shift and a pair of socks. Killian turned and gave his sister a long, slow, lingering kiss. The kiss lasted so long it made David feel awkward, as if he were about to get a show he didn’t ever want to see. Finally (at last) Killian pulled away and left, getting into his vintage Shelby Mustang and waving as he did so. Emma waved back and stood staring in the doorway as he pulled out of sight. Once she couldn’t see him, she disappeared back into her appartment.
David stared at the closed door dumbfounded. What had he just witnessed? He hadn’t seen them together before this. He wouldn’t ever have said they would have been attracted to each other before this. (That was a lie; all the rest of his friends had commented numerous times before that you would get an explosion if you lit a match anywhere near them, but David refused to accept that as truth.) Did any of their friends know about this? Surely not. Mary Margaret couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, Ruby couldn’t hold back gossip this juicy (her words, not his), and, although discreet, Belle would have told Mary Margaret. David doubted that any of their other friends, though probably not Victor, would even care about this revelation. (Again, this was a lie. Liam, Victor, Graham, Eric, and Jefferson were all highly invested in the not-Killian-and-Emma ship.)
How long had they even been together, for that matter? Or were they even dating? David was going to break every single bone in Killian’s body if he were putting one over on his sister. The bro code had to be honored, in this case. There was no way Killian was getting out of the consequences.
David sat so long in his truck pondering this new revelation that he was startled to see that thirty minutes had passed. Deciding that this was plenty of time to wait, he got out of his truck and delivered his sister’s jacket, though he didn’t say a word about what he had seen. He needed more information than what he had to go on, at present. Surely there had to be another explanation? When Emma answered the door, he greeted her the same as he always did and presented her her red leather jacket.
Nope. Everything was just fine. He was not going to automatically assume they were boning just because of circumstantial evidence. He was going to wait for further proof.
“Dude, they’ve gotta be fucking,” Victor exclaimed later that evening. Their group of friends had all met at the Rabbit Hole for their traditional post-Thanksgiving get together. Some years they had it at one of their places, but no one had felt like staying in, so they all agreed to go to the best bar in Storybrooke.
“Who?” Demanded Liam, turning to look at who Victor was pointing at.
“Killian and Emma,” Victor replied. “Look at them! All cosy playing pool together.”
Belle frowned. “How does this indicate they’re together?”
“Look how close they are! I only get that close to girls I’m trying to persuade to go home with me.”
David examined the amount of space between his friend and his sister. They might have been closer than strictly necessary, but that was because another group was playing pool at the next table over and were on the same side as Killian and Emma. They weren’t any closer than anyone else.
“It doesn’t look that close to me,” Liam dismissed skeptically.
“No, not right now, but I swear just a second ago they were like this,” Victor insisted as he pressed as close as he could to Mary Margaret, who shrank back away from him instantly, making a face. “You don’t get that close unless you’re banging.”
Mary Margaret scoffed. “Must you be so disgusting?”
Ruby laughed and Graham grinned. DIsgusting and sleazy were Victor’s middle names.
Victor cast a roguish grin towards Mary Margaret. “It’s a talent,” he replied flippantly. “But I still stand by what I said.”
Liam’s brow furrowed as he contemplated the picture that Killian and Emma presented. “I haven’t seen him with anyone since Milah. He’s brought a few home for the night, but nothing serious.”
Belle nodded in agreement. “It’s been the same way for Emma. We all know how Neal turned out.”
Silence fell over the table as they all agreed, remembering how badly Neal and Milah, who were brother and sister, had screwed over their friends. Neither lived in Storybrooke anymore, and it was a good thing, as David was willing to bet that many of their friend-group would have had criminal records if they had stayed in town.
Victor nodded sagely. “Yes, well, be that as it may, they’re doing the dirty.”
Everyone rolled their eyes in response, but no one at the table deigned to reply.
“Who’s doing the dirty?” Elsa asked as she had just walked up, shrugging off her ice blue coat as Liam jumped up to help her.
“Killian and Emma!” Victor announced triumphantly.
Elsa rolled her eyes. “How on earth did you figure that?”
Victor pointed at them. “Behold!”
Elsa and the group turned to watch Killian and Emma again. Killian seemed to be mocking a guy’s stroking technique from the next pool table over while Emma had collapsed against the table in tears from laughing so hard. Killian was laughing at how much Emma was laughing, but this was nothing different from how they had acted in the past. Elsa turned back to Victor with one eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
“Oh yes,” Elsa replied as she sat on Liam’s lap, “they’re getting it on right as we speak.”
Victor huffed in frustration. “I’m telling you, they are!”
Graham pulled out his phone. “Let’s do some research,” he responded. “Let’s find out what the Internet says.” He ran a quick search on his phone. “First: do they make a lot of eye contact?”
Everyone turned to evaluate how much eye contact the two were making. Neither looked at the other very long.
“Alright, next: do they seem closer in general?” Graham continued. They group fell silent as they thought about it. David silently watched the others shrug, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if what he witnessed counted as closer, anyway. One by one, they all shook their heads.
Graham nodded his head. “Are they sharing lingering looks?”
They all looked up to see Killian checking out a brunette in a short mini skirt who was jumping up and down and Emma eyeing a guy at the bar.
Graham shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. Do they communicate in a secret language?”
Mary Margaret was the one who answered that. “They’ve always communicated in a secret language.”
Liam nodded his head in agreement. “Ever since they were in school together. Even when he was with Milah and she was with Neal. That hasn’t changed.”
Everyone nodded. Victor mused, “Yeah, I can see that one.”
Graham turned his head back to his phone. “They become very protective of one another.”
Belle was the one who answered this. “They’ve always been protective of one another. Remember what happened with Neal?”
Everyone winced and David laughed. Neal had cheated on Emma back in high school with a girl named Tamara, and Killian had kicked his ass. This was right before Killian found out that Milah had gotten pregnant by an older man in the community, Robert Gold, and was planning on eloping with him (he was one of the richer men in town). Once Killian had found out, Emma was quick to take up for him in return. They’ve always been that way with each other. After thinking on it, David wondered if maybe that should have been a hint to him then that there was something between them.
Graham said the next item on the list. “You will see them together more and at odd times.”
Ruby shook her head. “That’s inconclusive since they both work such crazy schedules. And they’re always together or with us in a group.”
“They suddenly have more to say to each other,” Graham continued.
David and Liam shook their heads. “The last conversations we’ve had have been about the usual stuff. He hasn’t mentioned Emma at all,” Liam said. David agreed.
“She hasn’t mentioned him to me either,” Elsa replied and the other ladies agreed.
“They tease each other more or they choose their words more carefully.” Graham looked at everyone, but they shook their heads.
“They’re smiling and happy all the time.”
Mary Margaret tilted her head as she thought about this one. “Maybe? Emma does seem happier recently.”
“So does Killian, but he’s been talking about a lot of good happening at the station,” Liam added.
Graham nodded his head. “So that’s a possibility. What about avoiding each other?”
Everyone shook their heads. If they had started avoiding each other, none of their friend group had noticed. David wondered if the lack of mentioning the other recently counted as avoidance, but he kept silent.
“Alright, last one. Have they started touching more recently?”
Victor started vigorously nodding his head. “Dude I just saw Killian’s hands in Emma’s pockets and they were standing right beside each other!”
They all turned to look back at Killian and Emma. Neither was beside the other, and they were taking drinks out of their glasses. Everyone turned and looked at Victor in disbelief.
“Not right now, I mean earlier! When I decided they were getting lucky with each other!”
Elsa scoffed. “Oh, you decided. Suddenly it’s all becoming clear.”
Liam shook his head. “You can’t just decide these things Victor, we’ve been over this!”
Ruby rolled her eyes as Victor protested, “I’m telling you, it was real what I saw!”
Everyone picked up their glasses and took a drink with no one bothering to say anything in response to Victor’s whining. Emma and Killian were making their way over with newly refilled glasses.
“I have emerged victorious!” Killian announced to the table as he sat in his abandoned chair, Emma coming behind him rolling her eyes.
“He won by a scratch,” she corrected.
“That’s not all I win by a scratch, Swan,” Killian winked at her, causing Emma to roll her eyes.
“Well, win with that brunette over there by a scratch,” she threw back. “I’ve got to head out, I’ve got research to do for my next job. I’ll see everyone later?” Emma surveyed the table. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
“Emma! Don’t forget that we’re doing Dirty Santa at our place on the 10th,” Mary Margaret added. “I meant to tell everyone, so I guess I’m telling all of you now.”
Emma nodded and waved at everyone, grabbing her jacket. David watched carefully to see when Killian left, still suspicious of their dating status. After about ten minutes, Killian said his goodbyes as well, citing an overtime shift he was picking up in the morning. David knew this to be true, so it didn’t seem too off for him, but he also wondered at how close in time Killian’s leaving was to Emma’s departure. There were a lot of signs that seemed to point to Killian and Emma being a thing.
David wondered what he should do next.
It turned out there wasn’t much he could do next to confirm what he suspected, as the flu began to go around the station and he had to start covering extra shifts. He and Killian began working overtime trying to fill in where they could, with Graham (who was the sheriff) filling in on the road with the rest of the deputies as needed. After almost two weeks of this, things finally slowed down to where they could resume their normal shift work. Killian and Emma hadn’t, as far as David knew, spent any time together outside of what they already did at work.
