#cs fluff

[jrob64]

Pet for Rent, Chapter 1/4 (The Meet Cute) A CS Modern AU Story

For those of you who read "Sowing Seeds of Trust", you might remember that my dog Zeke had a starring role in it. To my great heartbreak, he died of cancer last June. When we rescued him, the shelter had named him Ernie, and he will be referenced with that name in this story.

Life without a dog proved to be very lonely, so at the end of August, we rescued another dog. The sad story of the dog in this story is what really happened to our new dog. He was named Norman and we renamed him Winston, just like in the story. That's actually him in the pic set with his 'ducky'.

This was supposed to be a short, sweet story, but somehow turned into 4 chapters. Updates will be once a week.

Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom and also to @beckettj and @zaharadessert for helping me understand the football (soccer) system in England.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 7754

ALSO POSTED TO A03 & FFN

Story begins under the cut

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Emma Swan flopped down onto her sofa with a sigh. Since their beloved dog Ernie died three weeks ago, she had come to dread her eight-year-old son Henry’s bedtime. Every night when he said his prayers, he ended with, “God, please tell Ernie I love him and miss him, and please send me another dog. Amen.”

Her son knew the chances of getting a dog were slim to none because of his soccer practices and games, and Emma’s schedule for her new job at the sheriff’s station. They had no time to train a puppy.

Understanding why he couldn’t have a dog didn’t make his heart hurt any less. Her heart was just as broken, knowing the sadness and loneliness Henry was experiencing.

After decompressing for a few minutes, Emma’s searching hand located her phone on the end table. She unlocked it and opened her Discord app, selecting the icon representing the parents’ group of Henry’s second grade class. Sitting up a little straighter, she typed a message: Does anyone have ideas of how to help Henry get over the loss of his dog? He keeps praying for a new one, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog to get one with our busy schedule.

She watched the screen intently for a couple of minutes, but when no names appeared to show that someone was answering, she tossed the phone onto the couch and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

Forty minutes later, after cleaning up the kitchen, going through her nightly routine and changing into her pajamas, she went back into the living room. Television held no interest for her, and realizing she finished her last library book the previous evening, she picked up her phone to mindlessly play a game. Upon unlocking it, her screen opened to the Discord page and she saw three replies to her question.

The first two simply expressed sympathy for the loss of Ernie, but the third one offered a helpful suggestion. Have you thought about ‘renting’ a dog for a day? The animal shelter just outside of town offers that option. We did it for my mother when her Maltese died. The post ended with the web address for the shelter.

Emma immediately pulled up the site and, after searching the homepage, clicked on the tab for ‘services’. Scrolling down the list, she saw ‘Rent-a-Pet’ and selected it. As she read the description of how the program worked, she idly twisted strands of blonde hair around her index finger.

It sounded like a great compromise for their situation. For a donation to the shelter in the form of money, bags of pet food, treats or toys, one of the available animals could come home with them for several hours. The dogs and cats were guaranteed to be docile and house-trained, and could be adopted by the ‘renter’, if desired.

Clicking on the link taking her to the bios of the pets currently housed at the shelter, she filtered it to include only canines. Pictures of nearly two dozen dogs filled the screen, each more adorable and aww-worthy than the last.

Quickly ruling out any that were guaranteed to shed fur all over her house or were bigger than her son, her search was narrowed to nine prospects. She knew her rambunctious son would be keen to play outside with the dog and walk him or her to Storybrooke’s dog park, so a tiny fru-fru pup was out of the question, too. That left six.

She selected one at a time, reading about their breed and temperament. When she brought up the picture of the fourth candidate, the big, chocolate brown eyes and happy expression nearly made her heart melt.

‘Norman’ was a mixed breed and very little was known about him, because he was found tied to a stop sign in the middle of Portland, Maine. He was guessed to be a cocker spaniel mix and was approximately 1-2 years old. His black fur looked sleek and Emma knew he probably wouldn’t shed. A short video showed him romping and playing with another dog in the fenced play yard of the shelter.

Saving the page, she brought up the calendar on her phone and checked their schedule for the rest of the week. Henry had an early soccer game on Saturday, which would be over by 10:30, leaving the rest of the morning and afternoon free. Switching back to the shelter website, she hit the ‘Rent-a-Pet’ button again and began filling in the information, selecting ‘Norman’ when it gave her the choice of animals.

She decided not to tell Henry about the plan, opting to surprise him with it instead.

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“Great game, kid,” Emma complimented her son, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Your pass to Avery was a nice assist. That goal turned out to be the game winner.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Henry grinned around his mouthful of granola bar. “That’s the first time all season we beat the orange team.”

“I know, and I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?” Emma fished her car keys out of her jeans pocket, before picking up her lawn chair and water bottle.

“Are we gonna get ice cream?” he asked, before cramming the rest of his snack into his mouth.

“You just ate a granola bar and a banana, and lunch will be in just an hour or so,” she laughed. “I have something else in mind.”

“Whaisit?” he queried, the unswallowed food muffling his voice.

“Well, I know how much you miss Ernie, and Violet’s mom told me about a program at the animal shelter that lets you rent a pet for a few hours,” she answered slowly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “So, I signed up to get a dog for you to play with until three o’clock this afternoon.”

Henry stopped in his tracks, swallowing down the rest of his snack as his eyes grew wide. “Really? You can do that?”

“Yeah, we’re scheduled to pick him up at eleven. What do you think about that?”

His exuberant shout of joy and sprint to the car was all the answer she needed.

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Emma couldn’t keep up with her son once he unstrapped his safety belt, exited the car and bounded toward the front door of the shelter. He was already ringing the little bell on the counter for service before she made it inside and chided him lightly for not waiting for her.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and light blue eyes entered through a door, the barking of dogs stifled when it clicked shut behind him. He gave them a dazzling smile and greeted them warmly with a hearty ‘good morning’.

Emma reached forward to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan and this is my son, Henry.”

“David Nolan,” he responded, shaking her hand, then doing the same with Henry.

“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Nolan, the same as yours,” the boy told him.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in second grade at Storybrooke Elementary, would you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

“Ah, well, that means your teacher is my wife!”

“Wow, cool!” Henry exclaimed. “She’s the best teacher I ever had!”

David’s grin grew even wider. “That’s good to hear. She tells me all about her students every evening and she thinks yours is the best class she’s ever had!”

“It’s quite a coincidence, meeting you here,” Emma commented with a smile.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret I met the two of you. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Emma pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen a few times. Then she laid it on the counter and turned it to show David. “I signed up for the Rent-a-Pet program. Here’s the email with my confirmation.”

David peered down at the screen and used his finger to scroll down a bit. “I see you chose Norman,” he commented, looking up at her.

“Um, yeah. Is he a good dog? I don’t want any messes in my house or car.”

“He’s a great dog,” he assured her, reaching back to the wall behind him to lift a leash off of a hook. “Gets along well with other dogs, seems to love kids, and is generally a very happy little guy.”

Henry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we take him to the dog park? Ernie always loved going to the dog park.” His countenance dropped, a small cloud of sadness passing across his features.

David shared an understanding look with Emma. “Of course you can take him. I’m sure he will love it! Would you like to come back with me to get him?”

The boy turned to look at his mother. “Can I?”

“Sure, kid. I think I’ll come back, too, if Mr. Nolan doesn’t mind.”

“The more, the merrier,” David said cheerfully.

He waited until they joined him on the other side of the counter, then opened the door to the large room full of animal cages. Immediately, the sound of barking, howling and meows filled their ears.

“They get very excited when they know someone is coming back here. I think the animals closest to the door are spies and tell the others,” David joked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Emma walked behind Henry, watching him turn his head left and right to peer at the occupants of all of the pens.

“Aw, Mom, look at that little puppy! He’s so cute! Aw, that dog seems sad. I bet he doesn’t like being in a cage. Look Mom, they have cats here, too.” His litany was continuous as they slowly walked down the aisle between the enclosures.

Finally, David stopped in front of a pen and turned to them, gesturing toward the dog inside. “This is Norman. He has a sad story, but he’s kept his sweet temperament, haven’t you, boy?”

As if in answer, the black dog stood up, his tail starting to wag as he realized the man was talking about him. Henry dropped to his knees in front of the cage, placing his hands against the wire. “Hi, Norman! My name is Henry. Would you like to come home with us for a little while?” The dog’s tail was wagging so fast, his entire body wiggled. “I think he understands me, Mom!” Henry said excitedly.

As David slipped inside the pen to clip the leash to Norman’s collar, Emma asked, “Has he ever been rented before?”

“Several times,” David answered, straightening up once he had the leash attached. “He’s always done really well.” Opening the door of the kennel again, he allowed the dog to go ahead of him, out to where the boy still knelt.

“Hi, boy,” Henry crooned, running his hands over the dog’s head.

Emma bent down and stroked the sleek fur on Norman’s back and sides. “He’s so soft,” she commented.

“He appears to have the coat of a cocker spaniel,” David said, “but he’s definitely a mixed breed.” He watched the boy and dog interact for a few seconds before holding out the looped end of the leash. “Would you like to lead him out to the lobby, Henry?”

He looked up at Emma with hopeful eyes. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“How is he on a leash?” she asked David. “He won’t pull my kid’s arm out of the socket, will he?”

David laughed. “He does fairly well, but if he gets excited, he can get pretty rambunctious. He’ll be fine just going to the lobby, but you might have to walk him out to your car instead of Henry.”

“Sounds like a deal, kid,” she said, giving him a nod of approval.

Henry eagerly accepted the leash and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Norman. Come on, boy. You’re gonna like it at our house. We still have some of Ernie’s toys and balls.”

Emma and David trailed behind. “How long ago did you lose your dog?” he asked.

“Almost a month and Henry is really struggling with it. He and Ernie were best buds.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough, especially for a kid.”

“And his mom,” Emma added. “I never realized how much I loved that dog, until he got sick and I knew we were going to lose him.”

“Hopefully, Norman will give you both a few hours of enjoyment and help ease the heartache a bit,” David said, before hurrying forward to pull the door open for Henry and the dog.

While David printed off the paperwork, Norman sniffed around Henry, who sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling when the dog licked his ears. “Ernie used to do that too, remember, Mom?”

Emma smiled down at him. “Yeah, you must have very tasty ears. Maybe you should start washing them better.”

“I won’t need to, after Norman washes them!”

She turned back to finish signing the papers. “It’s nice to hear him laughing again. He hasn’t done much of that lately,” she confided to David.

“I think this will be good for both of you and Norman. He really likes being around people. I’m very surprised he hasn’t been adopted yet.”

“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”

David shrugged. “This tends to be a slow time of the year for adoptions. Summer is over and school is back in session, so people don’t have as much time to welcome a new dog into their house.”

“That’s the boat we’re in right now,” Emma commented.

“Once it gets closer to Christmas, people will come in looking for pets to give as gifts. That’s good, but also bad, because about a quarter of them are brought back when they realize a pet is more work than they anticipated.”

“We got Ernie from the shelter when Henry was two. He was already five years old, house-trained and had all of the annoying puppy behaviors out of his system.”

“Most people want puppies instead of adult dogs, but there are a lot of advantages to getting an older dog.”

“Norman doesn’t seem to be very old.”

“I’d say at least two, but he’s pretty chill. Once he runs out of energy, he becomes a couch potato.” David collected the paperwork and tapped it on the counter to straighten it. “Well, that’s all I need from you. Norman is yours until three o’clock.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted, causing the dog to start barking.

Emma reached down to take the leash. “Don’t get him all riled up right before we put him in the car, kid.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry apologized. “I just can’t wait to get him home! Can he sit in the back with me?”

“Sure, but first you need to thank Mr. Nolan.”

Henry popped up from the floor and looked back at David. “Thanks, Mr. Nolan! I’ll take good care of Norman, I promise!”

“My pleasure, Henry. Have fun!” David grinned.

Mother and son exited the building, with Norman leading the way, tugging excitedly on the leash. “Slow down, pup,” Emma laughed.

Henry ran ahead to open the door of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle, sliding the front seat forward and clambering into the back. As soon as Norman reached the car, he hopped in and sat on the seat beside Henry like he’d done it every day of his life.

“Well, that was easy,” Emma commented, removing the loop of the leash from her wrist and tossing it beside the dog. After closing the door, she circled around behind the car to get into the driver’s seat. She looked into the rearview mirror and choked up at the sight meeting her eyes. Henry had his arms wrapped around Norman’s neck with his eyes closed and his head resting against the dog’s.

Emma was sure the time with Norman was going to be good for both boy and dog, but she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when it came time to bring him back to the shelter.

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Emma was barely able to get Henry to eat when they got home, and had to reprimand him for sneaking Norman bits of his sandwich. The dog, for his part, sat politely while they ate, not begging or whining. She was impressed with his behavior, remembering how she had to break Ernie from begging at the table when they first adopted him.

Henry and Norman bonded quickly as they chased each other around the small backyard, playing with a tennis ball and squeaky toys from Ernie’s toy basket. Emma sat on their small patio, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of happy barking and her son’s laughter. She pulled out her phone and took a picture, posting it to the Discord group and tagging Violet’s mom to thank her for the idea of renting a pet.

  Just after two o’clock, Emma suggested taking Norman to the dog park before going back to the shelter. They played there for forty minutes, then the three of them returned home and piled back into the car. Once again, she caught sight in the mirror of her son hugging the dog and sighed, but instead of dreading Norman’s return, she decided to enjoy every minute of happiness it was bringing to Henry…and herself.

Their time with the dog was over all too soon. After Emma parked the car at the shelter, Henry got out of the car and trudged to the door with the leash gripped tightly in his hand. Norman seemed to sense the boy’s mood and walked slowly beside him, his head hanging low.

David was at the desk to greet them again, an understanding look at his face at the dejected look of all three of them. “Was he good for you?” he asked.

“He was great,” Emma answered, rubbing her hand soothingly over her son’s back. “Wasn’t he, kid?”

“Yeah,” Henry quietly agreed, his eyes trained on the floor.

“You know, you’re welcome to rent Norman, or any of our other dogs, anytime you want,” David said.

Henry looked up. “But what if someone adopts him?”

“Well, that would be a good thing for Norman,” Emma reminded him.

“I guess,” Henry sighed. He knelt down beside the dog, wrapping him up in another hug. “I’ll miss you, boy, but maybe I’ll see you again.” The dog licked his cheek, eliciting a small giggle. Then Henry stood and held the leash out to David. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan. I had a lot of fun with Norman.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” David said, accepting the leash and moving around the counter. Patting the dog on the head, he added, “I hope we’ll see you again, soon.”

Henry turned pleading eyes to his mother. “Can we do it again next weekend, Mom?”

“You have Avery’s birthday party next Saturday, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry nodded, then bit his lip in contemplation. “The next weekend, then?”

Emma laughed. “We’ll see.” She leaned down to pet the dog’s head. “Be a good boy, Norman. You’re welcome at our house anytime.”

After saying their goodbyes, they watched David take the dog toward the door leading to the back. Norman turned and gave them a sad look before following the shelter worker through it, tearing at Emma’s heart even more.

She swallowed hard and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

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The sadness soon wore off and for the next several days, Henry talked almost incessantly about all of the fun he had with Norman. Emma checked their schedule and saw that Henry had another early game three weeks later, which would be the last game of the soccer season. She relayed that news to Henry, asking him if he wanted to rent Norman again that day, and was answered with a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’

She nearly forgot to make the reservation, only remembering three days before, while waiting to pick Henry up from practice. Quickly, she pulled up the website and filled out the form, glancing up often to see if Henry was coming off the field because she always liked to meet him as soon as he did, instead of waiting for him in the car.

Emma was especially glad they decided to rent Norman Saturday, since Henry’s soccer team lost their final game by one goal. His downcast look was soon replaced with excitement when she reminded him that they would be going to the shelter.

When they arrived, he bounded out of the car and waited impatiently for his mom to join him, before practically sprinting to the door. It took a couple of minutes before David emerged from the back, beaming a smile when he saw them waiting at the counter.

“Henry! Emma! I’m very happy to see you again!”

“We’re here to get Norman,” Henry said excitedly.

A puzzled look crossed David’s face. “I’m sorry, but Norman is already being rented by somebody else today,” he informed them.

“What?” Henry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Then he turned to Emma. “But Mom, you said we would be getting Norman.”

Emma was already pulling the email up on her phone. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Nolan. I reserved Norman when I filled out the form. See?”

She turned her phone for the worker to see it. David looked at it carefully, then pointed to the screen. “It looks like you didn’t ask for a specific dog.”

“I didn’t?” she questioned, then looked at her phone more closely, her heart dropping when she saw the blank space beside the ‘requested animal’ inquiry. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry when I filled it out and I must have missed that question.”

“We have several other dogs,” David consoled. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with one of them.”

“No I won’t,” Henry pouted. “I only want Norman.”

“Henry…” Emma started, but was interrupted when the door behind her opened.

“Good morning, Dave,” said a deep voice with a distinctive British accent.

Emma turned to see the newcomer and nearly swallowed her tongue. The man standing before her had to be a mirage, because surely someone that handsome didn’t really exist. He had a lean physique clad in dark jeans and a maroon henley, with a tantalizing view of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline. A black leather jacket completed his ensemble. His chiseled jawline was covered with a pleasing amount of scruff and his dark, windblown hair was falling over his forehead. He sported a wide grin and, between that and his deep blue eyes, Emma was mesmerized.

She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance. Henry’s early game meant she had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, donned an old hoodie and stuffed a beanie over her barely brushed hair that morning. Her face was free of makeup, unless you counted a few stray flecks of mascara that stubbornly refused to come off when she washed her face the previous evening.

“Hey, Killian,” David greeted.

The man’s - Killian’s - eyes had settled on Emma, a glint of curiosity evident in them.

“Oh, um, come on Henry,” she said, after several moments of silence. “Let’s get out of this man’s way.”

“But Mommmm…” he whined.

Emma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the counter. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”

“I’m in no hurry, Miss,” Killian began.

“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m afraid I created a problem that might take a while to straighten out, so please, go ahead.”

“In that case, thank you very much,” he smiled. Turning his eyes to David, he asked, “Is Winston ready?”

Emma was surprised to see the genial shelter worker furrow his brow at the other man. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”

Killian shrugged. “He looks like a Winston to me, and he answers to that name when he’s at my house.”

David glanced at Emma and Henry and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently changed his mind. Grabbing a leash off of a hook, he said, “Give me a minute,” then he pushed the door open and disappeared into the back.

“Are you adopting a dog today?” Henry asked Killian.

“Alas, no. I just moved into a small apartment here three months ago and am still trying to get everything organized and put away. Being in a new town has been a bit lonely at times, so I’ve been coming here now and then to borrow a dog for a few hours.”

“That’s why we’re here, but somebody is taking the dog I want,” Henry grumbled.

“Henry, that’s enough,” Emma reprimanded. “You haven’t even looked at any of the other dogs.”

“None of them will be as good as Norman.”

Killian’s brows raised. “Did you say Nor-”

Just then, the door behind the counter opened and David came through, trying to control a very excited dog.

“Norman!” Henry cheered, dropping to his knees. The dog started jumping toward him, wildly licking his face as soon as he reached the boy.

“I thought you said he was already rented today,” Emma questioned David.

“He is,” he replied, looking pointedly at Killian.

Emma followed his gaze and saw the other man watching the interaction between Henry and the dog with a sheepish look on his face. The pieces began to click together and she asked, “Wait a minute - is Norman the dog you’re renting today?”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like we’re here for the same dog.”

“But you called him by another name,” Emma continued.

“He’s the dog I’ve rented every time and he just doesn’t seem like a Norman to me, so I started calling him Winston,” Killian explained.

All three adults stood looking at the whirlwind of fur jumping all over Henry, who was giggling so much, he could hardly catch his breath.

Finally, Killian spoke. “It seems as though Win-, I mean, Norman, has made his choice. Please let Henry and…his mother have the dog today, Dave.”

“Emma,” she informed him. “My name is Emma Swan, and you don’t have to do that. You had him reserved first. Besides, Henry needs to learn he can’t always have his way.”

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my time with the dog, knowing how sad it would make Henry,” Killian responded. He took a step forward and offered Emma his hand to shake. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

As they shook hands, David cleared his throat. “Um, I have an idea of how to work this out. It’s a nice day, so why don’t all of you take Norman to the dog park together?”

Emma and Killian both whipped their heads around to stare at him. He seemed to shrink back a bit before stammering, “I mean, that way you could all spend time with him and get to know each other at the same time. You’ve been saying you’d like to meet more people in Storybrooke, Killian, and that’s where Henry and Emma live.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I’ve gotten to know Killian pretty well because he sings in the church choir with me and Mary Margaret. He’s a good guy.”

Emma slowly turned her eyes back to the very handsome man whose hand she suddenly realized she was still holding. She dropped it quickly, as she felt a blush heating her cheeks. Then she looked at Henry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman sprawled across his lap. He was looking up at her with hope in his eyes.

Meeting Killian’s gaze once again, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, Emma.”

“You wouldn’t have to go all the way back into Storybrooke,” David said. “There’s a small dog park at the end of the walking path, where a lot of people take dogs they’re thinking of adopting.”

“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded. “Norman would like that, wouldn’t you, boy?”

Emma took a look at the pair and groaned, “It’s bad enough when you use the puppy dog eyes on me, kid. Now you’ve got the dog doing it, too.”

Killian chuckled lowly, the sound of it making Emma’s stomach flip in a very pleasant way. “I would hate to disappoint the two of them, so I’m game if you are, lass.”

Emma chewed her lip in contemplation for a few seconds, before saying, “Okay, but on one condition - you let me pay half of the rental fee.”

“I already paid the fee online,” Killian said.

“So did I, so I guess that takes care of that.”

“Not really,” David said. “You both paid, but you’re only renting one dog. I should reimburse each of you half of the fee.”

“Keep it,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time, then both laughed.

“The shelter can always use a little extra money, can’t it, Mr. Nolan?” Emma asked.

“Please call me David. And of course we can, if you’re both sure you don’t mind.”

As soon as they affirmed their answer, David walked around the counter and picked up the end of the leash. Handing it to Emma, he said, “In that case, Norman-slash-Winston is yours for the next four hours. You can bring him back sooner, if you like, but I’m sure he’s going to love getting out for a while. Oh, and if you get hungry, there’s usually a couple of food trucks near the dog park on Saturdays. Have fun!”

Emma and Killian thanked him, then went out the door with Norman straining at the leash, and Henry skipping along beside him. They quickly found the sign marking the path and started walking it.

After several paces, Killian turned to Emma and asked, “Is it me, or do you feel like David just set us up?”

“One hundred percent,” Emma laughed.

“How long have you known him?”

“David?” she questioned. At his hum of affirmation, she said, “Henry and I rented Norman three weeks ago and that was the first time I met him. David, I mean, not Norman. Well, it was the first time we met Norman, too. His wife is Henry’s teacher. Again, I mean she’s David’s wife, not Norman’s.” She knew she was rambling, but the thought of spending several hours with the gorgeous stranger was making her nervous.

Killian laughed. “That’s a relief. I borrowed Win-, uh, Norman three times and he never once mentioned being married.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh - mostly because what he said was funny, but also in relief that he responded to her embarrassing prattling with humor, instead of judgment.

“So, if Dave just met you, he probably doesn’t even know if you’re married or dating anyone. That was a little presumptuous of him.”

“Are you fishing for information, Mr. Jones?” Emma teased.

“Killian will do,” he grinned. “And…perhaps?”

Before she could answer, Henry ran back to join them. “Can I take Norman, Mom? He’s walking really well on the leash, so I don’t think he’ll yank my arm out of the socket.”

She looked at Killian, who raised an eyebrow with a bemused look on his face.

“That’s something I said when we picked Norman up the last time,” she explained. Handing the loop of the leash to Henry, she said, “Don’t get too far ahead of us, kid.”

“We won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Emma turned her attention back to the man beside her. “To answer your non-question Killian, no, I am not married or dating anyone. It’s just Henry and me, and always has been. When I told his father I thought I might be pregnant, he didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was or not.”

Killian absorbed this news for a few moments before responding, “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds as if the two of you might be better off without someone like that, anyway.”

“Oh, definitely. Henry is more mature at eight than his sperm donor was as an adult. I was young and foolish, but I had to grow up fast once I became a single mother.” She watched her son trying to get Norman to walk beside him, then turned to look at Killian. “Sorry, that is a lot more information than I’m sure you wanted to know.”

“No need to apologize, Emma. I did ask, in a roundabout way.”

“So what’s your story? Did you move here from England, or am I misreading your accent?”

“You got it right,” he chuckled, then took a deep breath. “There was nothing left for me in England. My brother moved here soon after our mother died two years ago, and once I found out my girlfriend was actually a married woman, I needed a fresh start.”

“Ouch,” Emma commented.

“Aye, and now I’ve probably shared more than you wanted to know.”

“We’ll call it even, and promise to talk about much lighter subjects for the rest of the day,” Emma said.

“Deal.”

“You said your brother moved here. Does that mean he lives in Storybrooke?”

“Aye, he followed his heart and it led him straight to this quaint little town.”

“Who does he date, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s engaged to the town librarian, Belle French.”

“Liam is your brother? I guess I should have figured that out since your last name is Jones.”

“It’s a very common name, lass. Yes, Liam is my brother. I gather you know him?”

“Belle is one of my best friends, so I know him through her. She used to babysit for Henry quite often, when I was a waitress at Granny’s.”

“Ah, the famous Granny’s Diner!” Killian exclaimed. “I visit that establishment frequently. She makes the best lasagna.”

“I think you meant to say the best grilled cheese and onion rings,” Emma grinned mischieviously.

“I’ve yet to try those particular delicacies,” he smirked.

“Try them,” she advised. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”

Looking ahead, they saw they were nearing the dog park and picked up their pace. They caught up with Henry and Norman just before reaching the entrance. There were about a half-dozen dogs running around the park, some loose and others on leashes.

“I think it would be a good idea for Mr. Jones to take Norman before we go in,” Emma told Henry. “He’ll be able to control him better if he gets too excited.”

“Okay,” Henry said, willingly handing over the leash.

“Thanks, lad,” Killian smiled.

Henry went through the first gate, holding it open for his mom, followed by Killian and Norman. When they were all in the buffer zone, Henry opened the next gate leading into the main part of the park.

“You’re raising quite the gentleman, Emma,” Killian commented, after he entered with the dog.

“He has his moments.”

They all watched Norman as he began sniffing around excitedly, then pulling on the leash when he noticed the other canines sharing his space. He nearly yanked Killian off of his feet with his enthusiasm to meet new friends.

The next twenty minutes were spent chasing the dog and trying to settle him down. After a few of the other owners left with their animals, Henry found a tennis ball and engaged Norman in a game of fetch. The adults sat on a bench to observe the pair, laughing at the clumsiness of the dog.

Emma noticed Killian rubbing his shoulder. “Alright there, Jones?”

“I think he might have pulled my arm out of the socket, Swan,” he quipped.

“Very funny, smart guy,” she said, making him laugh again. They watched for a few more minutes before Emma asked, “Do you have a job in Storybrooke? I started working at the sheriff’s station three months ago and I don’t remember seeing you around town.”

“I’m an architect. I was able to keep my job with the firm in England by working online and attending meetings with clients and my colleagues via Zoom. All of my time is spent in my office at home. It’s not ideal, but I appreciate my boss being willing to make concessions for me.”

“Do you plan to get a job here eventually?”

“Aye, if I decide to stay.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m used to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Living in Storybrooke has been quite an adjustment.”

“I get that. We moved here from Boston when Henry was two. Granny’s granddaughter, Ruby, was our neighbor there, and when she decided to move back, she talked me into coming with her. At first, I had a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet. That was one reason why I adopted Ernie - just to have a little more noise in the house.”

“Ernie?” Killian questioned.

“Oh, he was our dog. We had him for six years, but he died a couple of months ago.” She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and swiped to reveal her lock screen. “This is a picture of Henry with him.”

“Beautiful animal,” Killian commented sincerely, taking in the photo of the brown and white spaniel. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Emma sighed, locking her phone and returning it to the pocket. “Henry grew up with him and he’s had a really hard time with it. Someone suggested renting a pet from the shelter to help him work through it, and that’s how we ended up renting Norman.”

“They seem to really like each other.”

“Yeah, they got along great the first time. That’s why I signed up to get him again, but I was in a hurry when I filled out the form and forgot to ask for a specific dog.”

“Ah, that explains the mix-up,” Killian remarked.

Another half hour passed while they chatted easily, until Henry came over and flopped down on the ground, quickly joined by Norman. “I’m hungry, Mom. Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure, kid. Put Norman back on his leash and we’ll go find those food trucks Mr. Nolan mentioned.”

They soon located the food trucks just down the sidewalk from the park. After discussing their options, they decided to get pulled pork sandwiches from the barbeque place. It was obvious that people who took their pets to the dog park frequented the food trucks, because each one had bowls of water set out in front of them and containers of dog biscuits on their condiment tables.

While they waited for their food, Henry tried to teach Norman to sit, rewarding him with pieces of the biscuits when he obeyed.

“He’s very good with him,” Killian noted.

“He prays for another dog every night, but our schedule is so busy right now. Plus, it’s such a big responsibility and I’m not sure Henry is ready for it. I might be wrong about that though, seeing how he is with Norman.”

After eating, they followed the sidewalk a little further and spotted a playground. Emma and Killian sat on a bench, with Norman sitting between them as they watched Henry play on the equipment.

“You know, we’ve lived in Storybrooke for six years and I never knew this playground existed,” Emma commented. “We don’t come this way very often, because whenever we go out of town, we take the road going south.”

“It appears to be fairly new,” Killian observed. “Perhaps they constructed it when they built those apartments over there, because they don’t look like they’ve been there very long.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I remember when they were being constructed a couple of years after we moved here, which means they’re less than five years old.”

They lost sight of Henry for a few seconds when he climbed a ladder up into a tower. Suddenly they heard him shout, “Hey, Mom! Look what I found!” and saw him coming down a twisting slide with his arms over his head, clutching a tattered looking soccer ball.

He landed at the bottom and came running over to them. “Someone must have forgotten this at the top of the tower. Wanna kick it around with me?”

“Sure, kid,” Emma answered, hopping up from the bench. “It looks a bit deflated. Are you sure it’s even going to roll?”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Placing it on the ground, he gave it a kick and watched it roll across the grass. “See?”

A black streak flew past him, with Killian following close behind shouting, “Wins-, I mean, Norman! Come back here!”

The dog ignored him, but stopped when he got to the soccer ball. He was trying to pick it up in his mouth when the three humans reached him. Killian was able to kick it away from him, directly to Emma, who stopped it with her foot, then booted it over to Henry. Norman ran from one to the other, in hot pursuit of the elusive ball.

The ‘keep away’ game kept them entertained for a long time. They ran, shouting instructions to each other and laughing until all of them were completely out of breath. Norman was able to intercept some of their passes, but they always managed to get it away from him before he was able to pick it up and run off.

Finally, Emma declared that she had to take a break. Picking up Norman’s leash, she said, “I think we should take him back to the food trucks to get a drink and buy a couple of bottles of water.”

“Aww, Mom,” Henry complained. “I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t I stay here? Killian will stay with me, won’t you, Killian?”

“First of all, you should call him Mr. Jones, and secondly, you’re putting him on the spot, which isn’t cool,” Emma admonished.

Henry looked appropriately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.”

“Thank you, Henry, but if I may be so bold, I don’t mind you calling me Killian. That is, if it’s okay with your mother.”

Henry looked to his mom, who considered for a few seconds, then gave him a nod of approval.

Killian put his arm across Henry’s shoulders and walked him the short distance to where Emma was standing. “I’d be happy to go get the water, Emma.” He took the end of Norman’s leash from her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

While he was gone, Emma sat on the bench watching Henry continue to kick the soccer ball around. Killian and Norman returned a few minutes later, handed her a bottle of water and sat down beside her.

“Do I owe you anything for this?” Emma asked, unscrewing the lid.

“Not at all. I think I can afford to buy a lovely lass a bottle of water.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at his use of the adjective, still rueing the fact she met such a handsome man while looking like she just rolled out of bed. As she was getting ready to take a drink, Henry kicked the ball and sent it sailing over their head, causing Emma to duck and spill some of the water in her lap.

Henry ran over, stopping in front of her. “Oops. Sorry, Mom. I was trying to kick it at the teeter-totter.”

Emma brushed at the water droplets, looking around to locate the teeter-totter, which was at least twenty feet away from the bench. “Not even close, kid.”

Killian stood up. “Perhaps I could give you some pointers, lad. I was a rather good football player when I was younger .”

Henry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I play soccer, not football.”

Killian chuckled as Emma explained, “Killian grew up in England and over there, soccer is called football. They call what we play ‘American football’, don’t they, Killian?”

“Aye, lass. Sorry to confuse you, Henry.”

“Oh, I never knew that. So, how good were you?”

Killian rubbed a finger behind his ear, ducking his head a bit. “I played in a semi-professional league for a couple of years and actually tried out for a professional club, before I decided to go to Uni and become an architect instead.”

“Wow! Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “You probably know even more about soccer than my coach!”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows a bit more than a volunteer coach for a youth league team.” She took the dog’s leash back from Killian. “Norman and I will sit this lesson out.”

Killian attempted to wink at her. “As you wish, Milady. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”

She smiled fondly, watching the two of them passing the ball back and forth for a while, before pulling out her phone to catch up on her social media apps.

When she looked up a few minutes later, she saw Killian giving Henry instructions for controlling the ball as he dribbled it down the field. Apparently, they were using two trees as the goal and Henry was moving toward them quickly, while trying rather unsuccessfully to keep the ball under control. When he kicked it from quite a distance away, the ball hit one of the trees and ricocheted away.

Killian went to retrieve the ball and took it back to where Henry was waiting. He squatted down in front of the boy and began talking to him, gesturing now and then to different parts of the field.

Henry listened intently, nodding once in a while. When Killian finished speaking, he stood up and did a short demonstration of how to move the ball back and forth from foot to foot. Then he patted the boy’s shoulder, walked the ball further away from the trees and set it down.

Henry lined himself up behind the ball and looked up at Killian. After getting a reassuring smile from him, Henry started dribbling the ball across the ground with shorter, more controlled kicks, while Killian jogged beside him, shouting encouragement. This time, he got the ball much closer to the trees, before giving it a powerful kick that sent it shooting right between them.

Killian whooped as Henry raised his arms in victory, giving a triumphant cheer. What Emma saw happen next put a lump in her throat. Henry flung his arms around Killian’s waist, hugging him tightly, and Killian returned the hug, rubbing his hand over her son’s head as he looked down at him with a proud smile on his face.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

#pet for rent #jrob64 #csff #CS fluff #CS smut #CS modern AU #captain swan fanfic #art by jrob64 #ouat Captain Swan fanfic #Captain cobra

[happy-emmdings]

It’s fluff hours!!💓🥺

Emma painting Killian’s nails based on @dykelilypage’s wholesome headcanon that still lives in my head.

#I know this was a while ago but… this took me a while😆 #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs fluff #cs headcanon #ouat fanart #nya draws

[captainswanfluffyfebruary]

A feel-good fic rec for each day of February to get you out of the winter blues!

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs fluff

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Just As Much As I Do”

Notes: This is another little one shot I originally wrote in the summer after Season 3 of OuaT.  Post Season 3 finale, this one is meant to be the very next day, waking up back in the present, the Wicked Witch defeated,and Pirate and Princess maybe - just maybe - stealing a quiet moment or two in the afterglow. Rated T, though the reasons for that are only implied. Title and song lyrics included are from Snow Patrol's "Crack the Shutters", and of course I don't own that lovely song any more than I do OuaT or its characters. Enjoy – and please leave a review!

Also available on AO3 or ff.net, if that’s more your preference

Summary: The morning after the finale, waking up in his room at Granny's, for Killian Jones, it seems like his wildest dreams have come true magnificently.

“Just As Much As I Do” 

by: @snowbellewells 

Sunlight pours in through sheer white curtains, bathing the small room in golden glow and warming the darkness into hazy morning. As the sun's rays fall across the tangled sheets on the bed and heat the bare skin of a pirate, Killian Jones' eyes ease open, blinking in the sunrise and slowly regaining his bearings.

He rubs a hand over his face and back through his tufted, disheveled hair, confused and disoriented for a moment, not sure how he is once again in his familiar room at Granny's when yesterday he was sitting at a campfire in the Enchanted Forest of his past. Memory filters back to him with the same sort of gilded pleasure as the morning light. 'Emma,' his mind whispers, 'I brought her home.'

Turning from where he sits up in bed, bare to the waist as the sheets pool at his hips, he sees her lying beside him drenched in the wash of gold through the window, that cascade of blond hair lit up as if on fire. She is still fast asleep, splayed out luxuriously on her stomach, pale, flawless back on display for his perusal. As Killian gazes on her, admiration swirling within him, Emma mumbles drowsily and smiles without conscious thought, looking so much more peaceful and satisfied than he believes he has ever seen her while awake. She scoots closer to him, seeking contact in the depths of her slumber.

He reaches out to brush a lock of hair off her shoulder, smoothing it down her back with its fellows and letting his fingertips trail along the graceful path of her spine. That he can touch her at last, after so long – after so much wanting and denial – seems almost a dream. Killian's breath catches for a moment as he wonders whether he is awake at all.

Smiling to himself, he cannot help snuggling back into the mattress, studying every relaxed, glorious inch of Emma Swan while she is still unaware, knowing she would be blushing and trying to hide from such frank adoration, ducking her head self-consciously to avoid his gaze, if she were awake. Somehow he has earned his place beside his golden goddess – and no one or nothing, not even the sun itself gilding her in splendor before his very eyes, can worship her as much as he does.

Crack the shutters, open wide

I wanna bathe you in the light of day

And just watch you as the rays

tangle up around your face and body

I could sit for hours

finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

just as much as I do

The peaceful quiet of morning's first light is broken before he wishes as Emma's cell phone rings from the nightstand of his rented room and stirs her from her slumber. Her hand shoots out blindly to snag the offending object, and she mumbles "Hello?" blearily.

Emma sits up as she listens to the voice on the other end, bringing the sheet to wrap around her body as she does. Killian can tell already that it is someone needing something from either the Sheriff or the Savior, but she doesn't seem to mind the duty settling back onto her shoulders as she has in the past. Instead, she seems pleased, as if she finally knows that this is not a curse or a burden so much as her calling, part of belonging to people and a place of her own at last. She glances at him over her shoulder, a sly smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes; even as she nods and goes back to assuring the person on the line that she will be right there.

Once she has hung up, she glances at him sheepishly. "Back to work," she says with a shrug and that quirk of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Aye, Darling, so it would seem," he replies, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair and pull her in for a quick kiss.

To his surprise, she nuzzles into his touch, eyes closing for a few precious moments, savoring the warm expanding feeling rising in her chest. He half expected her to pull away – push him back and shut him out once again – when she woke this morning. It would seem instead that his Swan has bested him one more time, and his devotion to her only grows.

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," she murmurs affectionately, pulling back with reluctance to stand and begin redressing in the clothes they had shed in such haste the night before.

"And just which one of us are you calling wicked, Lass?" he questions, brow arching and grinning at her in a way that he hopes will sorely try her resolve not to crawl back across the bed and let the dwarves deal with their stolen trash bins on their own.

"Oh, I meant both of us," she teases back, mischief in her expression, "but those lips and that hand of yours leave no doubt where you're concerned."

He laughs, taken so by surprise that he tips his head back with it, a full-bodied, strong chortle. "Oi, Swan, what would you have had me do, you vixen? You were practically begging me!"

She actually giggles, looking so happy and completely pleased with herself that he wishes to keep that expression on her face forever. The flush that colors her cheeks and spreads down her neck to disappear in her shirt is so fetching that Killian is hard pressed not to haul her back into his arms and refuse to let her go.

"Shall I accompany you, Swan?" he offers, moving to get up as well and already scanning for where she had flung his shirt and vest.

"No, you stay put," she says with a hungry glint in her eye. "Go downstairs and have breakfast or something. It shouldn't be long before I can get back here."

"Oh," he smirks, looking terribly proud of himself, "I see. Am I under house arrest because you cannot get your fill of me, Sheriff?"

"More or less," she grins evilly.

"Insatiable minx," he returns, tongue peeking out to brush across his lower lip in a way that sends sparks along her veins and graphic images flashing behind her eyes.

"You've got no one but yourself to blame, Pirate," she throws out, giving him one last playful look before she slips out the door. Inside, her heart is swelling while she marvels at the absence of panic, at the fact that she truly wants to stay in the perfect little cocoon the two of them have created, and yearns to be back with him as soon as possible.

