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kar3npage · 4 years

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Next to You

Neil Josten works as a math professor and lives a comfortable life in a neighborhood that happens to house all of his closest friends. He meets Andrew Minyard, the owner of the quaint bookstore down the street, at a barbeque and makes the mistake of agreeing to go to his book club. Lots of Andrew being an obviously lovesick fool, Neil being oblivious, and their friends loving them unconditionally.

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Neil Josten made his way down the quaint street that he somehow managed to get an apartment in. His wheelchair clicked loudly on the pavement, and he got a few sympathetic looks as he rolled past. He does his best to ignore it, though some days that’s easier said than done.

It’s been years since his father died at the hands of Stuart, and a bit more than a year since the rest of his father’s circle was finally caught and imprisoned. No matter how much time passes though, Nathan Wesninski left a lasting impact. The scars on his arms and face make sure that everyone knows that something horrific happened to the young man with red hair, and the wheelchair ensures that he is noticed in every situation.

“Hey buddy!” Matt is easy to find in the cafe they always meet at. To begin with, they always sit at the same table so that Neil can get there comfortably. Also, he is freakishly tall compared to most people, and the spiked hair adds to his height. “Dan sends her apologies. Emergency at work,” Matt says with a grimace and pushes forward the coffee that he ordered for Neil.

Matt and Neil have been best friends since they met in physical therapy when Matt got an injury while he was playing Exy in university. Neil was the first person Matt introduced Dan to when they started dating, and Neil was the one that Matt ran his business plan through when he first decided that he wanted to start a veterinary clinic. Matt was the one that Neil called when he got lonely in his empty apartment, and Matt was the one who forced Neil to get a cat. Neil couldn’t imagine a life without their weekly coffees or Christmas dinner with the Boyd-Wilds.

Matt is describing in minute detail the reason why Dan was not able to come to coffee today - something about one of the high school students she taught struggling with something and going to her for help. The pride Matt felt for his wife was undeniable, and Neil nodded along and let him ramble.

“Anyway, I almost forgot! Allison is putting together a party on Sunday and you have to come,” Matt says after a few minutes.

Neil gives Matt an unimpressed look. “First of all, what is the party even for? Second of all, you know I don’t like parties.”

“I know, I know, but Kevin’s back in town! Plus you got your PhD, we need to celebrate that!”

“I got my PhD two years ago, you’ve got to stop using that as an excuse to have a party.”

Matt grins unapologetically and stares at Neil until he finally says “Fine. But I’m leaving early.”

Before he knew it, Sunday evening was there and Neil was reluctantly making his way to the Boyd-Wilds house. On his lap was a loaf of sourdough bread that he stress baked that afternoon, and a list of conversation topics that he printed off the internet.

While waiting for someone to answer the doorbell, he stuffed the list of questions in his pocket and inspected the cars on the street. There were more people here than normal. Quite a few more. He could recognize Wymacks beat up old truck and Allison's pink convertible, and he was assuming that the rental car across the street was Kevins. There was also a red SUV that he hasn’t seen before, and a very fancy, very shining black car in the driveway.

Allison opened the door like she owned the place, and threw herself on Neils lap for a hug before he could protest.

“I know you were dawdling, your apartment is, like, a block away.”

“Well I can’t walk very fast,” Neil says to Allison while half-heartedly shoving her away. She flicks his nose.

“You can get everywhere faster than me, stop trying to make me feel bad for you,” she sings, then grabs the loaf of bread out of his hand and walks inside without a backwards glance. “Literally everyone got here before you did. Even the monsters.”

Neil comes in hesitantly. There is a great deal of noise coming out of the kitchen, and Neil can see even more people in the backyard through the hallway.

“So… who all came?” Neil says as he emerges into the tight kitchen where Allison disappeared to. There are a multitude of new faces in the kitchen who turn to face him, and he immediately regrets not coming up with an excuse to stay home. Not like any of them would have believed him, but an attempt could have been made.

“Allison, you didn’t say he was that attractive!” a tall man says from the corner. His arms are wrapped around an even taller blond man who smiles genially at Neil and coming forward to offer a hand.

“I’m Erik, and this is my husband Nicky,” the blond man says in a thick German accent.