Emma also worked for the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Office, but as a detective who investigated murders or cold case files. Her schedule was a bit different from theirs, but every now and then, she had to fill in on shift work the same as everybody else. The recent flu endemic meant that she was pulling more road work than usual, and she was patrolling more with David. This was how he had known that Emma and Killian hadn’t seen each other much, as they were all pulling overtime. None of them were at home much, so there was no way for them to see each other outside of work, right? And David never saw them flirt while on the job, at least not recently. They had quit their ridiculous flirting-on-the-job stuff almost eight months ago.
It made David very happy that his best friend and sister finally saw fit to cease making everyone else so uncomfortable. It was very considerate of them, really.
On what Graham had sworn to them was their last shift of pulling double duty, Emma had collapsed into a desk in the bullpen. “If I have to arrest another drunken guy from The Rabbit Hole, I’m going to scream,” she announced.
David laughed. “At least we’ll have everyone else covering for us while we get some time off.”
“That’s the only good thing about this,” she agreed.
Their conversation was interrupted by Killian coming in bearing coffee and a box of donuts. He wordlessly handed David a cup, to which David muttered, “Thanks,” and set the box down. He proceeded to hand Emma her cup, which she took without a word of thanks, and she opened the box.
“There better be a bear claw in here,” she said as she pried open the top.
Killian chuckled. “Oh there is,” he laughed in return. “And one for me as well.” He handed her a napkin, which she took without any mention of gratitude, and handed one to David as well. David did express gratitude again, and they all dug into the donuts.
Killian and Emma joked around like always, but David was silent.
He couldn’t imagine not telling someone who wasn’t Mary Margaret thanks for something they had done for him, and he knew that his and Emma’s parents had instilled better manners than that. By this point, he was ninety percent sure that Victor Whale’s summation of events between Killian Jones and Emma Nolan was correct.
But he didn’t receive confirmation until the night of the Christmas for Friends party at his and Mary Margaret’s house that they did every year.
It was still very early in the evening, and not everyone had arrived at David and Mary Margaret’s place yet. Though Ruby, Graham, Victor, Emma, and Killian were there, several other couples had yet to arrive, including Killian’s brother and his girlfriend, Elsa. Emma was helping Mary Margaret with a few last minute details while Killian and David set up the drinks bar. Everyone was chatting lightly together, laughing, and enjoying the first gathering in a few days that they had gotten to arrange.
After placing the ice in the bucket, Killian took his phone out of his pocket to call his brother to find out how much longer it would be before they arrived, only to discover that it was dead.
“Bloody hell, I forgot to charge my phone before I came over here,” he cursed. David was just about to offer his phone to Killian to use, but his sister beat him to it.
“Here, use mine!” Emma handed it to Killian, who took it (again, without a thank you, David noticed) and stepped outside.
The conversation inside the loft continued as it always had, with everyone laughing and snacking before the rest of their friends arrived. Killian came back in after a moment.
“Liam says he and Elsa are about five minutes from here,” he announced once the door shut behind him. “He said to make sure his favorite cookies are ready to go, Mary Margaret.”
Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “They’re right where I always put them.”
Emma laughed and kept stirring the homemade dip she had just gotten ready. Both of her hands were too messy to take her phone from Killian. David watched as Killian slipped her phone into her pocket without a word; David also noticed Emma’s distinct lack of reaction at Killian’s hand going into the front right pocket of her too-tight jeans.
He wasn’t going to say anything. He finally had the confirmation that there was something going on between them, and that was all he really needed. David glanced around at everyone else, but no one else seemed to have noticed anything. He was the only one who realized there was a romantic (or something like that) relationship between his sister and his best friend. Obviously they felt the need to keep it a secret, so he wouldn’t be the one to rat them out. Nope, he was the one who could keep secrets in his relationship. Had it been Mary Margaret, she’d have already announced it to the world. But he didn’t need to do that. They would tell the whole group when they were ready.
“You’re fucking my sister,” David said loud enough for everyone to hear. They all stopped and looked at him. Emma turned and gave him a strange look, and Killian looked up from the tray of cookies with what could only be described as a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“What?” Victor asked. “Who’s fucking your sister?”
“Wait, what?” Ruby asked. “Is that really what he said?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what he said!” Victor replied.
“Pardon, mate?” Killian asked.
Victor looked at Killian. “Is he talking about you?” Killian looked back at Victor helplessly.
“You sorry son of a bitch. How dare you try to take advantage of Emma?” David continued, starting to feel really angry at the secrecy.
“Who’s taking advantage of me?” Emma asked indignantly.
Victor gave a leering look. “I’d have taken advantage if I could have gotten it,” he responded to her, earning a disgusted look from both Emma and Killian.
“It’s a good thing you never could have ‘gotten it,’” Killian snarled back.
“Hey, I’ve never made it a secret that I’d have gotten Emma in the sack if I could have,” Victor shot back.
“Are you sure you’re not on call at the hospital? Because you’re about to have to go there,” Killian retorted as he took a step closer to Whale and angled his body to be slightly in front of Emma’s.
“Oh, I think you’ll be the one there before me,” Victor responded, instinctively stepping forward at Killian’s challenging tone.
“Touch him and you’ll have more to deal with than him,” Emma responded to Killian being threatened.
“Killian Jones is about to have more to deal with if I have anything to say about it,” David cut in. “How long have you been screwing my sister?”
Killian looked back at David. “Mate, I have no idea what you’re-“
“I saw you at her house!” David cut him off. “You left at 7:30 in the morning for an overtime shift the Saturday after Thanksgiving! Emma is never up before 9 on weekends she’s off! And she opened the door wearing nothing but your shirt that you had worn the day before!”
Everyone’s heads had been turned to David, but once he commented on his sister’s state of dress, all eyes swerved to land on Killian, who was growing a bit red and had his jaw clenched.
“How do you know that?” Emma asked.
“I was there outside your apartment! Remember that I brought you your favorite red jacket back? I saw you kiss! I stayed out in my truck for thirty minutes after he left wondering what was going on, why neither of you had said anything!”
Emma and Killian fell silent, as the rest of their friends looked on in abject curiousity. David stared at them hard. No one said anything.
Belle, Will, Liam, and Elsa arrived, opening the door and letting themselves in without knocking. They had been friends for so long that they no longer felt the need to follow the standard niceties. They were all laughing amongst themselves, but that laughter quickly died upon their entering the room.
Each of the newcomers surveyed the loft. The atmosphere was tense and expectant. They slowly filed in, wondering what kind of minefield they were entering.
“Is everything alright?” Liam asked tentatively.
“Dude! You just missed it! David just accused your brother of doin’ a little bow chicka wow wow with his sister!” Victor enunciated his words by doing a lurid dance, making sure to gyrate his hips as he spoke. Ruby had to cover her mouth to muffle her laugh, and Graham had to look down at his feet. Mary Margaret rubbed her forehead in exasperation. David scowled at Victor.
Liam frowned. “He what?”
“Actually, we don’t really know what happened.” Mary Margaret shot a warning look at her husband. “David just made a baseless accusation.”
“What kind of baseless accusation?” Liam asked.
“He claimed that Emma and Killian are sleeping together,” Ruby said to fill him in.
“It’s not baseless! He put her phone in her front pocket!” David exclaimed. Everyone stared at David’s exclamation.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a hell of a sign, innit? Putting someone’s phone in their pocket is always how I determine how someone is doing the deed,” Will stated. Killian scoffed and shook his head, but before he or Emma could say anything, Belle piped up.
“No, I think David actually has a point, here. People don’t do that unless they’re very close.”
“I’m sure there’s a more reasonable explanation to that action. Maybe Emma told Killian to put it in her pocket?” Liam suggested.
David shook his head. “I was watching them. She didn’t say a word.”
Killian by this point had clenched his jaw and Emma could see the muscle twitching in his jaw (which, if she were being honest, was insanely attractive to her). She knew things were about to boil over very quickly, ruining their Christmas party, if something didn’t give soon. She crossed over to him and took his hand in hers. He looked at her for a long moment, and for that one moment the room faded away. Killian visibly calmed down with just that connection.
David watched their silent interaction, and in that instant he knew. Nothing he said or did would stop what was unfolding. No matter what else was said, his best friend and his sister were more serious than everyone was making it out to be. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, zoning out of the conversation continuing around him, Emma and Killian not being able to get a word in edgewise.
Perhaps this was why they hadn’t said anything yet? Perhaps they knew what would happen if everyone in their group of friends found out before they were ready to tell people?
“YOU GOTTA SEND ME DOWN A MISTRESS FOR CHRISTMAS! I WANT A WOMAN IN RED WITH A BOW IN MY BED!” Victor started half-singing, half-shouting in response to something David hadn’t heard from Will, who was laughing.
“The only bow around here is gonna be the one they have to tie your bandages with, Whale!” Killian shouted in return, though not nearly as loudly as Victor was wailing.
Victor paid him no mind as the girls all rolled their eyes or put their heads in their hands. “MISTRESS FOR CHRISTMAS! I CAN HEAR YOU COMING DOWN MY SMOKE STACK, YOU WANNA RIDE MY REINDEER AND RING MY JINGLE BELLS!” He resumed the suggestive dance around the loft.
“What are you, twelve?!” Emma sneered. “Grow up, Whale! This is why we haven’t told anyone yet!” She looked very upset, tears forming in her eyes, and David knew he had just fucked up majorly with her.