It's been minutes, it's been days

It's been all I will remember

Happy lost in your hair

and the cool side of the pillow

Your hills and valleys

are mapped by my intrepid fingers

And in a naked slumber

I dream all this again…

The next morning dawns in much the same way, and Killian's eyes crack open with the sunrise once more; years ever-alert from life on the high sea never failing to pull him into early wakefulness. He is stunned all over again by his good fortune: Emma is with him still. This time, instead of a sprawl, she is curled up into his chest, head tucked under his chin.

Still reverent as he touches her, almost afraid to shatter the illusion, he lets his fingers ghost over the apples of her cheeks, along the line of her nose, and twine themselves in her hair, cradling the back of her head, his handless arm tucking her even more securely into the shelter of his body, stump gently caressing her lower back. Her sleep seems calm and dreamless, which she had confided in him is new and rare, and Killian dares to believe that he has helped to make it possible. Her presence is soothing to him as well, banishing haunted nightmares he never thought to lose. There are no creases of worry marring her forehead, and the tiniest smile rests on her senseless lips, tilting them upwards in a captivating, if unknowing, manner.

Killian places the softest of kisses to her smooth brow, loving her just as he has ever since she stared deep into his soul in the diner when Storybrooke faced oblivion and offered him a second chance – a way to belong to something, to someone…to her. He had seen it then, desired it so ardently that it has fueled every action he has taken since. The intensity of this love, now that Emma recognizes and even welcomes the power she holds over him, and is even trying to give herself to him in return, is overwhelming in its power.

He simply rests here, ignoring the sun's rays spreading across the covers and attempting to rouse him from the most peaceful moment he has ever known. He has traveled a dark, harrowing road to reach this place and moment in time, searched lifetimes for the feeling of completeness in someone who loves him, who will fight for him as fiercely as he fights for her. He can see the warm wash of light over Emma's skin and appreciation for her steals his breath anew. A vision forms of each new day beginning like this one: the pattern of their future together.

Allowing his eyes to drift closed, Killian gladly disregards the dawning day for staying beside his love a little longer. He does not need the sun's help to adore the sight of Emma in his arms; she is branded on the back of his eyelids and in the depths of his soul, every detail of her safeguarded in his heart.

I could sit for hours

finding new ways to be awed each minute

'Cause the daylight seems to want you

just as much as I want you…

Tagging a few who might enjoy:  @jennjenn615​ @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jrob64​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @apiratewhopines​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @xarandomdreamx​ @cosette141​ @stahlop​ @sotangledupinit​ @elizabeethan​ @donteattheappleshook​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @xsajx​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @thislassishooked​ @drowned-dreamer​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @zaharadessert​ @caught-in-the-filter​ @ineffablecolors​ @let-it-raines​ 

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #post season 3 missing moment ff #just as much as i do #cs fluff #ouat canon divergent

[donteattheappleshook]

Barefoot in the wildest winter... a captain swan Christmas AU

Summary: 

She wasn’t supposed to come back. It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother finding out that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights.The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs, to knock on the door. There’s still time to run. “Swan?” “Hey, Killian.”

Rated M (E?)

Merry Christmas @killiansprincss​​ ! It’s me, not the problem this time but your Secret Santa 🎅

I’ve SO enjoyed getting to know you over the last few weeks and getting to talk CS, Christmas and Taylor Swift! 🥰 

I hope you like this little story I’ve written you for the @cssecretsanta2020​​ I tried to fit in as many of your favorites as I could: soft Killian, forced proximity/only one bed, fluff/smut/angst (with a happy ending of course), and a little nod to some favorite holiday movies, a splash of favorite side characters and scenes, and (obviously) a little inspiration from the queen of love songs herself  

And a hundred thousand million thank yous to @the-darkdragonfly​ who saved this fic when it went off the rails and made it not terrible <3 It never would have come together without you holding my hand through all of it.

Read on Ao3 were my italics work! 

❄️❄️❄️

It’s not that bad. 

It’s just a little snow.

The Bug is reliable and she’s got winter tires. 

She’ll be fine. 

Shit, she just missed her turn. They need more street lights around here - the snow covering the signs doesn’t help either. She ducks her head, trying to see better, looking for any landmarks she recognizes. Emma thought she knew Storybrooke off by heart, but it seems a decade away has left some of her recollection hazy. 

The snow had come out of nowhere, blanketing the ground in the amount of time it took her to walk in and out of the Sheriff’s station, the flurries massive and wet as they hit her windshield. What little light her headlights manage to shine through the dark is blinded by angry streams of flakes, falling furiously against them in the harsh wind, the consistent rattling noise unnerving.

She used to wish for winters like this, town blanketed in snowfall, schools closed and days spent hiding out with friends. ‘Here.’ A gift pushed awkwardly into her hand, an embarrassed smile, flakes swirling around a little version of the town they both lived in. ‘Now you’ll always have snow.’ Now she just needs to get away. The magic is gone. No more dreams of white Christmases. 

She can see the water - she thinks - to her left. There’s a road along the shore, one that leads out of town in a more round-about way, and so she makes the next left turn she can, weaving through the narrow, empty streets until she finds herself on Misthaven road with a triumphant cheer. Okay. She’s got this. This way leads right out of town and towards he highway and she can - 

Emma slams her foot down on the break, eyes suddenly reflecting bright in her headlights and the car swerves on the slick ground. She doesn’t have time to see what it was, cursing as the bug swings frantically from side to side, fighting with the wheel to get it back under control as it skids towards the ditch piled high with snow. But there’s no stopping it.

The impact is jarring, her whole body rocking forward with the force of the sudden stop. She grips the wheel, heart racing as she puts her head down against it to take a breath. You’re okay. It could have been a lot worse, she rationalizes when she looks up to find her windshield and front windows completely clouded in white. She could have hit the water. 

She manages to get her seatbelt off, falling forward into the dashboard with a grunt. The door won’t budge when she tries it, the snow packed tightly on either side, so she pulls out her phone to call for help. She finds it on the floor instead, screen shattered and ominously black. Of course. 

Climbing through the car, over the back seats to the trunk, she manages to pop it open and heave herself out. Emma looks back at her little bug as she sits on the bumper, uses it to step back onto the road. I’m sorry, I’ll come back for you. She just needs to find a phone. Do payphones still exist? This town has been stuck in the 90s for decades. Or someone has to come by eventually, a snow plow, another person as determined to get out of here as she is…

Her coat isn’t warm enough, arms wrapped around herself as her hair, freezing in icy tendrils, whips across her face as she struggles to keep her eyes open against the onslaught of wet snow. Where are you? No answer comes, her memories of this road too hazy to see through the storm. So she walks, picking a direction rather than standing and losing extremities one by one. 

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was never supposed to come back here at all. She should have ignored the call, let someone else take the bounty on the skip that had decided to go hide out in her hometown, a place she’s managed to avoid for over a decade now. She’d gotten out, run as far and fast as she could, hurt one too many times by this cursed little town where all her happy endings were taken from her. 

Christmas morning, the day after her first and only boyfriend had dumped her - the last in a long line to leave her behind in Storybrooke - because he ‘wanted to see what was out there’, she’d taken a train to Boston and never looked back. She wasn’t supposed to come back. 

It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother ever finding that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. And yet here she is, wandering the streets of Storybrooke on Christmas Eve, lost and alone. 

She’s not sure how far she’s gone when she sees the water, a clearing in the trees, a straight shot to the beach. The waves bring memories with them as they crash against the shore, the sea always refusing to be frozen by the harshest of colds. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Arms wrapped solidly around her, a hand taking hers, ‘come with me,’ sitting in the cold sand throwing rocks at the waves with his hands on her ears, ‘they’re going to fall off, Killian,’ and her heart on her sleeve. 

Emma looks up at the building across the street. If she squints she thinks can see a light on. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights. She still has a snowglobe on her mantle, a gift given to her by a boy she’d spent most of high school infatuated with, and the years after navigating an ineffable friendship. 

How long has it been since she’s seen him? Not since that morning she left, the one where everything had almost changed. It did, she supposes, but not the way she’d been so suddenly terrified it could in those few breaths between a question and a goodbye. He may not even live there anymore. She knows he’s still in town from what David’s told her and the occasional social media stalking, but that’s about all she knows about him now. 

It’s your best bet. At least whoever’s there might have a phone she can use, know a tow that she can call to get her bug back on the road and her on her way back to Boston. The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs. Still, her heart pounds in her chest and her stomach tightens reflexively when she knocks on the door. There’s still time to run.

“Swan?”

“Hey, Killian.” 

***

They were at the Christmas market, Emma grumbling to Ruby about the fact that there hadn’t been any snow that year as they picked through a pile of novelty keychains. “It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without it.” She picked up a little skull and crossbones, holding it up for her friend’s appraisal.

David called them over, offering to buy everyone hot chocolate, all thoughts of shopping abandoned - “Who would you even get that for?” “I don’t know.” She just thought it was cool. This was the first time she had her own set of keys to a front door. It slipped so easily into her pocket, a habit picked up between foster homes. Take whatever you can get your hands on. You might not get the chance again. 

“Hey, Swan.” Only one person called her that, whispered too low for anyone else to hear. “Nicely done.” Killian smirked at her, nodded toward her pocket, eyebrow raised.

Crap. “You’re not going to tell David, are you?” She couldn’t lose this one too. 

“Why would I do that?” Thank god. His face softened. “It takes a while.” 

“What does?”

“To stop feeling like you have to.” Something passed between them then, an understanding. David had said they had a lot in common. “Here.” He put something in her hand, smile awkward, cheeks red. A snow globe, one of the ones Ingrid from the ice cream shop made, a vague rendition of Storybrooke in the center. “You’re right about Christmas.” He touched a finger to the back of his ear. “Now you’ll always have snow.” 

“Did you steal this?” 

His laugh was loud. She liked it. “No. It’s a gift.”

She smiled at it, face flushing furiously - a gift from David’s new friend, the nice one with the pretty eyes who smiled a lot. Shaking it a few times to make the little flecks of white dance around her currently green town, Emma looked up at him, lip catching between her teeth. “I love it.”  

“Here.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the stolen keychain, wanting to be able to give him something in return. 

His slow smile sent something twisting in her stomach, mischievous, like they had a secret. “Your loot, Swan? I’m honoured.” 

“Well if you don’t want it -”

“No, I do,” he said quickly, grabbing it before she could take it back, ears red, running his thumb over the little skull. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.” Idiot. 

***

He’s staring at her, like he can’t quite decide if she’s real, a literal ghost from his past appearing on his doorstep after a decade without a word. He looks good. She knew he would - he always had. But the last time she saw him he was twenty-two and the years have been unfairly kind to him. He’s grown a beard, a ginger scruff that covers his cheeks, both them and his ears reddened by the cold like he’s just come inside. 

She shifts uncomfortably as the silence drags on and he continues to stare, brow pulling down in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

She’s not sure if he means the literal here at his door, or here in Storybrooke, or here suddenly in his life again, so she answers all three. “I ran my car off the road a little ways up the street. I was hoping you might have a phone.” She holds hers out. “Mine didn’t survive.”  

“You what?” 

“There was a deer or something… Can I come in?”

Killian blinks at her, finally registering her question, her answer to his. “Aye,” he says, stepping back to let her pass. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, just, you know, cold. And stuck.” 

It’s different. The first thing she’s come back to in this town that isn’t exactly the way she left it. The large, single room is furnished in old wood and leather, the heavy curtains along windows keeping out the fury of the storm. There’s art on the walls. When she’d been here last it had belonged to a guy in his twenties: second hand couch, posters of bands and movies tacked up with push pins. 

She looks over towards the back of the apartment, the bed in the same place it had always been but new. She let out a squeal falling onto the mattress, the distance further than she expected. Laughing, ‘you need a bed frame.’ A rushed promise, ‘I’ll go to Ikea in the morning.’ Better not to pay attention to that. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She shakes her head. “Just need a tow.” 

“Do you want a towel?” She thinks she needs to answer yes to one of his questions or he might not stop asking them. Her hair is soaked, snow melting in her lashes, probably smudging mascara down her cheeks. 

“Sure, thanks.” She kicks off her boots. Her socks make an unpleasant, wet sound when she sets her feet on the hardwood, damp fabric squishing between her toes and she makes a face at them. 

Killian notices. “Do you want to borrow a pair of mine?” More questions.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m fine,” quickly pulling them off and draping them over her boots. She won’t be here long. 

“Cell service is down, but you can use the landline,” he offers, nodding towards the phone in the kitchen. 

“You have a landline?” she smirks before catching herself. But he sees it, his shoulders relaxing a little. 

“Comes in pretty handy when we lose power.” There’s just a ghost of that cheeky smile she remembers as she pads barefoot across his apartment, too modest to be smug but close. 

“Fair point.” She stares at the thing. Oh, right. “Do you have a number for a mechanic?” 

He hurries over to join her in the kitchen, searching through a drawer until he pulls out a business card. “Here.” Gus’s Auto Repair. 

Gus can’t come get her car out until tomorrow. “Got to be on standby for emergencies and since you’re clearly somewhere safe and not stranded on the side of the road freezing to death -”

“I don’t count. Got it.” 

Perfect. Could also have done without the somewhat patronizing comment that she shouldn’t be out driving in a blizzard. 

Killian’s waiting for her to fill him in when she hangs up, handing over the promised towel. “Looks like I’m stuck,” she tells him, wringing her hair out. 

“Sorry, love,” he sighs. “I’m sure you had people waiting on you to get home for Christmas. Do you want to call anyone? Let them know you’re okay? Make as many calls as you need.” 

She almost debates lying, pretending that yes, there is someone at home waiting for her to get back, having a fake conversation with her own answering machine rather than admitting the slightly pathetic truth. “No, it’s okay. It was just going to be me this year.” 

She’s gotten used to being on her own though. She did it for a long time before she’d ever had any family to spend the holiday with. She’d started out alone, after all, found just outside the town line, a few hours old, abandoned and wrapped in a blanket with her name on it, a small suggestion that maybe someone had loved her at one point. But nobody had come forward. 

There had been a series of foster homes after that, none sticking, in and out of Storybrooke for the entirety of her childhood. She’d had one good year, the Sheriff taking her home for Christmas, no social worker around when the latest family left her at the station. She’d always liked him, the kind man with the beard and the funny accent who let her hold his badge and chase him around the station. 

But when he’d died it had been a series of foster homes again until she’d met David in high school. Older enough and big enough to scare off bullies, he’d brought her home for dinner until his mother decided she should stay. And Emma had stayed, until David got married and moved out, until Ruth passed away shortly after, and then it was just her again, alone in Boston celebrating Christmas, eggnog and a plastic tree. 

Neither of them say anything for a moment, her last comment hanging between them until he finally breaks the silence. “I was going to warm some cider. Would you like some?”

“You got anything stronger?” 

“It’s mostly rum.” 

“Then yes.”

She takes a moment to wander the apartment rather than standing awkwardly in the kitchen with him, tracing her fingers along the back of the old leather couch with heavy blankets draped over it. She tries to reconcile her memories of the twenty-two year old she knew and this man he’s become. And while they don’t quite fit, they make sense. He’d always been this way, warm, inviting, comforting. 

“Nice place,” she says as casually as possible, as though she’s never stepped foot in this room before. He’s put up Christmas decorations, lights and pine branches, little wooden trees and reindeer sculptures. Emma looks over at the massive fir in the corner. “Your tree doesn’t have any decorations on it,” she tells him absentmindedly, because focusing on that is much easier than focusing on how familiar and comfortable the place feels. 

“Aye, we’re decorating it tomorrow,” he explains, scratching behind his ear in the same way he always did when he was nervous. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one. “Your brother and Mary Margaret are coming for dinner.” 

She takes a seat on the sofa, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees, bare toes curling over the edge of the cushion as she tries to figure out what to do next. Right, she’s stuck in Storybrooke for the night. “Sounds fun.” The words fall flat.

He hums, then stops what he’s doing, deep breath, hands gripping the edge of the counter, bracing himself for whatever’s about to come. “Why are you here, Emma?” The question is hard, she can tell, his jaw clenching and shoulders tight.

“In Storybrooke?” 

“For starters, yes.” 

“I was chasing a skip,” she sighs. “He was hiding out here and I thought I could catch him, collect the bounty and be back in Boston before the end of the night.”

“It’s Christmas.” 

“I didn’t really have any other plans...” 

“What about David and Mary Margaret? Do they know you’re in town?”

“No. And I don’t want them to. I said I couldn’t come - it would just hurt their feelings if they found out.” 

“And that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“The only reason you’re in Storybrooke.” She nods, wrapping her hands around her cold toes, resting her chin on her knee, his gaze hot on her, reading her in that way he’d always been able to. “Alright.” He brings over a steaming mug, sets it down on the table in front of her. “So what now?” 

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she winces. 

“Just stay here, love,” he sighs, like his offer is an apology. “It’s hell out there. I’ll take the couch for the night. It’s better than freezing to death in your car,” he adds when she doesn’t answer right away. Emma bites her lip. She’d been considering it - he knows her too well. Killian raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to try not to take offence to you deciding which is actually worse,” he tells her and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. 

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, her answer also an apology, for disappearing from his life without a word, for bursting back into it without explanation. “Thanks.” 

“Good,” he says, then breathes, “bloody ghost of Christmas past,” into his mug. 

Emma takes a sip of her cider, immediately coughing when the burn of spiced rum hits her throat. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” she coughs again and he smirks, taking a more dignified drink of his own. “Listen, I appreciate you letting me stay here and not freeze to death or whatever,” she tells him when he takes a seat next to her on the couch, leaving as much space between them as possible. “But I don’t want to ruin your night if you have plans…”

“Nothing important.”

“What were they?” She’s horrible, doing this to him twice. 

He shrugs. “I usually spend Christmas Eve on my own before the big hoorah tomorrow. Drink spiked cider, watch a Christmas movie… I usually take a walk along the coast first but, well, between the storm and you showing up here like the Little Match Girl, I think I’ll skip that part this year.” He smiles crookedly at her, the same way he had another Christmas Eve so long ago. And her heart gives a little lurch as the memories come flooding back.

***

Maybe she was being irrational, maybe she was overreacting; people broke up all the time. But it was the coldness in his tone as he did it, the dismissal, like he never actually cared at all, like she was a placeholder until he could go and find something better that made it hurt so much. 

She was already outside, having left Neal’s place as quickly as she could, already halfway down the road, halfway towards god-knows-where before she even realized that it was snowing, that it was cold. But it wasn't like she could bring herself to go back. She couldn’t go home either. Not to that house where Ruth would have been only a year ago, would have known what to say and what to do to make everything better - that house where it was just her now. 

He’d just ended it. Just like that. As though they hadn’t spent almost a year together, as though they didn’t have plans to go to Boston in the morning for a little Christmas holiday. As though they didn’t already have tickets. He ‘wanted to see what else was out there’. She knew what he meant but didn’t say. He wanted to see who else was out there. 

She was stranded. Stuck on a windy road in this horrible town with nowhere to go, nobody to call. Everyone was gone or celebrating with their loved ones. She was running out of those. She knew there was really only one person she could call - one person who would pick up and come find her, regardless of the fact that she’d never actually called his number before.

Headlights shone down the winding road, the sound of a car slowing echoed on the quiet street. The engine turned off, the door slamming shut before footsteps crunched in the snow. “Swan?” Killian came running over. “Swan, what happened?” She hadn’t told him much on the phone, just asked if he could come, and he looked so worried now, so much like he actually cared, like she actually mattered, that it chipped away at the walls around her heart just enough that she couldn’t keep the hurt out anymore.  

“I didn’t know who else to call.” The tears overwhelmed her and she let him pull her against his chest. Maybe it should have felt strange, but instead his arms felt solid around her. His fingers stroked through her hair the way Ruth used to and it was something she needed more desperately than she realized. All that soft affection that he always showed her, that she’d always held for her brother’s friend - the one who always smiled at her, always teased her, always cared - flooded her as she tightened her grip on his jacket.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked when she’d finally managed to stop crying, to pull her face from the collar of his shirt she’d definitely ruined. He wiped at her tear stained cheeks. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked before cocking his head at her and raising a brow. “Or maybe for me to murder someone?” She snorted out a laugh, his smile relieved if still tentative. 

“I’m fine… Neal and I just broke up.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, and then, “Would you like me to murder him?” She snorted another laugh. “I never liked the guy anyway. Wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“He’s not worth it.” 

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I’m sorry. Thanks for coming to get me, I just... I can’t face home right now.”

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I was on my way home. Do you want me to take you somewhere else? Granny’s maybe?”

“It’s almost midnight,” she pointed out. She couldn’t believe she called him this late - and on Christmas Eve. But she just… needed him. Nobody else would have been able to make her laugh just now. 

“Right.” 

“This is so stupid. I’m not even crying over him. I don’t know why I’m crying at all,” she insisted, rubbing harshly at her eyes in frustration. “I just - this town fucking sucks. I need to get out.” Her laugh was bitter. “Neal and I were supposed to go to Boston in the morning. We were gonna spend Christmas there together. I even have the stupid ticket.”

He considered her for a moment and she thought maybe he got it, the urge to escape for a little while, forever. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Come with me.”

They walked along the edge of the water, waves crashing against the shore, surface refusing to freeze despite the cold. Killian didn’t say anything, just kept her hand in his and led her further down the beach until he finally came to a stop, looking out at the sea. She followed his gaze.

“What are we doing?” 

“Looking at the water.” 

“Okay… Why?” 

He huffed a laugh, sitting on the snow-covered sand. “I thought you might find it soothing.”

“It’s cold.” 

“It is,” he agreed, nodding but not moving to get up. With a sigh she plopped down beside him, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I come here whenever I’m pissed off and need to get away,” he shrugged. 

“You get pissed off?” She didn’t think she'd ever seen him lose his temper. He was always so calm, even when he had just as much reason as her to want to curse out the whole world. Killian smiled, picked up a rock and tossed it into the water. She did the same, and then did it again, the splash satisfying against the roar of the waves before it was swallowed up by the rest of the sea. She sighed, shutting her eyes and letting the sound of the water fill her ears and calm her anger, dull her hurt a little. 

“You know this is still Storybrooke though, right?” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But the water always kind of feels like its own place, everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s easier to imagine being somewhere else here.” 

“Poetic,” she teased, turning back to watch the water a little longer, the waves pulling at something in her every time they slipped back from the shore, like they were trying to drag the words from her chest. “I feel like an idiot. I think I knew he wasn’t a nice guy, deep down.”

“You’re not an idiot, Swan. You fell in love. Happens to the best of us.” 

“Maybe.” Was it love though? Or had she just clung onto someone in the hopes that she could make them stay, that they’d be the first not to disappear on her. “I think this town is cursed.” 

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Cursed?” 

Emma threw another rock into the ocean. She didn’t know how to explain it to him, something she’d started believing as a kid, when every family she found left her here alone, as everyone she cared about in this town was ripped from her one by one. It became a lot easier to try not to love them, to keep David and Ruby at arm’s length after Ruth died, to choose a guy she knew she couldn’t completely open her heart to. And to ignore the way she felt whenever she was around Killian, the pull and the longing, how easy and tempting it would be to just pour her whole heart out and trust him not to judge her, not to hurt her. 

“Well,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his, smile crooked. “That’s one of the nice things about Christmas, magic in the air and all that. Probably enough to break a curse.” 

It was so cheesy and she wished she could believe him, but years of heartbreak just made it impossible. Emma looked away from him, pulled her coat more tightly around herself, a shiver running through her and she changed the subject. 

“Do all of your philosophical ideas involve Christmas and frozen beaches?” she asked, tucking her chin into the neck of her coat. “Because we probably could have looked at the water from inside. And then I might still be able to feel my ears.”

He laughed and she breathed a sigh of relief - he was gonna let her off the hook. He wasn’t going to make her talk about her stupid cursed life in this stupid cursed town because he got her. She didn’t need to explain it to him. She never did.

“Baby,” he teased.

“They’re going to fall off, Killian,” she insisted. “And it’ll be your fault.”

His hands came up to either side of her face, fingertips chilly but palms warm as they covered her ears and her heart stuttered in her chest. 

“Better?”

She nodded, swallowed. Slowly, his amused smile slipped and she could tell he was trying to read her. Emma slipped her hand into one of his, holding them both against her cheek. She would blame the waves, drawing her stupid, battered heart out of her chest, or maybe the cold, urging her towards all of the warmth inside of him, but suddenly she was leaning across the space between them, pressing her lips to his. 

Killian froze and she pulled back, panicked. Shit. Shit, she’d completely misread that. It was stupid and impulsive and now she’d probably ruined whatever it was they had, this little bit of good that she’d just tried to grab onto.

He didn’t let her go, pulled her back to him, mouth hot against hers, fingers sliding from her cheek to weave through her hair, the other curling around her waist. It should have felt strange, it was probably a mistake, but it was Killian, and this felt long overdue. So she let him pull her closer, let him hold her like he had on the side of the road and kiss her like he was trying to break whatever curse would eventually rip him away from her. 

***

“Guess I kind of ruined your night alone.” 

“I don’t mind the company,” he promises. “So long as you don’t comment on the movie.”

“Why would I - Oh, no.” 

“Oh yes,” he beams, reaching for the remote. “Every Christmas Eve.”

Emma groans as the music starts, an English accent giving a monologue about airports and then the dreaded words flash on the screen. Love Actually. “This is literally the worst Christmas movie ever.” 

“This is the best Christmas movie ever.” 

She rolls her eyes but does her best not to say anything as the movie begins, Killian getting up at one point to make a bowl of popcorn - with Milk Duds mixed in so they get all melty. Her silence doesn’t last very long, the rum making her bolder, making her forget the awkwardness. She finally reaches her breaking point.

“This is so stupid. They can’t even understand each other. And they’re just saying the complete opposite thing the whole time.”

He looks over at her, exasperated, head rolling over the back of the couch. “People don’t have to be able to say they love someone out loud for it to be real.” 

She doesn’t have an answer for that, staring at him for a moment before shutting her mouth and turning back to the movie. He has a talent for saying things without saying them. It’s only a few minutes before she can’t help herself again.

“Okay, but even you have to admit this one is terrible.”

“There’s… something romantic about loving someone from afar.” He’s not even buying it. 

“Sure, but this is just stalking.” 

“It’s just one story.” 

“Out of a hundred other terrible stories. Like this girl. Just don’t pick up your phone and -”

“Swan, I will make you sleep in your car.” 

“I just don’t get what the appeal of this movie is. Everyone makes such a big deal out of-” She’s interrupted by a handful of popcorn shoved into her mouth, Killian licking melted chocolate off his finger. 

“There,” he says, pleased with himself. “Now if you promise to be quiet for the rest of the movie, we can watch Home Alone after, alright?” 

 Emma just stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He did not. When he looks up at her, back on his half of the couch but not quite as far away, a smirk starts to tug at his lips, stretching wide when she spits the popcorn out into her hand. 

“You’ve got chocolate all over your face,” he tells her, barely holding back a laugh. 

“Whose fault is that?” She drops the handful of mushy popcorn into her empty mug, wiping her palms on her jeans. 

Chuckling he reaches out again, wiping his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says - he’s not - looking at her with very serious, and very insincere, apology. 

His attention drops to her mouth, hand settling on her cheek, and traces his thumb along her bottom lip where she’s sure there’s more chocolate. But all she can focus on is how close he is and how much she wants to replace his thumb with his mouth and her breath hitches. ‘Are you sure?’ whispered between heated kisses, his name broken on her lips, her fingers desperately fisting in his hair, falling apart on his tongue, the heat of him inside her, gentle touches and praise breathed against skin as they came together again and again. 

His eyes dart back up to hers and she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as the amusement in his eyes fades and then she’s waiting for him to do something, even if they probably shouldn’t, even if she definitely shouldn’t. 

But she doesn’t stop him when he pulls her mouth down to his, lips slanting across hers as he drags her closer. They knock over the bowl, popcorn scattering across the floor when she climbs into his lap, fingers digging into his hair, his digging into the skin at her hip as he presses himself against her, tongue seeking hers. 

This is probably a bad idea. In fact it’s definitely a bad idea, because she’s been exactly here before and she knows how it ends. But his lips are on her neck, tracing the line of her jaw, and she lets out a small whimper, hips rolling over the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. He catches her mouth again with a growl, one she knows all too well, and his hand slips under her sweater, calloused palm rough against the skin of her back as he arches his hips up into her, hard and hot against her centre. 

She wrenches her lips from his, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and hurrying to undo them. She lifts her eyes to his face, finds him watching her, his own gaze dark and heady, hesitates on the next button. “I’m going back to Boston in the morning.”

“I know.”

Her heart beats frantically against her ribcage, as she tries to read his expression beyond the obvious want and temptation. So long as they’re on the same page, she tells herself. That’s all that matters. This isn’t like last time. 

***

They stumbled through the door, practically running from the beach, giggling like kids the whole way. He’d kissed her for ages out there by the water, until she told him she thought she would lose her fingers from the cold and suggested they go somewhere warmer. 

Now that they were inside though - the apartment new, some of his things still in boxes on the floor - he hesitated. So she took his face in her hands like he’d done before and kissed him, feeling the doubt melt away as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. 

They fiddled with zippers of puffy coats, laughing as they unravelled too-long scarves, boots kicked off as they crossed the length of his apartment, Emma letting out a squeal when they fell onto the mattress, the distance further down than she’d expected. 

“You need a bed frame,” she laughed, lip caught between her teeth.

“I’ll go to Ikea in the morning,” he promised, claiming it for himself, fingers going to her hair as he deepened the kiss. 

It wasn’t what she expected. She’d never kissed anyone this long before, hadn’t ever taken things quite this slow. But he seemed content to continue kissing her for the rest of the night. When she arched up against him he sucked in a breath, pulling back to look at her, “Are you sure?” 

There wasn’t any question, not for her. She kissed him again, clothes pulled off slowly, his mouth finding her neck, her stomach her breasts, hands hot on her skin, pulling her closer - always closer. 

He asked again, settling between her legs, a kiss to her thigh - “This okay?” - words breathed hot against her center, waiting for her nod before putting his mouth on her. Killian took his time, finding what made her breath hitch, what made her cry out and what made her hips arch up desperately against his tongue, building her up slowly, bringing her over the edge and leaving her trembling. 

She kept waiting for him to take what he wanted, to rut into her and find his release, surprised he’d waited this long already. Instead his lips mapped her skin, discovering places he hadn’t yet, drawing his tongue across her body like ink, leaving marks wherever he found a gasp or a sigh - a secret trail for him to follow, hidden from the rest of the world. 

He traced the marks with his fingers, mouth falling over hers and they slipped between her thighs, leaving her writhing when he found that sensitive bundle of nerves. She fell apart again, fingers deep inside her, lips speaking praise against her skin until she was left a shaking, boneless mess.

“Gods you’re beautiful, Swan,” he breathed into her ear like a confession, one he’d held onto for a long time. 

Emma snuck a hand between them, taking hold of him once more and canting her hips up until she felt him brush against her heat. His groan echoing hers as he slid in just the tiniest bit. “We can stop if you want.”

She shook her head, taking his face in her hands and meeting his lips in a messy kiss. “Please don’t,” she breathed into his mouth, fingers fisting too tightly in his hair. 

He took her slowly, the same way he’d kissed her, the same way he’d done everything. She wasn’t used to slowly, to the way his lips kept finding her own, tracing along her neck, hand finding her breast and tongue rolling languidly over the sensitive peak as he moved inside her. 

This wasn’t fucking, this was something she’d never done before, something tender and gentle. He made love to her, drawing out her pleasure, staving off his own until she was shaking, nails digging at his back, forehead pressed to hers as he brought them both over the edge.

He stole an exhausted, sated kiss from her lips before settling beside her, pulling her to him. Emma lay her head on his chest, tracing absentminded patterns through the small smattering of dark hair as she tried to school her breathing, to keep her eyes open. 

His fingers ran over the length of her arm, turning every few minutes to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

She let out a low, lazy giggle. “How would I not be okay right now?” 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined when you asked me to pick you up tonight,” he sighed. He was berating himself. She could hear it in his voice, imagining himself a villain for coming to her rescue, for healing her heart just a little bit - and then making her come three fucking times. 

Emma raised her head, meeting his self-conscious gaze and smiling softly. She leaned in, kissed him, relieved when he kissed her back, hand weaving through her hair again like maybe he was trying to keep her there a little longer. When she pulled away he gave her a crooked, hopeful little smile, only growing when she pressed her lips to his again, tasting it. 

Tucking herself back against his chest, he curled his arm more tightly around her, fingers tickling along her spine. “Merry Christmas, Swan,” he whispered into her hair. 

***

She kisses him again, finishing with the fastenings of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. He leans forward enough to shrug it off, not breaking the kiss except to pull her sweater over her head and then dragging her back to him as soon as she’s free of it. 

Emma traces the line of his shoulders, over his chest and the hair that blankets it, nails scratching down his stomach, relishing in every inch of soft skin and hard muscle beneath her fingers. His mouth wanders the length of her neck again, tongue teasing the line of her collarbone and down through the valley between her breasts, leaving goosebumps and fire in his wake. 

She gasps when he tugs one of the cups of her bra out of the way, taking her nipple between his teeth. She lets out a curse, back arching into him, hips grinding roughly against the outline of his cock through their jeans. Her fingers fist in his hair, holding him there as he licks and sucks at the sensitive peak.

His hands slide along the outside of her thighs, palming her ass and squeezing as he drags her slowly, firmly over his length before standing, taking her with him, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His mouth finds hers again as he walks them across the room to his bed, kneeling on the edge before dropping her onto the mattress. 

His hands quickly find the waist of her jeans, tugging them open and Emma catches her laugh between her teeth as she helps him slide the tight denim past her ankles. He tosses them aside while she pulls the remaining fabric from her chest. Killian pauses, looking her over slowly and she does the same. 

It’s really not fair how much better he looks after so much time - he was already handsome enough when he was young. Now the angle of his jaw is sharpened, his shoulders broader, the hair on his chest darker and thicker. Her tongue runs over her bottom lip wantonly before she tugs him back down to her.

He lowers himself between her open thighs, the scratch of his chest against her breasts and his beard against her neck making her writhe beneath him. Killian’s hand slides over her waist, down across her stomach before going in search of where she’s wet and aching for him. 

“Fuck,” she breathes as his fingers tease their way between her legs, turning to hiss “yes” against his ear when he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves there, rolling it under his thumb. 

“Tell me if you want this.” - making sure, always making sure - as he slides a finger inside her, adding a second and thrusting slowly, dragging against her walls in toe-curling torture. It takes her a moment to find her voice as he continues to fuck her with his hand, thumb and fingers working in a steady rhythm, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach.

“God yes,” she tells him, remembering how good he felt inside of her, how full and perfect and right. She scrambles for the button of his jeans, popping it free and making quick work of the fly before sliding her hand inside. She finds his cock, hard and straining in her palm, and he lets out a choked moan when her fist tightens around him. 

“Now?” he asks, voice strained, and she nods, not able to find her own with his fingers working her faster, the circles he presses into her clit holding her right on the cusp of her climax. 

Her hands shove at the waist of his pants, using her feet to push them further down. He slides away from her, standing to kick them off, and she bites her lip, moaning at the sight of his length bobbing against his stomach. She hears his slightly desperate groan before he’s on her again, mouth claiming hers, hot and messy, tongue sliding past her lips and drawing a whine from her chest.

Taking himself in hand and lining his cock up with her entrance, he hesitates only until she cants her hips, trying to take him inside herself. Her hand finds his back, the other grabbing at his ass as she hooks a leg around his thigh and urges him forward. 

They both cry out when he finally sheaths himself inside her, thrust rough, cock thick and long as he slides out slowly only to push back in hard, hips snapping against hers. God yes, she thinks as he fucks her. This is what she’d expected last time, the desperate race towards the edge, her whole body rocking every time he drives back into her, the roll of his hips powerful and so fucking good. 

She starts to writhe beneath him, the knot coiling so tightly inside her that she can feel it about to snap. His lips are at her neck, his hand reaching for one of her breasts, palm rolling over her nipple and then pinching it between his fingers as he moves faster. Her nails dig into his sweat slicked back, cries growing louder and more frequent, his curses and praise spoken into her skin between the slide of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth until her back bows sharply, pleasure ripping through her as she comes apart around him. 

Emma can feel him following after her, fucking into her at a frantic pace until his own release takes him and he goes stiff in her arms. He collapses on his back beside her, his breathing ragged as her own as they both lay there and wait for their hearts to stop racing and the sweat to cool on their skin. 

Killian rolls onto his side, hand reaching for her, fingers spreading over her stomach just below her breast, different from the way he’d pulled her to him last time. His thumb traces absentmindedly along the underside of her breast and she knows they understand each other - or he understands her at least. A one time thing. She’s leaving in the morning. 

Killian clears his throat, voice still raspy when he speaks. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know you hated the movie that much.” 

She laughs, boneless, exhausted. “Anything to get out of watching it.” 

He raises himself up a little, looking over towards the TV. “I don’t think it’s over yet, actually.” He raises a brow. “We could probably still catch the big finale.” 

Emma groans, long and suffering. “Please no. I literally can’t think of a worse way to spend the night.” 

“Oh?” he asks and she can tell just by his tone what he’s thinking, even before his arm snakes around her waist and he pulls her back to him, rolling and bracing himself above her. “What did you have in mind, then, love?” There’s that cheeky smile again.

His lips are already teasing, feather-light over the spot below her ear, grinding his hips suggestively against hers before she can answer. She’s tempted to let him continue, to let him make her fall apart again and again for the rest of the night. But, “I’m leaving in the morning.” 

He nods, giving a nip to her jaw as he answers, “Aye, so you’ve said. Many times now.” 

“So this - tonight - needs to be a one time thing.”

Killian pulls back, searching her face carefully. He brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I know you’re not staying, Swan. I won’t ask you to.” Not again, lingers where the words stay unspoken. “This was all just a freak, horrible series of events brought on by bail skippers, snow storms and devilish good looks that landed you into my bed tonight. And in the morning you’ll be on your way back to Boston and I’ll be here trying not to replay everything in graphic detail while I sit next to your brother at Christmas dinner.”

“Ew,” she laughs, shoving at his shoulder. 

“But it’s not morning yet,” he finishes, tongue tracing the inside of his lip, gaze fixed on her mouth, waiting. A one time thing for a second time. A bad idea, a dangerous one. A desire she’s going to give into again, one she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to resist. She’ll never stop wanting him, not so long as she stays here.

“No,” she says, sliding her fingers into his hair, tongue sneaking out to tease the seam of his lips. She’ll be gone tomorrow, tonight doesn’t matter. “It’s not.”

***

He’s already up when her alarm goes off in the morning, Emma blinking crankily against the light shining through the windows. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, wrapped up in the familiar spice of salt and leather that clings to the sheets and her pillow, skin bare against the warm blankets. He’s standing by the stove puttering around with something and she watches him for a minute. It’s strange, still being here. She’s not used to her one night stands lasting into the next day.

“Merry Christmas,” he greets when she’s pulled her clothes back on and padded into the kitchen. She manages to mutter. He hands her a slip of paper. “Gus called, said to give him a ring when you were up and he’d come by with the tow.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s coffee,” he tells her, gesturing towards a pot. Her second thank you is more enthusiastic and he laughs. “I know you wanted to get up and on the road as soon as possible.” Emma hums, pouring herself a cup and drinking deeply. 

“Can I ask you something?” she ventures, thinking of returning to Boston, of leaving this town once and for all for the second time. He nods. “Why are you still in Storybrooke? I thought you’d have left a long time ago.”

Killian shrugs. “I thought about it a couple of times. It just never felt right. This was the first place that felt like home.” Emma plays her fingers over the rim of her mug, nodding like she understands. “I know that wasn’t the case for you.” 

She hesitates, trying to figure out how to explain her complicated feelings about this town. “Storybrooke never felt like home to me,” she admits. “Graham’s place did for a while,” she shrugs. “But that didn’t last very long. Without him it was just a house. Ruth’s did too. But with her gone…” 

Killian’s expression softens, sympathy without pity from someone who knows what it is to lose those you love. “It doesn’t feel like her anymore. And I love David but that home is his and Mary Margaret’s now and for me it’s just…” A house, too large and full of too much grief. “I always figured home was someplace I would miss when I left it. But they’re all just buildings,” she shrugs. 

Killian nods, looking pensively into his cooling mug of coffee. “I suppose it’s not the places but the people in them that make it home,” he says, finally looking up at her, the only person in this town she’s ever really missed, and the silence hangs heavy between them. 

She can’t read his expression, his eyes more guarded now than they used to be, his heart no longer on his sleeve like it had been when they were young. And she thinks that’s her fault. She cut him out of her life for a decade, of course he wouldn’t trust her like he used to. And yet here they are, right back where they were that morning.

She doesn’t know how he feels now, doesn’t know for certain how he felt about her then. But she does know how she felt, how seeing him again has brought back so many of those old feelings, ones she’d always hoped would fade with time, that she’d managed to ignore until now when they risk becoming fresh and raw once again. 