Allison beams at Neil. “I told you he was cute. And he looks even better when he wears the clothes that I choose for him,” she says to Nicky, giving Neil a pointed look.

“Nicky’s the one doing Matt’s marketing for him now.” Renee’s calm voice comes from the corner, somewhere behind Nicky and Erik. “And he helped Allison with her branding when she started designing.”

Neil hums so they know he heard, then backs out of the kitchen to go to the back. He thinks that he should probably say something polite while he leaves, but Allison and Renee know how he is, and he feels like he’s getting in the way of all the people actually cooking in the kitchen.

The backyard has even more people in it, but it has more space so he doesn’t feel as claustrophobic.

“Neil!” Matt says from where he’s standing at the barbeque with Wymack, sounding like he had no idea that he was coming. Dan and Abby wave at him from their lawn chairs. Another woman is chatting with them, her arm around a short blond man. Kevin is standing near Wymack talking at another small blond man. Neil catalogs the two, checking for differences without thinking about it.

Now he really regrets being here. There isn’t a single group of people that he can talk to that he knows entirely, and everyone else seems to be so comfortable chatting. He briefly considers using Sir as an excuse, but he knows that Matt would insist on going home with him if he thought that there was something wrong with Sir.

“No ones going to bite,” Allison says from behind him, making him jump. He realizes that he is directly in front of the door.

“I should go,” Neil mumbles as Allison walks past him carrying a bowl of salad to the table near the grill. “Nope! You can’t, it's your PhD party!” Allison sings.

Kevin turns around and notices Neil in the doorway. He looks intense, which is just his version of excited.

Allison's announcement has caught everyone's attention and Neil can feel the weight of their eyes. He accidentally makes eye contact with the man who Kevin was talking with, and he shifts his attention quickly.

“It’s not a PhD party, that happened years ago.”

Dan grins. “You know that we’re going to call everything that so you feel obligated to come, right?”

“We just like having you here, Neil,” Renee says sweetly from beside him. Neil can feel his face heating up. “Have you met everyone yet?”

At the shake of his head, Renee introduces the new ones in the backyard. “Andrew is the one with Kevin, he owns the bookshop down the street from the cafe, and then over there is his twin Aaron, and Aaron's wife Katelyn. They work at the hospital together as surgeons.”

“The bookstore you go to all the time?” Neil asks. Andrew is wearing all black despite the summer heat, and his gaze is blank as he watches Kevin get worked up over whatever he’s talking about. Most likely Exy, since he’s been making an Exy podcast since he stopped playing in university.

Renee hums a confirmation. “Andrew and I have tea and cake at the bakery every Saturday. I supply treats to the book club he hosts,” Renee says with a smile. Her bakery is famous around the neighborhood for having the prettiest and most luxurious treats in the city. The woman who helps her run it, Betsy, makes Neil just as uncomfortable as Renee does. That combined with his dislike for sweets means that he very rarely ends up in the shop.

“He hosts a book club?” Neil says, staring hard at Andrew. He doesn’t know why his brain has latched onto the man like this, but he can’t help but be fascinated with how contradictory he seems to be. A man with bigger biceps than Matt who likes Renee's cake (and company) and runs a book club.

Renee smiles, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yes, you should join us sometime. We’re reading Emma at the moment, in honour of the movie coming out.”

Neil narrows his eyes at Renee, but she doesn’t seem to be joking. He’s saved from the need to answer by Erik and Nicky coming out with more food and Wymack announcing that the burgers are done.

Andrews eyes keep sliding over to the redhead with a deer-in-headlights look as he completely blocks the door. Kevin has not shut up about Andrews' missed chance at going pro, and Andrew started blocking him out ages ago. Nearly as soon as Kevin started talking, actually.

Renee winks at him when she notices where his gaze is fixed and he glares at her. Her smile just grows as she finds a lawn chair near Allison. Wymack interrupts the staring contest by putting out the burgers and Andrew bullies his way into line at the table by the grill to fill his plate. Kevin has moved to the back of the line to talk to the redhead, who takes the attack surprisingly well. He makes eye contact with Andrew and gives him a ‘what can you do’ kind of shrug and smile while he nods along to Kevins rant. Andrew pretends he was never looking at them and loads his plate up with bread and potato salad.