Victor didn’t stop his antics, carrying on butchering the song and everyone started to get irritated. David had finally had enough. He yelled as loud as he could, and everyone stopped.
“Victor, if you can’t comport yourself properly you need to leave,” he said. Then he turned to Emma and Killian. “How long has this been going on?”
“Almost nine months,” Killian answered.
“That long?!” Ruby exclaimed in disbelief, but she was quickly silenced with a look from David.
“Aye, that long. At first, it was so new and we wanted to see if it was something that would last, and then once it became apparent it would, we enjoyed not having to worry about all of this,” Killian waved his hand around to indicate the chaos that had taken off this night.
Emma looked at Killian, who looked back at her.
“We’ve both been interested in each other for longer than we care to admit. I hate that it took us this long to give us a chance,” she said.
“We alway said you two would be perfect together,” Belle responded, smiling gently.
“Yeah, we are,” Emma and Killian shared smiles.
“It’s crazy because I don’t think any of us realized a change in how you acted,” Elsa added, trying to make sure the conversation stayed on a more serious note. “We all probably suspected something at various points, but the two of you never really changed towards one another.”
Emma shrugged and Killian responded, “We just continued as we were. I guess when you’ve been in love for so long, nothing really changes in how you treat each other.”
David nodded and they all fell silent for a moment. Finally Will piped up, “I thought this was supposed to be a party? Have we finished with the Killian-and-Emma-sitting-in-a-tree nonsense, or are we going to carry on with that some more? Because I would really like to get to the gift-giving portion of our evening.“
Everyone started laughing and the serious atmosphere was broken. Everyone started mingling, separating into groups as they finally moved past the confrontation.
David moved closer to Emma and Killian, who had retreated and were standing quite close, having their own conversation. David hated to interrupt, but he felt he owed them an apology. He had this bad tendency to fly off the handle once his temper was lost, and he had definitely lost it today.
Something About December (Throw a Wrench in Your Plans)
David tried really, really hard not to disturb his sister before 9:30 in the morning on her days off (and let’s be honest, he tried not to disturb her before he had to on days she wasn’t off anyway), as Emma “Swan” Nolan wasn’t a morning person in any interpretation of the word. But his wife, and Emma’s best friend, Mary Margaret Nolan, wouldn’t hear of his excuses and forced him to brave his sister’s wrath and bring her her favorite leath jacket (that she had inconveniently left at his place last week and thus subsequently nagged him to death about delivering it to her). He rolled his eyes, but he liked to remain on his wife’s good side, so he reluctantly agreed to run it over to her early on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.
He had just parked his truck, thankful that he didn’t have to work today himself, when he saw her door open. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘she’s already awake. I won’t have to slay the dragon today, after all. This makes this easier.’
He was just about to open his door when he saw his best friend and fellow sheriff’s deputy, Killian Jones, step out of Emma’s apartment. He stopped in his tracks, his hand on the handle of the door and poised to throw it open. He stared at the sight before him, turned his eyes briefly back to the dash to check the time, and then turned his eyes back to his best friend and his sister. He watched as Emma followed Killian out, wearing nothing but the button down shirt he could have sworn he saw Killian wearing yesterday while they worked their shift and a pair of socks. Killian turned and gave his sister a long, slow, lingering kiss. The kiss lasted so long it made David feel awkward, as if he were about to get a show he didn’t ever want to see. Finally (at last) Killian pulled away and left, getting into his vintage Shelby Mustang and waving as he did so. Emma waved back and stood staring in the doorway as he pulled out of sight. Once she couldn’t see him, she disappeared back into her appartment.
David stared at the closed door dumbfounded. What had he just witnessed? He hadn’t seen them together before this. He wouldn’t ever have said they would have been attracted to each other before this. (That was a lie; all the rest of his friends had commented numerous times before that you would get an explosion if you lit a match anywhere near them, but David refused to accept that as truth.) Did any of their friends know about this? Surely not. Mary Margaret couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, Ruby couldn’t hold back gossip this juicy (her words, not his), and, although discreet, Belle would have told Mary Margaret. David doubted that any of their other friends, though probably not Victor, would even care about this revelation. (Again, this was a lie. Liam, Victor, Graham, Eric, and Jefferson were all highly invested in the not-Killian-and-Emma ship.)
How long had they even been together, for that matter? Or were they even dating? David was going to break every single bone in Killian’s body if he were putting one over on his sister. The bro code had to be honored, in this case. There was no way Killian was getting out of the consequences.
David sat so long in his truck pondering this new revelation that he was startled to see that thirty minutes had passed. Deciding that this was plenty of time to wait, he got out of his truck and delivered his sister’s jacket, though he didn’t say a word about what he had seen. He needed more information than what he had to go on, at present. Surely there had to be another explanation? When Emma answered the door, he greeted her the same as he always did and presented her her red leather jacket.
Nope. Everything was just fine. He was not going to automatically assume they were boning just because of circumstantial evidence. He was going to wait for further proof.
“Dude, they’ve gotta be fucking,” Victor exclaimed later that evening. Their group of friends had all met at the Rabbit Hole for their traditional post-Thanksgiving get together. Some years they had it at one of their places, but no one had felt like staying in, so they all agreed to go to the best bar in Storybrooke.
“Who?” Demanded Liam, turning to look at who Victor was pointing at.
“Killian and Emma,” Victor replied. “Look at them! All cosy playing pool together.”
Belle frowned. “How does this indicate they’re together?”
“Look how close they are! I only get that close to girls I’m trying to persuade to go home with me.”
David examined the amount of space between his friend and his sister. They might have been closer than strictly necessary, but that was because another group was playing pool at the next table over and were on the same side as Killian and Emma. They weren’t any closer than anyone else.
“It doesn’t look that close to me,” Liam dismissed skeptically.
“No, not right now, but I swear just a second ago they were like this,” Victor insisted as he pressed as close as he could to Mary Margaret, who shrank back away from him instantly, making a face. “You don’t get that close unless you’re banging.”
Mary Margaret scoffed. “Must you be so disgusting?”
Ruby laughed and Graham grinned. DIsgusting and sleazy were Victor’s middle names.
Victor cast a roguish grin towards Mary Margaret. “It’s a talent,” he replied flippantly. “But I still stand by what I said.”
Liam’s brow furrowed as he contemplated the picture that Killian and Emma presented. “I haven’t seen him with anyone since Milah. He’s brought a few home for the night, but nothing serious.”
Belle nodded in agreement. “It’s been the same way for Emma. We all know how Neal turned out.”
Silence fell over the table as they all agreed, remembering how badly Neal and Milah, who were brother and sister, had screwed over their friends. Neither lived in Storybrooke anymore, and it was a good thing, as David was willing to bet that many of their friend-group would have had criminal records if they had stayed in town.
Victor nodded sagely. “Yes, well, be that as it may, they’re doing the dirty.”
Everyone rolled their eyes in response, but no one at the table deigned to reply.
“Who’s doing the dirty?” Elsa asked as she had just walked up, shrugging off her ice blue coat as Liam jumped up to help her.
“Killian and Emma!” Victor announced triumphantly.
Elsa rolled her eyes. “How on earth did you figure that?”
Victor pointed at them. “Behold!”
Elsa and the group turned to watch Killian and Emma again. Killian seemed to be mocking a guy’s stroking technique from the next pool table over while Emma had collapsed against the table in tears from laughing so hard. Killian was laughing at how much Emma was laughing, but this was nothing different from how they had acted in the past. Elsa turned back to Victor with one eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘Is that all you’ve got?’
“Oh yes,” Elsa replied as she sat on Liam’s lap, “they’re getting it on right as we speak.”
Victor huffed in frustration. “I’m telling you, they are!”
Graham pulled out his phone. “Let’s do some research,” he responded. “Let’s find out what the Internet says.” He ran a quick search on his phone. “First: do they make a lot of eye contact?”
Everyone turned to evaluate how much eye contact the two were making. Neither looked at the other very long.
“Alright, next: do they seem closer in general?” Graham continued. They group fell silent as they thought about it. David silently watched the others shrug, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure if what he witnessed counted as closer, anyway. One by one, they all shook their heads.
Graham nodded his head. “Are they sharing lingering looks?”
They all looked up to see Killian checking out a brunette in a short mini skirt who was jumping up and down and Emma eyeing a guy at the bar.
Graham shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it. Do they communicate in a secret language?”
Mary Margaret was the one who answered that. “They’ve always communicated in a secret language.”
Liam nodded his head in agreement. “Ever since they were in school together. Even when he was with Milah and she was with Neal. That hasn’t changed.”
Everyone nodded. Victor mused, “Yeah, I can see that one.”
Graham turned his head back to his phone. “They become very protective of one another.”
Belle was the one who answered this. “They’ve always been protective of one another. Remember what happened with Neal?”
Everyone winced and David laughed. Neal had cheated on Emma back in high school with a girl named Tamara, and Killian had kicked his ass. This was right before Killian found out that Milah had gotten pregnant by an older man in the community, Robert Gold, and was planning on eloping with him (he was one of the richer men in town). Once Killian had found out, Emma was quick to take up for him in return. They’ve always been that way with each other. After thinking on it, David wondered if maybe that should have been a hint to him then that there was something between them.
Graham said the next item on the list. “You will see them together more and at odd times.”
Ruby shook her head. “That’s inconclusive since they both work such crazy schedules. And they’re always together or with us in a group.”