And she worries… most of all she worries that if she lets them come flooding back - break through the wall she so carefully constructed around her twenty-one year old heart - that she’ll want to stay. 

“Knock knock,” a voice calls, too cheery for the early hour. Killian turns panicked eyes on her. 

“What is she doing here?” Emma hisses.

“I don’t know! They weren’t supposed to get here until tonight.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mary Margaret continues, already pushing her way inside. “The door was open and we thought with the storm you might need help getting things ready and -” She stops dead in her tracks, David nearly running into her before looking up and staring in shock at the sight of his sister.

“Emma?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “What are you doing here?” 

“I thought you were in New York.” 

“Um…” she hesitates, trying to come up with a story that won’t hurt their feelings - a reason to be in Storybrooke. “Surprise?”

The lie comes almost too easily, Emma and Killian exchanging guilty winces over her family’s shoulders. She meant to come down to surprise them. The storm got in the way and she had to crash at Killian’s for the night. Parts of it are true. It was all planned. She’s thrilled to be home for Christmas. Most of it isn’t.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the day.” Her grimace is taken for guilt. She can’t spend another night here. 

There’s lots to do - or so she’s told, more the type to order in when she hosts her family for the holiday - and they put her to work. ‘Don’t worry, Swan, you can do the easy bits.’ ‘I can cook!’ ‘Whatever you say.’ 

Her insistence backfires, gagging when they ask her to help prep the turkey, nearly losing a finger chopping vegetables - ‘Give me that,’ Killian takes it from her. ‘Who gave Emma a knife?’ ‘You should be really glad I don’t have one right now.’ - until she’s banished to cookie duty.

“Think you can manage icing without injury or illness?” Killian’s smirk is shit eating and she takes the sugar and milk from him. 

“Is it supposed to be this runny?”

Once Mary Margaret has fixed the icing, she’s left with a piping bag and several tins of gingerbread. She’s halfway through, Killian’s hands on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the little man she’s decorating. 

“Did they send you here to check on me?” 

“Just some run of the mill quality control.” She’d gotten bored a little while ago - ‘two eyes, three buttons and a smile, that’s all you need to do’ - deciding to get more creative. “What on earth are those supposed to be?” he asks, eyes wide as she traces icing in the shape she wants. 

“A bow.” 

“Swan.” He’s barely holding back his laughter, face red and she narrows her eyes at him. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.” 

“What?” Emma looks down at her cookie, at the four others she’s already made - ‘they’re bows!’ - but the icing has spread, the wobbly squares at the top rounded, the two hanging ribbons melded into one. “Oh my God.”

His roar of laughter sends the others over, crowding around her horrible creation. Killian’s barely able to hold himself up anymore.  

“Oh,” Mary Margaret says, trying her best when David loses his shit too. “Well, it’ll certainly be the most phallic gingerbread we’ve ever had.” Everyone’s laughing now. 

“Got something on your mind, Emma?” her brother snorts and she shoves the cookie in her mouth, destroying - some of - the evidence. “Maybe you should help,” he tells his friend, returning to the kitchen. 

“Aye, Swan,” his voice is low, whispered against her hair, breath ghosting over her neck, “got something on your mind?" She tries to hide the way her cheeks heat, goosebumps down her spine. She does now.

They make a  pretty good team, Emma supplying the ideas while Killian does his best to execute them. The task quickly becomes a game of finding what she can stump him with. ‘Are you really gonna be smug about being good at icing cookies? That’s the bar you want to set?’ ‘I’m a man of many talents, love, some I’d be more than happy to remind you of.’  She gives up when he turns the chubby little cookie into a skeleton. “Fine, you win. I’m sure this skill will take you far in life.” 

People start arriving sometime in the late afternoon, the apartment filled with the smells of Christmas dinner, every shelf of the oven and every burner on the stove in use - her skills in the kitchen finally appreciated when she made them all mac and cheese in the microwave for lunch. Every guest wears the same expression of shock at seeing her standing with the others. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ruby demands, tactful as ever. Nice to see you too. Emma can tell by the look Ruby gives her that she doesn’t buy this being a planned surprise, but her friend pulls her into a hug regardless, a murmured promise that they’ll be talking about it more later whispered over her shoulder. When Granny asks why she didn’t stay at the inn, she repeats the story about the storm and the accident - ‘Where did you sleep?’ Ruby knows. ‘The couch.’ - and then quickly changes the subject. 

Two waist-high heads of strawberry blonde curls come hair barreling through the apartment, Killian returning the identical little girls to their parents, one swinging from each of his arms. 

“Girls, we’ve told you before,” Elsa scolds, “Uncle Killian is not a tree.” 

“Aye, only his head is made of wood”’ 

“Is that the best you’ve got, brother?”

Emma watches them play, the girls infatuated with their uncle, smiling into the rim of her wineglass as they attempt to tackle him onto the couch only to be tossed onto the cushions over and over. 

She’s caught, Killian looking over, eyes meeting hers, his own lips quirking up tentatively and she feels that same soft warmth from all those years ago spreading through her chest. She doesn’t know what it is, not exactly, but she knows that she’s missed that smile for the last ten years. 

One of the twins hurls herself at his stomach sending him falling backwards with an ‘oof’ and Emma has to bite back her laugh, turning and pretending she’s been listening to the conversation when someone asks her a question. 

Killian’s apartment is small packed in with what feels like half the town, and when it’s time for dinner everyone finds a spot to sit or stand, plates balanced in their laps or set down on a counter or an end table, whatever surface they can find. Emma manages to snag a spot on the couch, Granny and Elsa next to her, wrapped up in an intense conversation over the benefits of real versus plastic trees. 

“How are you fairing?” He takes a seat on the arm of the sofa, one leg still on the ground, plate resting on his knee, and handing her a glass of wine. 

“Much better now,” she beams, taking the drink from him. She’s never had so many conversations about her childhood in her life, everyone determined to reminisce about the way they used to spend Christmas, the dinners and the ice skating and the secret party that Ruby would always throw in the basement of the diner. ‘Turns out Granny knew all along.’ The old woman only shrugs, impish smile on her usually dour face. 

Some of it hurts, remembering the mornings with Ruth, the presents and the hot chocolate - and the mornings where there were no trees, no presents, no smiling foster parents or siblings. She’d suppressed all of them for so long, determined to forget the way her happiest moments were taken away, forever tinged with sadness so that she’d forgotten how good they’d once been. 

When David talked about the Christmas market they all used to hurry to, buying each other cheap gifts from the weird collection of crafts and things people found in their attics, she felt a twinge in her chest. A little snow globe pressed into her hand, red ears and cheeky smiles. A little skull and crossbones she’d taken because she thought she had to, then given away to the first person who ever really understood. She realizes that a part of her does miss it - the people, not the places, like he’d said. 

“I’m sorry you got stuck here. I know it’s hardly how you wanted to spend your Christmas.” 

“It could be worse,” she admits. 

“Here, I saved you one.” Killian hands her a little gingerbread man from the corner of his plate. 

“Awe, you’re giving me a little gingerbread dick?” 

“It’s clearly a bow. Get your mind out of the gutter, love.” 

They’re all decorating the tree - Killian’s nieces arguing over which would get to climb on his shoulders to put the star on top - when she sneaks off to the bathroom, the only place in this apartment with a door that closes. 

She just needs a minute to herself, needs a second to reconcile her dislike of this place and the fact that she’s actually enjoying herself. It’s never been safe to let her guard down, but it just keeps slipping around him, and it’s getting harder and harder to put it back up. And she doesn’t know why - after all this time… 

Something catches her eye when she looks in the mirror - ready to give herself a talking to, to remind herself why she has that guard at all - a piece of a chain hooked over the corner, the rest fallen behind the back of the frame. 

It’s a necklace, long and worn, the silver tarnished from years of wear. A little skull and crossbones hangs from the end. He kept it. All these years. It slips into her pocket, as easily as it had that day at the market, another secret kept between them. 

“Are you coming back with us?” David asks when everyone has started to make their way home, the hour late, the glasses empty. 

“Actually, I think I’ll stay for a bit. My car is still here…” Emma looks from her brother to where Killian is clearing dishes, his eyes lifting to hers for only a second before dropping them quickly. She doesn’t say she needs to get going, can’t quite bring herself to - can’t quite bring herself to leave, to have this be their final goodbye. “If that’s okay?” His guard is slipping too. She can almost read him again when he nods, enough to know that he might not want her to leave just yet either. 

They’re curled up by the fireplace, the dishes done and the room tidied. There’s only the two of them and the silence of the empty room, their voices sounding so much louder against it with everyone gone. 

“Do you want to call Gus?” he asks, looking at the time after they’ve talked about the party, gossiped about all their friends. “If you want to get back to Boston tonight you probably shouldn’t wait much longer.” 

Oh. “Right.” She tucks her hair self-consciously behind her ear, staring at the fire.

“Unless…” 

She looks up. Unless? There’s no question posed, the sentence never finished. But neither moves for the phone. She can’t leave. Not without telling him. Not without knowing if it’s all in her head. Not when it means leaving him behind. Not again.

“Killian, I -” Just say it. “I’m sorry.”

His guard is back up, weak and struggling, but it’s there. “For what?” 

“For how I left things - for how I left you.”

Warm fingers tracing over her skin, sitting on the edge of the mattress in the cool morning air, bare toes on the floor, always braced to run. ‘You know you could stay, if you wanted...’ Heart screaming to be heard, too terrified of what could happen if she stayed, if she let herself love him like she wanted to. An apologetic shrug, a glance over her shoulder, shirt pulled over her head, boots laced. ‘I already have the ticket.’ 

“You don’t have to apologize, love.” It slips again, a small sigh as he shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. It was one night, however I felt about it… whatever I might have wanted or hoped for was on me, not you.” But it wasn’t just one night, not really. She can’t make herself say the words. Felt, wanted, hoped, past tense. “I always wondered though.”

“Wondered what?”

He can’t look at her and it hurts. “If you left because of me. If you regretted it or if I did something.” 

Her heart sinks. She was such an idiot. “Is that why you never called?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.” 

“I never regretted you, only that that night made it so much harder to leave.”

“Why did you leave?” 

“Because of you,” she says finally, the heartbreak clear on his face even as he nods in acceptance. “Remember how I told you I thought Storybrooke was cursed?” Another nod. “Almost everyone I’ve ever cared about in this town is gone - died here, left me here.” Her parents, the Swans, Graham, Ruth, Neal… “I had to leave. And I couldn’t ask you to come with me because -” Her hands shake, her biggest fears spoken out loud. “What if it wasn’t Storybrooke, what if it’s just me? What if I’m the one that’s cursed - to lose everyone I love… I couldn’t lose you too.” But she had, in a way that was so much worse in the end. 

“Lose me?”

“I thought it was safer to stay away from you, from everyone I loved - for them… and for me. I know it doesn’t make any sense but I -” He puts a hand over hers, fingers twisting in her lap.

“No, it doesn’t. But I get it.” 

She forces herself to look at him. It takes a while - to stop feeling like you have to. And she’s so sick of running. “I would take it back if I could.” She pulls the necklace from her pocket, slips it into his hand, his breath hitching. “Because the truth is…” Deep breath. “I miss you. So much, Killian.” 

The silence stretches on too long, her whole world hanging on whatever he’s going to say next, his thumb tracing over the pendant. “Emma.” He hesitates again. Just say something. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left.” Something sparks in her chest, hope. “I think maybe I couldn’t leave,” his fist closes around the necklace, “because I was hoping you’d come back.” 

His words are rushed, spoken in a breath before his hands are in her hair and he pulls her to him, his kiss long and deep and perfect. She missed this. She missed him. She tries to apologize again, ‘I’m sorry’ whispered against his lips, but he steals the words from her tongue. ‘Later. We can talk later.’

Later is good, later means after, later means this is more than just right now, more than just tonight. No more one time things - this is the third time, after all. 

He lays her down in front of the fire, hands more cautious than they’d been last night, peeling the clothes from her body until she’s bare beneath him and he can find the map he drew so long ago, lips tracing the lines that have faded from her skin. 

They make love like they had the first time, no desperate attempt to fuck away the feelings they couldn’t voice, no need to rush for fear they would run out of time. She presses all of her apologies into his body, feels the forgiveness in his touch, fingers tight in her hair when she takes him in her mouth and begins to learn him as well as he does her.  

He breathes words that aren’t quite love but could be into the space between them, Emma rocking above him, hands on his chest, his at her hips, dragging him towards the edge with her. Sitting up and pulling her to him, skin pressed to skin, repeating the same words against her lips, against her neck and breasts, ‘I love you,’ spoken somewhere in the moments before they find release, neither sure who said it, only that it’s true as they fall apart, clinging to one another, no intention to let go. 

“Does this mean you’re staying in Storybrooke?” he asks when they’re laying intertwined on his floor.

Emma lifts her head, resting her chin on his shoulder and giving a small, hopeful smile. “Do you want me to?” 

“Aye, I do. But only if you want to stay.”

She presses a kiss to his chest, above the pendant that now hangs around his neck. “I want to stay with you,” she tells him quietly, heart still timid, unused to being seen. “No matter where that is.”

“There’s always Boston.” 

“You’d come to Boston with me?” 

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb tracing along the length of her jaw, over her lips as he watches her with what she finally knows is love. “I’d have come with you to Boston ten years ago, Swan. All you had to do was ask.” 

She kisses him then, her words not enough to do justice to the way his burn through her, fill her from the inside out. He rolls them, settling above her, beginning his exploration again, fingers and mouth finding her where she’s hot and desperate for him, driving her to the edge with careful strokes of his tongue and languid touches that leave her writhing and begging for more. 

She comes apart at his hands once again, kisses trailed up her body before he claims her lips with his and pulls her into his side. Limbs tangled, skin warmed by the fire, her fingers trace patterns over his heart, patched up to match her own. ‘I could get used to celebrating Christmas like this.’ He presses a kiss to her temple, words breathed into her hair, ‘Then we will, love, every one.’

❄️❄️❄️

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

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#cs secret santa #captain swan #cs fanfic #cs christmas au #the ghost of bloody christmas past #only one bed #cs angst #cs smut #cs fluff #cs ff #ouat au

[walviemort]

“She stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair. And fondly I watched as she moved here and move there...”

As the birth of their baby got closer and closer, Killian had taken to singing to their baby as he or she rolled around in his (fairly large) stomach. And every single time, Emma was hit with a wave of emotion at the beautiful sight. So who could blame here if she snuck a photo of it one night, while she was folding laundry on their bedroom floor and he was perched on the bed, tracing his belly?

“And then she turned homeward with one star awake,” he hummed, then found Emma’s eyes. “Like the swan in the evening moves over the lake.”

Well, she obviously had to abandon what she was doing, so she could hop up next to him and press a sincere kiss to his lips. Then she curled up in his side (the only way they could cuddle right now) and rested her hand on his bump, feeling their kid’s movements as he continued to sing to both of them.

(original)

#killian mpreg #kj manip #my manip #cs ff #cs fluff

[middlemistcs13]

Here’s a mix of prompts from @novelbear with some CS fluff! 

Prompts: letting them take a sip of your drink, then another, then another, then- you might as well let them keep it + when they are holding your hand and absently place a kiss on your knuckles + “i look like a mess” “the prettiest mess”

The Summer Bash

She loved her husband. She really, and truly loved him. She also loved her job. It gave her a sense of purpose and made her feel like her life meant something. However, this stupid party her husband asked her to come to of course had to be on the same night she had to put in some overtime to try and catch their suspect. It was never easy being a police detective, and Emma knew that. It just would be nice if she could get off work at a decent time every once in a while. Or at least on the evenings she already had things planned. Thankfully she packed her outfit and make-up bag with her just in case this happened, she mused as she drove over to one of Killian’s college friend’s houses where the start of the summer party was happening. She was able to manage her hair in a braid down her back despite the heat in Boston today and the numerous hours she spent outside on the case. 

As she pulled up to Robin’s house, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Robin was a super nice and friendly guy, and Emma genuinely liked hanging out with him. His fiance Regina, on the other hand, was a bit much. She came from a wealthy family, and both Robin and Regina made a good amount of money in their jobs they got after they finished their bachelor’s degrees. Regina made more than Emma and Killian ever would- combined. Their house was one of the nicest houses she’d ever been inside of. She parked her bug- Killian was constantly irritated that Emma didn’t just sell the thing and get a “more reliable and safe vehicle”- and made her way towards the large steps that adorned the front of the house. Emma didn’t bother knocking, just quietly slipped in the front door and immediately went in search of her husband. 

Emma found Killian on the back patio standing around with some of their closest friends- David and Mary Margaret, as well as August and Belle. Seeing him made the tension in her shoulders instantly dissolve, and she walked up and hugged him from behind. 

“What?” Killian asked, alarmed at some random body hugging him. He turned slightly until he saw her blond wisps of hair loose from her braid. “Oh, hello my love. I’ve missed you.” 

“Hey. Missed you too. Sorry, I’m late,” Emma replied, before pecking Killian on his lips. She was tempted to go in for another kiss after the busy and stressful day she had, but their friends were standing in front of them. She could work off her stress when they got home and were behind closed doors. She smiled and greeted their friends, before spying Killian’s drink in his left hand. “Ooh, what is that?” 

“Some sort of mixer Regina made. It’s fruity, sort of like watermelon. It’s pretty decent,” Killian said before his wife was taking the drink out of his hand. She gingerly took a sip of the concoction, before grinning and taking another sip. 

“This seems way too fruity for you, babe. There’s no rum?” Emma asked. 

“No rum, so the punch was holding me over since I will not be drinking those blasted beers Robin decided to buy.” Emma nodded her head before taking another sip of his drink and leaning into him. He was about to ask for his drink back and tell her to go get her own, but that was when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He knew she had a stressful case going on right now. She came home late last night and left around 5 this morning. His last final of the semester wasn’t until 2 pm, so he was able to sleep in once she left. But the fact of the matter was, Emma looked exhausted. He also knew she was willing to go to this party, but she didn’t love being social after she had to work later than planned. He decided not to say anything about his drink that she had now downed half of, and instead opted to pull her closer to his side and kiss her gently on the head. She looked up at him and smiled, a beautiful thing despite her obvious tiredness. “You look stunning, love.” He quietly said. 

“I look like a mess.” She retorted. 

“The prettiest mess.”

“I actually got dressed in the locker room bathroom and haphazardly braided my hair. Don’t think that equates to ‘pretty’ or ‘stunning’ mister.” Emma commented while raising her eyebrows as if to challenge him to say more. 

“While that might be true, you’re still my wife. My wife who I happen to find absolutely stunning regardless of clothing or hairstyle or the amount of make-up you have on. So, yes. You look stunning and pretty and beautiful and lovely. And I will always see you like that, no matter what.” 

“Don’t get sappy on me now, Jones,” Emma smirked, but her soft smile usually reserved for him came out despite her best efforts to disguise it with a smirk. The couple re-joined the conversation their friends were having, which involved discussions of what color they should paint the nursery for the Nolan baby who was due in five months. 

“Mary Margaret, I think you have some time before you talk about nursery colors. You guys still haven’t moved into your new place yet.” Emma smiled, secretly very excited to be an “aunt”. David was like a brother to her, ever since they were next-door neighbors in high school. David was two years older than Emma, and he definitely got very protective over her in high school and in college. Luckily, Emma was now married to her best friend after 5 years of being together, so David’s overprotective speeches were now over. 

“I know, but there’s still another week and a half before we move, and I have to have something to look forward to! School is out for the summer, so now all my thoughts are about the baby!” She gushed. Mary Margaret was also like a sister to Emma, but they couldn’t have more different personalities. Mary Margaret was always so optimistic, talking about hope, and happily ever afters and if there was one thing Mary Margaret loved more than almost anything, it was girl talk. Emma, on the other hand, was relatively pessimistic. Growing up an orphan bouncing from group home to foster home back to group home will do that to a person. Emma also preferred solitude with only Killian over large gatherings, and Emma positively despised “girl talk”. But, for the sake of one of her closest friends, Emma sucked it up and listened to Mary Margaret rattle on about all things baby.  

After an hour and a half of mingling and small talk, Emma was about ready to go home. She was tired, mentally and physically, and nothing sounded better than snuggling up with Kllian under their soft comforter. Almost as if he could sense her thoughts, Killian brought their clasped hands up and kissed their entwined fingers. 

“About ready to go, love?” He asked. She nodded her head eagerly before they made their rounds saying goodbye to all the party-goers. David and Mary Margaret picked up Killian on their way to the party, knowing that Emma was going to arrive late and they could carpool back to their apartment together. They silently walked out to Emma’s bug with Killian’s arm around her shoulders. 

“How was your last exam today?” Emma asked quietly when they reached the car. 

“I think it went pretty well, I will get my grade posted by the end of the week. I am glad to be finished for the semester, however. That means I get to spend more time with my lovely wife,” Killian smiled, giving Emma’s knuckles a kiss and squeezing her hand gently. Killian was getting his master’s in marine biology and spent his free afternoons and nights working at his brother’s bar on the harbor. 

“That just means you get to spend more time at the Jolly Roger. But, I am proud of you Killian. One more year of school before you’re all done, babe. That’s a huge accomplishment.” Emma said. Killian smiled at her words and accepted her compliments quietly. 

“You know I just work at the bar to help out with money, love. If I end up working too much for your liking, just tell me, and I can reduce my hours or quit. I can find a day job for the summer or something.” Killian said. 

“No, I know you make really good money working at the bar. It’s just been a rough few days, and I miss you. But, I’m off until noon tomorrow, so at least we get some quality time in the morning,” Emma said hopefully. 

“Of course, my love. I couldn’t dream of a better start to the day than spending time with you.” 

#captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #cs fluff #cs fic #prompts #middlemistcs13fic

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Self-Promotion Thursday: The Surprise Party

CS genre: Canon divergence

Notes: hi everyone! This story was originally posted as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but I decided today, Colin's birthday, was the perfect time for a repost.

Emma got the idea while she and Killian were cleaning up after Henry’s 14th birthday party.

Killian reached up and pulled at a streamer they’d hung above their front door. He tugged gently and then peered down at the thin paper in his hand. Emma saw the wistful look in his eyes as his ringed fingers traced the cursive letters spelling out “Happy Birthday Henry!”.

“It would seem your party was a smashing success, love,” he said, smiling down at her as she threw a couple of paper plates into the large trash bag she was lugging around their living room.

“Yeah,” she said. “Henry certainly seemed to like it, although at this point he’d probably be happy with anything we did. He’s been so happy since we all got back from the Underworld, I doubt anything could bring him down.”

Killian, stepped up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and nuzzled her neck, placing a small, chaste kiss on her shoulder. “I know precisely how he feels.”

She turned her head to meet his blue eyes. “So…you’re happy, now?”

He smiled tenderly. “I’m once again in the land of the living, I’ve married my true love, we live together in a magnificent house with a view of the sea, Storybrooke has been peaceful for well-nigh six months and our lad has opted to spend the night with his other mother, leaving us free to indulge uninterrupted in whatever enjoyable activities we wish. What’s not to be happy about?”

His smile turned to a mischievous grin as he raised one eyebrow suggestively.

Emma laughed and then thrust the trash bag at him. “I might be able to be persuaded about those enjoyable activities, but first we need to clean this place up. I am not waking up tomorrow to a trashed house.”

“As my lady wishes,” he said with a bow and another grin.

Emma watched her husband out of the corner of her eye as he slowly walked around the room, disposing of the accumulated mess produced by a big, boisterous family birthday party. He muttered under his breath, his tone awed, full of wonder, and suddenly it hit Emma.

She’d known him for several years now, but she didn’t remember him ever celebrating a birthday. She’d never even asked him when the big day was. The pain hit her then. This wonderful man who’d always been there for her still didn’t believe he mattered enough to celebrate.

“Killian,” she said, clearing her throat when she heard how wobbly her voice sounded.

“Aye, Swan?” he asked, looking up with concern at the obvious tears in her voice.

“When’s your birthday?”

His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Sometime near the end of January. It’s been years—centuries even—since I thought of such things. I lived in such darkness for so many years that something as joyful as a birthday fell by the wayside.”

Emma felt the tears rush to her eyes, and felt one slip down her cheek. He looked up quickly, always so attuned to her and her emotions—even more so now that they shared a heart. He came to her then, catching the tear with his thumb, and smiling tenderly at her. Leaning down, he kissed her gently. “It’s no matter Swan,” he said softly. “My joy now is so great that those dark days feel like nothing but a nightmare, banished by the morning light.”

She smiled at him as she cupped his face in one hand, love filling her, overflowing once more. “Good,” she said. She took his hand and tugged. “How about we go get started on those enjoyable activities.”

His grin turned teasing. “What about not wanting to wake up to the mess in the morning?”

She shrugged. “A clean house is overrated. Besides, I can magic it all away later. Much, much later, if I have any say about it.”

Emma got no more complaints from her pirate husband—teasing or not—as she led him up to their luxurious king-sized bed.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning Emma woke with a renewed purpose. She was going to throw Killian a birthday party spectacular enough to make up for all those missed years. She pushed aside the heavy comforter and sat up, running a hand through her messy hair.

Killian reached an arm around her waist, eyes remaining resolutely closed. “Come back to bed, love. Nice and warm here. Too early to rise,” he muttered.

She giggled, kissing him softly. “Sorry Killian. I’ve got way too much to do today. No time to laze around in bed.”

He cracked one eyelid and peered up at her. “Everything alright, Swan?”

She caressed his cheek. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve just got to…do some investigating. You know, the work of a sheriff around here is never done.”

He hummed sleepily. She kissed him once more. “I love you.”

He mumbled a sleepy “love you too” in return, and then sailed back into dreamland.

Emma had a long and busy day of planning. First order of business was picking up Henry from Regina’s and recruiting him as she walked him to school. Unsurprisingly, her son was on board—and incredibly excited—from the moment he realized what she was planning.

“Yeah!” he’d said. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this sooner! We should have a big surprise party for him. You know, get the whole town in on it. We should call it something he’d never suspect. Like ‘Operation Giraffe’.”

She laughed. “Why giraffe, kid?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t sound anything like ‘surprise birthday party’. He’ll never know what hit him. Besides, he really liked the giraffes that one time we took Roland and Neal to the zoo.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. “I’ll start setting things up. When you’re done with school we can start in on some serious Operation Giraffe planning!”

From there, she’d headed to the docks, found Smee and determined Killian’s actual birthday—January 26. (She’d freaked out for a minute or two, realizing they only had a few days to pull this off, but then she’d pulled it together. This town had gone to the freaking Underworld to save his life; planning a birthday party in two days was going to be child’s play.)

As the day went on, Emma met with nearly everyone in the town, and everyone eagerly offered their assistance as soon as they knew what she was planning. Her parents had set out to pick a location; Granny offered to cater the event; Belle headed to the books, researching typical birthday practices in the Enchanted Forest three centuries ago; Smee and the rest of Killian’s remaining crew offered whatever help she needed; and Leroy offered to spread the word stealthily. (She’d been a bit hesitant about that last one. Stealth wasn’t exactly Leroy’s strong suit when it came to telling the news, his preferred method being yelling at the top of his lungs. If they pulled this off without Killian figuring it out, it would be a minor miracle.)

By the time she and Henry got home later that night, decorations had been decided upon, food had been ordered, a venue had been chosen, gifts had been purchased, and the whole town had been invited.

Emma had to say; it had been quite the productive day.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Something was going on. Something was definitely going on.

Killian walked down the sidewalk of Storybrooke’s main street, only half aware of what Henry excitedly prattled on about at his side. He and the lad had taken advantage of the unusually temperate January weather for a sail on the Jolly, and now they planned to dine at Granny’s.

It had been a lovely day—the sun shining brightly, the salt breeze rifling through their hair, Henry’s excitement and enthusiasm contagious as he asked question after question about the ship. The lad was going to make quite the sailor one day.

Still…Killian frowned in concern as they continued their walk. Over the course of the past few days, Emma, Henry, the Charmings, the entire town, really had been acting quite peculiarly. Emma and the lad spent long hours secluded together, and when he asked what they’d been about, both had become resolutely mute. To make matters worse, more than once, Killian had come upon a gathering of townsfolk who had been talking animatedly—only to fall suddenly silent at his approach.

He’d heard murmurs about “the big event”, and “make sure not to tell him”, and what sounded like an odd dispute about “the color of the streamers”.

It was as though the entirety of Storybrooke was involved in something big and important that they resolutely wished to keep secret from him. Killian found the feeling of being excluded quite unpleasant indeed.

“Pardon lad?” he asked when he realized Henry was awaiting his response to a question he’d asked.

“I asked what you think of giraffes,” Henry said.

“Giraffes?” Killian asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “When did the conversation take that turn? I thought we were discussing our planned night sail to learn the winter constellations.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Killian, have you been paying attention at all? We got done talking about that like ten minutes ago.”

“My apologies,” Killian muttered. “Must have been woolgathering.”

Henry looked at him closely. “What’s up with you lately?” he asked. “You’ve been, I don’t know, moody or something the last few days.”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Nothing at all is the matter with me, mate. I might however, ask you the same question. It has seemed that something is a foot in this town, and no one has seen fit to make me privy to it. Have I…have I done something to offend? I’m well aware that I was a villain for many, many years, and it’s likely difficult for some to trust me, but…”

“What?!” Henry interrupted, stopping stalk still on the sidewalk. Killian came to an abrupt halt, only narrowly avoiding running into the lad. “It’s…it’s. Okay, I can’t tell you what it is, but you’ll find out really, really soon. But it’s nothing like that! Of course we trust you, Killian! The whole town trusts you! You may have done bad stuff before, but we all know you’re not a villain anymore. You died to save us all; what more could someone do to show they’re a real hero?”

Killian felt the relief flood him at Henry’s words—and particularly at his passion in speaking them. He’d tried so very, very hard to reform his life—to become a hero worthy of Swan, worthy of his brother, worthy of the man he, himself wished to be—and he believed he’d been successful. But there was always, always that niggling doubt that perhaps he’d been too far gone with his villainy, that he’d reached the point of no return. To hear the lad he thought of as a son reassure him so heartily—he had no words to describe how much it pleased him.

“That’s a relief to hear,” he finally murmured.

Henry smiled. “You’re going to like it; I promise.”

“I…I’m sure I shall,” Killian mumbled, having no idea how to respond.

“Come on!” Henry said after a moment. “Let’s get to Granny’s before the lunch crowd takes all the good booths.”

Killian hesitated for a moment. He trusted Henry, truly he did, but suddenly he was weary well-nigh to death of the whispers and the glances and the secrecy. “I don’t know lad,” he said after a moment. “I know we discussed dining together, but I’m suddenly quite fatigued. Perhaps…perhaps you might pick up an order to go and we could dine with your mother at home?”

Henry looked startled at the idea. “But…but Killian! That won’t work. We’ve planned this forever. Come on, you have to come to Granny’s with me.”

Startled by the lad’s insistence, Killian started walking again. “Very well,” he said, bemused, “if it’s of that much importance to you…”

“It is, Killian,” Henry insisted. “It really, really is.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

“He’s coming!” Leroy whisper shouted. “Everyone, HIDE!!”

Emma rolled her eyes as she crouched next to her parents behind the counter at Granny’s. “Is everything an emergency to that man?”

“Give him a break, Emma,” Mary Margaret said with a chuckle. “He’s excited. I don’t know if this town has ever come together to throw a surprise party before.”

Emma peered around the edge of the counter and watched the door. The doorknob turned, the bell above the door rang, and Killian and Henry stepped inside. She grinned as she saw the perplexed look on her husband’s face as he stepped into an apparently completely empty restaurant.

Suddenly Leroy popped up like a grumpy, bearded jack-in-the-box and shouted “Surprise!”

The rest of the town followed suit, and Emma grinned again as Killian jumped and instinctively pushed Henry behind him, his hook raised and ready to attack.

Slowly, Emma saw the truth dawn on her husband’s face, as he looked around at the streamers, the cake (with 35 rather than 335 candles) on the counter, the brightly wrapped gifts on a table in the corner, the banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday Killian!”, and the wide smiles of everyone around him.

The concern, fear, desire to protect faded to wonder and awe. As Emma made her way over to Killian, slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, she saw the tears in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Killian,” she whispered, just before her lips touched his.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that night, Emma lay in bed, happy and content within the shelter of Killian’s arms. She smiled into his chest as she felt him draw soft patterns against her back. Giving him a quick kiss, she raised up on one elbow and grinned down at him.

“Did you like your surprise party?”

He grinned. “Aye, although I fear you frightened a good ten years off of my life.”

She laughed. “You should have seen your face! Someone should have taken a picture. You looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin.”

He laughed with her, and then sobered. “Thank you, Emma,” he said seriously, “it was the greatest birthday party of my long life. To think everyone was there to celebrate me…it boggles the mind.”

Emma reached down and caressed his face. “Don’t you understand Killian?” she asked softly. “You’re an important part of this town. We all care about you. We all want to show you how much you mean to us.”

He looked unconvinced. “Truly?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “You have no idea how quickly everyone jumped to help as soon as I told them I wanted to throw you a party. You have so many friends here, Killian. Henry adores you, and I love you so much I wouldn’t even be able to go on without you. It’s about time we did something to show you how much you mean to us.”

“What did I ever do to deserve a wife like you?” Killian smiled softly, his eyes suspiciously moist. He brought his hand to the back of her head and brought her down for a long, slow kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Emma rested her forehead against his. “How about you show me just how grateful you are, pirate?”

He grinned. “It will be my great pleasure.”

#cs ff #my fanfiction #killian jones #fluffy fridays #cs fluff #captain swan fanfiction

[seriouslyhooked]

The Best Bad Idea (Part 3)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Part Two Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Well… it took more than a year, but at last I am back with an update to this story. I have to be honest, there were times in the last year when I doubted I would ever write a fic again. I felt that I had written the stories I wanted, and with my graduation and a new demanding job, I couldn’t find time to sustain the hobby. But with summer fast approaching, I have had a little time to look back and to search for inspiration. I knew I needed to finish this short story. I HATE that I have left it this long, but I hope, if you’ve liked it so far, you’ll reengage and revel in the conclusion of this sweet little fic. Re-reading the first two chapters, I remembered the mix of humor and pure fluff I was going for. It made me smile so big, and if part three does that for any of you, I will be more than pleased. Thank you so much for continuing on, and I hope you enjoy!

Six months later

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, Thump. Unsteady, loud, and reminding him at every quiet moment of how much he was missing his Swan. This was the state of his heart since rising this morning, leaving the bed he shared with the woman he loved and clutching at cold sheets. 

The action of waking up alone, while regrettable, hadn’t been the issue that set his cardiac system into full blown assault. Much as he hated to be parted from Emma, it was a somewhat natural occurrence. They weren’t always blessed with aligning shifts. Still, she had the day off today, and he’d imagined the morning going rather differently… 

Facing the start of a new dawn with Emma in his arms made the hours to come more than bearable, and though it may mean fatigue down the line, he always began the day just as he ended it, reminding her of how remarkable she was. He’d start with soft touches, taking her in and tracing the lines of her lithe figure. His eyes swept over every part of her, from her golden hair to sun kissed skin and the freckles on her arms that became more prominent with warmer weather. At first, he’d always forget that this was now normal. He had to remind himself that she was real, and his process of remembering meant using all his senses, brushing kisses on her skin as she slowly came awake. 

Every time Emma woke up smiling, the goodness in her heart radiating as she did. To see her happy was the best part of his life, and the only other thing that came close was the feeling he had of worthiness when she finally met his gaze. Her love was open and true, never shy and never guarded.  Despite the pain of all she’d known as a child and beyond, in spite of scars he’d borne for years and tried to hide from others, they found new meaning together and the world felt as it should. Love would turn to lust, and lust to soulful fire. Soon touch was not enough to sustain either of them. To convince himself this was more than a night’s blessed dreaming, he’d go further: tasting her, marking her, claiming her.

Memories of what had been many times, but what alluded him today merged with the beating of his heart, pulling him out of the delicious remembrance and grounding him in longing once again. 

I can’t wait anymore. I simply won’t survive it.

His eyes moved instinctively to his watch, and again he was downcast at the time displayed. The hours were creeping far too slowly. It felt like the shift would never end, and he was barely halfway through. To add insult to injury, he’d been plenty occupied the past few hours. Killian and his team had worked rounds this morning, seen numerous patients, and performed a number of consults. He’d helped David in the ER with one demanding emergency already, and started a complicated surgery of his own while waiting for Locksley to take over on the pediatric case. This would normally give the sensation of the day flying by. But not today. Not when he was so fixated on something he had to wait for.

Of course, while he was actively working, Killian was mostly fine. Maybe Killian wasn’t fully himself, but routine came easy to him, and he remained alert in the ways the job demanded. Medicine required him to be clear headed, task oriented, and to consider all outcomes no matter what plagued him. Lives were on the line, and he took that responsibility seriously. It was an honor to serve others as he did, and he had a legacy of loss to thank for that. Saving others in ways his own family and dear friends couldn’t be saved had always been his drive. But now, the beating of his heart drummed for different reasons. 

I’ve got to ask her. I know that she loves me, but what if she’s not ready? What if I push too soon? What if…

“Let me guess, woman withdrawal.”

The assertion came from beside him, and though it took him by surprise, Killian didn’t flinch. Years of active duty and trauma fieldwork had steeled his senses. Thankfully the particular damages of war were behind him, but chaos was his calling. Or rather, seeing people through the chaos. Trauma surgery filled the gaps and made something from nothing. It was about stemming the tides of terror and giving people a fighting shot when time was of the essence. Some days it felt futile, fighting against a world that took just as much as it gave. But most of the time it grounded him. Every life he saved touched countless others and, he hoped, made up for some that he’d had to take over the years.

The voice that deemed it necessary to tease him was also deeply familiar, and it prompted no fear or agitation. At least nothing more than mild annoyance.  Will Scarlet stepped into Killian’s peripheral view. They’d known each other since first enlisting years ago, had served together and trained with the naval medicine unit for a substantial block of time. When Killian came to America months back, it made sense that his best mate would join him. They neither of them had anything tying them to the land that once was home. Family connections had long since passed, and loss bonded the two men well before warfare. Now though, they were moving beyond that, retired with honors and on to new chapters. Killian was running his unit and putting down roots, and Will was doing the same as Mist Haven’s new head of ICU. 

When he finally acknowledged his friend with a look, Killian had to bite back an audible scoff at the sight before him. Will’s white coat was thrown on him haphazardly and slightly askew, rumpled and creased, and baring the feint outlines of a few dirty footprints varying in size. In some ways it wasn’t surprising. There was just something about Will. He was a brilliant doctor, a fierce and loyal friend, but he tended to look like he’d just been caught in a windstorm. If he were a betting man, however, Killian would give his last dollar to the cause of the current disarray – one Belle French, a friend of Emma’s, and Will’s… well, that remained to be defined at last recount. 

“I’m not that bad,” Killian replied, but his heart wasn’t in it. His irritability wasn’t helped by the responding laugh from his friend.

“Right. Let’s just pretend you haven’t made that ridiculous claim, which can only be called a blatant and reprehensible falsehood.”

“Blatant and reprehensible?” Killian asked. “What is this a court martial?”

“Hardly. It’s a friendly intervention. Seems reasonable since you’re scowling and staring into space in the middle of the hallway. Honestly, you need to stop sulking, mate. Whatever’s wrong with Emma -,”

“Nothing is wrong with Emma,” Killian quipped. “She’s perfect.”

“Of course she is,” Will said, this time smiling in a sign of true affection for Killian’s choice of love. “Let me rephrase. Whatever you’ve mucked up, you’ve got to get a handle on it. Find it, fix it, and let it go.”

The phrase would be seen as benign to many, but spoke to their time in the navy. In that world, speed was essential, and so was definitive response. From their earliest moments in uniform, they’d been trained to find the problem, treat the issue and ship it off to others. It was a stop and go kind of life, never fully engaging, designed to disconnect. But the motto still worked with other things, like self-doubt and overthinking. He appreciated Will’s efforts, but it still felt all for naught. 

“It’s not about what I’ve done. It’s what I want to do.”

“Should I sit down for this? Seriously, mate, I’ve never seen you in such a state. What could possibly be that bad?”

Wordlessly, Killian pulled a small black box from his scrubs pocket. His eyes stayed glued to the tiny parcel as he handed it to Will. His friend opened the clasp and let out a low whistle. Killian knew what he was seeing: a large cut diamond in a delicate shade of yellow sitting on a white gold band. Like sun turned to stone, and flanked with smaller diamonds, it was the one ring Killian found that he knew was most like Emma. He couldn’t look at it without envisioning it on her finger and the need to obtain her acceptance was all he could think about. 

“You know I love you, Jones, but I just don’t see myself settling for your cranky arse long term.”