“I invited Neil to book club, I hope you don’t mind,” Renee says to Andrew when he sits down in the empty chair beside her.

Allison leans forward to point her fork at Andrew. “I hope you know that I saw you ogling him.”

Andrew glares at her and Renee kicks her foot gently. “I think you and Neil would get along well,” Renee says.

“Who said I wanted to get to know him,” Andrew says while staring at a smirking Neil arguing with Kevin. Kevin’s face has gone an alarming shade of red and Wymack is watching them with a faintly fond expression on his face.

Allison snorts and turns to Katelyn to chat. Renee wisely changes the subject to her thoughts so far on Emma.

Opening the bookstore first thing in the morning is one of Andrews less hated chores. He likes the way the store smells, and the awed silence that it has before customers come in. Robin, his only employee, always takes the evening shift, so he has the whole morning to himself. He starts by setting up a new display in the front window, losing himself to the satisfying feeling of creating something.

The mornings are usually pretty quiet, since the neighborhood has a habit of waking up late whenever possible. The only other shop open is Renee’s bakery down the street, and Boyd’s vet clinic, which he walked past on his way from his place.

Bee drops by at lunch like she often does, with a mocha and a croissant. Bee is Renee’s business partner in the bakery, and responsible for the pastries. The two of them adopted Andrew into their social circle as soon as he became a regular at the bakery when he first opened the bookstore.

“Renee mentioned that we might have a new member of book club this month,” Bee says as she admires the new display. Andrew does not miss the sparkle in her eye, or the pleased smile that she tries to hide by taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

Andrew doesn’t answer.

“It will be nice to hear new opinions,” Bee muses. He can tell that she’s fishing for a reaction, so he places all of his attention on stacking the newly arrived copies of The Glass Hotel. When he turns around, Bee is watching his carefully.

“You know,” she says slowly, “it’s always a good thing to add to your social circle. Neil sounds nice. Matt always has good things to say about him.”

Andrew gives her a dirty look, which she easily ignores. “And he sounds like someone you would get along with. Allison told me that he has his PhD in some sort of math. And he has a cat.”

Andrew snorts. “So having a cat is supposed to make me overlook the fact that he’s interested in math.”

Bee laughs and gives Andrew a knowing look.

A week later, and Neil is starting to get restless at home. He appreciates that the university allows him to teach online classes, but sometimes too much time with only Sir as company makes Neil think weird thoughts. He decides to get a sandwich from the cafe, after dismissing the thought of bothering Matt at work. He knows that he could always call Allison, since she is the boss and can do whatever she wants (or so she says), but he’s in a melancholy mood and he knows that she would force him out of it. For some reason, he wants to just wallow for a minute.

The day is crisper than Neil thought that it would be, but it’s a good kick to his system. He peaks in the window of the clinic when he goes past, and he’s suddenly glad that he didn’t text Matt earlier. It would just make him worry, and it looks like he’ll be busy today.

At times like these, Neil can’t help but feel just a little bit like a chore for his friends. He can always hear the busyness behind Allison when he calls her during the day, and he knows that Matt drops nearly everything to make sure he’s okay. He could always call Wymack, but Wymack is busy trying to save every kid that he comes across at the clubs he runs. Abby is constantly telling him that he’s no bother, but she is also busy at her work as a physical therapist.

The melancholy back as strong as ever, Neil makes his way listlessly down the street. It’s a quiet day today, and all he has to do when he gets home is mark some tests, so he takes his time eating his sad looking sandwich.

It seemed like fate that the bookstore was directly across the street from the cafe. How had Neil never payed attention to that before now?

It’s as quaint as the rest of the stores on the street, but with a darker colour palette than the rest. The window boasts various beautiful copies of Jane Austen books with a poster with information about the book club. The clean design of the poster reminds him of Allisons, and he wonders if Nicky does the marketing for Andrew too.

Neil sits in the cafe for 45 minutes before working up with courage to check out the bookstore.

A small bell rings as he struggles over the cracked concrete at the entrance to get into the store. By the time he actually looks around, Andrew’s flat gaze is heavy on him. He can feel a flush rise up the back of his neck.

Neil clears his throat a few times and tries to pretend that he’s not fazed by the staring. “Renee mentioned that you had a book club?” he says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

Andrew keeps staring at him. “I think she said the book was Emma, but she didn’t say what day it was.”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Oh.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got something else to do that day?”