“They suddenly have more to say to each other,” Graham continued.
David and Liam shook their heads. “The last conversations we’ve had have been about the usual stuff. He hasn’t mentioned Emma at all,” Liam said. David agreed.
“She hasn’t mentioned him to me either,” Elsa replied and the other ladies agreed.
“They tease each other more or they choose their words more carefully.” Graham looked at everyone, but they shook their heads.
“They’re smiling and happy all the time.”
Mary Margaret tilted her head as she thought about this one. “Maybe? Emma does seem happier recently.”
“So does Killian, but he’s been talking about a lot of good happening at the station,” Liam added.
Graham nodded his head. “So that’s a possibility. What about avoiding each other?”
Everyone shook their heads. If they had started avoiding each other, none of their friend group had noticed. David wondered if the lack of mentioning the other recently counted as avoidance, but he kept silent.
“Alright, last one. Have they started touching more recently?”
Victor started vigorously nodding his head. “Dude I just saw Killian’s hands in Emma’s pockets and they were standing right beside each other!”
They all turned to look back at Killian and Emma. Neither was beside the other, and they were taking drinks out of their glasses. Everyone turned and looked at Victor in disbelief.
“Not right now, I mean earlier! When I decided they were getting lucky with each other!”
Elsa scoffed. “Oh, you decided. Suddenly it’s all becoming clear.”
Liam shook his head. “You can’t just decide these things Victor, we’ve been over this!”
Ruby rolled her eyes as Victor protested, “I’m telling you, it was real what I saw!”
Everyone picked up their glasses and took a drink with no one bothering to say anything in response to Victor’s whining. Emma and Killian were making their way over with newly refilled glasses.
“I have emerged victorious!” Killian announced to the table as he sat in his abandoned chair, Emma coming behind him rolling her eyes.
“He won by a scratch,” she corrected.
“That’s not all I win by a scratch, Swan,” Killian winked at her, causing Emma to roll her eyes.
“Well, win with that brunette over there by a scratch,” she threw back. “I’ve got to head out, I’ve got research to do for my next job. I’ll see everyone later?” Emma surveyed the table. Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
“Emma! Don’t forget that we’re doing Dirty Santa at our place on the 10th,” Mary Margaret added. “I meant to tell everyone, so I guess I’m telling all of you now.”
Emma nodded and waved at everyone, grabbing her jacket. David watched carefully to see when Killian left, still suspicious of their dating status. After about ten minutes, Killian said his goodbyes as well, citing an overtime shift he was picking up in the morning. David knew this to be true, so it didn’t seem too off for him, but he also wondered at how close in time Killian’s leaving was to Emma’s departure. There were a lot of signs that seemed to point to Killian and Emma being a thing.
David wondered what he should do next.
It turned out there wasn’t much he could do next to confirm what he suspected, as the flu began to go around the station and he had to start covering extra shifts. He and Killian began working overtime trying to fill in where they could, with Graham (who was the sheriff) filling in on the road with the rest of the deputies as needed. After almost two weeks of this, things finally slowed down to where they could resume their normal shift work. Killian and Emma hadn’t, as far as David knew, spent any time together outside of what they already did at work.
Emma also worked for the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Office, but as a detective who investigated murders or cold case files. Her schedule was a bit different from theirs, but every now and then, she had to fill in on shift work the same as everybody else. The recent flu endemic meant that she was pulling more road work than usual, and she was patrolling more with David. This was how he had known that Emma and Killian hadn’t seen each other much, as they were all pulling overtime. None of them were at home much, so there was no way for them to see each other outside of work, right? And David never saw them flirt while on the job, at least not recently. They had quit their ridiculous flirting-on-the-job stuff almost eight months ago.
It made David very happy that his best friend and sister finally saw fit to cease making everyone else so uncomfortable. It was very considerate of them, really.
On what Graham had sworn to them was their last shift of pulling double duty, Emma had collapsed into a desk in the bullpen. “If I have to arrest another drunken guy from The Rabbit Hole, I’m going to scream,” she announced.
David laughed. “At least we’ll have everyone else covering for us while we get some time off.”
“That’s the only good thing about this,” she agreed.
Their conversation was interrupted by Killian coming in bearing coffee and a box of donuts. He wordlessly handed David a cup, to which David muttered, “Thanks,” and set the box down. He proceeded to hand Emma her cup, which she took without a word of thanks, and she opened the box.
“There better be a bear claw in here,” she said as she pried open the top.
Killian chuckled. “Oh there is,” he laughed in return. “And one for me as well.” He handed her a napkin, which she took without any mention of gratitude, and handed one to David as well. David did express gratitude again, and they all dug into the donuts.
Killian and Emma joked around like always, but David was silent.
He couldn’t imagine not telling someone who wasn’t Mary Margaret thanks for something they had done for him, and he knew that his and Emma’s parents had instilled better manners than that. By this point, he was ninety percent sure that Victor Whale’s summation of events between Killian Jones and Emma Nolan was correct.
But he didn’t receive confirmation until the night of the Christmas for Friends party at his and Mary Margaret’s house that they did every year.
It was still very early in the evening, and not everyone had arrived at David and Mary Margaret’s place yet. Though Ruby, Graham, Victor, Emma, and Killian were there, several other couples had yet to arrive, including Killian’s brother and his girlfriend, Elsa. Emma was helping Mary Margaret with a few last minute details while Killian and David set up the drinks bar. Everyone was chatting lightly together, laughing, and enjoying the first gathering in a few days that they had gotten to arrange.
After placing the ice in the bucket, Killian took his phone out of his pocket to call his brother to find out how much longer it would be before they arrived, only to discover that it was dead.
“Bloody hell, I forgot to charge my phone before I came over here,” he cursed. David was just about to offer his phone to Killian to use, but his sister beat him to it.
“Here, use mine!” Emma handed it to Killian, who took it (again, without a thank you, David noticed) and stepped outside.
The conversation inside the loft continued as it always had, with everyone laughing and snacking before the rest of their friends arrived. Killian came back in after a moment.
“Liam says he and Elsa are about five minutes from here,” he announced once the door shut behind him. “He said to make sure his favorite cookies are ready to go, Mary Margaret.”
Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “They’re right where I always put them.”
Emma laughed and kept stirring the homemade dip she had just gotten ready. Both of her hands were too messy to take her phone from Killian. David watched as Killian slipped her phone into her pocket without a word; David also noticed Emma’s distinct lack of reaction at Killian’s hand going into the front right pocket of her too-tight jeans.
He wasn’t going to say anything. He finally had the confirmation that there was something going on between them, and that was all he really needed. David glanced around at everyone else, but no one else seemed to have noticed anything. He was the only one who realized there was a romantic (or something like that) relationship between his sister and his best friend. Obviously they felt the need to keep it a secret, so he wouldn’t be the one to rat them out. Nope, he was the one who could keep secrets in his relationship. Had it been Mary Margaret, she’d have already announced it to the world. But he didn’t need to do that. They would tell the whole group when they were ready.
“You’re fucking my sister,” David said loud enough for everyone to hear. They all stopped and looked at him. Emma turned and gave him a strange look, and Killian looked up from the tray of cookies with what could only be described as a deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“What?” Victor asked. “Who’s fucking your sister?”
“Wait, what?” Ruby asked. “Is that really what he said?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what he said!” Victor replied.
“Pardon, mate?” Killian asked.
Victor looked at Killian. “Is he talking about you?” Killian looked back at Victor helplessly.
“You sorry son of a bitch. How dare you try to take advantage of Emma?” David continued, starting to feel really angry at the secrecy.
“Who’s taking advantage of me?” Emma asked indignantly.
Victor gave a leering look. “I’d have taken advantage if I could have gotten it,” he responded to her, earning a disgusted look from both Emma and Killian.
“It’s a good thing you never could have ‘gotten it,’” Killian snarled back.
“Hey, I’ve never made it a secret that I’d have gotten Emma in the sack if I could have,” Victor shot back.
“Are you sure you’re not on call at the hospital? Because you’re about to have to go there,” Killian retorted as he took a step closer to Whale and angled his body to be slightly in front of Emma’s.
“Oh, I think you’ll be the one there before me,” Victor responded, instinctively stepping forward at Killian’s challenging tone.
“Touch him and you’ll have more to deal with than him,” Emma responded to Killian being threatened.
“Killian Jones is about to have more to deal with if I have anything to say about it,” David cut in. “How long have you been screwing my sister?”
Killian looked back at David. “Mate, I have no idea what you’re-“
“I saw you at her house!” David cut him off. “You left at 7:30 in the morning for an overtime shift the Saturday after Thanksgiving! Emma is never up before 9 on weekends she’s off! And she opened the door wearing nothing but your shirt that you had worn the day before!”
Everyone’s heads had been turned to David, but once he commented on his sister’s state of dress, all eyes swerved to land on Killian, who was growing a bit red and had his jaw clenched.
“How do you know that?” Emma asked.
“I was there outside your apartment! Remember that I brought you your favorite red jacket back? I saw you kiss! I stayed out in my truck for thirty minutes after he left wondering what was going on, why neither of you had said anything!”
Emma and Killian fell silent, as the rest of their friends looked on in abject curiousity. David stared at them hard. No one said anything.
Belle, Will, Liam, and Elsa arrived, opening the door and letting themselves in without knocking. They had been friends for so long that they no longer felt the need to follow the standard niceties. They were all laughing amongst themselves, but that laughter quickly died upon their entering the room.