The jest prompted its intended reaction. Killian laughed as he shoved his friend, stealing back the box. The ring had been close at hand for a few weeks now, despite the risk. It had cost more than many would ever dream of paying, and deserved proper protection, but he couldn’t run the risk of missing the right moment. He dreamed of the life he and Emma would have together, and as soon as he was able, he intended to propose. 

“I hate to make light of your clear distress, but as far as an explanation, this is still rather lacking. I fail to see the problem.”

“It’s fast. Some would say too fast.”

“Rubbish.” Will shook his head, completely rejecting that logic. “Who gives a damn what anyone else has to say. What do you say?”

“She’s it,” Killian admitted. “She’s everything.”

“Aye. That’s clear to anyone with eyes and half a lick of sense. Meanwhile, it’s just as clear that Emma is in this with you, mate. The hearts and roses and general bliss are a shared experience. So again, I ask you, what’s the hold up?”

“I can’t lose her, Will!” Killian didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he caught himself and remembered where they were, close enough to others walking up and down the corridor to be overheard. He straightened his stance and tried to reign it in, lowering his tone. “If I’m wrong – if I push too soon -,’

“Paging Dr. Jones for a code 20 – 12. Dr. Jones for a 20 – 12.”

“Was that…?” Will trailed off, looking to the speaker for clarity.

“Emma,” Killian replied. Before her name had passed his lips, his head pivoted towards the nurse’s station. There was no denying it was his Swan, and the pages always came from the nurses. Had she heard him? Was she here? He was panicked and elated all at once.

The Trauma wing’s nurse manager on shift, Anna, smiled sweetly. It was clear as day she’d anticipated his frantic search, but to his dismay she shook her head. At the same moment his phone buzzed. His hands shook as he reached for the device. Blast it all, he was a schoolboy at the prospect of his Swan. But damn if he cared. The grin on his face, despite the unknown, was undeniable, and his heart continued its staccato symphony as he read a text from the woman he loved. 

‘You know where to find me, xo’ 

“Scarlet -,”

“I’ll hold down the fort, mate.” Will offered the assist preemptively, failing to hide his mirth at the prospect. “You’ve got a woman to propose to.”

“Did he say propose?” one of the aids on the floor asked, but Killian didn’t bother with a reply. He was speeding down the hallway, pushing through the doors and into the depths of the hospital.

He made record time winding through the maze that was this building. Past the ORs and offices, other specialties and more, he made it to the great hall. He still had a ways to go, crossing through the sea of people and taking stairs two at a time. Eventually he was at the nursery, but he only spared the newborn babes a glance before soldiering on. His destination was familiar at this point, but it was also a strange suggestion. Their little oasis would no doubt be crowded at this hour with children and their families making use of the day’s soft light. No matter. Killian was hell bent on seeing his Emma, no matter the audience.

Rounding the corner to the final stretch, Killian noticed the lack of people in the hallway. Curious. Definitely curious. The closer he got the stranger it became. There was no one here, and only the quiet hum of machines and monitors. No children laughing, no babies crying. It made him stop and think. Was there an issue? An alarm of some kind?

When the windows came into view, the door that would lead to Emma bore a paper sign. The closer he got, the clearer it read. ‘Temporarily Closed.’ Beneath it, in a child’s handwriting was something unrelated. ‘Magical moment happening. Do Not Disturb!!’ The bright color crayon and questionable spelling only stopped him for a moment, then he looked outside and his heart stop. For there was Emma. And she was… simply a marvel.

Time seemed suspended as he slipped outside, the feint clicking of the door echoed out behind him. The sounds of the city came through at once, but all he saw was Emma. Wearing a red dress, with her hair down and curled, she was a vision, the same vision she’d made for on their first date. It nearly stole his breath, and certainly stole his sanity to see her like this. In seconds he was on her, taking her hand, holding her close.

“Emma,” he said, the pain of the morning released as he held her close. “God how I’ve missed you.”

Her laughter filled his entire being with warmth, the subtle gravel of the tone washing over him. It swirled in time with the light in her eyes and the humor at her lips, giving him hope in ways only she could.

“I missed you too, but I kind of had a lot to do.”

His brow furrowed, and only when she gestured at the space around them did he take it in. Hundreds of paper flowers were positively everywhere. Some were hanging from tasteful strings, fluttering in the breeze. Others wound up the benches and swings and slides. Most looked familiar. They were gifts he’d given her every day they’d been together. Some days he made only one, some days many more, but he always found a way to bring her flowers, knowing how much she loved them. Unbelievably, for each of the hundreds he’d made for Emma these past six months, there was one perfectly matching pair, and no flower stood alone. He knew in that moment she had made them, and they were all for him.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s a kind of crazy story,” she murmured, drawing his eyes back to her beautiful face. “Once upon a time there was a girl. She’d been… let’s say disappointed by life and by love.”

Instinctively his hold on Emma tightened. He hated the burdens of her past. Growing up alone as she did, having to fight so hard to survive. She was a miracle made real, and she’d become that way despite the odds. If he could take away everything that had ever hurt her he would. God above, he would. But she always reminded him that things happened for a reason, and the roads they’d traveled, both rocky and hard, had led to this, the two of them, together. He continued to listen to her heartfelt plea. 

“In fact, her missing those things set the girl on a very particular path, fixing the hearts of people in need, with a lot science and a little love. She was alone a long time, and even when she found friends and success, she often wondered if her heart would really beat in time with someone else.” She brought his hand above her chest and she brought hers to his. Sure enough, the rhythm was identical. “And then one day, she saw him and the whole world stopped. Her heartbeat skipped and on that day, she knew. She knew she would love him forever. She knew she’d found what she’d been looking for.”

“I knew too, Emma,” he promised, running his hand along her cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft curve of her lips. “From the first moments, I knew you were the most precious jewel the world over.” 

Emma smiled, radiating the joy that he felt. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but this was not the product of heartache. Instead it was possibility and promise that couldn’t be contained.

“Some people might call it a bad idea, these two hearts choosing each other. They may think the story not so smart. It might get messy. They worked together after all, and there’s always risk when letting someone in.” Killian let out a displeased grunt and his mouth hardened a bit. Unwilling to let that linger, Emma kissed him again, bringing in goodness, and calming the storm. “Those people would be wrong, Killian. So totally and completely wrong. We’re not a bad idea. We’re good and we’re certain, and the thing is, this story? It’s only just begun. 

“The past six months have been the best of my life, and every day I fall deeper and deeper in love with you,” she said, pulling back slightly to reach for one flower in particular. The petals were a delicate cream, etched in his favorite shade of gold. It matched the shine of her hair and the flecks of gold in her jade eyes, and there, in her delicate script was the question he’d been desperate to ask her: Will you marry me?

“I know it’s fast. I know it’s crazy. But sometimes, when you know you know, and I have never known something to be more true. We’re two imperfect people, but our world combined is perfect. You make it perfect. You and your thoughtful, caring, sinfully sexy tendencies. So, Killian Jones, would you-,”

Before she could finish the statement, he took back some control, tasting her and taking her in a way that completely abandoned the setting of this moment. He wanted to show her just how proud he was to claim her heart, to leave no room for questions. For as she loved him, so too did he love her. For always and so much more beyond that.

“That wasn’t exactly a yes,” Emma said minutes later when they pulled back, her eyes dazed with a look of passion, and her lips tender from his expression of love. He chuckled, taking one more small taste before stepping back. 

“Forgive me, love. My answer should be plain enough to see, but I find I can’t speak those words without being slightly selfish first. You see, I’ve been waiting an awful long time to ask you that very question, and I’d be remiss to miss the moment.”

With one swift motion he dropped down to one knee and pulled out the ring he carried with him. The shock in her eyes was clear, and then the tears at long last fell. He barely had his proposal out before she said those perfect words: ‘Yes, Killian. Yes, I will marry you.” 

“Thank God for that.” In a moment the ring was on her finger and his woman was back in his arms. This time though, their kiss was cut short by the sounds of an opened door, the shuffle of many feet, and some unexpected commentary.

“Nurse Ruby, is that the handsome prince? Mommy said there would be a prince,” a little girl asked. Killian looked over to the glass doors and felt when Emma did the same. Her gasp gave away his feelings. For it turned out they had an audience and there were dozens of people filtering in. Many of the faces belonged to their friends, but there were also a half a dozen little ones from this floor sharing the magic as well.

“It sure is, honey. And you know what happens next?” 

“They live happily ever after?” the girl asked. 

“Aye,” Killian said, loud enough for all to hear, but with only eyes for Emma. “They live happily ever after.”

Post-Note: So there we have it! I know it is a bit shorter than the other two chapters, but I just wanted to wrap this up with the cuteness and love I thought this story deserved. The world is a crazy place, and life has been hectic, but it meant the world to me to find this peace again even for a few short hours. Writing this fic this afternoon and returning to this pairing was like coming home in many ways. This has always been an outlet for me to be hopeful and grateful and in touch with the joy that does exist in my life and beyond. It has also reminded me that I have many friends who made my time writing for CS so beautiful. I miss you all. I hope you’re well. I’ll try to stay a bit more present this summer, but just remember you are appreciated and wonderful and epic. Thanks to all of you for reading and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day! xE

Just tagging a few people I know were reading this story and always showed such support: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @teamhook @resident-of-storybrooke

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs au #cs doctor au #emma swan #killian jones #ouat ff #ouat fluff #bad idea au #the best bad idea

[myfearless-love]

Art made for the CS One-shot, tasted sunshine.

Read here or here

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #ouat ff #once upon a time #captain swan fic #killian jones #emma swan #captain hook #cs fluff #cs smut #tasted sunshine #emma x killian

[jrob64]

Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)

A CS Modern AU Story

Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.

Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!

Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 6821

ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN

Story begins under the cut

Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.

Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”

“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”

“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”

“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”

“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”

Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”

“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”

When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”

“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.

Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”

“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”

“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”

“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”

Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”

“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.

“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”

Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”

“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”

Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”

He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”

Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.

“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.

“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”

“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”

She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”

“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”

His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.

After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.

“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.

“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”

She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.

“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”

“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”

They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”

David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”

“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.

There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”

David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.

“News travels fast.”

“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.

“He thinks very highly of you, too.”

Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”

“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”

“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”

“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”

Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”

Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”

“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”

“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”

“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.

K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.

E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.

It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.

  K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.

E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.

K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.

E: Oh, you most definitely should.

K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.

E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.

K: I’m always a gentleman.

Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.

E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.

K: Tell him I said goodnight.

E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.

K: I’m willing to wait.

Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“You ask me that every night.”

“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”

“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”

He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”

“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.

Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”

“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”

“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”

“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”

“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”

“I will. What’s your third thing?”

“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”

“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”

“We won’t.”

“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”

“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”

They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.

Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.

E: I’m back.

When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.

When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.

K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.

She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.

“Hello, Swan.”

“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”

“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”

“That’s very kind of him to say.”

“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”

“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”

“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”

“How about the following week?”

She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”

“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”

“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”

“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”

Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.

She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”

“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”

“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”

“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”

“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”

“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”

Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”

“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”

“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”

They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.

Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.

He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.

Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.

He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.

Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.

His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.

L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?

Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.

K: Actually, I do.

L: Oh, really? What are you doing?

K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.

L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?

Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.

K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.

As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.

L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.

“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.

She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.

The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.

“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”

“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”

“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”

Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Aye, at least a year or two.”

“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”

During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.

Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.

When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.

Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.

During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.

The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.

After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.

They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”

Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”

“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”

Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”

Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”

They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.

When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”

She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”

“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.

He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”

He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”

Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”

“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered.

He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.

They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”

“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”

Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”

“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”

“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”

“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.

The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”

Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.

Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.

David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”

“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”

“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”

“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.

He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”

“Sure.”

“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”

Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.

At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.

As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.

On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.

Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.

He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.

“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”

“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.

“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”

Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”

He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.

“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”

Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”

“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”

“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”

“Was seeing him today another accident?”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”

Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.

“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.

“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.

“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.

“Aye, that she is.”

Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”

“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.

“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.

“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”

“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”

Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”

“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”

“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”

Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”

“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”

“There’s other dogs and cats…”

“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”

Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”

After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.

Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.

Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.

She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”

“I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”

“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”

“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.

“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”

“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”

She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”

“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”

Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”

“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”

Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.

She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.

“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”

“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”

She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”

“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

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#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 2 #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

[writingmochi]

part 1

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. the peeps, enhypen, and other idols)

synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

word count: 24198 (24.2k) out of 60550 (60.5k)

warning(s): pregnancy (what did you expect?), so many curse words!, description of explicit sex (in a flashback sense), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, manhandling, vomiting, mention of drugs (marijuana, alcohol), mention of blood, dark humor (if there is something that i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

first fic of 2024! i've ideated this since like 2022 and it's here what the heck!! this is part 1 of 2 of a 57k-58k word count one-shot (yes, this is supposed to be a one-shot) but tumblr hates me so i have to divide it into two. thanks for the 200+ notes on the teaser/character intro and i hope you enjoy it!

soundtrack (spoilers for part 2!) | part 2

prologue: a town called valentine

it was valentine 2002 when you and heeseung first met. well, if you consider babies who can’t even talk to each other will know of each other. you have to thank both of your moms for that—getting pregnant around the same time and giving birth in the same year as well.

but the earliest—vivid—memory you have of him was on valentine 2005. you hid behind your mama’s leg as she talked with someone: another adult. you glance around the outside space you’re in, the plants and pathway unknown to you as mama can see your eyes wander with your tiny mouth agape when you look past the other adult to recognize the widening door right beside them. you heard your mother giggling with the other person as they converse about something your 4-year-old mind wouldn’t be able to understand.

“(y/n) sweetie! say hi to auntie.” your mama caresses your hair with her hand as she guides you to stand beside her, her hands moving behind your small set of shoulders before you. the small hands reached for one of hers, holding it tight as you stood beside her.

“hello…” you looked up to meet a beautiful woman. her eyes are wide as they remind you of the mother deer you last saw when you watched bambi with mama and papa. and you can feel a ticklish feeling inside you as you watch her eyes smiling softly at you. as she smiles at you softly.

“hello (y/n)! you’ve grown so much since i last met you.” her hands give a wave, making you raise your hand up as you mirror her while you pick up your mama’s chuckle. the lady moves back, extending her arm as you see a clean hallway full of photos on one side and a cabinet full of shoes on the other. some of them looking similar to your own shoe size.

“please come inside. i’ve set the toys so she can play with them if she wants.” the lady—well, auntie—said as your mama guided you inside with her trailing behind. sitting on the hidden seating area by the cabinet, she helps you take off your shoes before opening her hands to let you hold them. she lets you walk in front as both of you enter a big room with a sofa in front of a television. as per told by mama every time you enter someone’s home: sit down beside mama or papa as you waited for the homeowner to guide you next. the back of the sofa is too tall for your height now and you let your hand graze against the side of the soft sofa when you encounter a large mat laid in between the sofa and the screen.

your brain tingles when you find a few toys you can name—like the ones you own back home—while a few of them you don’t recognize at all. eyes on the toys, you throw away whatever your mama has told you and tug her hand to let her know the existence of them. looking up, she looks down at you, glance at the pile of toys left behind, and gives nods, making you grin as you both sit on the playmat. your eyes immediately look at blocks stacked shaping like a house; its triangle roof, square walls, four windows, and door makes you easily imagine it. you crawl towards it and the box beside it, finding the other blocks left behind as you pull some of them out to make your own little house. as you slowly stack up the blocks—hearing the sound of wood tapping against each other—you heard the sound of giggling coming from behind the sofa.

“sorry, he just finished taking a bath.” auntie said to your mom who was behind you, walking closer to the sofa as you turned your head to face her. that’s when you see another person walking into the room with a small pitter-patter heard behind them. the steps are getting louder and louder as you see a small figure enter the room, walking towards the person laughing. the person wipes his face with his small hand before pausing, turning his head to you.

“hi heeseung!” you heard your mama say as the boy’s laugh slows down and he looks at you and your mama. auntie, who now looks more like the bigger version of the boy, steps in to help him move and sit down beside you. you see him crouch down as you can see his face clearer. yet, his eyes wander on the house made of blocks—his house—and the house you’re making; wider by one block than his.

“that’s (y/n). you were too young to remember but auntie and i always bring you two to playdates since you’re not even one year old. she’s the same age as you.” you heard auntie say as you felt your mama help you to scoot closer. his hand reaches for the box of blocks as you place the final block on your house while he’s pulling out more blocks. you look at the boy’s action as you feel mama, with her larger hand, holding onto your smaller one. your palm is now open as you see heeseung was told to do the same by his mom, putting away the blocks on the mat. your hands meet each other as you say your name. mama helps in closing your fingers, wrapping your hand in his as he follows.

“my name is (y/n).” the boy’s hand also uses the same force when you shake it. both women let go of their children’s hands as both of your little hands are floating, connected, and shaking. your eyes meet his as he looks back at the two houses made of blocks.

“my name is heeseung.” he smiles.

-

1. stay soft, silly

the way the corner of his mouth twitches makes you think outside of the plan you are executing now, nearly done in telling him what he needs to know.

your hands rested on top of your stomach, feeling a little bulge that was not there a month ago. his ice americano contrasts with your hot jasmine tea as you sit across from each other. years upon years of history went on pause for this moment. for a truce that you are proposing.

“and they’re mine?” heeseung sounded. your eyebrows folded, looking down at the swollen part beneath your stomach as you pouted your lips, holding back your giggling as you glanced back at him.

“i haven’t had sex with anyone this past month besides you. so, yeah. the baby is yours.”

it’s funny, you see. with the amount of carefulness you and your friends have taught you of the college hook-up culture you got roped into, you never expected to hook up with your rival. yet tension does what tension does, and it snaps as you both stumbled to kiss each other.

when it comes to your “relationship” with heeseung, the closest to a positive one was when you were in kindergarten, as you’ve known him before by the amount of playdates both of your mothers set up.

little did they know that one time at a playground during one of those playdates, you were left alone to play with your sandcastles as heeseung ventured to play with the other boys, running around the sandpit playing tag and how you see the familiar little jeans pants walks in front of you, knocking the castle down and flying the specks of sand to your face with your slower reaction speed—because of your younger age—not making you close your eyelids quicker. your eyes watering as you wail out, getting the attention of your mama but not the jean-wearing boy’s attention as you hear his mom telling him to stop. apologizing is simple for your younger self, just a plain “sorry” is okay. but when lee heeseung—who you consider your friend at that time—said “sorry” with a grin on his face, you caught onto the impression that he was not sorry at all.

at age 7, you came back from the cafeteria to your class to find heeseung and his gang of boys pulling on a girl’s hair, the familiar sadness showing on her face as you caught her eyes. you’ve known that they’ve played “dirty” and have been teasing other girls in your class before—just not you, which is strange in itself. with a tense set of hands, you push the boys away with your might and stand in between them, helping the girl who cowers behind you. you look down to watch heeseung on the floor, teeth showing and face crunched as he sees the scratch from when you pushed him near his elbow.

“what was that for?”

“to stop you. she doesn’t like it.”

one of his boys helps to pick him up on his feet as you can see him limping. your arms still wide as you protect the girl as best as you can. he pushes his sweaty bangs off his face as you can define the same gaze he had given you when you were 5 at the playground, now fiery. and you exude the same thing with your glare as you see the other boys helping carry him out to the nurse's office, his eyes staying on yours as you feel the girl’s hand holding you back from not walking after him again.

stickers become score markers as you and he tried to compete to get the most out of them, which comes with being nice and clever during classes. you were 10 when you had the same class as him once again, having to compete to be the quickest when raising your hands. but also the lowly giggles you give each other as you both realize just how wrong each other’s answers that comes with the teasing annoyance. it also comes in gym class as the teacher divided you up into different teams during team games—basketball being the most competitive as you are familiar with it. heeseung doesn’t hesitate to run towards you if you have a ball and try to dribble it across the court, pulling it as you try to pass it to your teammate, resulting in a tug-of-war where you both just don’t want to let it go. even with the whistling from the teacher as one teammate gets a hold of it to continue the game, you instead continue to have a screaming match with him.

it continues through middle school as you remember him not hesitating with his power to slam his dodgeball at your stomach during another gym class, making you curl up on the floor as your friends help you to the nurse's office, hearing him screaming “that’s what you get from stealing my lunch” as you remembered the taste of the chocolate bread you pick up from his tray yesterday. at high school as you and him argue in front of the vice principal about each of your club’s fundings, him with his basketball club who is already so successful with their winnings money that they can’t seem to let go to help other clubs who are staying afloat. even with your school having pride in the basketball team and other sports club achievements—making it a staple for the students to watch at least one game during their high school years. you never went to one as you rather babysit your neighbor’s kid for money than watch heeseung’s smug smile as he won another mvp trophy for that tournament.

when college came and you got into hybe uni as a business major, you didn’t expect to see heeseung on campus. you’ve known that since he focuses more on basketball in middle school, you are winning when it comes to academics. but when his smirking face tells you he got into hybe with a full scholarship because of basketball, your heart plummets into the fathoms. you were glad that he’s not in the same faculty as you, but the college environment is so small that your acquaintances recognize each other. you can’t seem to stay away from him who still has his smart for balancing his gpa and non-academic activities.

so when your lips met his own as you sobered up after having the party busted by the police, your mind is telling you to out-better him in lust and pleasure.

“who can make each other cum the most? never thought of you as that filthy, (l/n)”

the grip of his hair on your hand tightens as he trails his own to get a grip of yours. both of your heads now straight as you can’t look away from each other even if you want to.

“i take that you’re saying that because you don’t know how to make girls cum with your dick, lee.” you chuckled. heeseung’s gaze is still meeting yours as he pushes your head forward, making your forehead touch his as he mumbles something only you can hear.

“i know i can make you cum on my dick just by the way you’re clenching your thighs, baby. how do we tally the score?”

“start a kiss on the lips when you know you can’t hold back?”

“deal.”

“by the way, who won?” heeseung asked, leaning his body forward on the table as you peer down at his position from you, holding yourself as you stretch your back to help with the pain.

“how many times did you cum? and don’t fucking lie.”

heeseung’s bed is rocking beneath you as he folds you up in half, your knees on either side of you as he pounds into you. gasps fall out of your mouth as you pull on his hair, something you realize he likes after the amount of groan coming out of him from when you tug him. praises come out of your mouth as you try every method you can to turn him on first; to make him cum first. but the way he is pushing down on your abdomen makes you clench harder.

“look at how you’re clenching onto me. you’re close, aren’t you?” he whispered as you felt the breeze blowing onto your saliva-stained neck you are certain had hickeys on it. heeseung had to remind himself that he couldn’t kiss your lips, no matter how delectable they were, changing to kissing your neck.

“n-“ you moan as heeseung’s hand traces down to grip your ribcage, pulling you closer to him so he could find another angle to reach you deeper, pleasuring you both in return. “no.”

“don’t lie to me, (y/n).” his head pulls back from your crook as you watch his bangs faltering from the hard pounding to his mattress. “god, you’re so fucking hot when you’re under me.”

“fuck, just like that.” you retaliate with your own dirty talk, hands holding his waist so he could stay longer in your cavern as you grip him. but when you sense his breath against your skin, nose upon nose touching, the grip on his waist trails up as you cup his face. nodding your head as you feel him getting faster, you pull his head down and make his lips meet yours. you bit your bottom lip as your muffled moans vibrated between the two of you. your body giving up for a moment as he continued to thrust into you, making you let go as you let out a silent scream when you felt the moist gushing against him inside you. heeseung’s lips are unhesitant to kiss between your eyebrows as your body calms down from shaking, eyes rolling back to their original place as you continue to caress his cheekbone before a surge of energy comes back to you. you push him to the side, placing him down on the mattress as your hands grab both of his wrists to rest beside his head.

“i can feel you twitching inside me, hee. i know you’re close,” you said as you bounce on his lap, feeling the way your essence fell out and how much slick is on his penis because of you. as you have the upper hand, you decide to tease him by falling on him slower than the pace you have familiarized, making his wrists flinched under your hold as you click your tongue.

“you like how my walls are sucking you?”

“fuck, yes,” he mumbled under his breath.

“yeah..?” you replied as you leaned forward, making heeseung reach up to kiss your areola as best as he could.

“come on. you don’t wanna cum again?” heeseung asked in such a whiny voice that makes you snicker at how needy he has become. you decide to continue your teasing when you trail your nose along his face as you give a tiny kiss underneath his earlobe where you see the hickey you made on his clavicle. you move your hips so slowly as you feel how he becomes more erect even when he’s inside you.

“you’re the one who denies it yourself. i’m currently helping you here.” you poke your tongue and trace down his adam’s apple to his chest, reaching his nipple and giving it a suck. heeseung’s hip shoots up into you as he wants to take control. your hand moving closer to his palm with the grip that is getting loose as he pushes both his arms to let go of your hold. yet, you pull them back up as you reposition your fingers to interlock with his, withholding what he wants to make you move faster as he thrusts up into you.

you stare at how his doe-like eyes are begging for you after the number of times you have hated and feared the same eyes. how it glistens with tears because of how uncooperative you are even with your pace getting faster. with that, you lean forward as you stretch his hands and place them on your moving hips, letting them go so he can grip it hard as he tries to chase that feeling once again. you drape yourself above him as his blown-out eyes stare right at yours, his orange fiery flame meeting your own blue.

leaning forward more as you sensed one of his hands resting on your back, you brush away his hair that is sticking on his forehead as you whispered the death blow.

“you can cum in me-“

he leans up to connect your lips with his as you understand the signal, making your hips help to stimulate him more. his tongue flicking out and even wetting the skin around your lips as he moans out your name, letting out an exhale as your forehead is on his.

“want to breed you…” he whispered as you nodded, knowing just how much you like cum staining your walls as you give him a peck.

“breed me then.”

as he spoke to you about when he cums in your walls cowgirl style, you couldn’t help but snicker at the memories of his newly known breeding kink and your own creampie kink makes the resulting bun in your oven, making him flick your hand as you stare at him.

“that’s one for you and one for me- what are you thinking?” the way his voice pitches up at the end of the question makes you giggle even more.

“i swear-“ you lean forward as you realize the stage you are in, “the way our kinks create them,” you point down to your stomach.

“with the way your body shivers when i cum in you,” he said as he also leans forward. “i knew you like it. but i didn’t realize how feral you got because of that.”

“how feral we got, heeseung. fucking correct that.”

“oh fuck!” you moaned out into the mattress as heeseung held your hips up when he thrusts back into you from behind. you can sense how every time he pounds into you, his release is coming out alongside him as the wet clapping noises penetrate even the sound of both the cricketing bed frame and both of your moans. his hand goes up to your head and pulls your hair as the other pushes against your stomach, making you bend back towards him as the moans you let out of your mouth are clearer. his lips sucking another hickey onto your shoulder as you lean your head back on him to widen his access. your hands gripping onto both of the hands that are now resting on your abdomen and one on your breast, respectively.

“who can make you feel like this?” the question triggering you right away.

“y-you.”

“say my name, baby,” he said as he kissed your cheeks, making you turn your head towards the side as you opened your eyes to meet his, continuing to pleasure you into oblivion.

“heeseung…”

“go on.” he squeezed your flesh and you bit your bottom lip.

“heeseung!”

the hand on your abdomen leaves to crawl to your nub as your free hand reaches up to his nape, letting you connect your lips with his as best as you can. your body doing gymnastics before it is overcome by your second wave of cum when heeseung stops and twist your upper body to connect both of your lips fully. with his hands enveloping you, you push both of your body down as you let him spoon you.

grinding your hips against him, you reached down to gather both your cums as you give it a lick, making heeseung groan as he helps you push against him. “fuck, (y/n), how are you still so tight?”

“only for you-“ you reply as you shift away, just wanting to kiss heeseung, but then you remember the rules. with your shoulder, you push heeseung so he lays back on the bed as you lie on top of him. your knees folding so you can put your heels on the mattress as you lift yourself up and down on his shaft. you push your hands against is so you can sit and let you see the messiness yourself: both of your thighs are now covered in whiteness as you continue, realizing how sticky your skins are against each other. instead of letting you observe the messiness, heeseung pulls your upper body back to his as he also folds his knees and pushes his heels to the bed, thrusting upwards and making the pace quicker.

both of your moans combine with each other as he rests his arms around your midriff so you can’t move away from him. your head tilts to look behind you at the way heeseung is closing his eyes. as the point of your nose touches his skin, he doesn’t hesitate to turn to you and brought your lips onto his as he gives a few sputtering thrusts before you felt him cumming in you once again, making you fuller than ever.

“and that’s another two for each of us,” you replied as heeseung let out a snicker.

“still a tie, huh?”

“yeah, but we decided on a tiebreaker, right?” he responded with a hum.

with how sweaty, sticky, and tired you both are, you decide to do a tiebreaker with you sitting on his lap in a lotus position. your breath meeting his as both of you work in tandem (with a little burst exerted once in a while) to make any of you cum first and declare to be the winner of this messed-up game you made. heeseung licks the skin below your neck and plays with your breasts as you let your fingers experiment with his nipples and the way your nails scratch against his back muscles. you know that both of you are exhausted because the only sound that comes out is the small moans and whines left over. you looked down to see the messy environment you made between both of your crotches, making you scoop it up as you lift your cum-covered forefinger to your mouth, sucking it in, before pulling heeseung’s head so you can let him taste both of you.

his wide eyes glance up at you as he puts on a show to make you turn on more, swirling his tongue around your middle finger as the hand that was holding your shoulder blade reaches to your face, making his thumb pressing against your bottom lip so you can suck it. your hips grind on him faster, bouncing a few times, as both of your moans are muffled by both of your fingers. pulling your finger back, a string of saliva connected it and his lips as you cup his cheek. heeseung bites his lip as he pulls the thumb out to see your swollen lips. as you stare at each other—thinking back to the past few hours that have gotten you here in this position—you sense something strange within you. something so unfamiliar when you stare at him than the other moments you blatantly glare towards him. with the way he glances around your face as he connects your forehead with his, you recognize he might have sensed the same things too.

you don’t remember who is the first one to reach out, but as both of your lips connect, you let yourself envelop him as he did you. both of you not stopping and helping each other out as both of you cum in quick succession. not letting go of each other’s lips as you both pull away slowly; looking at the string of saliva connecting both of you as you stare at each other.

“we don’t need to discuss that.”

“no, we don’t,”

both of you replied right after the other as you see heeseung looking away from you to glance at the window beside the table. you glance at the condensation forming on the glass of his americano before glimpsing towards the booth where he sat. a duffle bag beside his backpack; you guess it will be for his basketball practice, it is near the college basketball season after all. but as you glance up at the man himself—you notice how different he has been since you were children. the way he muscled up and the baby fat on his face sheds away from the amount of sports he has to consume weekly. but, with all the invisible scars you both inflicted on each other from then until now, you weigh in just how ridiculously complex your relationship is that you don’t know if he wants to agree with it or not.

“well, now that you know…” you started, rubbing your hand against your sweater paws, “you don’t have to contribute to their life.”

heeseung hums, turning back to look towards you with confusion written on his face.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to get involved in taking care of them. it’s hard enough to be a senior-year college student, let alone raising a baby. it’s my choice to keep them, so i have to take responsibility for that.” you grabbed the now lukewarm cup of tea as you take a sip from it, placing it gently on the small plate as you continued with, “especially knowing how complicated we are.” you use your forefinger to point between him and you.

the man’s face is hard to read. he jutted his lips, biting the inside of his cheek as you see him blink whilst looking towards you, trying to get a read on you as well. being 8 weeks pregnant, you just wanted the meeting to end because you have all the other things you need to organize: telling the girls about your pregnancy diets and symptoms, telling the university about them and maybe they could give you leeway with the tests and studies, setting up appointments for with the ob-gyn and the doula of your choice, and telling your parents.

your parents who knew heeseung’s parents.

this will be awkward as fuck to experience.

“and i wish we could have a truce for the next 40 weeks.” you said, already with an exasperated voice that seemed to even surprise heeseung. “with this lifelong rivalry going on and how both of us doesn’t even want it to stop, please just… give me a slack to take care of them as best as i could.”

when you expected heeseung to reply with an okay—knowing your status as an expecting mother to at least give you some slack—you were met with a piercing gaze instead. how he looks between your face and your hidden stomach behind the table. he rests his hand on the table when you watch him considering something, and you didn’t even fucking guess he will do what he does.

“no.”

“what?”

“no. there’s no truce.” he leans forward, recognizing the gaze in his eyes as you just want to punch it out of his face for even thinking about what he’s thinking.

“no fucking way you’re thinking about this.”

“why not, (y/n)? think you can’t take care of yourself enough for the baby?”

your palm is now against your forehead, brushing against your face as it trails down when you let out a groan, “you’re trying to make a rivalry on taking care of this baby…” you let out your guess as heeseung lets out his signature smirk and a voiceless ‘bingo’.

“how? they’re in me, heeseung.”

“by giving them good nutritious food, interacting with them, i don’t know. but i know from knowing you for years that you can’t take care of yourself, knowing you have three other roommates-“

“you also have three other fucking roommates. sheesh.” you shake your head as you lean back. “anything for the baby has to go through me first, you know? i can deny it if i want.”

“then we can argue who’s right. they’re my baby too and i have the right to be involved even if you don’t want to.” your phone vibrates after heeseung’s brash reply as you see the silent alarm of your next schedule of the day. you tug the strap of your bag to your shoulder and gulp the rest of your tea.

“whatever, i have another thing to do.”

“does it involve the baby?”

“no. unless you wanna join my research class.”

you stood up from the booth as you straightened your sweater down, making heeseung glance at your abdomen before looking back at your face. “just so you remember: i’m doing this for the baby, not you.”

rolling your eyes, you flip him the bird as you walk away from him to your only class of the day, making heeseung let out a strangled smile.

-

“what the- what do you mean?”

the game continues as the other three guys look towards heeseung who is obliterating them with his king dedede, the sound of the fighting comes from the tv of their living room apartment as his fingers nimbly move on the switch controller, making the other three characters fly from the platforms as the familiar “game!” announcement calls.

the boys are sitting in various ways; beomgyu and jeongin are on the floor and jimin is beside him. the soundtrack of the super smash bros ultimate is playing in the background as heeseung smiles.

“i’m gonna be a dad.”

jeongin, the closest to the main port of the switch, quits the game as beomgyu lets out another loud shout—outside of the game—and jimin, who is sitting besides him, shakes his body with outstretched arms.

“BROOO!” beomgyu rubs his hand across his long hair as he faces heeseung fully, who is regretting not recording the reaction of his best buddies about this.

“how does heeseung, who doesn’t even like hooking up, get someone pregnant?” jimin asks to himself but also to the others as jeongin now stands in front of him, shielding the tv from his sight.

“forget that. who did you knock up, lee heeseung?” jeongin cuts through as heeseung leans back against the headrest of the couch. a mix of expressions showing on his face cause he doesn’t know if he has to laugh, be angry, be sad, or what else. he lets out a sigh as he picks the right voice tone to tell them.

“it’s fucking (y/n).”

“okay, now hold on!”

jeongin jumps, shedding the stern aura that he just created a few seconds ago. heeseung glances down at beomgyu who has his jaw dropped with jimin gripping on heeseung’s shoulder very hard.

“SINCE WHEN DID YOU TWO HOOK U-“

“shush!” jimin stands up and covers his hand on jeongin’s mouth, not wanting another complaint from the neighbors both horizontally and vertically.

“when?” beomgyu asked jeongin’s questions concisely as heeseung glanced towards the sofa and the kitchen right beside the front door of their apartment.

“you remember the party that got busted by the police?”

“yoon keeho’s party?”

“yeah, that one.” jimin acknowledges beomgyu’s answer as heeseung continues.

“long story short, (y/n) was alone and i went past her, teasing her for seeing that her friends left her behind when the police showed. she was tipsy which she shows by how easily stumbles. so i dragged her with me to our apartment when we escaped. i don’t know where you guys were, but she’s gotten a bit too annoying so i have to sober her up. we talked, and the tension was just too…” heeseung remembers as he was the one reaching for your face, to tell you to shut the fuck up, but the tension melted away before both of you proposes the game that you did. “so, we did it. and she asked me to meet up this morning and told me the news.”

“and what are your thoughts?” jimin asks, making the high-stakes emotions lower as he lets his friend talk about what he is feeling.

well, for heeseung, shock was an understatement. when he heard you utter the three words to him as he asked you what makes you want to meet up, never did he expect that to come out. surely, he has a breeding kink, and he had expected that to happen. but you told him you’re leaving early to get a plan b pill. maybe it didn’t work, but he doesn’t want to assume much about your body. then, he can sense the hidden sheer happiness blossoming within him. he wanted to smile and give you a hug, but then he remembered that it was you. that outside of his bed that night, you didn’t see him as a friend.

for someone who doesn’t hook up with people, heeseung knows how the hook-up culture works. he had heard multiple women fucking his three roommates from within his room and he could use his noise-canceling headphones against them. people might presume he is picky—a basketball jock who stays hidden and doesn’t want to hook up with anyone unlike his younger teammates—but the level of comfort is different when he has to do it with someone he doesn’t know and that’s why he rather stayed away. you? well, you are an anomaly.

though close because of your upbringing, he doesn’t know you outside of what he knows. that you were the kid who broke his truck even after he said sorry for ruining your sandcastle at that playground. that you were the kid who pushed him to the floor back when you were 7. that you’re the girl who he competes with to get the most stickers and not letting go of the basketball even though he stole it from you correctly. that he saw you stealing the bread from his tray as he came back from the vending machine. that you were the one telling the vice principal his basketball club doesn’t need as much money as they do because of their successful run, not knowing that their assistant coach stole the winning money.

so when you decide to create walls from your words, try to spin it so he doesn’t have to care about his baby, he had to say no. it’s as if you’re trying to keep the baby to yourself and not letting him in even though it takes two to tango. so, he found the most relevant way: competing for who takes care of that baby the right way—even if they’re in you. he doesn’t even think far from that thought no matter how ridiculous it is as now he realizes what a logistical nightmare it’s going to be.

“you’re making a game out of taking care of your own child but not your baby mama?” jeongin questioned after hearing heeseung’s rambling about this.

“yup…” heeseung paused, a pregnant pause. “and i need all of your help.”

jimin’s face changes as he hears the way heeseung described his face, rubbing his palm against the creases forming on his forehead as he can’t comprehend how beomgyu easily accepts his role. jimin’s head perks up at heeseung calling his name.

“yo!” jimin replied.

“since you’re the only one out of us who has a direct connection to (y/n) through chaeryeong, you’ll be my eyes, okay? asked about (y/n), how she’s doing, and all that stuff.” heeseung nodded as he expectantly looked at the boy who stood beside jeongin.

“gotcha,” he replied, his eyes wide as heeseung turned towards jeongin.

“innie, you’re my source. find any article about pregnancy and what my role is gonna be as a dad. yadda yadda yadda. all that stu-“

“i do you one better, seung.” jeongin said as heeseung lifted his eyebrows at him, tilting his head.

“my mom is an ob-gyn doctor.”

-

“miss (y/n)!”

“wear this!”

there is sounds of pitter-patters all around you as you sense the weight getting heavier on your figure. a small cape hanging off your shoulders and a crooked crown on your head, you sit down cross-legged against a round table full of toy food and kitchen utensils. girls and boys alike sit on the chairs by the table with their own capes and crowns, playing around with their cups as they all have a tea party—with the other side of the room playing with legos.

“here is your tea and cake.” you see the girl beside you giving the plate of rubber cake and an empty tea cup.

“thank you, princess rami.” picking up the teacup into your hand, you let out a loud slurping noise to drink it, before flinching away as you fan your tongue.

“i’m so sorry. is it too hot?” rami asked as you shook your head.

“i’m okay. thank you for asking,” you replied as best as you could.

“you must be careful, princess rami.” the boy across from her spoke as you tilt your head to him.

“i’m alright. prince yujin. i will be more careful with the tea.” he gave out a smile as one girl called out.

“if we are all princes and princesses, how should we call miss (y/n)?” hyunseo asked across from you.

“well, miss (y/n) should be a queen!” woonhak replied enthusiastically.

“but if miss (y/n) is a queen, should she have a king?” hyunseo continued.

“or another queen. i have two queens at home.” yujin filled in as you gave off a smile with the implication. but then the kids started to bicker with each other as you looked around the room once again.

as you entered high school, you were determined to beat heeseung in another way other than school-related activities. and what other way by being independent and richer than him at a young age? so you raked your head of a simple work that can help you gain more pocket money when one of your aunts asks you if you can babysit their daughter and how she will pay you. seizing the opportunity, you get to take care of your baby cousin as you go to your aunt’s home to help her with her food and stuff. hearing your enjoyment by the dining room table, your mom suggests more opportunities to babysit children of your family members from both sides—to your youngest uncle’s 4-year-old son and your oldest cousin’s 6-month-old baby—you have an array of skills gotten from doing childcare as your mom recommend you to babysit her juniors’ children at work, making you who wanted it for the money now wants it for the children.

it needs a certain level of charisma to charm a child so they can listen to you and with the array of children you had to babysit, you’ve met and adapted as best as you can to all of them. from being the calm tutor for a baby who is training his motor skills to help a child practice balancing on a bicycle, you understand what a child wants under their tantrums. that love you give and the love you accept makes you want to contribute more to childcare. so you started volunteering in non-formal schools and orphanages, helping to at least make their days a little better. and that’s why you worked part-time as a daycare attendant since you entered university as it is a more established institution where you can shuffle your study schedule alongside your work schedule, meeting kids who are being sent here that are still younger than school age. it reminded you of your own childhood and you’re hoping that your inner child could be happy and satisfied that you let her feel that feeling again.