“No, I just won’t be able to read the book by then,” Neil says, and to his horror, he feels the flush move onto his cheeks. He looks at a random book in an attempt to hide it.

When he looks back at Andrew, he’s relaxed back into the chair behind the counter. “Most members don’t read the whole thing before the club gets together. Some of them haven’t even started it, they just come for the conversation.”

“Really?” Neil says. The shame at not being a fast reader is starting to fade. He can’t imagine Andrew lying just to make someone feel better, and he has a strange trust for the near stranger.

Andrew tosses a small paperback book to Neil, and Neil fumbles to catch it. It’s the edition of Emma with the movie cover. Andrew waves away Neils offer to pay when he gets to the counter.

“Book club discount,” Andrew says while fidgeting with his sleeves.

“That’s not a great business practice, giving away books for that many people every month.”

Andrew just shrugs.

Neil’s at home and has read the first chapter of the book before he remembers that he was sad.

“Was that Neil that I just saw leaving the bookstore?” Nicky asked far too enthusiastically as he came barreling into the store not two minutes after Andrews bizarre interaction with Neil finished.

“Nope,” Andrew says and puts his book in front of his face to block out Nicky.

“I love Neil! Is he going to hang out with us now?”

“Why would him coming to the store mean that he was going to hang out with us?”

“So it was him! Ha!”

Andrew rolled his eyes and turned the page despite not having read a single word on that page. When Nicky is silent for a few seconds, he puts the book down to look into his thrilled cousins face.

“I think it would be nice if he joined us for family dinner next month,” Nicky says brightly when he notices that he’s caught Andrews attention again.

“Why would he be invited to family dinner,” Andrew says flatly. He spends a moment putting all of his energy into ignoring the daydream of Neil being a part of the family. Andrew feels like a creep, having this weird little fascination with someone who he barely knows.

“Allison said that he doesn’t have any family. Isn’t that sad?” A hint of true sadness pokes through Nicky’s facade and Andrew is abruptly reminded that Nicky’s family is just him, Aaron, and Erik now. “Plus, he’s funny! Did you hear him sass Kevin at the barbeque? Even Aaron laughed!”

“Aaron didn’t laugh, he was coughing. But fine, I’ll invite him,” Andrew says with absolutely no plan to invite Neil.

“No, I don’t trust you to invite him. I will,” Nicky says firmly.

Andrew doesn’t sleep that night. After knowing that Neil will be at book club, and then at family dinner next month (now that Nicky has taken that into his own hands, Neil won’t have a choice but to come), Andrew is starting to feel the stress that usually only pops up after a particularly bad nightmare.

After much introspection, he realizes that it’s not seeing Neil that's causing the stress, but the way that everyone has been watching their interactions.

As soon as 4am hits, Andrew gets up and walks to the bakery. Sure enough, the light is on in the back and Bee’s yellow Mini Cooper is parked in the employee lot. Andrew knocks on the back door and tries not to make eye contact with Bee, who is wearing a knowing, empathetic look on her face.

Andrew settles at the table in the back and watches Bee work. The silence is soothing, and his muscles relax for the first time all night. After a while, she brings over some hot chocolate and sits down across from him.

“If you want me to get the others to lay off of you about Neil, Renee and I will tell them to stop,” Bee says gently.

“That’s not the problem,” Andrew says, his voice gravelly from disuse. They look at each other for a long moment, both waiting for Andrew to figure out what he means to say.

“Neil doesn’t know, and I feel dirty,” Andrew finally says dully.

Bee hums and takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Do you want to tell him?”

Andrew snorts. “I barely know him.”

“Well, I don’t think that you should feel dirty. And I’m sure he’s been teased by Allison by now, so you don’t have to worry about him not knowing what the others are saying.”

Andrew lets her words sink in, then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Bee smiles, and brings over a hot chocolate croissant after taking the batch from the oven.

“I don’t think that’s very good business practice,” Andrew tells her, as he takes a burning bite.

He doesn’t feel so conflicted when he opens the bookstore, and it ends up being a better day than he thought that it would be.

Neil is enjoying the book more than he thought he would, but he has had much less time to work on it than he planned. After spending most of his days marking, and helping a student over video conference, he was exhausted. And worried.