Each of the newcomers surveyed the loft. The atmosphere was tense and expectant. They slowly filed in, wondering what kind of minefield they were entering.
“Is everything alright?” Liam asked tentatively.
“Dude! You just missed it! David just accused your brother of doin’ a little bow chicka wow wow with his sister!” Victor enunciated his words by doing a lurid dance, making sure to gyrate his hips as he spoke. Ruby had to cover her mouth to muffle her laugh, and Graham had to look down at his feet. Mary Margaret rubbed her forehead in exasperation. David scowled at Victor.
Liam frowned. “He what?”
“Actually, we don’t really know what happened.” Mary Margaret shot a warning look at her husband. “David just made a baseless accusation.”
“What kind of baseless accusation?” Liam asked.
“He claimed that Emma and Killian are sleeping together,” Ruby said to fill him in.
“It’s not baseless! He put her phone in her front pocket!” David exclaimed. Everyone stared at David’s exclamation.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a hell of a sign, innit? Putting someone’s phone in their pocket is always how I determine how someone is doing the deed,” Will stated. Killian scoffed and shook his head, but before he or Emma could say anything, Belle piped up.
“No, I think David actually has a point, here. People don’t do that unless they’re very close.”
“I’m sure there’s a more reasonable explanation to that action. Maybe Emma told Killian to put it in her pocket?” Liam suggested.
David shook his head. “I was watching them. She didn’t say a word.”
Killian by this point had clenched his jaw and Emma could see the muscle twitching in his jaw (which, if she were being honest, was insanely attractive to her). She knew things were about to boil over very quickly, ruining their Christmas party, if something didn’t give soon. She crossed over to him and took his hand in hers. He looked at her for a long moment, and for that one moment the room faded away. Killian visibly calmed down with just that connection.
David watched their silent interaction, and in that instant he knew. Nothing he said or did would stop what was unfolding. No matter what else was said, his best friend and his sister were more serious than everyone was making it out to be. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, zoning out of the conversation continuing around him, Emma and Killian not being able to get a word in edgewise.
Perhaps this was why they hadn’t said anything yet? Perhaps they knew what would happen if everyone in their group of friends found out before they were ready to tell people?
“YOU GOTTA SEND ME DOWN A MISTRESS FOR CHRISTMAS! I WANT A WOMAN IN RED WITH A BOW IN MY BED!” Victor started half-singing, half-shouting in response to something David hadn’t heard from Will, who was laughing.
“The only bow around here is gonna be the one they have to tie your bandages with, Whale!” Killian shouted in return, though not nearly as loudly as Victor was wailing.
Victor paid him no mind as the girls all rolled their eyes or put their heads in their hands. “MISTRESS FOR CHRISTMAS! I CAN HEAR YOU COMING DOWN MY SMOKE STACK, YOU WANNA RIDE MY REINDEER AND RING MY JINGLE BELLS!” He resumed the suggestive dance around the loft.
“What are you, twelve?!” Emma sneered. “Grow up, Whale! This is why we haven’t told anyone yet!” She looked very upset, tears forming in her eyes, and David knew he had just fucked up majorly with her.
Victor didn’t stop his antics, carrying on butchering the song and everyone started to get irritated. David had finally had enough. He yelled as loud as he could, and everyone stopped.
“Victor, if you can’t comport yourself properly you need to leave,” he said. Then he turned to Emma and Killian. “How long has this been going on?”
“Almost nine months,” Killian answered.
“That long?!” Ruby exclaimed in disbelief, but she was quickly silenced with a look from David.
“Aye, that long. At first, it was so new and we wanted to see if it was something that would last, and then once it became apparent it would, we enjoyed not having to worry about all of this,” Killian waved his hand around to indicate the chaos that had taken off this night.
Emma looked at Killian, who looked back at her.
“We’ve both been interested in each other for longer than we care to admit. I hate that it took us this long to give us a chance,” she said.
“We alway said you two would be perfect together,” Belle responded, smiling gently.
“Yeah, we are,” Emma and Killian shared smiles.
“It’s crazy because I don’t think any of us realized a change in how you acted,” Elsa added, trying to make sure the conversation stayed on a more serious note. “We all probably suspected something at various points, but the two of you never really changed towards one another.”
Emma shrugged and Killian responded, “We just continued as we were. I guess when you’ve been in love for so long, nothing really changes in how you treat each other.”
David nodded and they all fell silent for a moment. Finally Will piped up, “I thought this was supposed to be a party? Have we finished with the Killian-and-Emma-sitting-in-a-tree nonsense, or are we going to carry on with that some more? Because I would really like to get to the gift-giving portion of our evening.“
Everyone started laughing and the serious atmosphere was broken.  Everyone started mingling again, separating into groups as they finally moved past the confrontation.  
David moved closer to Emma and Killian, who had retreated and were standing quite close, having their own conversation.  David hated to interrupt, but he felt he owed them an apology. He had this bad tendency to fly off the handle once his temper was lost, and he had definitely lost it today.
Emma and Killian paused in their conversation and eyed him warily.
“Come to berate us some more?” Killian sardonically asked.
David winced.  “I guess I deserve that one.”
Emma looked at him disbelievingly. “‘Guess?’”
David nodded placatingly.  “You’re right.  I do deserve it.  I’m sorry for saying it the way I did and getting the peanut gallery involved.  I didn’t mean to interrogate you like that.  I was just a little shocked that I was right.”
Killian looked at David and said, “So you had to accuse me of ‘fucking’ your sister?”
“I’m sorry!  I could have used better language.  Emma, you know my mouth sometimes speaks before it thinks.”
“Before you think, you mean” she retorted, crossing her arms.
David nodded.  “Can you forgive me?”
Emma sighed and looked at Killian, who gazed softly back at her.  “I guess we can,” she responded.
Killian wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.  “It’s alright, mate.  Though I do intend to hold it over your head for a very long time,” he added to Emma’s answer.
David chuckled.  “I’d expect nothing less.”
The three of them smiled, turning to watch the others when they heard Will carry on about how many presents were under the tree, and that it was time to stop lollygagging around and get to the point of the evening.
They all began exchanging presents as Christina Perri sang, “Let all your memories hold you close no matter where you are.  You're not alone because the ones you love are never far If Christmas is in your heart,” on the radio that Mary Margaret had turned on moments before to play softly in the background.  
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grimmswan · 2 years
Text
Orchid Island
One shot for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer
A Tropical get away will provide Omega Emma and Alpha Killian with the chance to meet. And a chance to Bond.
  Orchid Island was a special getaway providing someone a chance to be introduced to their potential mate. If their instincts aligned, they would be given a cabana and a hut to join as a mated pair.
 The island resort was exclusive to Alphas and Omegas. Only Betas were employed, and even they were only around when providing refreshments or other necessities. Other than that, they were to remain as far away from the mating beings as possible.
 Each Alpha and Omega was flown to the private island in a small charter plane. Unless it was a boat transporting supplies or staff, no other vessel was allowed entry. Beta guards were employed for the sole purpose of ensuring the safety and privacy of the guests.
 Some say the island calls to the Alphas and the Omegas who feel drawn to the place at the same time as their potential mate. Others claim that it is the primal instincts that guide the being when their perfect other half longs for a bond.
 Whatever the case, Emma Swan and her friends found themselves as the latest arrivals to the lush tropical paradise.
 “Are you sure about this, MM?”
 “Trust me Emma. This place has a one hundred percent success rate. Any Alpha and Omega yearning to find a mate always finds one.”
 “I hope you’re right. I’m tired of going through my heats with only a toy for relief. I feel like if I don’t have an Alpha pin me down and claim me soon, I’m going to go insane.” Ruby huffed, already keeping her sharp eyes out for any sexy Alpha hotties.
 Betas wearing crisp white uniforms guided them to the Omega quarters, where they would be staying until they found an Alpha match.
 Emma noticed an abundance of the color fuchsia everywhere, as well as the scent of sweet tropical fruits.
 “I wonder what the Alpha quarters look like?”
 “You can ask your mate after you meet him.” A Beta woman answered Ruby’s question as she walked into the room. “But I’m sure there will be other things you will have on your mind at that point.” Looking at the rest of the Omegas, she said, “I want to welcome you all to Orchid Island. I’m sure you will have a wonderful time here. Though you are no doubt here to find a mate, please do not put pressure on yourself to do so. Allow yourself to relax and let things happen in their own way.”
 "I can't believe I let you guys talk me into coming here."
 "None of us are having much luck meeting Omegas. This place promises every Alpha and Omega will find their perfect mate."
 "But what if we don't live anywhere near our potential mate? How can it be perfect when there's a chance of being separated again?"
 "I don't know how it works, I just know that every person I've talked to who has been here has met the love of their life."
 Killian Jones left out that he may have had an ace up his sleeve. He knew that the Omega he desired most was going to be on this island. 
 He had yearned for Emma Swan since the first day he saw her take down an Alpha who was trying to get too handsy with her.
 He saw her regularly in the bar him and his brother owned, but there was never a good time to talk to her.
 And then one night he overheard her and her friends discussing going to a tropical resort they just heard about. The moment he found out where they were going and when, he was booking tickets for himself and his friends. Then he did some research about exactly what Orchid Island was, just so he could convince them all to go.