“guys…” your spoken voice cuts their conversations, and they all turn to you. “a queen doesn’t have to have a king or another queen by their side. a queen can stand alone too.”

“but wouldn’t that make the queen lonely?” rami questioned, making you pout your lips as you still can’t comprehend just how blatantly honest children are that it pierces through each layer of your heart to find the right spot.

“yes, the queen will be lonely. but she also has her princes, princesses, knights, counselors, and more around her. love doesn’t always come from one person, it can also come from a group.” you replied, making the group rowdy up as they converse about love and being independent—well, ‘lonely’ as they called it—when you feel a light pat on your shoulder.

turning your head, you see a younger girl other than those around the table holding a paper, stretching it towards you.

“for you, miss (y/n)…”

you slowly pick the paper from her small hands as you observe the drawing. a simple figure made of circles and triangles with different colors. a pink filled-in shape on one side of the triangle with the circle-shaped and another taller one holding the figures hand, a yellow crown-shaped drawing on top of a circle with a smiling face inside.

she drew you.

“awww. this is so sweet and nice.” you return to look at the younger girl, a warm smile showing on your face, “thank you, hyein.” you rub your hand on her hair—something you remember she likes—as her smile widens before she runs away towards her table, where she has a few more papers scattered.

you glance at her before looking at your own stomach, unconsciously rubbing it as you can feel your own child inside you now growing along with time. then, it all came so suddenly when you felt yourself regurgitating, hand coming up to your mouth as you stood up as fast as you could towards the staff bathroom. knocking open the door of the open stall, you kneeled down as you puke out your lunch for today, feeling your gag reflexes kicking in. you sensed a hand soothing down your back as you reached for the flush to drain it down the toilet bowl.

“you okay, (y/n)?” you hear the familiar voice of your supervisor, yoonah, behind you. nodding your head, you reach for the toilet paper and tear it apart as you wipe the remains and saliva off your lips. reaching for the crown that fortunately doesn’t fall when you puke your inside, you hold on to it as you stand up and veer around to the sink to clean your mouth, gargling and spitting out as you wipe the droplets of water from your lips.

“how is it going with the pregnancy?” she asked as you watched her reflection behind yours in the mirror. you nodded your head and chuckled.

“didn’t vomit for the past three days and i thought that was enough, and well, here i am.” you stare at your face, seeing your eyes glistening with tears with the number of times you had to cough out until your phlegm came out. you turn your head to face your boss as she gives you a solemn smile.

“so, i have already talked to hr and we agree to have you reduce your work day to just one per week. you can enter anytime between the weekdays depending on your schedule because you have lots of things to juggle with your ob-gyn appointment. we don’t want to weigh you down more.”

you looked sideways when yoonah didn’t seem to see you being glad of it. though it helps with not exerting your body—as per doctor park’s request—it will definitely reduce your money because of the appointments and others. you haven’t told your parents yet and maybe you can ask them for more money after but with the way your friends have already helped ease your part of the rent so you have enough money for your own diet and consultations; you don’t want them to provide more for you.

“that’s great and all, but what about my pay? can it be adjusted? it doesn’t have to be 200%. like, do I only work one day for a pay of two like usual? or is it the regular one day pay? if it’s the latter, maybe a 25% increase will be great? for the consultations and others…” you said, not realizing that you had a few stray tears leaving out your eyes. nice fucking job, hormones.

yoonah picks up the crown from your head and she places it above your head, straightening it up as it rests right at the top of your head, “i will take about it to hr. you know that i’m on your side with this.” she pats your shoulder as you let out a faint “thank you” and see her walking away out of the bathroom. you brushed the tears away as you wet your hands to help unswollen them, even if it is for a bit. staring at yourself in the mirror, you pull your body up straight as you turn sideways, rubbing your abdomen as you can feel the life being put into you; piece by piece, cell by cell, forming into a human being.

as your feet enter the room one by one, tons of footsteps greet you as you look down to see the crown-wearing kids you are playing tea time with approaching you. their faces showing weariness so explicitly that you feel your heart tugging at them.

“are you ok, miss (y/n)?” hyein—the first one to be there—spoke as she was surrounded by kids taller and older than her. you notice someone holding onto your hand with their tiny one, seeing rami brushing the skin as you feel soothed.

“i am now. thank you, hyein,” you replied, letting your body fall as you kneeled before them, seeing the number of children you have taken care of for the years you had worked here. in your mind, it seemed ridiculous to think of your next move, but in a way that they have taught you so much about taking care of others, it’s proper to tell them yourself.

wiping the corner of your eyes as you feel your hormones acting up again, you speak, “what do you know about your moms?”

“mommy is very sweet to me,” hyunseo replies as she steps forward to stand next to hyein, their height difference looking so cute.

“mom is the one that picked me up from here.” woonhak also replied when you can see his mom’s smile on his own from the number of times she picked him up and showed that same smile.

“both of my mamas are the best in taking care of me and my brothers.” yujin added as there were more children rambling about their mothers, creating a wall of cacophony that seemed more like the background noise you heard each week as you worked. their voices dwindled as you looked expectantly at them one by one, a smile urging them to wait for something to come out of you.

“well, you see, i’m going to be just like your moms.”

yujin was the one that caught on first as he stepped closer and hugged you. while the others still looked confused, he turned around to looked at them and state it himself.

“MISS (Y/N) IS GOING TO BE A MOM!”

“miss (y/n)!”

“no wa-“

you heard the surge of children hugging you as you laughed out loud, seeing yoonah by the door as she also followed your laughter while you were surrounded by the children who were either hugging you or asking you questions.

“settle down, children. miss (y/n) needs a space to take a breather.” yoonah spoke up as she approached you who has a grin on your face.

“you said that you don’t have any king or queen?” yujin said as you felt your cheeks getting warmer, he now held onto the crown that slipped down your head from the number of kids that is surrounding you. while you could feel a hand on your stomach as you looked down to see hyein sitting down—remembering that she also has a pregnant mother with a little sibling on the way for her.

“it, it will be hard for me to explain it to you, but…” you felt yoonah’s hand on your shoulder as you glance at the closest clock in the room—finding the time for them to go home has come. “your moms are waiting for you to go home.”

you push yourself up to stand as yoonah guides the kids to pick their items up by the cabinets as you stand up straight, seeing the children walking around you when you see rami stepping beside you, arms wide open as you crouch down to give her a hug. you felt other sets of arms surrounding you as you giggled, pulling away your arms as the children noticed it.

“i’ll see you all next week!” you stated as yoonah brought all of them to the door of the daycare before opening them, seeing all of them going to their respective parents and guardians as a few of them acknowledged you. you turned around as you started your usual clean-up process, picking up the drawings that the children made and putting them in their own folders so you can give them to their guardians when they graduated, putting back the toys into the boxes, returning the costumes back to the wardrobe as you place the robe and crown you were also wearing, and you wanted to do one more thing, but you heard someone clearing their throat.

“i’ll clean the furniture and floor. you have done so much and you needed to eat and rest.” yoonah told you as you sighed, knowing that you seemed to be hungrier after you vomited out your food.

“thanks, boss.” you winked as she chuckled, bringing yourself to the staff room with the drawing that hyein gave to you—pinning in your mind to collect it with the drawings the kids you’ve taken care has made for you.

when collecting your things into your backpack, you glance at the paper that you printed out from your laptop as you scan the words, seeing your inked signature on the bottom as you see the blank space with the name right across from yours. heeseung’s name.

since he decided to be involved—you remembered while you talked to your faculty about your pregnancy and how they asked who the dad was, you decided to bring him up as a “student from another faculty.” it might make him think twice if he wants to be involved or not because he will get his name pin up on a note somewhere, which will be noted to his coach, lecturers, and more of his status. you are ready to be mentally burnt by the judgment your peers might give you, but is heeseung also ready?

you haven’t thought of the way you’re going to give heeseung the letter when you see minjeong’s name from your vibrating phone as you pick up the things you are bringing home and you hear yoonah talking as she sees you already leaving.

“carpool picking you up?”

“yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend.”

“okay, take care of yourself and i’ll follow up with your request.” you felt yoonah giving you a side hug as you gave a smile and wave when you pushed the door open. you breathed in the outside air to see the dark gray chevrolet camaro parked near the front of the building. walking to the back seats, you opened the door to be met with the music playing as minjeong greeted you.

“how’s work, (y/n)?” she instantly asked as sungchan lurched the car to a drive when you glanced at the bags of things beside you.

“freaking embarrassing. i vomited suddenly when i hadn’t vomited for the last 3 days but the kids reacted to it pretty okay. and i told them i’m gonna be a mom.”

“that’s so sweet!” she said, glancing back from her seat in front of you as she reached to touch you, making you sit in the middle with the console right in front of you as you see sungchan’s playing with the volume of bluetooth-connected car radio play the song that sounds so minjeong—which you can recognized right away.

“what did you guys do today?” you wiggled your eyebrows as you heard sungchan’s laugh from the way he looked at you from the rear-view mirror.

“you know what me and jeongie usually do, eat, shop, fuck, repeat-“

“no, we didn’t fuck today-“

“we did a quickie before we left to pick (y/n) up, winter.”

“okay! ughhh…” minjeong said, rubbing her face in embarrassment before replying, “i brought him to this cafe that has all these criterion collections that aren’t available on any of the streaming services we own. so i bought so many dvds for us to watch.”

“which are?”

“older movies, foreign movies. you did say that you enjoyed watching japanese movies, so i bought some of them for us to watch.”

“fuck, i love you so much for that, kim minjeong.” you replied as you heard sungchan’s little tsk, making you both giggle as his possessiveness is showing at the most ridiculous time.

“so, (y/n),” you hummed to sungchan’s starter words, “you haven’t told me who is your baby daddy.”

“guess!” you tugged yourself forward as your face was between their seats.

“how should i guess when i never see you hook up with people?” he replies as you glance at minjeong who is just watching him, an amused smile on her face.

“what if i say it’s song eunseok,” you mentioned his fellow frat bros.

“eunseok is dating that junior of his he has classes with. and he’s a loyal guy so i don’t think so.”

“what about park jisung? he’s hot in my eyes.”

“you don’t seem to be the kind to hook up with your junior,” he replied, making you squint your eyes.

“zhong chenle? he’s a fellow biz major like i do.”

“you’re definitely not his style.”

“now, that’s rude.” you hunch yourself back on the back seat as minjeong’s giggles compete with the music playing.

“you’re gonna be so shocked if we told you who he is.” she added as you nodded along, “two hints though: he’s our age and he’s a fellow jock-“

“that’s too much, jeong-ah.” you cover her mouth as her muffled nagging rings in the car. you can feel her lapping your palm, tickling your nerves and making you pull away as it’s now sungchan’s turn to have a giggling fit while watching his girlfriend and her roommate bickering. the trip was close between the daycare you work and the apartment tower you rented off-campus—but since you’ve mentioned to your roommates that you’ve been having back pain and vomiting sessions, they decided to help you out by being by your side as they drop you off or picking you up—just like what chaeryeong did as she drop you off to work before going to the dance studio.

so, when you stare out to see the small lobby of your apartment, you’re already with your backpack tucked to you as you open the door of the backseats. sungchan helped widen the door for you before going to the other side to help minjeong with the things she bought from their date. as you stood by the tiled floor of the lobby, minjeong gave sungchan one last kiss on the lips as you heard him say, “bye, babe! bye, (y/n) and hope you rest!”

“see you next week, baby.” the girl said as both you and her are waving your hands at the boy, who has entered the car driving off into the ending sunset of today. stepping inside the entrance of the apartment, you and she enter the empty elevator as you catch a glimpse at what other things minjeong had bought when you see a box from a chicken fast food brand, making your mouth water as you think about it, but you knew that you’ll be nag by dr. park for eating junk food.

pushing the handle after you put the pin on the keypad, you enter and instantly kick your shoes off as you are met with ryujin who is tying her hair up, walking towards you as she helps with minjeong’s bags. the apartment was left as you remembered this morning: a few scattered papers from either you or ryujin’s homework, the weighted blanket by the sofa now folded, and the smell of hot choco on the coffee table alongside ryujin’s laptop as you remembered that she only has online classes today.

“what did you bring?” ryujin wiggled her eyebrows as she rummaged open the bag that you’d seen when she instantly brought it to the kitchen counter when you saw her already cooking something. out of all four of you, you and ryujin are the ones talented in cooking so it’s not a surprise to see her cook for herself, but when you see the large plate that is places beside where the stove is, you know she has been making dinner for all four of you—as only chaeryeong’s the one who is not finished with her work today.

“why did you bring back fast food, minjeong? we promised to also have (y/n)’s diet.”

“that’s my leftover. chan said that the boys had too much stuff in their fridge so i brought it to us.” you then felt minjeong’s hand behind your lower back as she stood beside you, “hope you are okay with that.”

“of course, i’m okay.” you give minjeong a smile. “all of you aren’t obliged to follow my diet cause i know you love red meat, jinnie.”

“it feels wrong if i don’t follow you, though.” ryujin replied as you and minjeong go to your separate ways—she walked to her room while you stepped into the kitchen to see the food that minjeong brought. the chicken was a leftover but you also see her bringing back different meats and seafood.

“i almost forgot to ask you, but can you give me the list of the food that you can and can’t eat? just so i can help with the recipes and so we can pre-made food.” ryujin said as she put her arms behind your back, soothing you as you viewed her making japchae and beef on the pan.

“will do, ryu.” you give her a salute as she gives your cheek a squeeze before you let her be. taking your bag handle as you step towards the direction of your room, the bell of your apartment rings as ryujin turns towards you, making both of you tilt your head as you volunteer to get to the intercom.

when you press the button, the screen shows you someone you don’t expect to see as you can recognize the wolf cut hair you’ve seen while scrolling on your instagram. your footsteps immediately go to the door as you hear the ringing “hello”s from the intercom, opening it up to see the boy you’re trying your best to mask your feelings for with a box.

“heyya, (y/n)!” he replied as you widened the door to gaze at the box.

“h-hi beomgyu.” you give him a small smile as you try your best not to lock your eyes on him. to be having a crush on a boy like him is ridiculous, especially knowing that he is your RIVAL’s best friend. and the fact that you still have a crush on him since high school to then be found being in the same uni as him. if he doesn’t have heeseung by his side, you know you will brace yourself to approach him first. but now with his success as an indie musician, you know you are probably in a losing battle knowing just how spicy heeseung talks about you knowing that he has so many fans aiming at him and how you can’t compete with them—not as much as yeonjun though.

“wha, what’s this?”

“it’s for you.” he pushed the box towards you as you tried to peek inside when you felt a presence behind you.

“let me get that.” another pair of hands open by your side and you see the smirk on beomgyu’s face falter to see ryujin pulling the box against her.

“hi ryujin,” he said, a slight tremble in his voice as you finally be able to look at him with your heart eyes before back at ryujin.

“beomgyu,” she replied before leaving the door to put the box away. you eye the boy who is staring at the empty space for a few seconds too late before you are back in his attention, returning to the cheeky smile you adore.

“thank you for that!” you felt your palms getting sweatier than ever, rubbing one of them against the door to dry it.

“you gotta have to thank heeseung for that.”

the way beomgyu named he-who-shall-not-be-named shutters your fantasy as you were met with the reality. of course, it’s from heeseung, not from the boy you had a crush on—even if it means that the baby daddy trusts his best friend so much to tell him that he is having a baby with his rival. beomgyu seemed to be the nicer guy between the two. so, a girl can hope, right?

“oh yeah, wait for a minute!” you were so caught up in the way heeseung terrors you and slips back into your mind and how you wanted to slam the door when you heard his name when you remembered the paper that he had to sign. you pull the paper out of your folder as you pull one of your sticky notes and write a simple note to him. giving a smile to beomgyu, you handed him the paper as he stared at the words printed on it.

“give it to heeseung and send it back to me after that, or if he wants to submit it himself, then that’s fine. i have to give the contact person the info if he decides to send the paper to the administration himself.”

beomgyu nods as he chuckles at your note before giving a last “i will” before walking and waving away, making you close the door as you wonder how did he know where you lived. eh, that’s fine. you got to see what heeseung gave you as the box rested on top of the counter right beside ryujin who was pouring the japchae into the bowl.

slowly opening it—scared that he might have a jack-in-the-box mechanism inside it—you were met with plastics covering greens as you tugged a few of them out to be met with a bunch of fruits and vegetables still packed in their grocery’s packing. your shoulder meets ryujin’s as she took a glimpse at the new ingredient you picked out of the box.

“from beomgyu?”

shaking your head, you feel a piece of paper inside the box as you pinch it between your fingers. straighten the creases, you see the scribbles on the note as you read it in your mind.

eat them for the baby’s health and your own sanity - lhs

“heeseung,” you replied after you finish. ryujin gives a small hum as you catch the smirk on her face before you shove her with your shoulder. both of you open the plastics of the greens, vegetables, and fruits that heeseung bought for you, ryujin saying out loud the names of the greens as you and her bounce ideas of what kind of food she can make to cater to your diet.

“kale, cabbage, broccoli…” she picked another vegetable, carefully pulling away the plastics as the waft of the smell entered the kitchen. you knew of the vegetable, but being pregnant equals being sensitive to smells. and the way that you instantly wretch at the smell makes you scurry away from ryujin.

“hey, who rang the be-“

minjeong was pushed away as she saw you opening the door of their shared bathroom, making her turn around as she heard you wretch out the remaining food and saliva inside of you that is followed immediately by a flush from the toilet bowl. she walked to the kitchen to see ryujin holding stems of leaves on her hand.

“well, now we know she can’t eat arugula.”

the chime of the lock unlocked rings alongside the opening of the door of their apartment as ryujin and minjeong stare at it, seeing chaeryeong trying to breathe as she takes off her sneakers.

“WHY IS JIMIN PESTERING ME ABOUT (Y/N)?”

-

thumps and squeaks are what beomgyu heard as his eyes gazed at the lights coming out of the gymnasium. his feet working in tandem echoing through the night as he took another glance at the paper, another step away from the door as he pulled the handle to see a bunch of boys running around the wood-floored gym. beomgyu’s eyes searched for heeseung as he bit his lips, not wanting to be late for his own band practice with the boys.

turning towards the bleachers, he’s seen one of the boys that beomgyu remembered being on heeseung’s profile. his hands on top of his knees as he leans forward to see the 3 x 3 half court game beomgyu realized isn’t a part of training—but more of them having fun. he is taking a glimpse at heeseung who is muttering a curse word under his breath because the ball was stolen from his hold.

“hey, uh, sheep!”

the boy turns towards beomgyu with squinting feline-esque eyes before they widen, realizing who called him.

“your jersey has ‘yang’ on it. so i called you sheep.”

“nah, that’s okay. you’re beomgyu hyung, txt’s guitarist…” the boy stands up, their height almost the same as each other, but beomgyu knows that the kid can grow taller—from both basketball and his unfinished puberty phase, probably.

“i’m jungwon! i’m guessing you’re here for heeseung hyung?”

beomgyu glanced down at the paper as he nodded, “i couldn’t stay until he finished cause i have band practice. so, this document is for him to sign.” he told jungwon what you told him as his ghost patted himself on his shoulders for being right. beomgyu uses his thumbs to point behind him after jungwon picks up the paper that he pushed towards him and gives him a thumbs up before a loud "thank you" rings as the gymnasium door opens, leaving jungwon with a slight chuckle creeped out of his lips.

the boy couldn’t stop his curiosity as he turned the paper so he could read the writing, skimming it down as his eyebrows as he couldn’t stop his speech before it was too lat-

“HEESEUNG HYUNG IS A DAD?!”

jungwon’s shout makes movement screech to a halt as he looks up at his boys, also staring at heeseung, who is glaring at jungwon and the paper he is holding. but, his reaction speed was too slow to pull it off his grips as heeseung lost against the other five boys who had huddled towards jungwon.

“shut up!” sunoo exclaimed.

“it’s true, sun,” jongseong replied as he could hear jaeyun and riki screaming and laughing before they scurried to run around heeseung.

“who is this (y/n), hyung?” jaeyun speaks into his ear, making heeseung grimace as the three walk towards the crowd with sunghoon now holding onto the paper.

“isn’t (l/n)(y/n) your senior, jjong?” sunghoon calls out, making said boy read carefully the name with the signature on top.

“oh yeah! we had a marketing communication class together. didn’t know you knew her, hyung.”

heeseung steps in between them as he snatches the paper out of sunghoon’s grip in a quick frame. his eyes scan the paper that is written—the letter to the university administration about your status—and he can see his name printed on the side of the paper from yours. then, he finally read the note you have sticking onto the paper.

sign it and give it to the administration office. if you’re serious.

“won, it’s your turn to play,” he said as the boys stared at him. “i have things to do, plus i have a morning class tomorrow.”

“okay, hyung.” jungwon’s answer was followed by his offer to the older boys to continue the match as he felt another hand holding onto his forearm, turned to see the youngest boy with a small smile on his face.

“you gotta have to let us meet this (y/n) noona. i bet she’s pret-“

“go back to your place, riki-kun. jake’s calling for you.”

“hey, lanky. come on before i make you and jungwon switch.” jaeyun’s voice penetrates through the conversation at the correct moment as the smirk on heeseung’s face is growing. they’re leaving him alone as he walks towards his backpack and duffle bag—finally feeling the surging soreness from pushing himself hard while training and off-training. sure, it’s excessive. but the tournament is a month away from now, and he had to train for that, knowing that the matches would be back-to-back if he passed the quarter-finals.

the wood of the bleachers screeches beneath his body as he pulls out his pen, staring at the paper one last time—trembling breaths coming out from him. who knew that a single signature could hold so much power?

yet with how you are trying to deter him, to remind him that signing this will mean that the whole university will now know lee heeseung is a future father: that actually made him shake. he could feel the boiling anxiousness giving a few pumps of steam into his mind, clouding the plans he had already made in his mind from the information jeongin told him. he knows the future scenarios on both sides.

but fuck it, right? he’s not usually caring about what other people perceive. so what if he is known as a dad in nine months? but, he had to think about the parental leave you’re proposing—it might actually make him graduate late.

yet, the view is clear as he lets his pen glide on the paper.

the baby and your scowling face as you realize that his doing is the one that makes that baby so healthy.

tucking the paper in between his laptop and his wireless earbuds on his ears, he waves goodbye to the boys who are playing with sunoo giving a beautiful lay-up before he pushes the door to get out of the gym. the streetlights shining the pathways as he still can see students roaming around the campus at night—most are going to the library to maybe pull an all-nighter.

the screen illuminates his face as he scrolls down at the text jimin had sent him about you. but he had to do another victory lap first when he dialed the generic full name’s number.

“hello?”

“that will not work, (y/n).”

heeseung heard the grainy chuckle in his ear as he let his muscles’ memories take him home in the night's dark. eyes staring at the path that opens up onto the sidewalk where sparse vehicles are going about on the asphalt streets.

“so you sign it?” he caught the way you sigh against your phone while heeseung is focusing on both the conversation and what jimin texted about your condition.

“and i’ll be giving it to the office.”

“hmm, okay…” heeseung’s eyes scan through the words, letting his face contort and relax as he consumes it to his mind before it’s broken by a grainy sound of metal from your end.

“also, thanks, by the way. for the arugula. made me vomit my stomach out.” heeseung heard you reply as it slowly became more mumbled, hearing you eating your dinner’s food as the noises of the night came back into his cochlea, shaking his nerves as only white noises entertained him as he looked around—seeing his apartment building at the distance.

“and don’t make jimin ask chaeryeong about me again. she’s traumatized now and we have each other’s number saved.”

heeseung didn’t want to save your number at first. but when his mom brought him to her meeting with your mom, catching up after a long time and discussing that both of you have been accepted by the same university, they insisted that you both to have each other’s numbers saved. “for emergency sake, so you both have each other to rely on.” his mom explained, making him discreetly roll his eyes while you continue to listen to your music without giving a glance to him. yet, you’re the one that gave him your phone first so he can type his number, making a small ��:p” the first thing you text to him.

“i’ll tell him.” he clicked his tongue as he caught the way you omit another information from him.

“but you’re not gonna tell me you have a doctor’s appointment next week?”

“how’d you kno-“

“jimin, from chaeryeong, and so, from you.” his smile gets bigger. “gotta have to thank jimin for that one.”

“so you want to join? what if you have a class?”

heeseung’s feet brought him to the lobby of his apartment building, his vision now on the elevator as he stated something so obvious to him.

“i have questions and i rather miss class than leave it unanswered.”

-

your hands are tugged inside your hoodie’s front pocket as you wait for your name to be called. the usual soreness is tamed as you let chaeryeong massage your back carefully, relaxing most of the tender muscles that are holding you up. you can see a little bump protruding out of your stomach that was not there when you discovered you were pregnant in week 8.

remembering the way you have to buy five pregnancy tests is ridiculous when your only symptoms are headaches and vomiting. but it quickly escalates to morning sickness and how you notice just how sensitive your senses have become—the way your fingers realize little grains of crayon as you pick up the kids’ drawing to how you’re triggered by little noises coming out off your room. it feels too strange for it to be food poisoning and with all five tests showing two blue stripes: all the problems you have faced for the past month—why your period is late, the morning sickness—all click inside your mind.

your girls were the first ones you spoke to, recalling how they waited in front of your shared bathroom as you flipped the tests around, hitting you one by one with the truth of your condition. then tears start to show as overwhelming emotions compete to show dominance and you hear chaeryeong’s voice from behind the knocks on the door. you open the door to feel them hugging you as you show them the tests, how they can’t wait to be your baby’s cool aunts from differing perspectives as they know of your history related to children, pregnancy, and motherhood from taking care of so many children, how your parents open up to you about why they couldn’t give you a younger sibling, and the responsibility you are willing to take care for them. at that moment they hugged, you’ve already fallen in love with your baby and you are determined to let them have a happy life.

the obstetrics and gynecology department’s walls were more pastel than the other parts of the hospital. maternity pack posters hanging as you read the words, planning your next steps as you waited by the door to your doctor. your fingers interlocked and thumbs twirling around each other as you attentively listen to the open door and your name being called. scouring your eyes around, you saw a little playground area for kids barren as you eyed the small set, mothers around you waiting also for their appointment—some with a sleeping baby in their hands, another with a large bump. the atmosphere is so serene that you can collect your thoughts and arrange them for the next seven months from your due date.

“hey, (y/n).”

your eyes blink as you turn around in your seat to face forward once again, looking up to find the familiar face you’ve been thinking about for the past few days.

heeseung wears a simple hoodie like you do, both of his hands tucked into the front pocket as the strap of his bag crosses his chest. a thin-lipped smile on his face as you didn’t see his usual resting bitch expression.

“heeseung…” you reply as you gnaw on the inside of cheek as he stands there, “i haven’t gotten the call from the doctor yet. so you can sit down.” your eyes glance quick at the vast space beside yours on the sofa you are also sitting down. he gave a quick nod before sitting on the space beside yours, a noticeable space between the two of you as you both lean more against each of the tables placed as the barriers between the sofas. even if you felt a piercing presence beside you, you tried your best not to look at him. the phone call when he called you was the last time you spoke with your voice to him—you having small talk with him as he found in the hospital doesn’t really count—yet he still gave you another box of ingredients for your unborn child this week, no arugula this time.

well, you are glad to see beomgyu more and you don’t mind seeing beomgyu every week if he’s the one that does heeseung’s errands for his child.

both of you stare forward at the doors and wall in front of you, nearing mirroring each other even by the slight twitch of both of you wanting to look at each other. but, also not really. the tension is stronger than when you told him you’re pregnant with his child. the fucking effects of the continued declaration of rivalry as you can calculate how far both of you are willing to push even for the past week and you can guess what you both will push more for the next 7 months.

“miss (l/n) (y/n)?” the door opened as the nurse spoke of your name making you jump up from your seat as heeseung followed behind you to enter the doctor’s room.

“(y/n)!” the young doctor said enthusiastically as you sat down on the chair in front of the desk.

“doctor park!” you answered, cadence matched hers.

“how have you- oh.” dr. park looks at the man entering behind you, looking between the three women in the room and the empty chair near the door before he hears her speak, “is this the dad?”

“yes, i’m the dad, lee heeseung,” he replied steadily as dr. park, who is standing up, shoots her hand out to him.

“i’m dr. park jihyo, (y/n)’s ob-gyn doctor. didn’t expect to meet you as (y/n) said that the dad might not be involved.”

heeseung’s eyebrows were raised, chortling as he realized what you implied, “after she told me, i decided to be involved.” his eyes peek from the side to see you giving a stare with no movements on your lips, sitting down on the chair beside of yours as you want to continue with your appointment.

“well, welcome to your tenth week of being pregnant. how are you feeling?” dr. park asks, looking at you with a warm smile as you see the nurse taking care of your document.

“the morning sickness kinda gets pretty worse and overflows out of the morning. definitely more sensitive towards scent, flavor, and texture. i also have already sensed growth on the bump since it is a bit more protruding than usual.” your hand unconsciously caresses the hoodie covered in your stomach, feeling the tenderness of the skin that is just muscles of your abdomen being pushed to cater to the baby.

“your stomach and intestines are being pushed by the uterus as the fetus grows and it’s very normal. since we already did the blood and urine test and went over your family history back in your first appointment, we can go to an ultrasound to check the growth of your baby.” dr. park replied as she nodded at the nurse who instantly walked to the bed and set things up for your scan.

“i’m sorry to bother you, doctor. but i have a question.”

your head shifts towards heeseung as he asks, the doctor just giving him a nod.

“(y/n) said to me she’ll get a plan b pill after our… time. yet, she still got pregnant, but isn’t that still supposed to work?” the way his voice pitches makes you hold on to a smile, recalling to when you asked the doctor the same question in your first appointment. you gave the doctor a big nod for her signal.

“well, (y/n) said to me she consumed a plan b pill less than 24 hours after your intercourse. but plan b pill, or levonorgestrel, works by delaying the release of the egg from the ovaries. she also said that her period, which started around a week or two weeks before she discovered she was positive, was late. so, we can assume that while you two have sex, (y/n) was already in her early stages of ovulation with the egg being released into the fallopian tube and the egg got fertilized.”

heeseung nods along with the doctor’s words as you remember the same explanation given to you in the previous meeting. you’ve tried using pills before but you know it will affect your hormone and physical health in the long run—you are not a serial fucker unlike a few people you recognize—so you rely on protection like condoms and morning-after pills right after that. heeseung not wearing one makes you want to laugh at how funny the scenario is and how you can just remain rivals for the rest of your life if you remind him to put on the rubber.

the nurse calls for as you follow her, stepping out of your shoes as you lay down on the bed. she gently brushes your hoodie up as your skin is exposed while she also pulls the band of your pants down below right above your underwear line. the chairs move as you glance at heeseung following dr. park as she takes the seat beside you to check on the machinery. the liquid is cold as it touches your skin as your eyes catch heeseung who is looking at the exposed stomach where his unborn child is.

as the transducer spread around the gel on the stomach when you feel it pressed down, you looked at the screen across from you hanging on the ceiling as the doctor moved around, marking the size of your uterus. you heard her gasp as you turned to look at her warm smile that widens into a grin.

“congratulations to you both!” she replied as she continued to move the transducer around, making you and heeseung realize that there’s a fetus inside you, but not just one.

“TWINS?!”

-

2. katana-like knife

heeseung gazes at the ultrasound he is holding with both hands, seeing the way the doctor has assigned twin 1 and twin 2 on the screen. the twins are in different sacs; he remembered what the doctor said, making them fraternal twins. she also says that not only you were ovulating when you two fuck, but you were releasing two different eggs around the same time and he got both of them pregnant.

he recalled both of you doing a hilarious staring contest as you couldn’t stop yourself from making funny faces as the doctor described the growth of your twins. fucking heck, he hadn’t told his friends that he was having twins. how his body trembles as the realization hits him while he’s looking at his babies—yes, plural—makes him even want to be more attentive, to now realize that he had two to take care of. and those two make him know you have to adjust your diet once again.

if it weren’t for him buying ingredients, he doesn’t think you would adapt easily to what the babies need. he’s won on this occasion. but what comes next?

his phone vibrates on the table as he takes a glimpse of the text message showing on the lit-up screen.

(l/n) (y/n): i’m heading home for the weekend. my parents will definitely see that i’ve been knocked up.

even he can see it as he had walked past you before on campus. you’re now wearing more oversized clothing pieces—t-shirts, hoodies, cardigans—as he realized the slight bump on the surface of them. it’s been over two weeks since that check-up appointment and the growth has been faster than he expected.

(l/n) (y/n): not asking you to join me.

(l/n) (y/n): if you aren’t brave enough to take the consequences, i’m fucking winning this :p

“that’s it” he shakes his head as he tugs the ultrasound picture into his wallet before putting it back in its place, hands opening the messages.

lee heeseung: threatening much. i’m in.

if you want to make this a competition, let’s make this a competition.

lee heeseung: hey mom. sorry for texting you randomly. but i’m going back home for the weekend.

all he had to do was wait, as he could hear the sound of his mom talking with your mom on the phone about how their children would be home together, asking to meet up.

and that moment goes exactly as he had expected as he drove the car with you in the passenger seat, leaning against the door as you both let the radio play boring-ass repeating pop songs from some random radio station. none of you seem to react, just to make each other annoyed enough to know who will concede and connect to bluetooth first—even not listening to good-ass music is a competition between you both.

you sighed extra loud as you listened to an old-ass pop song from the mid-2010s the radio seemed to have a lifetime contract for it to play for fucking ever. you wish you were the one driving now, but you didn’t bring your car for this semester because it needed maintenance and you were in a healthier mood for this year. you catch a look at your phone, seeing your mom asking where you are right now as auntie lee has arrived at your home—cooking up the food for all your family to enjoy.

“which one is your car’s bluetooth?” you gave up on hearing the radio station as you playfully checked every menu to find the bluetooth menu.

“the brand of the car, duh,” he answered, still focusing on the highway as you remembered that it’s nearly a few exits away from the side of the town you and he grew up in. he took a glance at the bluetooth speaker as he sees,

“‘mitski’s brainchild personified’? you liked her that much?” he actually snorted, making you see the name on your phone on the screen in the middle of the dashboard.

“shut the fuck up. she’s my comfort musician, just like kaede from slam dunk is your comfort character.” the way your fingers lightly tap against your phone, makes him chuckle as he can hear you holding onto your emotion from not spilling through your words, not commenting on how you mentioned his liking for slam dunk as if you remember it so well, even if it also stuns him.

you’re playing a playlist of yours that is just… instrumentals. a perfect playlist to hear whilst commuting as you let yourself take a breather from this world. eyes gazing to the window outside as you rested your phone on your lap. the scent of heeseung’s cologne accustomed your memories as you let the music speak while you both remained quiet. maybe, because it is an instrumental track that you both couldn’t comment on, that he can’t take a jab at your music taste unless you put on mitski or boygenius, that it gives a soundtrack so vague it resembles the way you perceived your relationship to each. sure, you still hate him for everything he has done to you in the name of winning. but, with two babies on the way, the concept of the rivalry between you both is there yet so blurry. which one is a concrete rivalry? which one is the softer one? why should you trust what he gave to you? why did he join in to take care of them?

the car zooms fast on the highway, yet you can see slower cars on the outside of the highway and faster cars zooming past you on the other lane. it’s like what your dad had said before—"you don’t feel how fast life is until you look at other people’s lives"—and to think that you will be home in overtly large clothing to hide your bump to know that he’s going to be a granddad just concretes the idea of that in your mind. you turn your head to glance at the backseat, seeing the shopping bag you had prepared besides what heeseung also has for his family, who he’ll meet at your house.

stepping out of the car, you stood at the carpool of your house filled with cars—other than yours and your parents inside the garage—when you watched your mom and heeseung’s mom walk out of the porch, barefooted, to greet you. the warmth of your mom’s hug felt so overwhelming that you had to sink your emotions as you blamed your hormones for making you too sensitive.

the interior of the house feels so lively from the last time you went home during the semester break. maybe it’s because of the way your mom has another guest in the form of the lee family and the smell of the delicious you know both of your moms had made together with their aprons still on as they guide you inside. even as they walked to the kitchen, you could hear them whisper.

“since when did (y/n) and heeseung arrive here together and in the same freaking car?” auntie lee asks.

“(y/n) didn’t bring her car this semester so i guess she doesn’t wanna waste any more money for transport.” mama answered.

both of your moms have always tried to make you close and you’ve always tried to tone down your rivalry in front of them, effortlessly acting in front of them as nice friends when you give him a snide look behind their backs any chance you can get. your bickering can escalate so much that you will have a shouting match in the arcade as heeseung doesn’t want to give up his time to play for you, making both of your moms force you to apologize to each other before that bickering returns at school’s classes where they’re not there for you two to mediate. maybe that’s why you don’t perceive heeseung as an enemy. merely a rival; because your mom never talked bad about heeseung no matter what happened between the two of you and it seems that heeseung’s mom has also done the same to him.

the two shopping bags sit on the coffee table as you watch both of your dads talking about dad stuff. heeseung’s attention is on his phone as he’s typing something on the screen while you unconsciously rub your stomach hidden beneath your top, waiting for all of them to settle down around the coffee table as they want to open the shopping bags together.

“what did you bring me?” mama asks in a sing-song manner as heeseung’s mom giggles beside her. you stood beside heeseung with your hands behind you as the husbands looked at the similar-looking gift boxes in each of their wives’ hands.

“don’t tell me. is it the jewelry i showed you those months ago, hee?”

“nah, it’s not. dad’s planning to buy that one for you.”

heeseung’s dad’s face turns into a scowl, seemingly angry as if his son has spoiled his plan while the boy just widens his smile before gazing back at his mom.

“well, together?” mama asked to his mom.

“yeah, 3, 2… 1!”

the box opens as you’re holding your breath, also holding back your smirk as you can view the way papa’s eyebrows crease as he can’t believe what he is saying. heeseung’s mom was the first one to openly express her shock by literally jumping from her seat and box thrown towards his dad’s as he took a good stare at it, making you glance at him you actually won the bidding on who would be shocked first between the two.

“NO, FUCK- WAIT?!” his mom stares between the two of you before your mom jumps from her space to also gaze at you, holding onto the paper. giving him a nudge with your elbow. you didn’t expect him to wrap his arm behind your shoulders.

“yeah… the babies are ours-“

“no fucking way!” your mom actually shouted as she hyperventilates while heeseung’s mom covers her mouth, contemplating on what to do when she felt her body being squished by her best friend, hugging her tight as they turn to hug each other while heeseung’s dad gives his box to your dad so he could see it clearly.

“since when are you two together?” papa asked as you tried to let heeseung’s grip from your shoulder.

“uncle, we aren’t together. we just hook up and-“

“WE’RE GOING TO BE IN-LAWS.” you can hear mama cheer as both of the women twirl around the small space, making you feel even more guilty for breaking the immersion as you stop budging away from heeseung’s hold. rolling your eyes, you stare at heeseung and lean in close to his ear, whispering.

“bad fucking idea…”

“at least they’re happy, right? well, i won because of that.”

mama interrupts both of you as she gives you both an enormous hug while heeseung’s mom comes from behind. you could see the tears coming out of mama’s eyes who rested her head against your shoulder.

“ughh, too tight.”

“stop it, honey! (y/n) looks so uncomfortable.” papa reminded.

“oops, sorry!” your mom lets go of her hold as heeseung’s mom slotted between the two of you as she pushes in on the excess fabric of your clothes, making you grip both sides of your top and pull it backward so she can see your bump already showing.

“hi, baby!”

“it’s babies.” heeseung’s dad cuts in as his wife follows with, “there’s two of them?”

“i swear to god.” heeseung’s old man brushes his face, unbelievable that his wife didn’t see the two sacs from the ultrasound as you give your mom a nod, her hands carefully holding onto your waist.

“fraternal twins,” you confirmed to her as you watched another batch of fresh tears coming out of her eyes.

“hello, you two. you’re going to have the best mom ever.”

“and dad too.” heeseung’s mom replied as she moved to stand in front of you two, seeing his grown son seemingly glowing as she spoke of him being the best dad to his two unborn children.

“okay. i gotta have to make the red meat well done then.” mama cuts out as she hastily moves to the kitchen to cook back her meat-based meal, letting auntie lee replace her place as she caresses the bump gently.