He could picture himself making a fool of himself at book club, and all of them realizing that he’s not nearly as smart as they all make him out to be.

“I’m sure it’s going to go great! Renee and Bee both love it, and Abby goes! Erik goes when he can, too,” Matt assures him over the phone while Neil tries to come up with an excuse just in case someone confronts him for not going.

“I’ve only read a few pages,” Neil says slowly.

“That's a few pages more than me! Plus, we both know you have a lot of thoughts about it,” Matt says with a grin in his voice. Neil wishes he hadn’t told Matt about the characters over coffee the other day.

Sir is purring delightedly on Neils chest. “I can’t go, Sir is on my lap,” he tries again.

Matt pauses, but Neil hears Dan in the background. “No! That’s not an excuse! Sir cuddles you all the time.”

Matt sighs into the phone. “She’s right, buddy. I think you’ll have fun. And they have free coffee and stuff. That’s always fun.”

20 minutes later, Neil is miserably locking his apartment door and officially on his way to book club.

The atmosphere is surprisingly warm and cozy in the book shop at 7pm. There’s soft music playing, and people are chatting in little groups. There are only a few people that Neil doesn’t recognize, and the circle of chairs taking up most of the floor looks comfortable. For some reason Neil was expecting this to feel more like a test.

Abby beams when she sees him hovering by the door and waves him over. Neil recognizes the woman she’s talking to as Katelyn.

“We were wondering if you would come,” Abby says warmly, knowing his history of wiggling his way out of social situations.

Katelyn smiles at him and sits on the closest chair so he doesn’t have to look up at her. Neil feels a bit grateful at that, and even more so when she offers him a cheese scone and a cup of coffee from the center table.

Katelyn launches into a story about a patient, and Erik works his way to their group.

“Neil,” he says quietly as a greeting, and Neil gives him a shy smile. “Nicky was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner in a few weeks. He’s promising to make enchiladas.”

Neil swears that his brain short circuits for a moment. “You want me over… for dinner?”

“Here, I’ll get your number and Nicky can text you the time and place,” Erik says, ignoring his shock.

Andrew comes out from the backroom with more coffee, and that seems to be a symbol of some kind for everyone to take their places.

“Okay, what did you think?” Andrew says bluntly, and that’s it. Everyone has opinions, some of them silly and some serious. Half of the group hasn’t finished the book, and Katelyn admits to not even starting it.

Andrew is having a light argument with Bee about whether Emma is a likeable main character with others popping in their two cents when Neil first says something.

“I thought she was kind of fun,” Neil mumbled. When he looks up, Andrew has an unreadable expression on his face.

“See, Bee? She’s fun,” he says in a monotone. Neil has to fight the smile threatening to show.

The meeting is chaotic and warm, and Neil learns a great deal about the people in the room. He learns that Erik is a huge fan of the worst Austen movies, and that Katelyn barely reads but always shows up to book club. He also learns that Andrew is incredibly passionate about the books, but that doesn’t surprise him as much as it probably should.

The only awkward moment is at the end when everyone starts to help put their chairs back in place. When Neil offers to help, the room goes quiet.

“Take this,” Andrew says gruffly and shoves the tray of mostly finished treats at him. Andrew takes the coffee cups and walks to the back, so Neil follows him.

The back room is nearly as cozy as the front of the shop, and a girl that Neil didn’t even know was there is grabbing her bag to leave. Her name tag says ‘Robin’, and Andrew says bye to her almost fondly.

Neil puts the tray on the table in the middle of the room and watches Andrew move efficiently through the cramped space. He has a million questions to ask Andrew, but he’s not sure how to, so he contents himself with analyzing the room.

“You have a question,” Andrew says without turning around.

“I have lots of questions,” Neil says.

Andrew finally turns around and leans on the counter. “I’ll answer if you let me ask you something.”

Neil winces. “If it’s about the scars, you don’t need to bribe me to answer them.”

“It was something else, actually.”

Neil fidgets with the wheels for a moment. “Fine, I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Andrew tosses his phone to Neil, and Neil feels a little thrill as he enters his number in. He texts himself so he can program the number into his phone. Matt’s going to be so proud to hear that he got two numbers today.