 It was unsurprisingly easy. Both Graham and David were pretty sick and tired of the single Alpha lifestyle. 
 Killian hoped the magic of the island would allow him to spend some time with Emma and let him know once and for all if there could be a future with her.
A tray of tropical drinks, complete with tiny colorful umbrellas was presented to the guests as they entered the gathering lodge.
A live band on the stage provided fun background music for the guests to get to know each other in the well lit space.
The intoxicating scent of the tropical flowers filled the night air.
It all lent to an environment that felt peaceful and relaxed.
The music stopped when a Beta woman walked up onto the stage and introduced herself as the Resort Hostess.
 “Wellcome All. We who operate the resort can guarantee the safety and wellbeing for all. For each rotation, there are no new guests who are brought in until the day after all previous guests have left. For the first day, we are all simply getting to know one another. Alphas and Omegas can meet and discuss whatever should come to mind. But by the end of the night, all Omegas go to their quarters and all Alphas return to theirs. There will be no mating on the first night. Tomorrow, Alphas and Omegas will be tested to see who is compatible with whom. The elements of the island lend themselves to providing the ideal conditions for finding a true mate. If a suitable mate is on this island, then you will find them and join with them. If anyone has not found a mate, then they will be offered pampering and other fun singles activities. For those who do find mates, their things will be transferred to the other side of the island. Each newly mated pair will be given a private hut and a cabana on the beach, to partake in activities for couples. The next three days are yours to do with whatever you like, to spend however you like. The last day you pack your things and return to your life, hopefully with a new mate.”
The Beta host did not mention that it was very rare for anyone to be partaking in the singles activities.
 In all of the time the island had been hosting mating gatherings, only two kinds of beings did not find a mate.
 1: Those who were too young and immature, and therefore not yet ready for a mate.
 Those in that category were often dragged to the island by well meaning friends and or family members who were trying to force things because they thought their loved one was lonely.
Many of them would return of their own choosing years later, and would happily find mates.
 2:Those that though they were fully mature physically, were not suitable lifemate material.
These were the beings who didn’t fully understand what it was to be a lifemate. Alphas that wanted to completely control an Omega. Omegas that wanted to manipulate Alphas and play them against each other. 
 Both sexes had been noticed to attempt to seduce and become intimate with more than one partner. It never worked out in their favor, since everyone else who came to the island was looking for a life partner, and could always sense who was and who was not suited for them.
Many of them had to be escorted off and banned from the island. There were incidents of them attempting to interfere with the matings of the couples who had paired up.
A few of those in the second category were rejected former companions who were hoping to get their ex back and or sabotage their chance at finding someone new.
 The Beta host truly hoped that she wouldn’t have to be dealing with anyone from the second category. 
 Becoming intoxicated by anything other than the perfume of the tropical flowers or the scent of their mate was highly discouraged. So drinks were switched to strictly the non alcoholic kind.
“You are all here to find a mate. And one can not do that if their head is clouded by artificial means.” The Beta Hostess explained.
There were a few in attendance who seemed irritated by the rules, but most of the guests agreed with the idea.
The real fun to be had was when they found their lifemate.
Killian, spotting Emma, made his way to her, hoping it was the first step toward a life with her.
“Hello, my name’s Killian. Will you allow me the honor of a dance?”
She thought the Alpha was incredibly sexy, but she hesitated. “I”m Emma. I would like to, but I feel the need to warn you, I don’t know how good I will be.”
“As with most things love, there is only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
Emma allowed Killian to pull her onto the dance floor.
As they moved together, his eyes never left her face. The intensity in the way he was looking at her set her heart racing.
“I have a confession to make. I’ve seen you in the Rabbit Hole on multiple occasions. You were always there meeting someone, so I never felt it wise to approach you.”
Emma laughed. “I’m glad you didn’t. Or you would have cost me a lot of money.” Realizing how that might sound, she clarified. “I’m a bail bonds enforcer. It’s my job to lure in bale jumpers. Every one I bring in earns me money. Since I’m an Omega, it’s easy to lure in Alphas who have broken the law. I get underestimated, and then I get the element of surprise and the feeling of satisfaction when I take down Alphas twice my size.”
“I must say, I’m impressed. I sensed there was something special about you, but I had no idea just how amazing you were.”
Emma could tell Killian’s compliment was completely sincere and felt her cheeks grow warm.
All too soon, the resort host announced the end of that day's festivities.
“All Alphas and Omegas are advised to return to their rooms and get some rest. Tomorrow's planned events will reveal if your potential lifemate is here.”
There was obvious disappointment on the faces of both the Alphas and the Omegas. The attraction was already strong. Looks of longing were cast as each group was escorted back to their designated rooms.
“I have a strong feeling we are not going to be single after tomorrow.” Mary Margaret stated.
“That’s an understatement.” Ruby practically groaned. “I nearly presented for Graham right there in the meeting area.”
Emma knew exactly what Ruby was talking about. It took everything in her not to rub her backside against Killian’s groin and expose her neck for him to mark with a claiming bite. She could already sense that he was the Alpha for her.
In the Alpha quarters, there were similar statements.
“How am I supposed to sleep knowing that cute little Omega is so close?” David groaned.
“You think you got problems? I swear, that Omega, Ruby, smelled like she was about to enter her heat. I could drill through steel with what I’m dealing with right now.”
Killian could barely hear what David and Graham were saying. It was taking all of his focus and willpower not to rush to where Emma was and claim her that very night.
The hours until morning were certain to feel as if they were dragging on for an eternity.
The next day, everyone was eager to get started. There was a rush to get ready and make themselves presentable for their potential mate.
A Chase through the island was the test for the potential life mates.
All Omegas were to be given a fifteen minute head start. And if their Alpha could find them through the heavily scented forest, then there was no doubt that they were true mates.
The Alphas were kept locked away in the dining hall until fifteen minutes were up. No one wanted to risk an Alpha starting the pursuit too soon. Or having an unfair advantage because he saw the direction in which his desired Omega went.
The Alphas immediately started to become restless the moment they heard the giggle of the Omegas as they started off.
There was no clock in the hall, meaning they had to wait for the doors to be opened to know when the time was up.
The moment they heard the locks click, every Alpha was running toward the doors, which thankfully for the well beings of the Betas, had opened quickly.
The island was large and the number of guests was small, meaning that they soon all lost sight of one another.
Killian focused on tracking Emma’s scent. He had memorized it while they had been dancing, determined to trace it no matter how many smells were in the area.
Killian stopped suddenly when he heard Emma’s voice calling for him. He looked to where the sound came from and saw long blonde hair among some dark pink orchids. But his senses were telling him Emma had gone in a different direction. Though the perfume of the flowers was heavy, they could not hide Emma’s unique scent.
Dismissing the voice as him mishearing things and the vision as someone else, Killian followed his instincts and returned to the chase through the tropical forest.
In a short time, he caught sight of her. She ducked behind a tree, peeking out at him flirtatiously before pushing off and heading toward a clearing with a small waterfall and a pool of crystal clear water.
Emma, still at a distance from Killian, keeping eye contact with him, unclasped her dress, allowing it to pool at her feet.
Killian’s member became rock hard as his hungry gaze devoured Emma’s fully naked body.
The tips of her fingers trailed along her side. His eyes followed her path as if in a trance as he admired his Omega. But was soon brought out of it when her sultry voice promised, “If you can catch me, you can have me.”
With all of his strength and speed, he pursued the woman he desired as she bounded away with a naughty gleam in her eye.
She was quick. And quite agile. Years of having to avoid unwanted touches and containing misbehaving Alphas had made Emma’s body a finely tuned machine.
Killian was certain Emma would be caught only if she wanted to be, and that he just needed to prove he would never give up chasing her.
Killian nearly had her when he was suddenly halted by a tree branch snagging on his pants. Only the tips of his fingers were able to graze her lovely skin.
Emma giggled as she darted far from his reach.
With a growl of frustration, he tore the offending trousers from his body and continued his pursuit of his little blonde vixen.
Both completely naked now, they chased each other around the clearing.
Killian in all of his glory made Emma hesitant to test his skills for much longer.
He had already proven his determination to have her as his mate. And had revealed, in more ways than one, that he was fully equipped to provide Emma everything she needed in a mate.
Both driven by desire, him to have and her to be had, the game was brought to an end. Killian was finally able to get a hold of Emma. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, determined to never let her go.
He maneuvered them and pinned her against a very large boulder. They were both laughing at the conclusion of their little game until Emma’s backside brushed against Killian’s manhood.
They both let out a needy moan. Emma widened her legs, encouraging Killian to rub his manhood between her folds until they were both slick from her moisture.
“Do you consent?” Killian asked huskily, his lips brushing along the Omega’s ear.
“Yes.” Emma whimpered, nearly disparate to finally be claimed by the sexy Alpha.
It seemed fitting for their first time to be outside, surrounded by lush tropical foliage and the sound of the waterfall.
His instincts told him how to touch her and where.
He tilted her head back to claim her lips with his own. And used the other hand to knead and squeeze a breast.
Keeping his mouth sealed to hers, he plunged into her Omega cunny with his Alpha cock.
“Oh that feels so good.” Emma moaned, angling her hips back every time Killian thrust forward.
“Aye love, best I’ve ever felt.” Killian groaned.
It felt as though a thousand silk bands were wrapping themselves around the lovers, until their very souls were fused together, never to be severed again.