“how long has it been?” she asked as you opened your mouth to reply.

“we did the ultrasound two weeks ago. so it’s week 12 now.” heeseung cuts you off as she gazes back at her son.

“what have you two already prepared?”

“we gave a letter to the university for future parents and they agreed to let me take online classes entering 5 months because i only have three classes, one is that's doing a study case, and they let heeseung have parental leave if i give birth. i haven’t found the right doula yet but my supervisor at the daycare has a connection to one and i think it will be her. she has given me the number so i just have to text her,” you answered.

“is it near campus?” she replied.

“yeah, because i don’t want to graduate late. that’s why i decided to stay near campus during it.” you have thoughts on if you should just take a break this semester to focus on your pregnancy or not multiple times by now. but, of course, the rivalry comes back as you still want to keep pace with heeseung and your friends who will be graduating next semester.

“you should take a semester leave, (y/n).” heeseung cuts off your thought as you peek at him.

“i’ve already got what i wanted from the uni and it’s fine, heeseung. i can keep up.”

“well, you can, but what if you don’t take care of the babies?”

“of course, i can take care of the babies-“

“not by being stressed over college.”

“heeseung-“ you turn your body towards him as you grip both of his upper arms, firm hands holding him as you stare down at him. “i know what’s best for me. i know what my limits are. i’ve trusted you enough with the food but you should also trust me to know how to take care of myself outside of nutrition.”

your teeth are grinding against each other as your fiery gaze stays on him, even as you let go of the grip. it stays for a few more seconds as you turn back to head to the dads who seem to be forgotten by the sofa, seeing papa teary-eyed as he hugs and kisses your head before you let heeseung’s dad hug you.

his mom turns towards him, cupping his cheek. “she knows what she’s doing, heeseung.”

“but how should i know it’s right? cause that’s not right for me. my friend’s mom said that a pregnant woman should focus on preparing herself for her birth and doing college doesn’t seem to prepare her for that.” heeseung sighed as he looked at his mom, not expecting a slight hurt on her face.

“i was still doing my job when i was pregnant with you, heeseung. your dad trusted me for that cause he knows my limits, might be even more than i do. let her be and you might learn that she knows how to take care of herself, too.” her hand brushed away the fringe on his forehead, eyes glistening as she let out a small warm smile at him. the hurt falling away as heeseung sees her mom’s signature smile of knowing before she brought him in his arms, hugging him tight as he glances at you who is giving him a small look with a tight-lip smile before you turn away to the dining room.

-

heeseung stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars sticking on the ceiling. his back being stretched out on the floor as he laid on the comforter beside the single bed where you’re still playing with your phone. he remembered how he begged—trying to persuade—his parents to bring him home with them. but knowing that he’ll only be staying for one night and you two are “together”, they decide for him to stay with you instead. you can see how his fuming breath was held as you glanced at him with an unidentifiable look at the dining table, his parents believing you would let him stay in your bed.

but he insists on lying down on the floor, knowing the history between the two of you they don’t know, as you silently agree.

printed pictures still hang on one side of the room when he looks at them as long as the bedside lamp is still on. he remains silent, eyes tired from looking at his phone so much to distract him from his reality when he hears the rummaging movement on the mattress as you put the phone on the table.

“well, night, heeseung.” the click of the lamp is big in the white-noised room as darkness envelops the space, letting in the moon and streetlights outside beam their shine inside. your eyes easily adjust to the surroundings as you puff your one-less pillows on the bed to find the right position—knowing the ache of sleeping in the wrong position when you are carrying two fetuses inside you.

“since when did you work in a daycare?”

the man’s words overcome your action as you brush the cover of the pillow.

“why do you wanna know?” you put the pillows in the right position as you lay your head and back against it.

“since your mom proclaimed that you’ll be the mom ever.”

heeseung is reminded of the way you look when your mom says that, a look of pride coming out of your eyes as you unconsciously nod knowingly. even if you and him are close by proximity—by being your moms’ children, by being schoolmates, by having roommates who stay in proximity with each other—there’s still something that you don’t know about each other. because if the opposites know, they can use it as leverage to bring any of the two down.

“had a few babysitting gigs during high school days. i started to like it more and decided when i go to hybe, i’ve volunteered for a non-formal school for children and more. i decided to do a part-time job at a daycare and yeah…” you replied, laying down by your side as if you could see heeseung beside you when he is, in fact, below you.

“it doesn’t match with your major though.” heeseung gives a snide comment as you sigh loudly.

“so what if a business major can’t connect with my passion for childcare- fuck me.” you stopped to remind yourself to stop taking the bait from heeseung because you know he was making these comments to break your confidence within yourself. you could discuss how making and taking care of a business could resemble making and taking care of a child, but with the way he had pissed you off today in more ways than one, you rather stick that thought to yourself and instead, take offense towards him.

“why did you wrap your arm around my shoulders?”

heeseung glances towards the bed, seeing your silhouette on the top forming a dark shadow because of your comforter shielding it.

“i had to. so they know the babies are ours,” he replied with the thought that first came to mind after he already had his arm behind you—blaming his underlying consciousness for doing that.

“and it makes them believe we’re together when we’re not. look at us now.” both of your arms stretch out of the comforter to tell him just how big the situation you got yourself into cause how many white lies must you tell your parents to hide that this is because of a hookup, not because you are romantically linked?

your staggered giggles drop as you try to glance downwards at him, the arm nearest to the floor left hanging as heeseung didn’t comment on what you said. “well, this just got more complicated.”

“our situation is complicated since the start, (y/n).”

“well, i know who to blame for making our strings get more tangled with our parents cause fuck you, heeseung.”

he saw the lone middle finger standing tall from the silhouette of your figure before you picked yourself up and lay all your weight on the bed, turning the other side as heeseung followed; both of you staring at the opposites of the room, knowing that your bodies needed to rest so you can face each other again in the morning.

the time between that night and how you both lived after you went back to your own places near campus was a week when you texted him about the doula that you had told at your parent’s home. the car was left in neutral with the handbrake lifted as heeseung waited at the daycare where you work. his eyes gaze at the differing modes of transport each guardian is picking up the kids with before looking at the lobby as he sees you and another attendant saying goodbyes to the kids. he watches as a few of them hug you and even a few let their cheek rested against your growing bump before you take a glance forward at them who is going back to be with their parents, noticing his car for a few seconds before you return inside to take your items.

the backpack is hanging off your shoulders as you take another sliced fried potato from the container when you enter the passenger’s seat beside his driver’s one, resting your back against the seat with your bag there to support you. “hello! i’ve sent you the address, right?”

he stares at you with his squinting eyes, “you should not eat that.”

“it’s cravings, heeseung. it’s totally normal. the doula can count me on that.” you chew another fry as heeseung lets out a mumble under his breath as he moves the handbrake and puts the gear to drive, reeling the car forward as he drives you to the doula’s office. both of your moms have suggested several doulas for you to choose from, but you reminded them you’re having twins. so having a doula who specializes in taking care of moms birthing multiples will be helpful as it is also your first time.

playfully, you fly a french fry like an airplane towards heeseung as he drives, like the usual time you try to feed kids at the daycare. it nudges against his lips a few times before he bit it, pulling it off your fingers; making you let out a chuckle cause he can’t even resist it himself.

the parking lot was pretty barren as you only saw a few vehicles when you both walked out of the cars. you adjust the backpack once again on your back as the chime from the car tells you it is now locked as you enter the office building.

thanking the receptionist, you and he stood in front of the doula’s office as you knocked the door.

the door opens as a soft-spoken woman says from the inside, “miss (l/n)(y/n)?”

“yes, i am.”

“oh, come in. come in.” the door widened as heeseung could see the things inside the large office room. a desk in one corner and a cabinet stood behind it. accolades and certifications by the desk with a sofa on the corner beside the door. a box of what seems to be baby toys beside the sofa as posters are hanging on the wall. from the anatomical look of a baby inside their mom’s uterus to words of encouragement towards mothers.

“i’m haseul. nice to meet you.” the woman shook your hand as she then glanced at heeseung who was still wandering around.

“oh, uh, this is heeseung, the babies’ daddy.” you refer to his name as he looks at the lady, shaking her hand as she looks between the two of you.

“so, both of you aren’t married or dating-“

“no, we’re childhood friends and hooked up, and this happened.” heeseung blurts out as you raised your eyebrows, poking your tongue in the cheek. haseul nodded her head as she let both of you sit down in front of the desk.

“first, congratulations on the twins. you must be nervous to find that out.”

“of course, especially as a first-time mom. but, i’m feeling pretty okay.”

“that’s good, i’ve also sent you the questionnaire for you to fill on your plan for giving birth…” haseul’s voice traces out as heeseung glances at the portrait frame of her holding onto a baby with a mom, a glance at the book about post-partum, and a baby doll on top of the cabinet right in front of a corner window. he could only catch onto some words he recognized from jeongin telling him—birth, dilation, cramps, anesthesia, cesarean—as he sensed himself getting overwhelmed, especially when he had the second preliminary match in two days and his gig in being the documentation for a baseball match for hybe uni too.

his thumbs caressed his fingertips as he sensed the sweat forming on his palm, the same feeling he has every time he has to go to match. to then realize just how ready you seem by how eloquently you say the words for your requests to the doula like you’ve grown up much more than he is even though both of you are the same age. sure, he felt the leverage the first time when he sent you food and a few tips he makes beomgyu do; but his knowledge couldn’t compete with yours and it scares him to know he is losing his stance from above you. to know that you’re much more ready than him.

“heeseung…” he heard someone calling for him, before something wrapped around his wrist, taken aback to see you brought him back to the room he was in.

“sorry… what did you say?” heeseung replied as haseul gave him a warm smile.

“i’ve heard from (y/n) that you have known some knowledge of pregnancies but i could give you some sources to read because it is your first time as a dad as well.” the woman said to him calmly, looking at heeseung as if she can read his body language. your hold on his wrist stays as you rub the inside of his wrist with your thumb. “we have also discussed that (y/n) will try the normal route with water birth and if she can’t handle it, she’ll be going with cesarean. we could also do an appointment every two weeks as both of you are students now, but it is best if you come so you can understand each process as she is entering the second trimester.”

“i understand. i’ll try my best to set my schedule so i can join her.” heeseung glanced at you, who was giving a nod before you let go of your hold as he seemed to be anchored back in the room. the woman gives a small smile as she starts a lecture on the process of pregnancy, childhood, and parenthood. another class that heeseung doesn’t want to get in the first place, but knowing his determination to be the best dad ever—as what his mom believes him to be—he follows along with writing notes in his book as you have with your laptop. the class that he has to pass so he can take care of his children as best as he can.

-

even with the music booming from around his space, heeseung still felt like something was different. his eyes rested on the plastic-colored cup filled with a concoction of alcohol he didn’t know—he could taste the gin and what seemed to be fanta in it. the sigma mu’s frat house lits up in motion as he eyes the way the expensive big-ass speakers are scattered around the room, gazing at the familiar faces of his peers and juniors he has seen while walking around campus.

something stirs within him as he eyes his friends who are here—beomgyu who is by the speaker as he talks with the dj, jimin with his dance crew friends, jeongin with his class friend, while heeseung sits with sunoo and sunghoon on either side of him. that’s when he caught onto the silhouette of some familiar faces every time he comes across a certain person; every time he comes across you.

“excuse me, gang.” heeseung would like to thank himself for being able to stand up so stable even with the nearly empty cup, excusing himself from his basketball teammates to walk towards the frat boys of sigma mu to find the vp and his girlfriend by his side.

“winter…” he calls with the nickname he heard you and others call her before as said girl turns towards him with her boyfriend’s arm still behind the sofa.

“lee heeseung.” she spoke out with a grin on her face, “what makes you come in front of us?”

“i was wondering,” ‘fuck it’ heeseung drinks up the whole liquid that remains inside the cup, hoping that his alcohol tolerance still be able to support him to be stable, “has (y/n) ever talked to you about a doula check-up or some other thing?”

“she should’ve told me if there’s gonna be a checkup but i don’t think there is one nearest from now.” minjeong replies as she lets sungchan take care of her drink so she can comfortably talk to the boy in front of them.

“ah, really?”

“yeah!” minjeong replied before giving another smile. that’s when someone crashes to wrap their arms around minjeong and sungchan, making the two jump as they turn to see ryujin’s head between both of them before giving minjeong a peck on the temple.

“hey, (y/n)’s baby daddy. whatchu up to?”

heeseung chuckles as he looks between the two girls—”no wonder you have them as your friends, all of them are similar after all”—before he opens his mouth.

“just checking what’s (y/n) up to-“

“well, she’s not here. for your information.” ryujin lets out a smirk, “you must really wanna talk to her about something.”

“a doula appointment.” sungchan replied, “and you know how (y/n) is about…” the boy glances at, “him.”

heeseung’s teeth grit against each other as he senses they are hiding something from him. maybe because of your doing so you can prove to everyone that he isn’t as committed to his children as he spoke about.

“you and minjeong aren’t home, so i presume (y/n) is with chaer-“

“someone’s calling my name?”

heeseung sighs as he turns towards the voice of chaeryeong who is holding two cups of drinks as she gives one to ryujin.

“he’s asking about (y/n).” minjeong nods toward chaeryeong when she lets out a small ah before turning her head to stare at heeseung.

“since chan here invited all four of us at the frat party, she really wanted to be here but, of course, cause she’s preggo with YOUR children, she couldn’t. but all of us went out of the apartment together and she was holding a duffle bag of some sort.”

“where is she going?” heeseung doesn’t hesitate to ask, making your three friends look at each other and giggle.

“you seem desperate enough. she’s at the park near our apartment complex. she complained about needing a light workout because of how much her back is hurting.” ryujin said as heeseung could picture the park, knowing where you lived because he had picked you up for your trip back home for the weekend.

“okay, thanks all of you.” heeseung places the cup on the table beside the sofa where minjeong sits and turns away, letting the sense of fresh air flowing inside the frat house guide him to the nearest exit as he arrived on the pavement, feeling the stuffiness inside him getting lighter as he gave a text in his group chat he’ll be leaving early.

the walk there was pleasant, to say the least, because the suburban town the campus is in is pretty sparse compared to the city where heeseung and you live. there is enough place for it to be called a big town but not enough skyscrapers to be called a metropolis. and with the inconsiderable amount of apartment complexes available near campus, he already pinpointed the park where you might be.

crossing the black-and-white stripes, he arrived at one of the entrances of the park where he still could see a few people doing their activities inside—night jogging, playing chess under the streetlights, and a couple who was on a date. he was reminded of what ryujin said about how you might need exercise, but the duffle bag says to him you might stay in one place rather than walking around the park as the main event of your exercise time.

heeseung’s feet instantly brought him to the place that he had gone before in this park as it is the same park near where sunghoon, jay, and jake live—maybe they live in the same complex as you do—when he finds the silhouette lightly jog behind the trees from the path he is on. the sound of rubber meeting the concrete slaps across the night’s atmosphere as he sees you in the middle of the basketball court, wearing a sweatshirt where he could see the bump pushing against the fabric. the basketball bouncing between your palm and the ground creates the familiar sound as you jog toward the ring and shoot your shot. the ball hits the backboard enough that it bounces into the basket.

“fuck yes…” you exclaimed as you grabbed the bouncing ball into your hand, heaving as you brushed the sweat of your skin right underneath the spotlight shining on the court.

that’s when you pick up the scraping on the concrete and clap when you turn around to look at the last person you want to see tonight.

“you still got it,” heeseung commented, making you scoff as you took a few steps back so you stood adjacent to the free throw circle. holding up the basketball between your hands as you tried to remember the position before pushing towards the ring. the basketball curves as it hits the edge of the box instead.

“dammit!”

“you spun your ball,” heeseung replies as the ball flies into his arm, naturally guiding it into a dribble as he walks towards you.

“i didn’t.”

“your wrist was twisted and it makes your hand doesn’t flop straight towards the ring.” he walks towards your side as he shows you the way to hold it, making you glance at the arm muscles that form from holding the ball so much as he throws the ball, creating a perfect arch that it bounces on the back of the rim before it flies and the basket catches its fall. your body immediately reaches for it before heeseung can as you return to your spot whilst dribbling alternating between left and right.

“i know.” you lightly roll your eyes as you grab onto the basketball once again, wiping your sweat palm against your sweatshirt before you feel the right grip as you return to your position, reminding yourself to let the ball fly and not twist your ball before you threw it.

you heard a click of the tongue as you saw a pair of hands reaching to hold yours, making your hand move to the position as you picked up heeseung’s breath beside your ear. startled, your shoulder nudges against his chest as you hear a small “ack” before you throw the basketball, seeing it twirl in the air. you can hear heeseung saying “i told you so.” before it bounces against the backboard, but you are ready as you stride towards it to grab the ball before heeseung catches it and you quickly do a layup, gliding the ball as it bounces right at the small box above the rim as it bounces inside. you turn your body to face him, head tilted with a smug smile as the ball bounces before it rolls to heeseung’s feet.

but the smile falls as you see heeseung who is in his element, walking back to the three-point line and shooting his shot as the ball, once again, creates a perfect arc. the basket catches it into its net as heeseung walks towards the center of the court with a wide grin on his face. the ball bounces near you as you hold it and dribble once more, glancing at it, the court, and heeseung once again as you shake your head, scolding yourself to take things slow for your and your babies’ sake. the sudden epiphany makes your eyelids flutter as you dribble away at a steady walking pace around the court.

your footsteps are met with another as heeseung’s legs stride towards you, a smirk on his face showing as he replies, “that’s why you were put in the point guard position.”

“hmm…” your reply is small as you continue to dribble away the basketball, making you and he walk around the court together before he cuts through the silence.

“why did you stop playing basketball in high school?”

your body stood still as you let your muscle memory do your job of dribbling the ball, shifting your head towards his even if you look away.

“you were, well, it seems to be still are, good at it,” he added.

the memories of your first year in high school from the extracurricular showcase come back as you are already determined to stop playing basketball, focusing on doing something else that you were interested in.

“i got tired of it,” you replied, but heeseung seemed to notice that it was not all the truth.

“and…”

the ball stops bouncing as you hold it against you, wrapping your arm across your front along with the ball as you glare at him and reply, “you.”

“me?”

“yeah, you. i stopped playing because of you.” you turn around and set your eyes on the bench where your bag is. your water bottle calling for you so you can hydrate yourself as you give in.

“really, huh? wow, that was another victory i didn’t expect-“

“fucking hell, heeseung. that’s why- this-“ you gulped down your saliva, “what you become because of it is why i stop. i know our moms are outstanding basketball players at their time and we’ve gotten the signal to be like them but-“ you hold back as you throw the bottle inside the bag, holding yourself down as your hands form fists.

basketball has always been a large part of your life before you were even born. your mom and heeseung’s met because of their love of basketball as they became skilled players together. your mom and dad meet up because of basketball. you still remember the amount of pictures of your parents in their high school days in their basketball jerseys in the photo albums. even if they don’t pursue it professionally, it still becomes a large part of their life as it also spills onto you.

with the amount of time you have interacted with children—as it makes you see your own experience as a child in a different view—many of them like to mimic what their parents do before they form their own sense of self. you can see it with the way one child at the daycare is always playing doctor with dolls, figures, and plushies because one of their parents is a doctor. you were like that. you’ve heard and seen just how impactful basketball is to your mom that you want to be just like her, making you join the teams during your elementary and middle schools.

to see and feel the influence of your rival during practice and tournaments around you was overwhelming.

the tug-of-war between the basketball in between both of your hands is just the beginning of what kinds of rivalry you and him have during practice. even if your coaches assigned you to the same team, you or he, depending on who is first, will reach out to the coach to be put into the other team. even if you two had to practice together, hidden aggression is flying to the roof, which includes passing the ball so hard that it had even made your nose bleed. as time goes on and the many matches you and he have to compete in as you two have to watch each other to “encourage” each other’s team, you had notice the way you fell out of love of basketball because of how there are more bad memories associated with it even if you were being trusted as a captain for one season and scoring many buzzer beaters to let your team and school win the tournament.

“you’ve become so much better with it as i lost interest. i still remember when the coach brought me to the nurse’s office cause you passed the ball so hard that it hit my face. in the middle of practice for the last season in middle school, that’s when i knew…” you take steps closer as you now stand in front of him.

“i knew i’m in a losing battle against you.”

your muscles twitched as you wanted to let out a smirk when you noticed the hidden expression heeseung failed to hide, the little shock he had gotten to show. yet, the emotion that is enveloping you held it down, as you now had to tell him the truth. why your rivalry seemed to expand outside of the scope that both of you are in.

“that’s why i quit basketball. that’s why i decide to pursue my own path even with you tailing behind me to comment on my every move. because i am sick of you. yet, i held back. i had to retaliate, just like what i did on that fucking playground when we were 5. cause i’m not afraid of you even though i know i’ll lost in the end.” you chew the inside of your cheeks as heeseung seems to read your face while letting his brain figure out what you meant.

“that’s why i wanted a fucking truce.”

with the way your facial muscles contort, it hurts you more and more as you feel the tears of pain forming, harboring the feelings you have felt for nearly two decades now. with your hand raised, you wiped the small drop of tear as you let out a huge breath, feeling just a bit of the weight in your rivalry falls off—right along with you.

as you let your body sit on the concrete ground, you push yourself back slowly as you settle and lay on it. heeseung’s conflicted face peeking from your vision while you’re trying to blur it out by focusing on the night sky. though the light pollution is still around you, you can still see tiny specks of stars behind the shadow of clouds of the night. stretching your back on the ground as you let your backbone rest after trying to make you stand upright while carrying two growing fetuses.

eyelids close, you let nature take control in calming your emotions and let heeseung process the information himself. the first time you truly open up yourself behind the mask of your persona—maybe when he stays the night in your childhood room is one as you recall your feet resting against his sleeping figure, contemplating if you want to wake him up or not before gazing at the dusting basketball that you decide to bring back to your apartment after papa helps in blowing more air so it doesn’t sag too much.

the sound of rustling leaves seems to be louder as you rest still, hearing a muffled thump beside you as you open your eyes, looking at your feet to then find another pair lying down right beside yours.

“you’re the one that was throwing a fit and ruining my toy truck after i apologized.” you sighed as you took a peek to see heeseung’s head turning towards you, asserting dominance once again before looking back. you knew that if you replied with the same vibe to assert your own dominance, it would actually break you apart faster than the rate that you are now. however, you have one question that will be the right one to ask him about.

“did you mean that?”

“‘mean’ what?”

“the apology? did you mean that? cause i want you to look at it from my eyes, lee.”

heeseung traces back to that memory when he sees you teary-eyed face and his mom beside him, the boys he was playing with snickering on the side as they saw him getting in trouble with his then-friend. the “sorry” mumbled out of him with his eyes on you but mind on the boys, who seemed to not snicker at him, but at you for being a pissy fit. but, deep down, he knew…

“i meant it.” his reply makes you turn your head, mirroring his form as you let out a slight pout.

“with that smile you were giving? hell no-“ you rolled your eyes.

“i genuinely meant it. the boys that were there, they were behind you and they were laughing at us. i had to juggle facing you and them. i had to look fierce yet still can give you an apology. maybe that’s why you see the smirk that you see. i was a fucking child, (y/n). we’re not as good as we are not in hiding complicated emotions to only let out one.”

your chest rises and falls as you see the apology smirk in a different light. you don’t know if you should easily believe that or not, but after taking it into consideration, you could feel a small part of your inner child healing up before you realize the damage that you also have done to him.

“if it is genuine; i’m sorry, then. about the truck. you know how i felt now and why i did that.” you return to look at the sky once again as you hear the rustle beside you before peeking at heeseung who is also staring into the night, listening to him humming before you return to gaze back again.

“what would happen if i actually have the emotional intelligence to know that you were sincere that day?” your words cut off the silence as you felt the guilt pouring for it to be transformed into humor that was reciprocated well by heeseung’s chuckles.

“well, we wouldn’t have these two.” he playfully poked your belly, making you let out a small shriek before holding onto his wrist as you held his hand down between the two of you and you pivoted your head to see him.

“in all seriousness, i think we might have been the friends our moms see us to be because let me tell you, they see us differently than what we are having.” his words are replied with a hum as you added,

“i notice that too. glad we can be more civil in front of them.”

“we still could, you know.”

with the way you didn’t hold on to his wrist tightly, you felt the limb moving under your touch before his palm rested underneath your own. the wind blows against your sweaty top as it gives you shivers from the cold, hoping that your own temperature and a lifeline can help warm it up. and you can feel it warmer as you see heeseung pivot to mirror you. his fingers slid between yours as if he knew the little shivered breath you led out.

“have each other’s backs. emulate what they want.”

your eyes are galloping to the way the spotlight shines half of his as the other one is cast in shadows from facing the concrete. you could smell a faint scent of alcohol on him but with the life in his eyes, you knew he wasn’t drunk. the way his eyes are also peering with slight twitches as before connecting with your gaze.

pushing one side of your upper body, you cup onto heeseung’s cheek as he leans up to connect your lips. your shoulder is pushing down against the ground as heeseung’s grip on your hand tightens, making it steady as you can hear his muffled hum from your kiss. your fingers curl to hold yourself up better before you feel his other hand reach for your waist and push you down so you both lay on the side.

both of you take turns to take a breath as you sense the tip of his nose brushing against yours. every time you let out a breath, the other’s lips linger before connecting once. your legs curled as you felt the ticklish sensation surging through your nerves before heeseung pushed your lower back so it could stay for one last long kiss before he pulled away. your noses touch each other as you feel his hand on your waist trails to your bump, pressing it down gently as you lean back to see him looking down at the body he is holding. then, his eyes flick back to you as he can sense you slip away, turning yourself away from him as you push yourself up with your arms.

grabbing the lone basketball and putting it in the duffle bag, you zip it up and shift to find heeseung now upright, yet still with his legs stretched out on the ground.

“baby steps, heeseung.” you pull away before giving a small salute.

“baby steps.”

your voice echoes as heeseung watches you walk away, biting his bottom lip before a chuckle falls out of him as he knows he had to text you back his question about the appointment, knowing that you will reply to him.

-

beomgyu breathed out as the elevator opened up to the now familiar hallway, holding onto the box that he had still had to bring even if heeseung already told him he’ll do the next one himself because of what he told him. the box held fresh ingredients that jeongin also pinpoint—courtesy of his doctor mom—on what you should eat, considering now that there are two of them inside you. beomgyu couldn’t help but feel melancholic knowing that this was the last time he’d probably visit your apartment complex as… well…

but, other than bringing you today’s box, beomgyu is here to pick you up for the doula appointment as heeseung will follow suit after practice. even his bandmates are weirded out as to why he has to do the errands, but knowing that they’re in the process of rest mode whilst preparing to create new music and focusing on academics, he allows it, especially with how long he has been best friends with the guy.

he huffs as he positions the box again against his upper body, sliding his pointer finger to the bell as he picks up the familiar bell sounding in the room. but it seems like there’s no one inside. he’s glad that he remembers the pin ryujin has given him as he pushes inside the door to see the clean empty living room of the apartment he has been in countless times when he had to put the box in himself. pushing off his shoes, he walks to the kitchen and places the box on the island counter before rushing towards the intercom to turn off the bell.

that’s when he heard the noise of something familiar.

a guitar strumming sound of chords and the changes he recognized.

beomgyu took tiny steps towards one of the ajar doors in the hallway as the realization of the familiar sound widened his eyes. of course it was familiar to him, it was his song.

the nearly acoustic rendition of “skipping stones” with a familiar voice he had heard makes him peek through the door to find you sitting cross-legged on your bed, holding a nearly all-white guitar as you strum while having headphones on your head, singing the daylights out as your window lets the stream of lights in through the window. he lets you sing as he can see you glow—jeongin had mentioned to him that pregnant women have this whole glow on them. maybe that’s what he was seeing in you. the way your fingers glide against the fretboard with your eyes on it or close as you sing the lyrics makes beomgyu mesmerized.

the last ring of strings strummed is heard from your rumble speaker when you notice clapping from outside of your headphones, making you look up to find beomgyu behind your slightly open door. his clapping turns to hollering as lets out a wide thin smile before looking away; you don’t want him to see you flustered. that is when you realize why you’re here.

“oh fuck, the doula appointment.”

“yeah!” beomgyu replies outside as you quickly tidy the guitar up into your case and you step into your wardrobe to grab some more clothes that are much more appropriate for your appointment.

“sorry, about that. beom.”

“nah, no worries. i can wait.”

“thanks!” you close the door as you quickly change your clothes, deciding for a flowy blouse with a rubber-banded culotte, needing to remind yourself to buy maternity clothes because you are slowly running out of clothes that fit you. you wore a bit of sunscreen as you got a message from mama telling you to embrace the pregnancy glow your friends seemed to notice is exuding out of you as you’re in the second trimester. wearing the eau du toilette that doesn’t make you as dizzy—unlike perfume—you open the door to see beomgyu leaning against the wall where it hangs a frame of you and your roommates in photo booths.

“you ready?” he held his hand out as you nodded, you put your hands out before beomgyu grabbed the strap of the bag from your hold, startling you before you returned to your usual state. if your face isn’t warm enough, it’s now warmer from the embarrassment.

the walk down to his car is silent as he helps with buckling the seatbelt to the side. seeing how much your stomach is rested underneath the strap makes him giggle as you recognize the smell of pot from beomgyu’s very appropriate old sedan car.

“hopefully you aren’t high while driving me.” you give a cheeky grin.

“of course not. heeseung will actually kill me if he finds that i dui with you.”

beomgyu twists the key of the ignition as the car turns on—yes, that’s how old his car is—as the sound of a loud rock song plays from the rock fm you recognized. his hand reaches for the button as you react,

“no need. i’m okay with it.”

he hums as he reaches for the volume to turn the sound down, not letting the rattling of the sound in the interior startle you as he pulls the car out of the parking space and into the road.

“can you check the quickest route to the office?” beomgyu said as he brushed his wolf-cut hair.

“of course.” you lean back against the leather seat as you open the map app on your phone, telling beomgyu the roads to the doula’s office. the song has changed to a familiar song by tom petty playing as you notice how beomgyu glances at you.

“what?” you called out with a few chuckles.

“i didn’t expect you to like my song, well txt’s song.” his reply is met with your own giggle as you lean back.

“even if i hate heeseung. that doesn’t mean i have to hate his friends, you know?”

your eyebrow is raised as he gives another quick look before focusing on the road, “if you don’t believe me, i’ve been a fan of band your band since, like, sophomore year when you formed.”

“why? i really wanna hear from a fan's perspective.”

your giggle warms his heart as you answered, “i just relate to it, ya hear? a band that talks about the hardships of finding oneself and the struggle of growing but in a more intelligible way other, especially ‘skipping stones’ from your newest album.”

both of beomgyu’s hands are on the steering wheel as you feel the brake of the car before turning to the curb of where the office is, parking nearest to the entrance as the car stops and he pulls the hand brake. both of you sitting inside as you waited for heeseung to arrive in a few minutes from the last time he texted you.

“why ‘skipping stones’ specifically?”

“hmm…” you suppressed the grin that is threatening to go out before replying with, “interpreting self-struggle with the idea of skipping stone is… in it of itself, very poignant. to correlate the body of water with your own and the stones you’re throwing as the struggle you’re facing.” you let out a huge sigh, “i don’t know- it’s something i understand, especially if someone else is doing the skipping stone to you, feeling that emotion sinking into you, replacing the water’s place…”

you glanced at beomgyu who was definitely staring at you, his hands on his lap as he let out a solemn smile, agreeing with what you said. you quietly nod and take a sharp intake, trying to find the right words to cut the rising awkwardness between the two of you, “other than that, the freaking dissonance on the harmony is so good. it gives a sense of unbalanced buoyancy as if you’re a leaf floating on the water and the skipping stone makes it unstable. great job on that.”

“thanks!”

“of course.” you nearly slapped yourself for leaning closer to the middle console, but beomgyu seemed to not react as much when you felt a bit of your finger touching his. “can’t wait for the next release. no pressure.”

the corner of beomgyu’s lips rose as he giggled, a boyish grin on his face before his expression changed, “don’t worry, me and the band won’t let the fans down.” he replied as you leaned back, head nodding. that’s when you hear the rumbling of the car right beside yours as you see the appearance of heeseung’s newer model car.

“gotta go. thank you so much for bringing me here,” you said as beomgyu helped pick your bag up from the backseat.

“of course, (y/n). gotta have to thank heeseung for letting me do so, but hey…” you felt his hand reaching and now touching your wrist, making you turn your body while nearly opening the door.

“i've known you since high school but we never hang out together cause of heeseung. maybe we could hang out, with your girls and my guys? if heeseung is already melting his ice down then i think that’s okay for us and our friends to hang out. it’s up to you, though.”

you suppress an amused smile as you think about it. thinking about how long have you been crushing on the boy in front of you and how you wanna shake heeseung a thank you for letting him do the errands, maybe even to your noise-canceling headphones that make him notice just how much you like him- no, his band. yeah.

“i’ll think about it. heeseung and i don’t have a formal truce yet but based on what we talked about last time, maybe it could work.”

“sweet-“

you heard a knocking on the door before you turned around to catch heeseung’s silhouette behind the glass window.

“i’ll talk to the girls so we can arrange a time.”

“me too with the guys.”

“okay, bye beomgyu.” the car door unlocks as you nuzzle the door open while hearing beomgyu’s own “bye” from the driver’s seat. heeseung helps to hold the door as you step out.

“thanks for her ride, gyu.”

“don’t mention it, hee. we might even have to ride with her often.” beomgyu said right as the door that heeseung held closed. the engine turns on as the car drives off the parking. you stand right beside heeseung as he looks at you, who still has a lingering smile on your face.

“why are you smiling, (y/n)?”

he lightly nudges your palm with his as you turn your head to him.

“you’ll see, hee.” as you took off towards the office, leaving heeseung once again alone as he then followed you.

part 2

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#k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #rsc: laurel hell #cr: heeseung #cs: enhypen #sc: regina

[leclercings]

Meeting the Sainzs | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x girlfriend!Reader

A/N: I tweaked it a little bit, but this was really fun to write.

You stand in front of your boyfriend's house. A little bit excited, but mostly daunted.

Your boyfriend, Carlos Sainz is an F1 driver from Spain.

You think about the time you first met. You were an F1 journalist for your magazine and when you interviewed him for the first time, sparks flew. After that, you both were inseparable.

But his family doesn't think so. You've met them in bits and pieces- just shy hellos and goodbyes, and they've always judged you.

Or so you think.

This is the first time officially that they've invited you for dinner. And that is why, you are daunted.

You don't want to mess it up, you don't want to sound stupid and definitely don't want to sound like a golddigger.

Of course you can't tell this to Carlos. He offered to pick you up but you refused- saying you could drive from the hotel to his house. You ended up getting lost on the way and being an hour late, for which you've apologized profusely and brought some wine on the way as a thank you.

You take a deep breath in.

You got this.

You ring the bell, and wait. You can feel the sweat trickle down your makeup laden face, it's so hot and also you're super nervous.

The door opens to reveal Carlos.

“Y/N! You made it.” He gives you a peck on the lips.

He walks you inside to the dining area, where everyone is sitting, waiting for you.

There's his dad, mom, both his sisters, their husbands and his cousin along with his wife.

You wave a shy hi.

“Hello, dear,” his dad comes up and hugs you. His dad really adores you, because he's seen you taking interviews.

His mom, and sisters, not so much. They wave a polite hello and go back to their own world.

You feel a little hurt. Carlos doesn't see it, or if he does, he pretends to ignore it.

“Come sit with us,” his cousin Carlos, tells you.

“How're you finding Madrid so far?” He asks you.

“Great,” you reply.

“Mi amor, here's some wine for you.”

You take the glass from Carlos gratefully.

“Everyone, let's have dinner,” his mother says.

You all line up in front of the table.

Everyone lines up at their seat and you're confused as to where to sit. There are two chairs empty but they're not next to each other. You stand there awkwardly as Reyes, his mother, goes to the kitchen.

“¿Por qué incluso la ha invitado?” His sister, Ana whispers. But she's standing so close to you and you hear it.

What they don't know is that you know a little bit of Spanish.

“Chicas, no sean tan groseras.” Carlos replies back as he sees your expression.

He whispers something in his cousin's ear and his cousin empties the seat next to Carlos.

“Let's sit, mi amor.” Carlos gestures you and you follow his movement.

Blanca rolls her eyes. Reyes comes back from the kitchen and looks at you, sighing.

Dinner is lively. You're mostly talking to Carlos and his cousin's wife, and sometimes Carlos’s dad pitches in.

Suddenly Carlos starts coughing.

“Carlos, honey, are you okay?”

He nods.

“I'll get you some water,” you hurriedly get up and go to the kitchen to get some water. Reyes follows you.

“You didn't have to get up, love,” she says, as you're standing in the kitchen trying to figure out where the cold water is. Reyes opens the fridge and motions you to follow her.

Her expression is soft, almost apologetic.

You give the water to Carlos who mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’.

“So tell me, Y/N,” Ana, his sister, pauses, and takes a sip of her wine, “how did you meet Carlos?”

Both of you smile. You stare at each other and you nod at Carlos to take the lead.

His dad and cousin are smiling too. They've heard this story a million times.

“So, Y/N, had to interview me at the hotel, but as always, she couldn't figure out which room to go into so she ended up somewhere else and I was somewhere else.”

You laugh.

“He waited around 15 minutes for me and I rushed in, frantically apologizing for being late.” You continue.

“I was smitten the moment I met her, it didn't matter whether she was late or not.”

Carlos puts his arm around you and kisses you. You blush a little.

“She's been my support through and through,” Carlos continues.

You remember the time when you had been with him during the surgery. Taking out time from your job was a little tough, but you made sure to be there for him whenever time allowed.

“And you've been mine,” you respond back, smiling.

Anybody can see how much you both love each other.

Dinner ends. You're helping to clean up. Ana, Blanca, Reyes and you work in the kitchen silently.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say, breaking the silence while handing Reyes the plates as she puts them in the dishwasher.

“You're welcome, sweetie.” She replies.

“So tell me, Y/N, how's your job going?”

“Amazing. I love travelling, the interaction, and of course, spending time with Carlos. My job is too demanding, but worth it.”

The way you speak about Carlos, the way you say his name with so much love and compassion- both his sisters can see it.

They smile at you.

“We're glad you're here,” Ana speaks up.

You frown, remembering her initial statement but you've decided to forgive her. She's just being protective of her brother, that's all.

“I'm glad too,” you smile at her.

Meeting a significant other's family is quite challenging, especially when it's someone famous. You're not sure what is there in store for you but you're happy that Carlos is by your side- and hopefully his family too.

#f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #cs55 x you #cs55 imagine #cs55 fluff #cs55 x reader #cs55 fic #cs55 #cs55 leclercings #f1 x female reader #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #cs 55 leclercings

[elizabeethan]

Witness

After the worst night of his life, Killian goes into the Witness Protection program and moves to Maine until he can testify against the man who took everything from him. He had resigned himself to living a life of misery, pain, and heartbreak, but that all changed when he met Lily Quinn.

A/N: I finally finished this one!! It's not perfect by any means, but I'm honestly just patting myself on the back for completing it, at this point. It's not beta'ed and I probably haven't proofread it enough, so if you see any typos or notice any continuity errors, no you didn't. 

Also, this is the 50th, yes FIFTIETH, Captain Swan fic that I've posted on Ao3. There isn't much I can say about that other than thank you to everyone in this incredible fandom who has encouraged me to explore writing and discover how much I love it. Thank you especially to @the-darkdragonfly and @donteattheappleshook for always being there for me in every capacity and for supporting me through thick and thin.

Rated E

15,630 words (oops)

Read on Ao3

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~~~~

The pain is unlike anything he’s ever felt before and is likely to ever feel again, lest he lose another appendage. It burns and stings and throbs and stabs all at once, and it drives him mad as he looks down and remembers that there’s nothing there. There’s no hand to be hurting him as he bites into his bottom lip and doubles over, holding his empty wrist in his one remaining hand. There's no reason for him to be feeling this way, and yet he feels as though he’s lost the hand all over again. 

 He doesn’t remember what it felt like to lose it in the first place, but it must have been something like this. Leaning over his ledgers upon his pathetically small desk, he tries to remind himself that there’s nothing there anymore. He shouldn’t be hurting like this, not now that it’s gone. He tells himself to get over it, snap out of it, he’s being foolish. He lets out a pained gasp as he puts his stubbed arm on the surface of the desk and picks up a pen, staring down at the empty space where his hand should be before taking a breath and sending the pen forcefully through the air, into the grainy wood, missing the hand that he lost months ago. 