Andrew doesn’t say anything when he gets his phone back, just puts a tupperware container on the table so that Neil can pack up the leftover treats.

Before Neil leaves, Andrew says “Next months book is Atonement.”

Neil wakes up to four text messages. One is from Matt asking how the night went, one is from Erik warning him that he gave Nicky his number, one is emoji filled from Nicky, and the last one is from Andrew. It just says ‘You go first’.

Neil spends his whole morning messing up his marking because he’s thinking too hard about what his first question will be for Andrew. He gives up trying to work when Sir knocks over his coffee and nearly breaks his laptop.

Neil: What made you want to own a bookstore?

Andrews reply comes faster than Neil was expecting. He feels a little thrill when he hears the ping of his phone.

Andrew: Everything you could ask me, and that was your question?

Neil: You never said that there were topics that weren’t allowed.

Andrew: ...exactly

Neil startles when his phone starts ringing on the sofa beside him. Sir gives him a wide eyed look until he picks it up.

“I thought you were at work,” he says to Andrew.

“I would say the same thing about you, but I’m starting to doubt whether you actually have a job.”

“I do have a job,” Neil says smugly. “I’m a university professor. I teach online classes. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“There aren’t any customers in here, smartass,” Andrew says not unkindly. Neil smothers a smile. “So do you still persist in asking me why I wanted to own a bookstore?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t want to do anything,” Andrew says.

Neil stays quiet and waits for him to give him the rest of the answer.

“I like reading, and I don’t like libraries.”

“Okay,” Neil says. He feels strangely content on the phone. Normally he sucks on the phone, and forgets to answer. “Your turn.”

Andrew is quiet for a moment. “Why did you come to book club?”

“Matt told me I needed more friends, and he wouldn’t let me use Sir as an excuse not to go,” Neil says honestly. He’s found that ever since he became a real boy all those years ago, he has a hard time lying. It always leaves him feeling gross and wrong.

Andrew huffs on the other end of the phone. “You seem to have lots of friends.”

“That’s what I said. The argument wasn’t accepted.”

Sir meows at Neil until he arranges himself so she can sit on his lap.

“Is that your cat?” Andrew says, breaking a comfortable silence.

“You already asked your question,” Neil teases, tangling his hand in Sir’s fur. She starts her wheezing, loud purr and he can hear Andrew huff again.

“Tell your broken cat that she won’t make me look over your interest in math,” Andrew says.

“What?” Neil laughs. “Who told you I taught math?”

“You’ve caught everyone's attention. I can’t walk down the street without hearing a new fact about you,” Andrew says dryly. “Anyway, math is awful and a terrible subject to choose to study.”

“Math is interesting! It’s the only universal language!” Neil says, not nearly as upset about Andrews accusation as he normally would be. He’s halfway through a tangent on the wonders of math before he catches himself.

“Sorry,” Neil says sheepishly. “You’re probably not interested.”

“More than you would think,” Andrew says, sounding perturbed. “There’s a customer.”

Neil is surprised by the amount of disappointment he feels when the call stops.

It becomes a habit during the slow times in the day. Andrew calls Neil when he’s bored and finished putting away any new merchandise, or Neil will call Andrew when he’s tired of trying to understand his students confused writing. So far, Neil has learnt that Andrew was in juvie as a teen, and grew up in the foster care system. He learns that Nicky is their cousin and that he took surprisingly good care of Andrew and Aaron when they were angsty teens, and he learns that Andrew has always struggled with touch. He learns lighter things too, like how Andrews favourite movie is Baby Driver (but he will never admit that to anyone else because he has a reputation to uphold), and his favourite colour is blue.

Neil returns the favour but giving away as much information as he’s getting. During their eighth phone call he has a panic attack when he tells Andrew about his father, and how he came to be in a wheelchair. Andrew talks him through it calmly, and doesn’t give him any weird looks when he visits the bookstore two days later.

The month runs by much faster than Neil is used to, and he hasn’t called Matt in a lonely depression a single time. He feels oddly proud of himself for it.

When Nicky texts to remind him of the dinner that him and Erik are hosting, Neil is almost looking forward to it. He has heard from Nicky almost as much as Matt, and the texts have been just as enthusiastic.