He never stopped kissing her, or touching her. He explored as much of her as he could.
“Alpha, claim me!” Emma called out. Killian was helpless to refuse. His inner beast demanded he heed the call of his true mate and bond them together forever.
The bite was the thing she needed to push her over the edge. Her walls tightened with a vise-like grip on his expanding knot.
He held her trembling body tightly, but tenderly, kissing wherever he could.
After resting a while, Killian and Emma realized that they were starving for food. They agreed that it would be a wise idea to get dressed and find out where they would be staying now that they were mated.
“Congratulations to the two of you.” The Beta hostess greeted the couple. “You passed the test of the forest. You did not become confused by the heavy perfume of the flowers. And you were not distracted by the visions the forest creates to trick unworthy Alphas. You have found your mate and can now enjoy the wonders the island provides for lovers.”
 “This makes three out of three for your group. The two Omegas that you arrived with, Miss Swan, have each found a mate with the two Alphas you arrived with, Mr. Jones. We will set you up with a hut near theirs so that you can all discuss your new found happiness.”
“Oh, Emma, you have a mate now too!” Mary Margaret shouted with glee, running up and giving her friend a hug.
“And he’s a friend of your new mate.” Emma revealed with a grin.
“Really, that’s wonderful! No one will feel left out when we’re talking about mated life. And we will all have so much to talk about. And we don’t have to worry about our mates not getting along.”
“Isn’t she the sweetest? So worried about maintaining peace.” David beamed, wrapping his arm around his Omega.
“We all seem to have gotten pretty lucky. We each found a mate that is perfect for us.” Graham commented, standing behind Ruby with his arms around her.
“Looks like Mary Margaret was right.” Ruby chimed in. “This place really can help whoever wants a mate to find one.”
The mated pairs were escorted to their huts, and informed of the things that would be provided for them.
Emma would later realize she had barely paid attention to how many mated pairs there were. But to be fair, Killian was really good at keeping her attention focused on him.
In the place for eating, relaxing and being entertained, there was a collection of large chairs, “outdoor daybeds” a resort staff member informed the couples.
To Emma, they looked like large wicker baskets turned on their sides, mostly closed off except for the opening for entering and exiting. Each had a thick soft mattress and a lot of pillows.
“They’re similar to nests.” Mary Margaret observed.
“Perfect for an Omega comfort.” David smiled at his mate.
“It would seem a shame to pass up the opportunity to enjoy them to their full extent. If you’ll excuse us, Graham and I are going to keep getting in touch with our wild side. We can talk about how happy we are to be mated when we get home.” Ruby said, pulling her grinning mate with her into a daybed.
Each couple settled into one of their own and enjoyed the platters of food that were brought to them.
Live music and entertainment were provided as each couple continued to get to know one another.
Clothes were discarded as the need to press flesh to flesh grew stronger.
As they lounged together naked in the outdoor daybed, Killian brushed his fingertips around Emma’s breasts. He marveled at the beauty of his Omega. She was everything he had ever dreamed of, and more.
Emma was just as pleased with her Alpha, he was everything she wanted. Her fingertips drifted slowly down his treasure trail.
Killian’s own fingers needed to explore and caress the beauty, and made their along her most sensitive places.
He kept his eyes on her, gazing in admiration while his hand traveled down between her legs.
She gripped tight to his wrist, unsure if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.
He noticed her jaw was clamped shut and understood her concern.
“You can be as loud as you want, love. I promise you that everyone else is far too lost in their own encounters to give any notice to what we are doing.”
Realizing he had a point, that no one would care what she and Killian were doing since they were no doubt doing the exact thing, Emma allowed him to continue.
With her relaxed and open, Killian proceeded to bring Emma to ecstasy. He pressed his thumb to her clit and rubbed in a circular motion.
“oh!” Emma called out, her chest heaved as a warm pleasure began to build.
“This is what I long to see every day and every night for the rest of my life; your beautiful face when you're consumed with ecstasy.”
If Emma could have formed words, she would have told him she wanted to hear his voice for the rest of her life. But the very sound of it had taken her to the point of sweet bliss.
 But Killian didn’t stop his ministrations. He pushed her past the point of discomfort and back to hot pleasure.
“Just take me Killian, please, I want you to.” Emma gasped as she felt herself on the verge of a second orgasm.
“Not yet, my darling. I want to see you come undone, again.”
The coil inside her wound tighter and tighter. Killian’s skilled fingers stroked Emma’s little bud with just the right amount of pressure. The coil snapped. A sweet wave of Euphoria washed over her. It was so intense that no sound could be heard when she opened her mouth to cry out.
Emma’s beauty when she was lost in ecstasy was so great that Killian just had to claim her lips with his own and thrust his tongue into the cavern of her mouth the way he would thrust his member into her quim.
She brought her hand up from gripping his shoulder to cup his head, running her fingers through his hair as she did so.
Killian continued to stroke her through, causing her body to tremble with the aftershocks.
When their lips parted for air, Emma looked into his eyes and murmured, “More.”
To let him know exactly what she meant, she moved his hand from her center. Emma then pulled Killian on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist and aligning his member to her core.
“You’re so greedy, my Omega.” Killian groaned, sliding into her. “I love it.”
Emma arched her body, throwing her head back.
“Yes!” She cried out, long past caring who could hear her in the throes of passion.
Killian may have reveled in knowing he had brought Emma so much pleasure that she had been able to forget herself, if he also had not been brought to mindless ecstasy.
Their bodies began to glisten with sweat. Each reached for something only the other could provide.
Killian became torn between wanting to fasten his lips to Emma’s, or leave her mouth uncovered so he could hear her shout her pleasure. He wanted to look at her. And he wanted to kiss every inch of her.
Ultimately, it was Emma who decided for him. Her little nips and bites along his shoulders drove him wild, taking him beyond the point of consciousness.
He took her mouth with his own, entwining his tongue with hers.
Her walls squeezed tight around his shaft, fluttering and contracting, causing his knot to emerge.
Their arms tightened around one another as their pleasure began to intensify.
Three hard thrusts into her was all it took to make them both reach that point of release.
The warmth of the island night and the heat from one another’s bodies made it easy and comfortable to sleep in the outdoor spots the couples had been provided.
Which meant that many lovers would fall asleep in one another's arms when their bodies were spent and sated, then wake naked with their equally naked mates body pressed against them. And then their carnal desire would be renewed.
Killian and Emma were in that moment between sleep and awake. The consciousness was dormant, allowing instinct to be in control.
Killian was aware enough to know his mate was naked in his arms. The primal part of him needed to have his beloved.
His hands slid over her. His body covered hers. His lips brushed along her face and her neck.
“Killian” Emma breathed his name, the sound going straight to his manhood, stirring his desire for her.
“Emma” was moaned from his lips when he joined with her.
Pure instinct controlled them both. Their movements slow and languid while their conscious minds gradually become aware.
Killian’s kisses grew deeper and lasted longer. The thrusting of his hips took on a more purposeful rhythm.
Emma’s eyes flew open and she called out as a great wave of bliss crashed over her.
Her eyes were filled with love as she looked up at Killian moving above her, making love to her.
It was the best way possible to wake up. Body filled with pleasure from the virile Alpha pumping his cock into her relaxed and willing body, and surrounded by the view of a tropical island beach.
He was just as in awe of her as she was in him.
He was amazed at how pliant she was, willing to be manipulated into any position he desired. And she seemed to greatly enjoy every one of them. He wanted to please her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life pleasing her.
“I’ll be so good to you, my love. I will fill your every moment with pleasure. And I will only stop when you tell me too.”
“Don’t you dare stop. Never stop.” Emma gasped in a lungful of air as she tried to pull Killlian deeper inside of her.
The shear curtains offered the illusion of privacy without blocking any of the breeze.
The cool air caressed Emma’s skin, soothing the flush of heat.
The mated pairs along the beach who were enjoying the same activities Emma and Killian were enjoying might as well have been on another island. For the two, the whole world was reduced to that little cabana.
Killian’s massive member thrusting into Emma’s tight heat was the only thing that existed.
“You feel so good. My sweet Omega. How lovely you look when you’re speared on my cock.”
Emma, panting and gasping, raked her claws over his arms. She loved when her Alpha talked while he took her. Her body seemed oversensitized, eager for everything her Alpha offered.
One arm under her lifted her, forcing her back to arch and bringing her plump breasts closer to his greedy mouth.
His tongue slid around her nipple then pinched it between his teeth, sending lightning bolts of sensation through her.
She dug her fingers through his hair, holding him to her as he suckled her breasts. She yanked and pulled, unable to control her movements with her body taken over by pleasure.
But it didn’t stop Killian from taking her to the very heights of ecstasy. And beyond.
The days passed quickly, seeming all to blend together as just moments of pleasure and passion.
“We’ll be going back home tomorrow. I wish we didn’t have to leave this island.” Emma sighed.
She and Killian were swaying gently in a hammock. Her head rested on his chest while he held her.
“I know what you mean, love. These past few days have been amazing. I dislike that when we go back we won’t get to spend every minute together. We’ll just have to snatch whatever fun we can when we can.”
She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. “What if we’re not like this,” Emma gestured to their position, “back home.” What if it’s only the magic of the island that had made us so passionate?”
Killian’s hold on her tightened. “I told you, Emma, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you. Everything in me says we could not be more perfect for one another. And you’ll see. Our life together may not be as tranquil as it is here on the island, but it will be just as passionate. How can it not be?”