 The burning subsides when he does this, as if him telling his mind that it isn’t there, that it doesn’t matter anymore, isn’t enough; as if he has to see it for himself to believe his own thoughts. It happens frequently– frequently enough for him to consider himself crazy on a several-times-weekly basis. He’s just lucky that he doesn’t share this cramped office with anyone, that he’s usually left alone to do his work in peace, just the way he likes it. He’s lucky that he lives alone, that he has no one to watch him go through the lunacy of feeling pain in a hand that doesn’t exist. He’s lucky that he’s always alone. He’s lucky to have lost everything and everyone, because at least he doesn’t have to force someone he loves to live through this with him. 

 At least, that’s what he tells himself as he pulls the pen from the shallow hole he punched into the wood and returns it to the cup where it belongs. 

~~~~

 He’s making an effort not to become the town drunk. 

 His father was the town drunk, and he’s always hated his father. 

 So when he goes to the Rabbit Hole, he likes to keep it to once a week, maybe less. He likes to keep it to two drinks, maybe three. He likes to keep control over himself so that no one in this tiny place starts to see him as the town drunk. They already see him as the strange, handless recluse, and he doesn’t feel the need to move into town drunk-territory. 

 But when he walks into the Rabbit Hole that night, just a few months after his arrival, he considers changing his ways if only in response to seeing the stunning, glowing blonde behind the bar for the first time. 

 She truly is glowing. She emanates beauty and exudes perfection as she stands behind the bar, somehow catching the perfect lighting, her bare arms toned as she pours a beer flawlessly, her hair gleaming under the dim light fixture, her smile shimmering despite the darkness in the bar. She laughs at her patron, Leroy telling her a joke that Killian can almost certainly bet was not funny. She throws her head back and he nearly salivates at the sight of her bare neck. She turns from the grumpy old man and adds the pour to his tab and then she turns again, locking eyes directly with Killian before giving him the most beautiful, sexy, friendly smile he’s ever received. 

 “Welcome in,” she says, her voice like bells as it rings through the bar, cutting against the loud music and the even louder laughter from the party at the pool table. “What can I get you?” 

 He’s almost stunned silent, stupidly standing there with his mouth hung open like a trout until he gets his bearings, tugging on the sleeves of his gray knit sweater and shuffling towards the bar. Get it together, you old fool, he tells himself, cursing as he trips over his own feet but praising himself as the sight draws a soft giggle from the angel of a woman. 

 “Rum,” he says idiotically, and she raises a brow. 

 “Just rum, neat? On the rocks? Or a shot?”

 He clears his throat. What will she think of him ordering just rum, neat? Or a shot? “Might as well throw in some Coke and ice, I suppose,” he chokes out, fighting through the awkwardness that he hasn’t felt since high school. 

 She laughs. It seems genuine, but she must treat all of her customers like this, right? “A rum and Coke then, coming right up. Do you like lime?”

 “Yes,” he says, although he can’t really remember if he does or not. He pulls on his left sleeve as he sits down, far from Leroy. His elbow rests on the bartop, and if he had a hand, it would drop between himself and the surface he leans against. “Sure. Please.”

 She works quickly, and he tries and tries not to look at the way her black tank top hugs her waist. He tries not to notice the way that there aren’t any lines along her back and he tries not to wonder whether she’s wearing a bra beneath it. He tries not to notice the way her jeans hug her hips and flare out just slightly, elongating her legs impossibly. Really, he really tries not to stare. Seriously. 

 “There you go,” she says with a bright smile. “Want to open a tab?”

 He says nothing, dropping his bum arm and using the other to fish his wallet out of his back pocket, pulling out the credit card David gave him and handing it to her without a second thought. Normally, he wouldn’t open a tab. Opening a tab is something the town drunk would do– or at least running up the tab is. But how can he say no to the siren standing before him? 

 “Thanks,” she says, looking at the front of the card and smiling. Something about this smile is different; it’s softer, more genuine. “Peter. I like that name.” 

 “What, um–” he clears his throat, not before kicking himself beneath the bar. “Would you tell me your name?”

 “It’s Lily,” she says pleasantly. “And it’s very nice to meet you.” 

 “Likewise.” 

 The exchange is taking a turn, he notices, the awkwardness growing between them because he should probably say something more. He should try to carry on the conversation, get to know her, let her get to know him. But he’s a fool, not used to interacting with anyone, never mind a beautiful woman, and she has other customers, so she smiles at him once more and walks towards Leroy, taking what’s left of his heart along with her. 

 ~~~~

 He returns to the bar the next night. 

 No one here knew his father, so he reasons that no one would assume his identity as a second generation alcoholic. He isn’t an alcoholic, not really. He would know if he was. He’s seen the signs, watched the way it murdered his father and his uncle and his brother. And he reasons, as he leaves his office the next night, that going to a bar two nights in a row does not an alcohol addiction make. 

 She’s here again; Lily. The fallen angel gracing this earth for reasons unclear to him. Her occupation at the Rabbit Hole is enigmatic because he’s certain that she could do anything she sets her mind to. He watches in awe as she mixes drinks and flawlessly pours beer and somehow operates the whole establishment, Ruby lilting through the restaurant and fancifully taking orders when the mood strikes. 

 He watches with as much normalcy as he can muster, not entirely used to the interactions that he’s been avoiding for the past seven months or so. 

 (Well, he says or so, but in reality, he knows exactly how long it’s been since he shut himself out from the rest of the world.) 

 (Seven months, two weeks, and three days since he fled Boston.)

 Lily floats through the bar, smiling at her customers and, he thinks, smirking at him. She walks to her colleague, tucking her head against the other woman’s ear and whispering something he could never make out until the two of them erupt into a symphony of giggles. She glances over at him, her bottom lip caught between her pearly teeth, and Ruby whispers something back. He watches as her cheeks flush, the intoxicating pink spreading down her neck and across her chest. He watches for as long as he can before he recognizes how unsettling it is for him to be staring like this, wondering how much further down the warmth trails along her porcelain skin. She watches him staring, how could she not, and his heart begins to race as she slowly makes her way towards him. Honestly, she probably isn’t even moving that slowly, but the way that his blood is racing through his veins more quickly than ever makes the rest of the world feel like it’s moving in slow motion. 

 “Peter,” she greets with a wry smile, one perfect brow lifted towards her hairline as the other rests beautifully above her glowing emerald eyes. “Did I make your rum and Coke wrong?” 

 “Of course not,” he answers too quickly, then he clears his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” 

 “I don’t mind being stared at,” she flirts, at least, he hopes she’s flirting. He thinks she must be if the way she leans against the bar closer to him than he’s seen her get to her other customers is any indication. He tugs on his left sleeve, the knit material stretching easily over his empty wrist. “At least, not by someone who looks like you.”

 Flirting, he tells himself. Honestly, as a grown man of somewhere close to 40, he should probably know when a woman is flirting with him, and yet this woman in particular has his mind in knots. He can’t even help the smile that creeps slowly along his lips, and he can’t help but to notice the way that it makes her own grow. 

 “The drink you made is delicious,” he tells her, as if that matters. “You’re quite talented.”

 She hums lightly, shrugging her toned shoulders and hopping onto the barstool beside him. He turns ever so slightly, hiding his blunted arm behind himself but refusing to pull any further from her than he has to. “Yeah, well… Have you been in town long?” 

 The change in subject, the sudden interest in his life, throws him for a loop, making it difficult for him to focus as if he wasn’t having trouble already. “Longer than you, I'd assume,” he answers ambiguously. It’s something David taught him. Unless someone knows exactly when he arrived, it’s a bad idea to give concrete answers, like I got here six months, one week, and two days ago. 

 “Well, I only got here about two weeks ago.”

 “Much longer than that,” he says confidently, because in the grand scheme of things it hasn’t been long, but in comparison of weeks, it’s been plenty. Clearing his throat, he lies. “About a year.” 

 Her eyes narrow slightly, her smile still playful, and she nods. “Well, you seem to at least know more than me, right?” She presses closer to him, leans in and rests her elbow against the bar, and if she gets any closer, she might be able to see that he’s missing about a pound’s worth of his left arm. But he doesn’t pull away. With her voice low and sultry, with her fingers dancing almost imperceptibly along the collar of his shirt, she murmurs, “Maybe you can show me around.”

 “Don't you, uh– don’t you have a bar to keep?”

 “Eh,” she shrugs nonchalantly, seeming to make herself more comfortable at his side as she shifts. “Ruby agreed to close so that I can shoot my shot with the hot customer who keeps staring.” 

 He blushes. He hasn’t blushed in… he doesn’t know how long it’s been. His eyes widen and she smiles like she expected him to think he was being secretive as he watched her. She takes his hand, his right hand, the only one he has, and it’s like she knows that that’s the right side to choose. She tells him not to worry about his tab, the one rum and Coke on the house. She keeps his hand in hers and guides him behind her until they reach the door, and he realizes that this woman could be leading him to his death and he frankly wouldn’t care. 

 ~~~~

 He doesn’t go back to her place. She doesn’t come back to his. 

 They just… talk. 

 He hasn’t talked to someone– really talked to someone, someone who isn’t his bloody assigned Marshal– in six months. Six months, three weeks, and six days. He hasn’t had the pleasure of getting to know someone in far too long, longer than he can count, because he never really knew Milah. He hasn’t felt such a connection to another person in all the time he can recall being alive. Perhaps he felt connected to his friend Rob in third grade, but this is different. Perhaps he felt connected to his brother before he died, but this is far different. Lily, Lily Quinn, is unlike anyone he’s ever met. She’s bold and brazen and she isn’t afraid to tell him exactly what’s on her mind at any given second. 

 I think you’re hot.

 The sweater look is seriously a turn on.

 I’m not really looking for a relationship right now, but I guess you can never say never.

 She’s right. One can never say never, although he was pretty clear with himself after losing Milah that he’d never let himself fall for a woman like that again. 

 And yet, here he is, standing beside a woman several years younger than he is, buying her ice cream, hoping she doesn’t notice the way his left hand simply no longer exists, certain that he would fall for her if he let himself. It’s almost inevitable, and he realizes it as he watches her skip along the rock wall that lies sturdily between the sidewalk and the ocean waves, ice cream cone in hand, toes pointed out before her as she takes on the stance and confidence of a gymnast or a ballerina and then admits, I’ve never been very coordinated. 

 He feels it in his heart as she hops down with a grin, her steps light and her smile lighter, as if nothing has ever bothered her in her life. It’s intoxicating. He feels envious of her and yet he doesn’t have the painful feeling in his gut that usually accompanies jealousy. He isn’t jealous of her lightness, of her carefree nature; he’s happy for her. 

 He’s known this woman merely a day and he’s falling for her. 

 So when she lets him walk her to the entrance of her apartment building, tells him goodnight and that she doesn’t normally kiss on the first date, he grins. Was this a date? he wonders to himself, and all he can do is hope endlessly that it was. 

 She doesnt give him her phone number, but she tells him that she’ll see him soon. She says it with confidence, with a certainty that she’ll see him at the bar soon enough, and he can’t help but match her smile. Well, match is a stretch, because her’s is glowing and perfect and his is pained and broken, but it isn’t forced tonight like it usually is, and for that, he’s grateful. 

 ~~~~

 He still struggles to find the perfect word to describe her. Sometimes he thinks it’s effortless, sometimes he thinks it’s perfect, sometimes he thinks it’s formidable, but nothing seems exactly right. He knows there must be one word, one phrase he can use to describe the essence of this woman, but as he stares dreamily at her as she works, he can’t think of it. 

 She smiles at him like she always does, pours him another drink, tells him he looks handsome in his slate colored sweater, and he blushes again. He couldn’t think of the last time he blushed before he met her, and now, he’s been blushing nonstop for the past three weeks of knowing her. 

 “You know,” she says one evening when the room is quiet, almost empty, pressing up onto her toes so that she can get closer to him although there’s a bar between them, “I don’t know if I got everything I should have out of our tour.” 

 “That was weeks ago,” he points out. “I think the period for complaints has expired.” 

 She laughs, throwing her head back and letting him see the cords of her neck as they stretch. “You’re funny,” she says easily. “I mean, shouldn’t you have brought me to all the local spots? I heard there’s a diner I’m seriously missing out on and you just took me to the ice cream shop.”

 “Well, ice cream shops are open much later than most diners.” 

 “Ruby says it moonlights as a restaurant at night.” 

 “She would know,” he agrees. “Her granny is Granny.” 

 She gasps, and he thinks it's sarcastic. “The Granny?” 

 He smiles. It’s genuine, real, honest. He can’t think of anything else to say. 

 “Maybe we can try it some time,” she offers after a beat, picking up her rag and wiping at the bar’s surface in front of him. He moves his elbow carefully, desperate to hide his shame from her like he always is, wondering if she’s noticed the strange way he shields his left arm. 

 “Are you… I mean, are you staying in town long, then?”

 She’s quiet for a moment, for the first time since he’s known her appearing unsure of what to say. She looks down at the wooden surface between them and drops her hand towards his, her long fingers playing at the knit fabric that nearly covers his fingers until she tickles the hair on his knuckles. “My plan was to stay as long as I needed to.”

 “How long will you need to?” 

 She shrugs. “I’m not sure. I’ll stay until I find what I’m looking for.” 

 “And what’s that?” 

 She smiles, still looking down at his hand and becoming more bold as she lifts one of his fingers and tucks her own beneath it. “You couldn't handle it,” she dares, looking at him with a playful smirk, and he can’t help but to return it. 

 “Perhaps not.”

 “What are you looking for?” 

 He can’t answer, because he doesn’t quite know. He racks his brain, wondering what will happen to him once he gives his testimony and can go on with his real life without the fear of being hunted or the unease of a US Marshal breathing down his back. He wonders what he’ll want when this is all over, wonders if he’ll want something out of his life other than for it to finally end. 

 “Home,” he tells her after the silence between them has grown cold, and he watches as the look on her face shifts from one of playful indifference and almost discomfort into something that he struggles to read. It’s something like disbelief, her mouth falling open slightly and her hold on his one remaining hand falling weak as she stares into his eyes and into his blackened soul. 

 She lets go of his hand completely, letting it fall against the countertop and moving towards the entrance of the bar, exiting her post as she often tells him she’ll never, ever do. She sidles up beside him, one hand landing softly on his cheek and the other resting against his thigh just above his knee. “Home?” she asks in a whisper, her’s softer than his, voice almost imperceptible over the sounds of the nearly empty bar. 

 “Aye,” he chokes out. “I’m not really sure… what that means. But… aye.” 

 “I want that, too,” she tells him as if it’s a secret, and a part of him realizes that something between them has shifted. This is an admittance, a secret she’s hardly told anyone, and as she moves in close to him and finally, finally captures his lips between her own, he feels nothing but gratitude and a realization that she’s truly letting him in. 

 The gratitude mixes quickly with a tightness in the pit of his stomach, her tongue lightly tracing the seam of his lips until he opens them slightly, allowing her entrance and a pass to explore as she wishes, and the gratitude grows. He breathes her in, inhaling the scent of her as it mixes with the scent of him and feeling the gratefulness growing along with that tightening in his stomach. He hears a soft whimper escaping the back of her throat, barely breaking past her lips before crashing against his own. The hand on his knee slides upwards to his thigh, squeezing his flesh beneath his jeans as her other hand slides into the hair at the back of his neck. 

 He struggles to think of a time where he wished for his hand back more than he wishes for it now, wanting nothing but to feel her beneath both of his palms, but one will have to do as he finds her hip and pulls her close, lets her find her spot between his knees and push her hips against his own. He leaves his empty arm by his side, content to ignore the desires in hopes of avoiding her finding out the truth. Well, this truth. 

 But she’s insatiable, wanton, needy as she tries to get closer, as she climbs up onto the stool precariously to straddle his thighs, as she sends a bolt of fear through him when she almost falls off, and he can’t help but to grab her, or try to and fail. He grabs one hip, has a good hold on her, but it’s not enough to distract her from the way that her other hip is secured by an empty wrist, and he knows by the way she freezes in his arms that she knows. 

 She whispers the name he gave her against his lips; he notes the way the word feels against his skin. He likes the way it feels when she says it, but he wonders if he’ll ever feel the truth falling from her lips. To his surprise, he feels her smile against his mouth and he pulls away, although he can’t seem to open his eyes. 

 “It’s okay,” she whispers. She holds his face in both of her hands and he feels envy. “Are you embarrassed?” 

 He nods without thinking, his forehead fused to hers and the tip of his nose running along the bridge of her own. 

 “You don’t have to be,” she whispers. “I already knew.” 

 “What?” he asks, looking up from her and meeting her deep emerald eyes. 

 Her smile is soft and kind and gentle. “I mean… yeah. It’s been weeks, and I'm good at noticing stuff.”

 “You’ve known for weeks?”

 “Since the first night.”

 “And you didn’t… It wasn’t…?”

 “No,” she whispers, her smile bright and understanding and somehow unchanged. “You're still hot as hell.” 

 He laughs, because what else is he supposed to do? He hasn’t thought of himself as attractive, not even remotely, since that day eight months and two days ago. But here she is, telling him he’s hot as hell even though she’s known since the first time they met that he only has one hand. 

 “How’d it happen?” she asks, lightly touching his forearm but not getting any closer to the scarred, angry skin just below, either because of his fear or her own. 

 He startles slightly. David told him he can’t tell anyone anything about that night, the night he lost his hand, so he shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. “Boating accident,” he tells her. They were at a marina, afterall; perhaps it’s not entirely a lie. 

 “Well, I’m sorry that happened. But it doesn't change anything.” 

 His nose is still pressed to hers and he doesn’t even think before nuzzling it against her own and making her grin, her giggle playful. “Thank you,” he whispers genuinely. “It’s taken a long time to get used to it– I'm still not used to it.” 

 He thinks of the pain. The way that it always hurts, always. He thinks of earlier when he put another small, shallow hole in his desk with the first pen he could find. He thinks of the way it isn’t there, and yet he’s somehow always reminded. He’ll never be used to it. 

 ~~~~

 It’s been two weeks, and he hasn’t gotten used to the way that it feels to kiss her. He can never get used to the way her lips slide against his, the way her fingers slip through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. He’ll never get used to the way her thighs squeeze around his hips once they finally find privacy, the way her hand grabs his and pulls him until they find sanctuary in the women’s restroom. He won’t ever grow tired of the way she moans his name– the fake one– and grinds her hips against his and clings against him as if she can’t get enough. And he won't ever, ever get used to the way she holds tightly against his blunted forearm as she tells him how attractive she finds him. 

 She giggles when he boldly thrusts, just a bit, letting her get a taste of what she does to him when they’re like this. Ensuring that she knows the effect she has on him when she moans out a name that isn’t his and bites into the soft flesh of his collarbone just below his shirt. 

 “You know,” she starts, panting as she digs her fingers into his shoulder blades. It isn’t exactly easy to be in this position– to hold her up against the sink but also ensure that she’s pressed firmly to him– but it’s worth it. “One of these days I might let you beneath my jeans.” 

 He smirks against her, kissing her again and squeezing his palm against the plump flesh of her ass beneath the denim. “Is that so?”

 “Maybe.” 

 “And what will I have to do to earn such a privilege?”

 She hums and giggles all at once, shrugging and capturing him in another kiss, effectively silencing him. “I’ll know when I know.”

 He laughs. It’s a real laugh. But his arm gets tired, what with him being unable to hold her with one of them, so he rests her weight on the porcelain sink for a moment. It was only a moment, honest, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Apparently, two weeks of making out against a free-standing sink puts a great burden on its structural integrity, and almost immediately as he puts her down, the porcelain shatters beneath her, splintering under her weight and sending her towards the floor. 

 “Fuck!” he shouts, trying to catch her and hoping that her frightened shouts don’t draw any attention from the other customers. The destruction of the sink stems from the basin and into the pipes, the breakage sending water at each of them and they’re soaked through faster than they can even comprehend. 

 At first he’s worried, trying to pull her out of the way and block the spraying pipes, but then her laughter rings louder than the forceful sound of the water and he can’t help but to look up at her with a smile. 

 “Look at you,” she laughs, her hair curling with moisture and the skin beneath her eyes blackening with her running makeup. 

 “Look at you!” he laughs back, shaking out his hand and standing by her side. “You look frazzled. Beautiful, but frazzled.”

 “I’m gonna have to call someone about this,” she says lightly, as if it’s the furthest thing from her mind. “But thanks.”

 “For breaking your sink?”

 “For giving me an excuse to leave early,” she says, pulling him close to her once again, pressing onto her toes so she can press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna have to go home and change. Apparently I’m frazzled.”

 “Aye,” he says softly. “As am I, I'm sure.”

 “You could always come back to my place. I have an energy efficient dryer.” 

 “And what will I wear in the meantime?”

 With a shrug, she tells him, “I’m not sure I’m overly concerned with what you’re wearing. Or what you’re not wearing.” 

 “Bloody hell,” he murmurs, not thinking before he wraps his right arm around her waist and pulls her close. “You’re…” He still can’t find the right word. Enigmatic? 

 “Horny.”

 “Aye?” he whispers. 

 “Yes. I want you.”

 She never hesitates to tell him exactly what she’s feeling and exactly what she’s thinking and exactly what she wants. It’s why he finds it so easy to believe her. Why wouldn’t he believe her?

 ~~~~

 Her apartment is small, and he doesn’t even feel strange when he chooses the word cute to describe it in his mind. It’s nicely decorated, although somewhat bleak, as if she hasn’t had the time to move in since she’s moved in. The space itself is quaint, aged in the best way, and the boxes stacked in the corner of her living room give it character. 

 He isn’t able to see much else, though, the rest of the apartment turning to a blur as she pushes him against the wall by the front door and ravages him with her mouth and hands, lifting a leg to hitch over his hip and grinding against him with as much coordination as she can muster. 

 She must be something of an athlete, he thinks as she maneuvers around him, contorts herself so that she’s as close to him as possible. How else would she be able to maintain a position like this if she wasn’t used to working on gaining strength and stamina? 

 He backs her up suddenly, her back against the wall now, his hips planted firmly against hers, and she hisses. “Fuck,” she chokes out, her head falling back against the wall when he mouth latches to her neck. “Fuck, yes.”

 “This is what you want?” he asks with more bold enthusiasm than he was expecting from himself. 

 “Yes, don’t stop doing that.”

 She’s panting, her breath warm as it washes over his head, and it makes him more wanton. He shifts downward slightly, his mouth finding the top of her breast and sliding along her skin until he reaches the fabric of her tank top. With further exploration, he discovers that he must have been right that second night when he assumed she wasn’t wearing a bra, because she isn’t wearing one now. 

 “Minx,” he bites out, pulling on the ribbed black fabric to expose more of her breast. “Do you always go braless to work?” 

 “You’ve gotta flaunt what you’ve got in my line of work,” she explains breathlessly, and he bites the soft flesh just above her hardened nipple. 

 “Suppose someone should see this one day,” he proposes, licking against the pebbled flesh and drawing a surprised gasp from her, “poking through your top. Is that merely a ploy for more tips?”

 “Maybe,” she breathes. “Maybe it’s a cry for attention.”

 “From Leroy?”

 “From you, you idiot.”

 He silences her when he pulls her hardened nipple between his lips, sucking just hard enough to drag a moan from her throat. It’s then that he realizes that he’s on her left side, and normally, were sex truly like riding a bicycle, he would reach for her other breast. Only he doesn’t have a left hand anymore, so how is he supposed to squeeze her right breast? This thought gives him pause, just long enough for her to notice and to take his face in her hands. 

 “Do you want me?” she asks him, the question surprising. 

 “Can you not tell how badly I want you, love?” he asks, his hips firm against hers, his cock hard in response to her. He thrusts against her gently, watches her eyes fall shut and a soft moan escape her lips. “Shall I show you?”

 She nods with enthusiasm, her chin bumping lightly against the top of his head, and he works hard to hold her tightly with his blunted arm so that he can squeeze her left thigh in his remaining hand. He slides it up, able to feel the soft fabric of her tight leggings and the contours of the muscles she has hidden underneath, and he’s jealous of his right hand for the loss of his left as he feels the roundness of her ass against his skin. 

 “Fuck,” she whispers again. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

 It’s not something he’s used to hearing. In fact, he isn’t sure anyone has ever called him that before– hot. Before Lily was Milah, and before Milah was a slew of unimportant women who warmed his bed. He lived his life that way for years, since losing his whole family one after another started to become too much. But then with Milah– after Milah– it became… not enough. 

 Maybe that was backwards. Maybe the loss of his family should have been more traumatic than the loss of a woman he almost loved along with his hand. Maybe it just goes to show how broken he truly is. 

 But here, and now, with Lily in his arms and her back against the wall and her hips grinding into his, he realizes that he isn’t as broken as he thought he was. Well, maybe that isn’t true– he’s certainly still broken. But maybe he can heal. 

 His hand, or what’s left on the end of his wrist, is healing. The doctor says it’s healing nicely. But he’s gone through the last eight months, two weeks, and three days assuming that his brain and his mind and his thoughts would never be more than the fragments of his shattered life. 

 How Lily calling him hot can change his mind, he isn’t sure, but it drives him forward, convinces him to allow her access to his belt, and then to his button and then to his zipper. It drives him to the waist of her damp leggings, soaked through with water from that blasted sink. It drives him to suck a small mark into her collarbone, eliciting a desperate gasp from her as he tugs at the stubborn fabric until it’s resting at her knees. 

 His fingers find her hot and wet and waiting for him, and he looks her in the eyes and is met with her quick nod, her bottom lip captured tightly between her teeth. Her head falls back against the door when he touches her, her jaw falling slack and making it impossible for him to stop himself from attaching his lips to her soft, pinkening skin on her neck. 

 It’s difficult to hold her up and continue to trace intricate patterns over her clit. It’s harder, still, to keep her pressed against him and suspended from the floor while he slips a finger, then a second, into her core. But as she grows closer and closer to that precipice, as he drags her to the cliff and holds her close as he encourages her towards the edge, he can ignore the cramp in his arm and the tightness in his back. 

 She calls him Peter when she comes. He wouldn’t expect anything else, but it makes him long for the truth. It makes him want to be his true self with her, and he hasn't wanted to be that in a very, very long time.

 He carries her through her half-empty apartment as she catches her breath, her arms around his back tight, her fingers clinging sharply to the sweater he longs to take off. When he drops her onto her mattress, her eyes are hooded as she stares up at him. She reaches for him, seeming unhappy with being apart, and the thought makes him fight off a smile. Once she has her hands on him she finds the hem of his sweater, the one he doesn’t particularly like, the one that reminds him that he’s Peter and not Killian, and pulls it over his head. 

 They’re breathless when they come together. Finally tucking himself inside her is a feeling unlike anything he’s ever experienced or is likely to again. He thought he was beyond any sort of happiness, and having her beneath him is perfection. It’s overwhelming to realize that he’s here with her and it makes his breathing stutter as he drives into her with more force. The change of pace makes her cry out, her knees tight around his hips, and he can feel her squeezing him as she reaches that precipice again. The warm tightness makes him squeeze his eyes shut until her hand finds its way to his cheek, encouraging him to open them, and when he does, it’s like something shifts. 

 He’s loved Lily since the first time he saw her. But now, as their eyes meet and they climax together, he knows he’ll never be the same. And he knows he can’t lose her. 

 ~~~~

 Her head is heavy on his chest, the weight of it comforting against his heart as her even breath washes over the coarse dark hair that she can't seem to keep her fingers out of, even in sleep. He hears her hum softly, her fingers moving just slightly as she seems to drift into consciousness. She nuzzles her cheek against his chest and he feels a soft pressure as if she’s smiling against him. It makes him smile, too. 

 As she starts to stir, she tightens her grip on him, her arm sliding along his chest and hugging him close to herself, and everything is almost perfect until she stiffens. Following a low, deep rumble, she gasps, tensing above him and looking up at him with the widest eyes he’s ever seen. “Excuse me,” she says in embarrassment. 

 “Did you just belch?” 

 Her cheeks are set aflame, her teeth digging into her bottom lip as she fights back a laugh and nods. “Sorry.” 

 “You’re insane.” 

 “Well you just slept with me, so what does that make you?”

 “Also insane,” he agrees with a laugh. Without hardly thinking about it, he finds himself grinning, rolling her until she’s on her back and he can cage her between his arms, the marred one hidden beneath the pillow under her head. She laughs brightly as she stares up into his eyes and he feels his heart racing. “Sleep well?” 

 “Mhmm,” she hums. She lifts a hand and lets it cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the small scar that he thought was unsightly until he lost his hand. “You?”

 “Mhmm. It’s, um… it’s been a bit.” 

 “Since the last time you were with someone?” 

 “Aye,” he whispers. 

 “Me too,” she whispers back, giving him a soft comforting smile. “My last boyfriend turned out to be a major creep.” 

 “I’m sorry,” he tells her. He rolls onto his side and she follows, staring at him in a way that he isn’t used to. “You deserve better than that.” 

 “So do you.”

 He finds it hard to answer. He isn’t sure that’s true, considering everything, so he says, “Well, my last girlfriend turned out to be married.” And then murdered.

 “Yikes,” she cringes, shaking her head. He catches the way her eyes drift off beyond him, her thoughts consuming her for a moment, before she asks, “Was it before… before your hand?” 

 Of course it was. The last time he was with Milah was just before she told him the truth, about her husband, about his treatment of her, about the way that she was prepared to go back to the monster of a man. It was just hours before the last time he saw her alive. Just hours before he saw the life drain from her eyes and felt the blood draining from his wrist. 

 “Yes,” he chokes out, plagued by the memories of a woman who never really loved him but died for him anyway. 

 She touches his forearm again, the one that he thinks he’s done a pretty good job of hiding from her, and squeezes in a way that’s more comforting than he was expecting. His scars are healing, no longer raw or burning or swollen, the stitches long gone, but it’s still the ugliest part of him and having her hand just above the unsightly wound makes him shiver. Her eyes meet his, gleaming in the morning sunlight and reminding him of a shard of sea glass as she stares so deeply at him that he thinks she must be seeing his soul. He wonders what she finds there– wonders if it’s actually his soul, or if it belongs to Peter Harrison, the man she believes him to be. 

 Without saying a word, without her eyes leaving his, she takes his wrist towards herself, her lips still just slightly swollen as she presses them against his tender, broken skin. She gives him a smile, her thumb gently running along one of his longer scars, and kisses him once more, causing a chill to run down his spine. 

 “Are you okay?” she asks in a whisper, and the question, he thinks, goes deeper than just to inquire about his hand. 

 “I think so,” he answers honestly, just as softly as she had asked her question, and his response makes her smile. 

 “I just… obviously I haven’t been in your shoes. But I know this is probably a lot for you to process.” David had said that once, that it’ll be a lot to process. It is; the loss of his hand is only one piece of the puzzle that, when put together, will tell the story of his suffering. His hand being obliterated to the point it could not be saved is only one of the things that haunts him. The horror of watching a woman he could have loved being strangled, watching her take her last breath, will never leave him. 

 He thinks of that night too often, recalling the way that horrible man destroyed every part of him as he took his shots, missing the one he shouldn’t have. Had he not struck Killian two inches too far to the left, perhaps he would have reached his goal of killing him. Perhaps, in that case, Killian would have been put out of his misery and he never would have had to become Peter Harrison. 

 But he doesn’t want to die anymore, at least, he doesn’t think so. With Lily’s fingers sliding along his chest, he thinks he’ll allow himself to live for a bit longer. 

 “What’s this?” she asks after a consuming silence forces its way between them. When he comes back to himself, forcing away the thoughts of pain and suffering, he notes the way her fingers slide along his skin until they find the scar on his back, the one from the bullet that almost missed him and almost killed him, too far to the left to have done any damage. Her fingers circle the small wound that’s all but healed and he shivers again. 

 “A scar,” he answers simply, his voice rough and deep and forced. 

 “From what?” 

 He’s silent. He can’t answer, because for whatever reason, he gets the impression that she already knows. Even if he was allowed to tell her the truth, to tell her that his name isn’t Peter and that his life is in danger but that he doesn't truly care, he knows he wouldn’t, because he couldn’t stand to see the look on her face if he were to tell her what truly happened. 

 So he rolls her over and he kisses her again, and he keeps kissing her until she’s consumed by him as he always is by her, and she seems to forget that she asked in the first place. 

 ~~~~

 He’s unsure of what to do. 

 There’s nothing he really can do, truthfully. For a moment he wondered if physical therapy would help, but then he recalled that there’s nothing there for a physical therapist to work on. 

 All he can do is suffer. 

 The pain is as agonizing as it is disorienting. How can he look at a hand that isn’t there and feel such pain within it? All he can think about as he sits at his too-small desk in his too-small office is recall the feeling of Gold’s bullet penetrating his skin and muscle and bone, shattering it until it was of no use to him. 

 And now there’s nothing there to treat, so all he can do is dig his remaining fingers into the wood of his desk and start digging through his drawer for a pen that he hasn’t broken yet. 

 “Good morning!” he hears as he grips the pen in his fist, the door swinging open and revealing his panting, sweating, cursing form to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. “Peter?” 

 He grunts as he forces the pen out of his fist, dropping it to the floor and trying and failing to drag in some oxygen. He can’t speak to her, his jaw is clenched too tightly. He hears her hurrying into his office, something dropping onto the desk and something else dropping onto the floor as she kneels before him and takes his fist in her hand. 

 “What’s wrong?” she asks in worry, her thumb running along his knuckles, and it would be comforting if this was the hand paining him. “Peter,” she says more soothingly, voice soft and angelic, and she stands between his knees and takes his face between her hands, pressing his forehead to hers. “Peter, just breathe. It’s okay,” she whispers onto his mouth. 

 He tries, he really does. The breath he takes in is short and forceful, the sound escaping him embarrassing. “Deep breaths,” she instructs gently, her fingers scratching against his scalp. She shushes him and the sound penetrates his thoughts and his agony until he’s able to breathe deeply enough to smell her intoxicating perfume. “That’s it,” she encourages. “It’s okay.” 

 The pain is still there, but it’s lessened somehow, and he didn’t need to thrust a pen into his desk to achieve the same results. “I’m sorry,” he finally forces out when he feels himself able to speak again. 

 “Don’t apologize,” she whispers, and then before he can think or even open his eyes, her soft, pliant lips are pressed to his and his thoughts are erased at last. She stays there for only a moment, not long enough before she pulls away and runs the perfect tip of her nose along the bridge of his. “What happened?” 

 He shakes his head. He can’t possibly burden her with this foolishness, so he keeps quiet and lets his hand hold onto her wrist as her own fingers continue their ministrations along his scalp. “Nothing,” he murmurs, and she feels her breath escaping her lips in a soft laugh that lands against his mouth. 

 “That wasn’t nothing, Peter,” she accuses. The more she hears that names fall from her lips, the more he longs to correct her, and it’s becoming almost as agonizing as his hand that no longer exists. “Is it… I mean, I’ve heard before that sometimes amputations can–” 

 “Aye,” he interrupts. She’s right, of course, but he’d rather not put it to words. He much prefers to ignore it. “You’re right, love. I’m sorry that I ruined your visit– I wasn’t expecting you.” 

 She seems to read him easily, pulling away and smiling as she stands up straight. “I was surprising you,” she tells him with a smile. “The point is that you didn’t expect me. I brought you coffee.” 

 “Well, thank you,” he says, forcing a smile. “I’m sure I needed this.” 

 “Peter,” she says, more serious suddenly, and his face falls at the sound of her voice wrapping around a name that isn’t his. 

 “I’m alright, Lily,” he says, trying to reassure her, although her face falls the same way he’s sure he did. “What is it?” he asks, placing the paper mug on his desk and taking her hand in his. 

 “Nothing,” she smiles, and it makes him think of himself, telling her the exact same thing. “Just… I found out I’m not actually on the schedule for today when I thought I was so I figured I'd pay you a visit. I, um– I missed you,” she admits more shyly, and it makes him smile. 

 “Well, I missed you, too, love,” he smiles back. How is it possible for him to be smiling when he was halfway to wishing for death just moments ago? “I’m glad you paid me a visit; I'm just sorry you had to… to see that.” 

 “I told you not to apologize,” she reminds him, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his in a tender kiss that makes his heart stutter behind his ribs. She leans away and hoists herself onto his tattered desk, able to ignore the tiny holes that little the surface and crossing her ankles as she smiles at him and reaches for the bag from Granny’s. “I also got you a bearclaw.” 

 “Oh dear,” he says, shaking his head at her playfully. “I’m afraid I'm much more of a donut person.” 

 Lily takes in a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh, shaking her own head and then rolling her eyes. “Okay,” she says with a nod. “Well, Peter, it was nice while it lasted, but we’re going to have to break up now,” she teases as she hops to the floor and starts to step away. He catches her, though, his hand reaching into the back pocket of her tight jeans and tugging her towards him until she falls into his lap with a ringing laugh. 

 His lips find her neck, and he finds himself much more playful than he’s ever been after having one of his episodes of pain and self-hatred. “How can we be broken up,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear, smirking when he feels her shudder, “when we never established a relationship in the first place?” 

 He isn’t sure what makes him ask– he’s never been so bold or straightforward, not even with Milah. But her answer makes his boldness worth it. “I thought you knew that you’re stuck with me,” she says, her tone joking and yet somehow completely serious. 

 “My, my. Lily Quinn, are you asking me out?” 

 She stills for a second before turning to face him and nodding. “I suppose so.”

 Their lips meet, and everything else in the room disappears. Every hardship he’s ever experienced melts into the background as she kisses him, her mouth soft and perfect and her tongue tracing along his own in a way that makes his spine tingle. He can do nothing but pull her closer once she’s maneuvered herself into his lap, her legs straddling his and her fingers finding their way into his hair again. 

 “Are you busy?” she asks against his mouth breathlessly. 

 “Yes,” he breathes back, suddenly consumed with need as he picks her up with some difficulty and deposits her on the desk. “With you.”

 She lets out a breathless laugh, the sound cut off by her gasp when he kisses her. Their actions are quick and hasty, their need for each other only mildly outweighed by their need not to be caught. Neither of them bother with their shirts, Lily reaching for his belt and loosening it just enough so that she can undo his trousers and watch them fall to the floor. He steps out of them, though perhaps he shouldn’t. He lets her pull his boxers down, though, and he steps out of those, too. 

 He finds the jeans she wears intoxicating. He loves when she wears them to work almost as much as he loves when she goes to the bar without a bra, but there’s no time to explore the soft skin of her breasts today. Instead, he pushes her jeans off of her ass and squeezes the flesh there with his one remaining hand, the other arm resting at his side and desperate to feel her with his lost fingers. Her tongue finds its way into his mouth as he slides her underwear down, too, the garments landing on the floor beside his own trousers. 

 She gasps when he enters her after just a moment of foreplay, his fingers quickly ensuring that she’s ready for him before his cock slides home inside her. She bites his lip, her fingers clinging to the material of the gray knit on his shoulders. “Fuck,” she breathes into his mouth, a moan escaping her throat. 

 “Okay?” he asks. 

 She nods rapidly, desperately, her hips starting to move and bounce above him, seeking the pressure and the friction that’ll get her to ecstasy. “Harder,” she begs almost silently, and he grips her hips to thrust forcefully up into her, making her cry out too loudly. 