He spends the afternoon before baking bread while he chats with Andrew. Andrew had practically forced him into accepting a ride in his ridiculous, fancy car, and has spent the entire afternoon giving him various warnings about Nicky and Aaron.

“Nicky will hug you,” Andrew says with a voice that sounds like he’s informing Neil of a death. “More than once. Erik’s not bad, but Nicky’s a hugger.”

Neil laughs while he kneads the bread. “It’s okay, Allison sits on my lap every time she sees me. People keep thinking we’re dating.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgement and continues with his warnings. “Aaron is judgy.”

“And you aren’t?” Neil says, thinking back to all of the customers that Andrew has thoroughly made fun of.

“He’s a different brand of judgy. Katelyn keeps it down for the most part, but he’s very rude,” Andrew says, like he doesn’t have any similar traits.

“How often do you all have dinner together?”

“A few times a year. Nicky insists on our family dinners.”

Neil pauses. “It’s a family dinner?”

The line goes quiet.

“Andrew? I can’t crash a family dinner,” Neil is starting to feel the root of panic in his chest.

“You wouldn’t be crashing it. Nicky and Erik invited you.”

“But he didn’t say it was for family,” Neil says nervously. Sir meows at him and jumps in his lap. He attempts to shove her off with his elbows so he doesn’t get flour on her.

“Neil,” Andrew says calmly. “I’m coming to get you in three hours. Sir is not an excuse to not come.”

“Fine.”

As promised, Andrew shows up at Neils door three hours later. His mouth goes dry when Neil opens the door. Neil has never put much effort into his appearance, so Andrew is definitely not ready for the button up shirt and styled hair. Neil's apartment smells like freshly baked bread, and the cat that he hears on the phone all the time is sitting comfortably on Neils lap, unconcerned with the fact that Neil is moving around the apartment and fidgeting while she does so.

The apartment is spare, with lots of space between furniture for Neil to move around. The kitchen counters a lower as well, and Neil navigates the room efficiently and quickly. He pushes off Sir with some reluctance, then grabs a loaf of bread and shoves it into Andrews hands so he can put on his jacket.

“You look nice,” Neil says nervously.

Andrew can feel his ears heat up. “You do too,” he says, though it comes out flat and uncaring. Neil beams anyway and leads the way out.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Andrew finally says when they are both in the car and on their way. “Nicky would die for you.”

“Nicky barely knows me,” Neil says, looking baffled.

“It only takes him a few minutes to latch on to people. Look at me and Aaron. One glance and now he won’t let go.”

Neil smiles gently at him and goes back to fidgeting with his cuffs.

Andrew had never payed attention to the accessibility of places until he met Neil. He is extremely aware of how cracked and uneven the pavement is in front of Nicky’s, and all he can think about is how cramped the living room is.

Neil is looking at the pavement with trepidation. “Would you be able to help me, maybe…” Neil says quietly.

“Yes.”

Neil nods and pops open his wheelchair, moving into it with practiced ease. Andrew waits for him to get comfortable before standing behind him give the chair a push.

They make it safely to the front door, and as Nicky welcomes them in, Andrew notices that the furniture in the living room has been moved so there is more space. Erik notices him looking and smiles, offering a hand to Neil as they come inside.

Aaron and Katelyn are already there, sitting in the dining room. Katelyn greets Neil just like she had a book club and starts a conversation with him about their next book. He can see the relief written all over Neils expression.

When Andrew looks over at Aaron, he’s watching him and Neil with an inscrutable expression. Andrew offers the bread to Nicky, not bothering to say it was from Neil. They all know that Andrew has very little patience in the kitchen.

Dinner goes better than Andrew had hoped. No one questions Neil's place there, and he seems to have a good time talking to Erik in German. Andrew interjects every once in a while, and Nicky looks like he’s going to cry when Erik lights up when he realizes that Neil speaks his language fluently.

It’s not until dessert that Aaron opens his mouth to Neil.

“So what makes you so special?” Aaron says, fixing Neil a suspicious look.

Neil blinks, and pushes his plate of dessert to Andrew to finish.

“Umm…”

Katelyn elbows Aaron and gives him a significant look, and Nicky just looks tired.

“Normally only family gets invited to family dinner. And Andrew won’t even take the time out of his day to phone his own twin, so it’s kind of funny that you made your way in so easily.”