Killian took Emma’s lips with his own, and in his kiss she felt his full devotion to the bond they shared.
Then she was assured that they would always feel the passion they felt for one another during their stay on Orchid Island.
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alannacouture · 3 months
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This is, hands down, my favorite Captain Swan edit, just because I love imagining that this is their life. A dog and Hope and happily traipsing through the snow ❄️
Credit to Elaine on Deviantart
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statustemporary · 5 months
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a work of art
SUMMARY: The swipes are precise. Hundreds litter her canvas with red streaks standing out against their pale background. Some are superficial while others gouge unsalvageable marks. Drips are unavoidable, Emma concedes, but the origin of these are the source of irritation.
Her job is not done. She has to work with these flaws to craft something he will be proud of. He is the experienced one, after all.
//
Emma and Killian are low-key serial killers but if you ask them, they're artists in love.
RATING: Mature
WORD COUNT: 1,686 words
TAGS: Modern AU, Serial Killers AU, Graphic Descriptions, Blood & Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, Anti-Neal Cassidy, no magic, Dark Emma, Dark Killian, Toxic Relationship
AO3
AUTHOR’S NOTE: got this idea from a whumptober prompt that was like "did i do good?" with a mentor/trainee and i misread the rest of the prompt and ended up turning it into a torture trainee wanting to please their mentor. and here we are. lol started out with dark ones but turned them into just serial killers.
this was a way for me to get into the head of someone twisted/evil. promise i'm mentally sane and emotionally okay, this was a writing exercise of sorts. pls dont worry hahaha
Please heed the warnings.
***
“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor. The deep color shines vibrantly in the candlelight as it pools together and grows larger as the seconds tick by. She snarls at the sound of labored breathing from the center of the room and slowly trails her eyes up to examine her work.
The swipes are precise. Hundreds litter her canvas with red streaks standing out against their pale background. Some are superficial while others gouge unsalvageable marks. Drips are unavoidable, Emma concedes, but the origin of these are the source of irritation.
Her job is not done. She has to work with these flaws to craft something he will be proud of. He is the experienced one, after all.
Anger fuels her as she moves, her arm sweeping this direction and that. The movements are practiced and learned though she’s used different tools in the past. For the first time, he lets her take the lead and she cannot disappoint him. Especially after all the work he went through to procure such a magnificent canvas. A gift for her.
Weak protests fight to reach her ears but her focus drowns them out, thriving on each new mark she adds, each swipe and each gut-wrenching twist expressing the hurt and the anger she’s held onto for so many years.
When she steps back, it is with a grin.
Neal’s body rests sprawled across a stone table in the center of the room. His lays bare but it goes unnoticed as he shows more blood than skin. His labored breathing is replaced by silence, brown eyes turning an empty black.
Blood drips down to the small puddle at her feet. It grows larger with each tick of the hall clock and she frowns as it pools around her new heeled boot.
Of fucking course. Neal can never let her have anything.
The room smells rancid, blood and sweat permeating the air. Darkness blankets the room like it does her soul, only scarcely lit by a few candles hanging on the walls. Moonlight struggles to shine through the cracks in the concrete to no avail. Emma prefers the darkness now. She thrives in it.
Wailing echoes fill the quiet.
The metal of her dagger is warm in her grip and she shakes her head at the blood that covers the blade. At least that’ll be easier to clean than her leather boot.
She sets to work washing her tools, leaving the rest of the room as it is. She wants him to see how long she kept Neal alive to suffer. How he was aware of every single way she tarnished his body until the very end. The way his nails scratched at the stone so hard until they fell off revealing bloody nailbeds. That even in death, his eyes remained open from his terror.
He still got off easy, in her opinion.
There’s a noise, the muffled sound of a door closing and Emma’s head pops up in delight.
Killian grins wide when he sees her emerge from the basement, sleeves rolled to her elbows and hair pulled back in tight bun. They come together in a messy kiss that’s more tongues and teeth than lips.
She loves the way he loves her with abandon. Every time their mouths meet, he practically devours her and she gives as good as she gets. Fingers wrap around the hair at the base of his neck and she pulls while his hook traces lightly on her skin enough to draw blood but not do any serious harm. It sends chills down her spine every time.
His hands are greedy and he makes an attempt to lift her shirt but she steps out of his arms instead.
“Swan?” he asks, voice gruff and hair mused. He glares at her even if there’s no heat to it and Emma smiles back, nearly giggles.
“I want you to show you something.”
Her hand reaches towards him and he leaves her hanging for a moment. They both love the push and pull of their relationship. To tetter on the edge of a decision builds anticipation. Rejection is just a split-second away but so is acceptance. Not knowing which one will be chosen sends their hearts racing. It’s an effect of their upbringing, she knows. She did take a psychology class in community college after all.
It only makes sense, really. His abusive childhood with a drunk father and a brother dead too young and her untethered young life moving from foster home to foster home without any roots or support. Pain has been something out of their control for so long. Something always inflicted onto them unwillingly. But meeting each other in the back of their Psych 101 class all those years ago gave them a mutual understanding.
Pain can be something they command.
Killian had fallen first. They both tried, for the first year or two, to be better than what they came from. They wanted to have the picturesque life so many promised was to come but they struggled. Depression and temptation waited around every corner and they felt themselves falling into a pit they couldn’t climb out of.
And then Graham kissed her.
Killian and she had been on a break at the time. He was spiraling and Emma was trying to stay on track. Their tempers rose and, for the first time in her life, she walked out on someone else. Graham had been kind, sweet, and unassuming. He worked as a campus security guard and was helping her find her shitty car when he kissed her. Killian had been leaving his class and had a full view of the moment it happened. Emma pushing Graham away only did so much to soothe the anger in his soul.
Then Graham showed up dead a week later in the woods by campus, bruises on his head, marks around his throat, and his chest clawed open with no heart taking up its specified space.
She’d been mad when she realized what Killian did. She threatened to go to the police, even. And then she saw the crazed look in Killian’s eyes, the way he pleaded for her to understand.
“Emma,” he begged. “He crossed a line. You don’t understand. You’re mine. He thought he could have what’s mine.”
Through his tears, she saw the love, the possession. It warmed her to her toes. The unwanted foster kid – wanted by him. She swore she fell in love even more that day.
Emma would lay in bed with him at night and asked how he did it. She requested details, wanted to know every step he took. He would hold her close, his fingers leaving permanent marks on her hips, and she floated as he shared exactly what he did to ensure she stayed his.
It was another two years before he struck again, her by his side this time. Arthur was full of himself, an asshole to anyone who didn’t make more money than him, and dead set on evicting the entirety of their apartment building so he could sell the property to a developer. No one shed any tears at the announcement of his death.
Nearly ten years had gone by and yet this is the most exciting one for Emma. Neal was her white whale, so they say. He’d taken advantage of her sixteen years of life when he’d been nearing thirty and split the moment she found out she was pregnant. Took all her cash and the food she bought the day beforehand for their motel stay. She was left alone as she let go of the child she so desperately wanted to have. Even after he left her, she was still cleaning up his messes.
But now she stands in the kitchen she shares with Killian and raises her eyebrows as she bites her lip in wait. Will he take it or ignore it? Her heart races. Her breath hitches just a moment before he takes her offered hand and she contemplates bypassing her art project to ride him in the kitchen instead.
Bringing him to the basement, she waits in the doorway as Killian steps over the threshold. His eyes scan the room in a slow, calculating fashion. Leaning over Neal’s body, he hums as he takes in her work. Fingers trace her cuts, one dipping into the gaping hole in his side. There’s little left of his genitalia, the ferocious way it was obliterated earning a cocked eyebrow from Killian before he looks over to her with a grin. She blushes at the pride in his eyes.
The squelch from stepping in blood draws his attention to the floor. He dips his hand in the liquid and lifts his fingers to his face. The puddle grew from when she was in there a few minutes ago and Killian takes a good moment to examine it.
“Did I do good?” she asks, hands in her back pockets. Eagerness is undeniable in her voice.
Killian stands suddenly and marches towards her. He grips her hips – the cold metal of his hook sending a chill down her spine as Neal’s blood from his fingers smear across her skin – and pulls her in for a filthy kiss. Their bodies are flush but it’s not enough and the way his tongue strokes against her own has her frantically clawing at his pants.
Wailing echoes in the silence again and they pull apart only slightly dismayed.
The crying brings a spark to Killian’s eyes and Emma is torn between where each of their thoughts are going, both outcomes bound to bring her pleasure.
Killian presses another firm kiss to her lips before he tilts his head towards the other end of the basement where their special project waits for their return. His own white whale he somehow conquered and takes pride in making submit to him.
She knows the question before he asks so she merely grins wide at him as he speaks.
“Shall we go skin a crocodile?”
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@whatevenisthisbloganymore I’m looking forward to the rest of Forest View Apartments for @cssns!
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Double Trouble - Part 19/?
I'm back to posting this AU again. I really hope you guys like it! Comment a '🌻' to be added to the tag list and or just let me know your thoughts below!
Tag list:
@smol-fangirl-bean @superchocovian @winterbaby89 @taylorsversion @alexa-fangirl-forever @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @xsajx @onceuponahookandswan @onceratheart18 @long-life-ouat @teamhook @xwereallmadx
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nocaptainonthisship · 8 months
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