 They both come quickly, their mouths latching together to ensure that they’re silent enough not to get caught by his coworkers. And he holds her, feels her breath panting out against his hot skin, and even though the life he’s presented to her is technically a lie, he’s never felt more like the person he wants to be. 

 ~~~~

 “There’s someone new in town,” she says after a while, her breathing having evened out although her fingers continue to draw small patterns into the skin of his collarbone along the neckline of his shirt. 

 “Is there?” 

 “Yeah. I think he’s from Boston, too; do you know him?” 

 He kisses her temple over the hair clinging to her skin and chuckles. “I’m afraid I don’t know everyone from Boston, love.” 

 “I think his name is Ian, or something.” 

 His hand slips along her back beneath her top, although he slows his movements slightly at her continued inquiry. “You’re rather distracted by this newcomer,” he points out, and she shrugs. With a joking tone, he asks, “Should I be jealous?” 

 “No,” she giggles without a second thought before she presses a kiss to his neck and then drops her head back down to his chest. “No,” she says again with more relaxation. “I’m just curious.” 

 “I know,” he murmurs against her head. “You are quite a curious lass.” 

 “Are you calling me a lass because of how much younger I am than you?” she asks in jest, and he moves his hand so that he can pinch her hip, making her giggle again. 

 He would answer with as much a joking tone as she had given him, but they’re interrupted, the ringing of his phone distracting him from the softness of her skin against his and reminding him that she lies half naked atop him, her jeans lying beside his on the floor of his office, which anyone can enter at any time. He kisses her once more, moving carefully so that he doesn’t disturb her too much as he reaches for his phone in his pants pocket.

 “Is it your other girlfriend?” she asks, and he swats her ass playfully, making her yelp and laugh. 

 It’s not, of course. It’s David– the last person he wants to talk to with Lily resting pantsless on his lap. “A friend,” he explains with unease. 

 She removes herself from him, reaching for the box of tissues on his desk and giving him a look that invites him to swipe the screen to answer. “David,” he says tightly, hoping that his tone gives away the fact that it’s a horrible time for him to be calling. 

 “Killian,” he answers too loudly, but Lily doesn’t seem to notice. “How are things?”

 “Fine.”

 He watches as she struts back towards him, her underwear back on but her jeans still sitting on the floor, and she stops to pick up his boxers and toss them at him. “Good,” David says as he struggles to keep the phone tucked against his shoulder while tugging his boxers back over his legs. She giggles and bites into her bottom lip as she watches, walking around to the back of his desk chair and placing her hands on his shoulders, holding his phone against his ear for him. “I’m probably going to pay you a visit.”

 “That’s no problem,” he answers, although he clears his throat loudly when she bends towards him, her lips dancing along the shell of his ear that isn’t being burned by his Marshal’s interruptions. “When?” 

 “Tomorrow, if not Wednesday.” 

 “Fine,” he says with a cough and a sigh. 

 “Killian, Are you alright?” he asks, and how is he supposed to correct the man on the other line when her mouth trails down his neck and her hands start to scratch through the hair on his chest? “You sound… strange.”

 He clears his throat once more, leaning his head against hers and sighing. “I’ve got to go,” he says with more urgency. “I suppose I'll see you tomorrow or Wednesday.” 

 “Alright, just tell me to bring a pepperoni pizza if you’re in danger right now.” 

 Bloody hell. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve plenty of food at home. See you soon, Dave.” 

 He hears her giggle in his ear before he even drops the phone to his lap, and he spins in his chair so that he faces her, pulling her back down into his lap and pinching her hip once more. “You’re a scoundrel.” 

 “Mhmm,” she agrees happily, leaning in to kiss him earnestly. “Are you expecting a visit?” 

 He shrugs. “I suppose I am.” 

 “From a friend?” 

 “An old friend, uh, from school. Certainly not a girlfriend.” 

 She hums and kisses him once more. “Good. And do I get to meet this friend?” 

 He gulps. He doesn’t really know the answer to that, isn’t familiar with the ins and outs of a witness’s new girlfriend meeting their court appointed Marshal. So he shrugs and says, “I’m not really sure. Dave is, well, he’s quite shy.” 

 “But I'm such a catch,” she jokes, pressing a kiss to his nose before standing. 

 “Yes, you are,” he answers with a solid pinch to her bum as she makes her way to her jeans. 

 Once they’re pulled onto her long legs she stands straight before him, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’m off,” she says. “I need to go grocery shopping.”

 “Just a visit for a quickie, then?” he jokes, and she rolls her eyes. 

 “I guess so. But maybe I’ll stop by your place tonight.” She shoots him a smirk as she walks towards the door and he realizes that he’s still not wearing pants. She winks and walks out the door without so much as another word. 

 ~~~~

 It’s raining when he walks home that night. The roads are slick and although it’s not too cold out, he longs for a leather jacket to keep the moisture from soaking into his back. 

 He hasn’t felt like himself since he’s gotten here, forced to change everything about himself from his name to the way he used to like to dress. He’s not himself anymore, in fact; the Killian Jones he used to know had two hands and less to worry about. 

 But if there’s one thing that makes him feel like himself, or at least a version of himself who he can stand, it’s Lily. 

 She’s bright, and contagiously happy, and hilarious. She’s youthful and energetic, beautiful and intelligent. He can’t get enough of her. He can’t get her out of his head. He had thoughts of hatred for himself when he moved here, and she’s begun to chop away at them all, because if she can stand to be around him, hell, if she can enjoy her time with him, maybe he’s not that bad after all. 

 He loves her. He’s only known her a few months, but it’s been more than enough time for him to fall madly in love with Lily Quinn. 

 He’s confused when he sees her on his way home, though. She had already texted him and told him that she wouldn’t make it over tonight because she found out last minute that she has to work. But here she is, well past the time her shift should have started, sitting in her Bug and staring contemplatively out the window at the building across the street. 

 “Lily,” he says through the open passenger window, and she jumps a mile in her seat and looks at him in complete shock, as if seeing him is the last thing she would have expected. “What… Are you okay?” 

 “Peter,” she says back, placing her hand on her heart that he assumes must be beating erratically. “You startled me.” 

 “Sorry,” he tells her, and he watches her unlock the door and takes it as an invitation to join her in the passenger’s seat. “I thought you were working?” 

 She clears her throat, her eyes darting, looking at everything in her line of sight except for him. They both hear a sound, the front door of the building she’s watching opening, and she jumps again. He looks ahead at the man leaving the building and feels a cold sweat settling over him as a pit forms in his stomach, realizing quickly that something isn’t right. Because even from this distance and even in the dim street lamps, he can tell clear as day that the man they’re both staring at is his old roommate from Boston. “Fuck,” she breathes, looking around again nervously this time and turning to her back seat. 

 That’s when he turns, too, taking in the contents of the box sitting on the floor behind her seat and noticing a jacket. A black leather jacket, useless now with a hole in the torso and a blood stain on the left sleeve. 

 That’s his jacket. The one he was wearing on the worst night of his life. 

 “Where did you get that?” he asks her slowly, and she looks like a rabid dog caught on a leash as she watches August jump into a truck and drive away, obviously wanting nothing more than to follow him. “Lily.”

 “Fuck!” she says again, louder this time, her hand colliding with the steering wheel before she rests her head on it. “God dammit.” 

 “What the hell is going on?” he demands. As he watches her painfully grappling with what to do, with whether she should start her engine and follow the man she’s clearly been watching, the man who could have followed him from Boston and could be about to ruin everything, he feels something shattering. Suddenly everything starts to fall apart, the trust he had for her slipping through his fingers and the happiness he thought he felt seeming to melt away. 

 “I’m… I don’t know how to tell you,” she says, and when he looks at her with anger in his heart, he can see the way that she’s breaking, too. He has no idea what’s going on with her, with the two of them, but he finds it hard to believe that whatever is between them isn’t splitting at the seams. She sniffles and says, “I’m sorry.” 

 “Why are you sorry?” he asks with a bit more tenderness in his voice, finding it impossible to handle seeing tears starting to well in her eyes. “What’s going on? Why do you have my old jacket in your backseat? Why are you following August?” 

 “August?” she asks in confusion, shaking her head. “That’s not August, that’s the new guy from Boston; the guy I was asking you about earlier.”

 “No, that’s–”

 “Wait.”

 “Lily–”

 “Did you say–” Her face falls. Her mouth slacks open. Her eyes grow wide with fear and something else. She whispers into the dark, “Your jacket?” 

 “Aye, mine. I thought I’d lost it; it wasn’t with my personal effects when I left the hospital.” 

 Her hands cover her mouth, her eyes growing more tearful as she shakes her head. “No,” she chokes out before letting out a sob. “No. Fuck, no.”

 “Lily–” he starts, trying to put his hand on her shoulder, but she pulls away.

“Don’t call me that,” she insists through tears before she turns to start her engine. 

 He lets out a sarcastic laugh and asks, “And what will you have me call you, then?” he asks in exasperation, watching on in concern as she peels away from the curb without barely checking her surroundings and rushes towards his apartment, not hers. “Lily, what are you–” 

 “Emma,” she says forcefully, turning to him for just a second before wiping her eyes and looking back to the road. “My name is Emma.” 

 The only word he can use to describe himself is stunned. He’s silent, his mouth hanging slack just as hers was just a moment ago. His brows pinch together in thought as he looks at her, really looks at her, and for the first time, something seems to click. 

 Emma. 

 He can’t even be angry with her. He isn’t sure what reason she could possibly have to make up a fake name, but it dawns on him once more that she’s known him as Peter Harrison since they met almost six months ago. How can he be upset with her for lying about her true identity when he’s done nothing but lie to her from the moment they met? 

 All he can say is, “Why?” 

 She pulls sharply into a parking spot just outside of his building, looking around suspiciously before hurrying out of the car and towards his building’s front door, leaving him to follow. 

 He hurries out of the car behind her, throwing the door shut and taking out his key to open the door for her. “Li– Emma?” he tries, not used to feeling the name on his lips, but she rushes ahead of him, bypassing the elevator as she shoves the door to the stairs open and pushes through, barely waiting for him before sprinting up to his floor. 

 Once they’re inside his apartment, he stands behind her as she locks the door, and then, overcome with frustration and confusion and a need for answers, he places his hand and wrist on the door around her head and forces her eyes to meet his. “What the hell is going on?” 

 “Peter,” she starts, and he almost corrects her, but he can’t get a word in. Tearfully, she says, “Tell me you didn’t live with that man. Please, please just tell me that isn’t your jacket and this is all just a cruel joke.” 

 He stares at her for a moment, consumed with sadness and confusion. “Why would it be? Why would you know that?” 

 She shakes her head, looking down from his eyes. “Then you know… You know Robert Gold, then?” 

 His jaw tightens immediately, his teeth clenching together painfully, and he almost presses his hand to her neck at the threat but chooses instead to dig his fingers into the wood of the door and deny her freedom when she tries to pull away from him. “Why do you know that name?” he asks through his teeth. 

 She glances up for a moment and then back down. “I work for him,” she whispers. 

 He almost hits his hand against the door and pulls away, anger all consuming, boiling his blood and sending it singing through his veins as he tries to catch his breath. 

 But he can’t catch his breath, not as she continues to speak a harsh truth. “I’m a bounty hunter. I was hired by Robert Gold to find the witness to his wife’s murder; a man in his early-to-mid-forties who wears a lot of leather and–” 

 “And what?” he seethes when she doesn’t go on. 

 Her eyes meet his and sadness rim them as she weakly admits, “And had his hand… shot off… a year ago.”

 “Bloody hell,” he curses and while he’s angry, furious, he can’t help but to feel something quite the opposite as he looks at her and realizes he finally knows the real her. Emma. 

 “I’m sorry,” she whispers in anguish, wiping away the tears in her eyes. “I don't– This can’t be happening.”

 “Aye, well, it is,” he says with just a touch of snark staining his voice, and she lets out a sob, dropping her face to her hands. 

 “I thought you were Peter Harrison,” she cries. “You lost your hand in a boating accident. You never wear leather! If I had known that you were the one I was supposed to be looking for…” 

 “What? You would’ve gotten it over with sooner?” he asks with viper shooting through his words. 

 “I would’ve left!” she shouts honestly, desperately. “I would’ve fled.” 

 And that’s just it, isn’t it? She would’ve left. Just like every other good thing in his life, she would have brought this to an end. “If your plan is to turn me in, you may as well just–”

 “No. I’m not going to do that; I would never hurt you,” she says lowly, painfully, her eyes filled with wet tears he’s never seen before. “I swear to you, Killian.”

 He stands before her, eyes widening despite his attempts at staying stoic and angry, and he realizes… she knows his name. She knows the real him. Practically speechless, all he can utter is, “I…”

 “That’s right, isn’t it? You’re Killian Jones. You had an affair with Milah Gold and were present when her husband shot her in cold blood, right? He thought he killed you, too; shot you in the back and in the hand. But he found out the hard way that you had escaped when his clean up crew couldn’t find you.” 

 He shakes off the shock of hearing his story told back to him after hiding it for so many months and becomes defensive again even though the words hurt as they leave his mouth. “The fact that you know this just… I have to call someone. I have to have this taken care of.”

 “Pe- Killian, I’m not going to turn you in, you have my word!”

 “I don’t want your word,” he tells her without thinking, turning back to face her and meeting the tragedy in her eyes. “I– Emma. All this time, we've been lying to one another! All I want now is the truth.” 

 “The truth?” she asks softly, stepping close to him and meeting his desperate eyes with her matching ones. “The truth is that it doesn’t matter to me who you are. I don’t care if you’re Peter or Killian; it doesn’t matter.” She lifts her hand timidly, as if nervous of his reaction, but chooses to place it upon his heart anyway. “I fell in love with you. The second I met you I wouldn’t have hurt you. If I had known it was you, I would’ve run then and there.”

 “Run?” he asks, the word stinging as it leaves his lips and his hand lifting against his will. If he had them both, they would be cupping her cheeks. But all he has is the left side of her face against his palm. 

 “I have to run,” she whispers up to him. “When Gold finds out… he’ll kill me when I don’t–”

 It’s amazing how quickly and easily he makes up his mind, knowing without a single doubt that he’ll do anything to ensure that he doesn’t have to be without her. 

 He cuts her off, mostly because the thought of her leaving, even after all of the revelations and truths, makes him nauseous. But also because, in all the hazy frenzy, he’s just now realizing what she said. And he’s realizing that he fell in love with her, too. 

 And he’s always been the first one to say it. 

 She returns his kiss as if she isn’t even thinking, her hands sliding into his hair easily and quickly and a soft whimper breaking between their lips. Neither of them seem to even breathe before he’s backing her up to press her against the door, gripping her ass as best he can so that she jumps into his arms and locks her legs around his waist. 

 His lips slide down to her neck, latching to the tender skin above her collarbone, and she lets out a soft, intoxicating moan before whispering again, “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t,” he begs against her skin, sucking a mark into it as he feels her fingers scratching against his scalp. “Don’t say that again. Please.”

 “Peter, I– fuck.” She drops her head back against the door and when he looks up at her and finds her bottom lip stuck between her teeth, tears filling her eyes again, he smiles at her sadly. 

 “It’s okay,” he whispers. His forehead falls to hers and he kisses her softly. “It’ll probably take some getting used to, not calling you Lily.”

 She looks at him for just a moment and smiles sadly before her face shifts, tears returning and her smile flipping into a frown before she looks away. 

 “Don’t say you’re sorry,” he says again. “You love me?”

 “Yes,” she answers immediately, firmly. She’s crying again when she says, “And I’m so sorry that I lied to you all this time, Killian.” 

 “It’s not like I was being entirely truthful with you either, love.”

 “But you have a good reason to lie,” she argues. “Witness protection, right?”

 He nods. “You did, too, though. I’m sure you can’t roll into town and announce your true intentions.” She nods, too, still saddened and struggling to meet his eyes, so he kisses her once more, soft and tender and with as much love as he can pour into her. “What would you have done?” he asks. “If I had been someone else? Just a random bloke from the bar?”

 She’s pensive for a moment, pursing her lips in thought. “I would’ve come back,” she whispers. “I would’ve brought the target in and quit, and then I would've come back. But then… that would’ve been a lie, too.”

 “Then perhaps this is for the best?”

 “What is?”

 With a small smile, he tells her, “I love you, too. It’s probably best that we get this all out in the open now, aye?”

 Her hands find his cheeks, her thumbs running along the skin beneath his eyes, along the scar he’s had for longer than he can recall, and he’s never seen someone look so saddened. “How can you love me, after everything?” she asks in defeat. 

 “The same way you can love me even though a big part of me hates myself.”

 She sighs heavily, shaking her head and frowning deeply. “I hate hearing you say that,” she whispers, tightening her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as if trying to bring him impossibly closer to herself. 

 “It’s true,” he says simply. “I never thought I would feel this way again, after everything with Milah. But… Emma, with you, it’s so much more.” 

 Her forehead is pressed to his as she nods. “For me, too.” 

 “Then don’t run,” he practically begs. “Don’t leave me.”

 She whispers his name, his real name, against his lips and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I need you,” she tells him, the desperation in her voice sending a jolt of desire straight down to his cock. “Not just… I mean, not just now; not just physically. I need you. I don't want to think about what my life would be like without you in it.” 

 “Then don’t,” he begs, finding himself repetitive but not caring. Maybe if he says it enough…

 Her lips are on his in an instant, hot and desperate, the feeling rushing between them like a current as they attempt to sooth the pain they're both in. He can’t help himself now, pressing her firmly against the door with his hips and groaning in response to the needy sound she makes. She angles her own hips just right so that he can feel the heat of her skin through his jeans and it makes him shudder. And she never once breaks her lips away from his as she fumbles with his belt and then his button and his zipper, letting his jeans fall loudly to the floor and tangling around his ankles. 

 “Please,” she breathes into his mouth, the heat of her voice making him thrust his hips towards her. The feeling of her leggings against him is strange but not unwelcome, although he wastes no further time as he starts to precariously tug at the waistband and pull the fabric from her heated skin. “Please, Killian, I need you.” 

 She’s never begged like this before, and something about it drives him even more wild. It’s something possessive and carnal within him that sparks in the base of his spine and in his belly and radiates out to every part of him, his fingers tingling and his cock twitching as she desperately pulls his boxers over his hips and sends them down with his jeans. He tugs at her underwear, the small cotton thong no match for the desperation in his fingertips, and he feels her whimpering against his mouth as he touches her, intent on ensuring that she’s ready for him. 

 Her tongue is dancing against his in a graceful frenzy and then she breaks away, her eyes deep and watery as they look into his and she nods quickly. He watches her teeth sink into her bottom lip as he drags the tip of his cock along her folds, her center hot and wet, and she lets out a breathless whimper and locks her eyes on his when he finally eases himself inside. Their foreheads collide, but it doesn’t hurt. Their noses brush against one another before she captures him in a bruising kiss. 

 She moves with him, eager and intense as she uses the door at her back to ground herself and circles her hips to meet each of his thrusts. Her fingers are tight in his hair, tugging relentlessly before she drops her right hand between them and finds that perfect spot just above where they’re joined. She moans out his name, throwing her head back against the door in what he knows must be a painful collision, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. 

 It’s good like this, quick and dirty and just what they need, but after a moment something tells him that it isn’t quite enough. He braces himself, pulling her body close to his and using his good hand to grip her ass tightly so that she bucks towards him, then he kicks his jeans off of his ankles clumsily as he stumbles his way through the apartment. She protests softly when he breaks his mouth from hers, regretting it too but needing to see where he’s going, and instead of waiting, she busies her mouth with his neck, her tongue dragging from beneath his earlobe down to his collarbone. Her mouth breaks away from his skin with a pop of suction when he pulls out and drops her to the mattress, and she lets out another irresistible moan. 

 Her name falls from his lips as he crawls onto the bed with her, hovering over her and unable to catch his breath before her legs are cradling his hips and her heels are pressing into his ass in a desperate attempt to get him back inside her. With how insistent she is, how needy and hot she is, he finds it impossible to resist giving her exactly what she wants. 

 They stay like that for a bit, with him heavy on top of her as he thrusts in, trying to find that perfect angle that makes her shout. But she’s restless, the emotions flowing between them making her jittery, so she presses against him until they’re rolling over, Killian landing on his back and Emma straddling her thighs over his hips and throwing her head back at the new depth. 

 “Fuck,” she breathes out towards the ceiling, her fingers sharp as they dig into his shoulders. “Just like that.”

 “That’s good?” he asks, finding himself more verbal than usual as he seeks out her approval. She’s moving against him but he finds that he can’t stop himself from thrusting up, too, meeting each of her thrusts with his own and unable to hold in the groan that escapes his throat when she tightens her muscles around him. 

 “So fucking good, Killian. Don’t stop–” she chokes out. She lets her fingers find her clit again, rubbing furious circles as he digs his fingers into her hips.

 “Come on, love,” he begs, feeling unlike himself but not caring. “Come for me; I know you’re close.”

 The sound of his voice seems to have the effect he was hoping for. He feels her core go impossibly tighter, her fingers moving over her even more quickly as her mouth hangs open and her eyes squeeze shut. Then, with a cry of his name, he feels her reaching that precipice, and as she collapses onto his chest and her muscles continue to contract, he lets himself go, too, holding onto her more tightly than he thinks he ever has.

 ~~~~

 She’s heavy on his chest like she usually is when they find themselves in this position, her head resting against the hair that she enjoys running her fingers through. Every now and again, the small ring she wears on her middle finger catches slightly on a strand of hair and makes him jump just a bit, and he feels her lips pressing against his skin in soft apology, her arm tightening around his waist in a soothing hug. It’s what makes him realize that he feels just as she does: he can't even begin to consider how his life would be without her in it. 

 But then, as much as the weight of her over his heart soothes him and calms his rapid pulse, he can’t help the sense of dread that floods through him each time he considers the fact that this can’t last. It simply can't. She’s meant to bring him to his death and he’s meant to die. The two of them can’t be together despite how badly they both want to be. 

 “You’re making me dizzy,” she whispers after far too much silence has passed between them.

 “What?” he asks with a soft laugh despite how much pain he’s in at the thought of losing her. Part of him thinks that this might be the last time he’ll ever hold her. 

 “You’re thinking too hard. Those gears in your head are turning so fast that they’re making me dizzy.” 

 He sighs, unable to fight the small smile that she always seems to bring to his lips. “I just don’t know…” he trails off helplessly. “Is it a coincidence that August should happen to be here, as well?”

 She’s quiet for a moment, her fingers drawing soft circles in his skin, before she softly admits, “I kind of… after you left Boston, I searched your place. One of Gold’s goons broke me in. I found out, I mean, I guess August’s dad is from here, I couldn’t get a ton of information after the Marshalls cleared out your apartment. But I figured it was only a matter of time before you– or he– came here. I didn’t know you had a roommate, and you both wore leather. When I heard he was here, I thought… I thought it’d finally be over, you know?”

 “Aye,” he whispers. “I know it's odd to say about someone who should be trying to kill me, but I don’t want to lose you. I’m… I’m scared.”

 “Me too,” she whispers back immediately, her body stiffening a bit in his arms and making his hand run along her spine. “But I think I have–” 

 The sound of the door to his apartment swinging open makes him jump more than he thinks he ever has, and Emma, too, startles and tightens her arms around him. They each stiffen, fumbling with the blankets and pulling his sheets over their shoulders, but he’s fairly certain that his neglecting to shut the door to his bedroom means that his friend has just caught a good look at Emma’s ass. 

 “We need to get you out of here; there’s a– what the fuck!?” 

 “Dave–!” 

 “Is this your–”

 “Stop, stop! Put some clothes on!”

 “Since when do you have a key?!”

 Chaos. The only word he can find to describe the scene he feels like he’s watching from outside of himself is chaos. He fumbles some more for the blanket, desperate to cover Emma but finding himself so preoccupied with covering her breasts that he exposes himself. And David’s eyes are squeezed so tightly shut that when he turns away from them, he trips over Killian’s forgotten jeans and collides into the wall, shouting in pain. It’s pure, unadulterated chaos.

 Emma’s eyes are wide with shock as Killian clumsily stands up, covering himself with his pillow as he rummages through the room and then tosses a shirt at her, its condition and cleanliness questionable at best, but it’s the best he can do at the moment. Then he finds a pair of boxers to pull over himself, and as the world starts to slow down and his adrenaline calms with a reminder to himself that he isn’t in danger, he sighs heavily, a curse escaping his lips. 

 “Yeah, I'll say,” David mumbles under his breath. “Do you have any idea what you just got yourself into?”

 “I’m sure you’re going to tell me, rather than standing there and saying meaningless things knowing I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

 Maybe he’s being rude, but really, what can anyone expect? 

 “I need to speak with you. Privately.”

 “You can say whatever it is you want to say right here.”

David’s face is stiff as he glares behind Killian, staring daggers at Emma as he says, “I don’t think you fully understand what’s going on here.”

 “I understand perfectly.”

 “She isn’t who she’s told you she is.”

 Boldly, he steps to the side and forces David to meet his eyes, cutting off his line of vision that he casts on Emma. “She told me she’s Emma Swan, and that she’s the bounty hunter Gold hired to bring me in. Does that about cover it?” 

 He scoffs, shaking his head and widening his eyes as he stares at Killian like he’s the stupidest man he’s ever come across. “Do you have any sort of protective capacity at all? Ki– Peter, what you’re doing is grounds for–”

 “I’m going to testify.”

 Both of them turn to the source of the sound that catches them so off guard, Emma’s soft voice cutting through their argument easily if only because of the absolute dissonance that it provides. She’s looking quickly between both of them at first, but once Kilian turns, her eyes meet his and lock in place, her gaze long and deep and completely serious. 

 “Against Gold. I’m not turning you in, and I'm gonna testify against him if that’s what’s going to keep you safe.” 

 There are arguments, mostly from David who doesn’t believe a word out of her mouth, but he’s been predisposed to the idea that she’s this evil huntress with her heart set on destroying Killian. He can see in her eyes how serious she is, though, how truthful she’s being, how dedicated she is to ensuring that her wrongs are made right and that Gold pays for what he’s done. He can see how intensely she’s resolving herself to really doing this, how dedicated she is to making this work, and if there’s one thing that he knows about her, it’s that she won’t let anything get in her way. 

 So even when David tells her that if she testifies, her entire character will be in question because of her profession, even though he tells her that she could face consequences for her involvement, she doesn’t back down. And eventually, after what feels like hours of negotiations, the three of them come to a conclusion. 

 ~~~~

 Being in witness protection had always been something that felt surreal. It had always been one of those things that he had seen in movies, but never felt like it was actually his life. The whole time he lived in Storybrooke, it felt like he was simply going through the motions; go to work, grab a drink, go home, repeat. Now, though, his life is his again, and it finally feels worth it once more. 

 It feels odd to appreciate the events that have led him here. It’s odd to recall the things that took Milah from him, that took his hand from him, and smile. It feels odd to consider the way he spent months and months in hiding, using a false name and living a life that wasn’t his, with fondness in his heart. But at the end of the day, each time he thinks about the things that have brought him to this moment, he has to smile, because despite what he’s lost, he’s gained just as much. More, probably. 

 Because he gets to spend the rest of his life with Emma Swan. And they don’t have to hide anymore, her clever plan granting her protection with him and then her own freedom once she had provided the testimony that put Robert Gold and his entire team in prison for life without parole. And he’s always felt whole whenever she’s with him, even though he really isn’t. She’s always made him feel like a full person, even without a hand. She’s always made it so that he could forget the hardships that he’s been through and just live a life of joy and contentment and love. 

 He loves Emma Swan. She gave him a new lease on life, and he’ll always be grateful for that, especially because a very large part of him had allowed himself to believe that, before he met her, his life was over. After Milah died, after he lost his hand, he didn’t think anything good could come from a life that had treated him so cruelly. 

 But she’s always been different from everyone else he’s ever known, better to him than he’s ever deserved. So once it came time to testify, they returned to Boston hand in hand and they spoke their truths, even with the knowledge that Emma was admitting to some illegal activities. But the immunity she was promised by David in exchange for her testimony made it so that she could leave the courthouse with him that day. And even though they were both wracked with guilt, even though Emma felt like a monster whenever she thought about what they’ve been through, watching the judge call out Gold’s sentence and knowing that it was all over was as therapeutic as meeting with their therapist has been. 

 It’s behind them now, and they never have to worry about it ever again. 

 He still gets those phantom pains, randomly throughout the day or startlingly at night as he’s dragged from sleep, but he hasn’t needed to find a pen to stab into his prosthetic or the surface his arm rests on in quite some time. Whenever it happens now, Emma holds him and she presses soft tender kisses to the tattered skin on his wrist and he heals without the destruction that he had grown so accustomed to needing. As with everything else in his life, she’s taken what he’s destroyed and she’s given it a sense of strange, abstract beauty. 

 So, once they put the final box down on the floor of their new entryway, he pulls her into his arms for a solid, warm hug and he breathes in the calming, grounding scent of her tropical shampoo, and they allow themselves to feel at peace as they process the fact that they can finally move on with a life together. So he slips the modest ring onto her finger quietly; he’s a bit shy as he presents his mother’s diamond to the love of his life, but he finds that he doesn’t really feel all that nervous doing it. Because she pulls away from him and she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and a smile that’s so bright and beaming that he feels that same familiar warmth that starts blooming in his chest and radiates out to every single inch of him. 

 And she nods, her grin contagious but easy enough to wipe off her face with a press of his lips to hers. And his heart grows and the warmth he feels when he’s with her chases away the burning in his hand and in his memories each and every time. 

 He’s come to realize, as his life has fallen back into a place of contentment and safety, after spending months and months (18 months, two weeks, and four days since he met her) trying to figure it out, that the only word he can use to well and truly describe Emma Swan is home. 

~~~~

~~~~

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @timeless-love-story @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21​ @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree​ @emmythedaydreamer​ @killianslefthook​ @sarcasticandromantic @last-tsarina​ @anmylica​ @gloriousfemaleworrier​ 

#captain swan #captain swan fanfic #witness #witness ff #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs smut #smut #cs angst #angst #cs fluff #fluff #hurt/comfort #finally finally finished this one #it only took like a whole year

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Start of the Dance”

Okay, I realize I just posted this yesterday for Self Promo Sunday, but at the ever-persuasive @kmomof4​‘s urging the gifted and generous @motherkatereloyshipper​ so kindly created a cover art the the vision I had for Emma and Killian’s attire in the story could be fulfilled. I can’t see enough how much I love this - and I wanted all of your to be able to see it too. So, I’m reposting (despite it being Monday now) to share the new and improved dreamy cover art!!! <3  Thank you so much again @motherkatereloyshipper​ !!!

This week’s little Captain Swan fic takes place post-Season 3 finale, but parts of it had been in my mind ever since David’s dream sequence at the beginning of "The Tower" episode. I just had to find a way to fit the vision I had into a whole story framework. I love looking back at this time period in the show, and this was when my mind was really going wild with all the missing moments/canon divergent fic ideas for the first time - between seasons three and four. This didn’t actually happen, obviously, but it could fit in there after the season four finale without changing anything canon up to that point.

(There’s a good bit of David/Charming in this one as well, because I love Daddy!Charming getting to do father-daughter things with Emma that they missed out on, and that sorta started the ball rolling on this one to begin with. ;)

Summary: Emma enjoys one of the good moments with her father before turning to the one she will have by her side from now on... (Post S3 finale, lots of fluffy goodness)

Also available on AO3 and ff.net, if either of those are your preference...

"Emma, it's okay. Don't get frustrated," David's gentle chiding, his light, guiding hand at her waist, and the humored light in his paternally adoring eyes put Emma Swan somewhere between wanting to laugh along with him at her own expense or growl at him in frustration. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he continued. "You're doing fine."

Emma squared her shoulders once more and blew out a breath, concentrating and preparing to start over again. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes and call him out on his blatant lie. She was not catching onto this easily at all – didn't know how many times she had already stepped on her dad's feet, kicked him in the shins, or gotten their legs tangled together and almost pulled him down with her. She might be a princess by birthright, but attempting a traditional dance for her first ball (of sorts) was proving that royal graces had not been born into her naturally.

She put her hands back out, rested them lightly where her father had showed her and tried to relax into the starting hold position, to let herself be led. At that, David's eyes took on a sort of lost, misty quality, and Emma pulled back, concerned, studying his expression. "What's wrong?" she asked.

The prince shook his head and blinked rapidly, as if clearing the dismal thoughts from his consciousness. He didn't quite seem able to meet her clear-eyed gaze, and when he did, the sadness and guilt within his gentle eyes caught Emma off guard. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Lost track of where I was for a second…forget it…"

She wasn't buying that excuse for a minute, so when he glanced away, trying through a choked-sounding voice to begin counting time and leading her through the box step once more, she resisted and didn't budge. "Oh no," she said firmly, staring at him until he met her gaze, "out with it."

Her father's shoulders slumped, and his hand took hers, leading her over to the couch, which they had pushed out against the wall, clearing space in the living room of he, Snow, and baby Neal's loft apartment for their dance lesson. When they were seated next to each other, he squeezed her hand gently before releasing it and then running his own over his face and beginning to speak hesitantly. "Sometimes I just can't help mourning how much time with you we lost, Emma. At moments like this, my vision of how our lives would have been if you were always with us physically hurts. You went through so much pain. I put you in that wardrobe to save you…but in doing so, I sent my baby girl away to face a world alone. I failed you… Teaching you to dance now seems so ridiculously little to do in return…"

He trailed off, refusing to break down, but not able to keep speaking either. It went without saying that letting someone else lead and relinquishing control – which would make dancing so much easier for her – was difficult because of the life she'd had to live. Still that knowledge was there in the following silence, and they both knew it. That it was even harder for her to trust, to open herself, in relationships and in love was even clearer and more troublesome.

What Emma did offer at length, breaking the pained quiet between them with the best comfort she could give, seemed to bring a shaky smile back to his face. She grabbed his hand again, lacing their fingers together impulsively and holding on tight. There was steely strength in her eyes, but vulnerability too, allowing him to see a grown child's tentative hope. "What's done is done," she whispered hoarsely, holding his gaze with determination. "And I'm done dwelling on the past and being angry. I understand now the kind of impossible dilemma you were facing…and about loving your child enough to give a best chance. Henry taught me that." She swallowed convulsively and buried her face in the crook of his neck for a moment, then offered him a tremulous smile, trying for playful when she continued. "Besides, Dad, what did you tell me about living the moments? This is a good moment here. Despite my complete lack of skill, we're getting back one of those times we lost."

David nodded, hugging her with a hand cradling the back of her head in that way he had which made her feel like the cherished and protected child she should have been. "You're absolutely right," he agreed. Brushing a quick peck to her forehead, he stood and pulled Emma to her feet after him. "So what do you say, Daughter? Want to give this another try?"

She nodded with an almost shy grin. "I'm definitely not ready to dance in public yet, so we'd better keep at it."

Both of them were laughing as they began to move together once more, slowly but surely finding their way, both in the stately, measured steps of the waltz, and as father and daughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night of their Storybrooke Ball was as gorgeous as any enchanted tale could have spun. Though they were still in a small town in Maine in the modern age, having now been there, Emma could honestly say that the combined efforts of Snow, Ruby, Belle, and Blue had rendered the simple town park and pavilion into what looked for all intents and purposes just like the grounds of some fairytale palace. The wooden planks of the stage for outdoor concerts were freshly painted a pristine white and surrounded all along the sides, up the support columns and across the ceiling by strings of white twinkle lights and trailing ivy. Handmade luminaries lined all the walks with a welcoming glow. Ruby had even cajoled Viktor into producing a dj booth he'd acquired from somewhere and spinning music for the town's celebration.

Rumplestiltskin and Belle had married nearly alone in the woods, but when the others had learned of their news, the townspeople had wanted to at least have a reception. It seemed there was much to celebrate – not only the wedding, but the Wicked Witch's defeat, the young prince's birth, and in general, the town's survival of yet another catastrophe. These folks were, after all, from a magical kingdom which knew how to lavishly make merry and enjoyed traditional pomp and circumstance. The seemingly reformed Dark One and his beloved had graciously accepted their congratulations and recognition without too much argument, and Emma couldn't help being somewhat softened toward Henry's other grandpa as she watched him swaying gently with Belle in his arms on the dance floor, their foreheads touching, with eyes only for each other. Though she wasn't sure she would ever completely understand how, Emma was glad that Belle could see the good in her "beast", and that the other woman could encourage a dangerous and bitter man to find the true and honorable heart beneath his dark façade. She knew, deep down, that there were surely people in the town who thought she and Belle had much in common, who were unable to see what she had found in a vengeful, broken pirate either.

Her thought of Killian Jones caused her to look away from the happy couple opening the festivities with their dance and scan the gathered faces for her Captain. Just the thought of him as "hers" warmed her insides and caused the corners of her mouth to quirk up in a tiny, satisfied smile. She didn't see him anywhere and a small bit of worry touched her brow. Obviously, it wasn't easy for him to see his "Crocodile" so happy, the truce the two of them had managed notwithstanding, nor did she expect him to desire to toast the Dark One's good fortune, but she had hoped he would focus on the aspect of town revelry and her parents' joy at her younger sibling's arrival. She knew that David and Snow had personally made him welcome, and she herself had teased him with the opportunity to see her in regal finery for only the second time ever. There was no way she could slip off unnoticed just yet, so for the moment she could only hope he wasn't somewhere drowning old wounds with rum in stalwart silence – at least until she could go find him. He had certainly come after her and pulled her from grief and self-pity often enough… Still, this night was supposed to be for happiness and the future, things she had in large part due to his efforts. Killian deserved to be part of it.

She hadn't realized that the first dance had ended, a new song had begun, and that other couples were taking to the open floor, until her father appeared at her elbow. "May I have this dance?" he asked formally, a playful twinkle in his eye as he extended his arm.

Emma flushed, knowing that the moment had come, but also that they had a rather large audience and that over David's shoulder, her mother was watching them with tears in her eyes and a camera at the ready. She nodded, nerves evident, but took his offered arm tightly and let him lead the way, just as they had practiced.

Surprisingly, Emma found the rhythm more easily than she sometimes had in the past; her father's hand reassuringly steady at her back. The look on his face was priceless: loving, proud, and happy as they circled the floor, as agile as any of the other misplaced fairy tale dancers around them. "I knew you could do it, Emma," he complimented her, the praising father who would recognize her talents and efforts clear in his voice – just as she had always wished for years ago. "You've mastered anything I have ever seen you put your mind to."

She couldn't help the single tear that escaped her eye and slipped down her cheek, but she shook her head slightly when concern crossed David's features. "No, don't worry," she managed. "I'm just happy – really, actually, happy." She let herself enjoy the moment, even leaning her head on his shoulder before whispering, "This is how it would have always been, isn't it?"

He nodded against the top of her head, and Emma felt her father swallow hard with his own emotion before he responded. "It is. I can't bring back what vanished in between, but…I can promise you that this is how it will be from now on."

She nodded, and they danced on in silence, the moment peaceful between them, all the words needed having already been said. Emma was oblivious to the reverent and intrigued gazes they were drawing – the Crown Prince and his Princess daughter sharing their first public dance at her first official ball. Charming and Snow's loyal subjects – now more friends – had welcomed and loved their only daughter as if she had always been with them, respecting her as if she had grown up a ruler in their world. This dance only cemented it, even if Emma was unaware.

The music swelled around them, Emma's joy bubbling within her and continuing to edge out the pain of her life before, the hurt she had finally begun to let go. True, she and her family were robbed of so many of the previous moments they should have been able to share, but this one, as her father spun her out once more and twirled her back into his arms, would always be theirs. She glanced up at him, perplexed, however when he pulled away to press a kiss to her forehead, then stepped back to place her hand within the grasp of someone standing behind him whom she hadn't even seen.

When David moved away, Emma found herself face to face with Killian at last. If her heart had not already been near to bursting, her pirate's presence was the final piece to complete her bliss. His leather had been exchanged for a fancier tail coat in deep forest green, a white dress shirt (still dangerously, seductively half-unbuttoned), and tan breeches – and Emma found herself melting at the sight of him. The effort he had obviously put in to blend with the other celebrants and belong was almost as overwhelming as his handsome appearance. She gave him a knowing look, realizing that someone, mostly likely her mother or Henry, must have told him the color of dress she would be wearing so that he could match.

Killian's gaze swept her up as though he intended to devour her in a glance, blue darkening from sky to cobalt at the jewel tone green covered with black lace sumptuously contrasting her fair, flawless skin and golden curls. "You are a bloody marvel, Swan," he murmured, even as he stepped easily into the place her father had relinquished, forming a perfect frame and twirling her effortlessly back into the dance as if he had been waltzing properly at formal balls all his life.

She was practically gaping at him, and she knew it, her breath short with stunned attraction. Sure, they had managed a simple dance to maintain their cover on their adventure in the past, but now they were themselves, he was holding her close, and they were moving as one with certain things having been spoken between them at last. This was altogether different… so much more. Killian chuckled lightly, touching a finger beneath her chin to close her open mouth. "I was not always a pirate, remember, Love? Naval officers do attend palace functions rather often."

Looking up at him mischievously from under lowered lashes, Emma finally regained enough of her composure to banter back. She smirked, speaking softly for his ears alone. "You must have been quite the charmer in your day, Lieutenant Jones," she almost purred.

"Must have been?" he questioned in mock offense. "Oh Lass, you can't fool me. It would seem you still find me quite charming in the here and now."

He dipped his head, breath warm on her face, mouth hovering just over her lips, making Emma's heart beat flutter erratically like a trapped butterfly attempting to escape her chest while he made her wait for his kiss. His grin was so smug that she wanted to wipe it off his face, but instead found herself having all she could do not to trip on her own feet and handle the shivers he sent skittering irresistibly down her spine.

With her True Love beside her, silently promising in every look and every touch to hold her, to match her step for step in every dance, for the rest of their lives, Emma no longer had to doubt that she would find her way. He eased her into a graceful dip, and she mutedly registered slight applause as the dance ended. Killian bowed to her, then pulled her even closer in his embrace as the next song began. She might be just learning to let someone else lead, but the feeling it gave filled her opening heart with hope.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @apiratewhopines @cosette141 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @stahlop @elizabeethan @anmylica @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @tomeandflickcorner @scientificapricot @sotangledupinit @xarandomdreamx @wefoundloveunderthelight @gingerpolyglot @gingerchangeling @zaharadessert​ @xsajx​ 

#self promo sunday #ouat canon divergent one shot #ouat missing moment ff #start of the dance #daddy charming feels #cs fluff #post s3 ouat ff

[donteattheappleshook]

Hello, again 1/1

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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