Neils expression shutters and Andrew pushes away the dessert.

“I’m sorry,” Neil says in his professional voice. “If I would have known that this was just for family, I would not have intruded.”

“Aaron, Erik and I invited him,” Nicky says with a look that Andrew hasn’t seen since they were teens and Erik was still in Germany.

“Neil, the bread you made was incredible. Do you bake often?” Katelyn says sweetly. Aaron catches her eye and they have a bit of a silent conversation while Neil stares at his plate.

“I just think it’s unusual that everyone loved him so quickly, that’s all,” Aaron says. The room, except Neil, seems to collectively understand what's happening at the same time. Aaron is upset that they took Neil in so quickly when he had to fight for Katelyn, and when Nicky had to fight for Erik.

“I think we’re done here,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil isn’t going to say anything else. Neil knows the rocky history between Aaron and Andrew, and he didn’t seem to get in between the two of them.

“Would you like to take home some of the pudding, Andrew?” Erik says sadly. Nicky looks like he’s valiantly fighting off tears, and Katelyn's face is nearly as stoney as Neils.

“No, we’re going to go,” Andrew says, and Neil follows him out of the house. Andrew waits at the door so he can help him over the pavement, and no one says a word until they are both settled in the car.

“I told you I shouldn’t have come to a family dinner,” Neil says quietly. Not in a blaming way, just sadly.

“That’s bullshit,” Andrew says. His hands are gripping the steering wheel with more force than completely necessary.

“It’s okay Andrew. I didn’t want to cause a fight.”

“You didn’t cause one.” Andrew stops at a stop sign and turns to look at Neil. “You didn’t cause one, it was already there.”

He waits for Neil to nod before he goes again. The rest of the trip is quiet.

The excitement doesn’t catch up with Andrew until a few days later. He thought that he was dealing fine with Aaron until he woke up and couldn’t get the energy to get out of bed.

It would be easy to be mad at himself. He has a habit of doing that. Bee and Renee always tell him that healing is just like that, two steps forward and one step back, but it’s easy to forget how devastating it is when the step back comes.

He closes his eyes for a few minutes and it’s already 9:30.

The minutes drag by slowly and too fast all at the same time. He’s too hot but there isn’t any energy to push off the blankets or open a window. He stares blankly at the ceiling and fights desperately for the memories not to overwhelm.

He isn’t sure what time it is when his phone rings. He lets it go, but it starts ringing again after.

He finally reaches over to answer, not saying anything once the call connects.

“Andrew?” Neil’s tentative voice says through the speakers. “I’m at the store and it’s still closed. I was worried.”

Andrew can hear the concern. He sighs and closes his eyes again.

“Do you want me to hang up?”

“No.” Andrews voice is gravelly.

“Okay,” Andrew can hear Neil's wheels against the pavement. “Do you want me to come over? You can say no.”

Andrew barely has to think it over. He doesn’t want Neil to see him like this, but he can’t get out of bed and he needs someone to open the window for him. He gives Neil his address and holds the phone to his ear while he waits. Neil doesn’t hang up.

When Neil gets there, he tells him where the spare key is, and the front door clicks open not long after.

“Andrew?” Neil's voice echoes through the quiet house.

“Hey,” Neil says when he gets to Andrews bedroom door. He doesn’t come inside, just talks from the hallway. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

Andrew turns to look blearily at him, and Neil leaves to look around in the kitchen. He comes back some time later with toast and a glass of water, and waits for permission to come into the room. He sits beside Andrews bed and starts reading Atonement out loud while Andrew eats, stopping every once in a while to make sure he stays hydrated.

Andrew doesn’t know how long they sit like that before his brain stop cycling and he’s able to look at the room clearly.

“You can stop,” Andrew says when he realizes that Neil’s voice is starting to go from talking so much. “Here,” he says, handing Neil a blanket from his bed. The room is getting cold with the window open, but he doesn’t want it closed yet.

Neil leaves much later, once it’s already dark outside, and Andrew manages to get some real sleep that night.

“Seriously buddy, I can’t believe you didn’t just chew him out,” Matt is still going on over the phone about the failed dinner party from a week ago. Neil is updating one of his courses while Matt rants. “What a dick move. Although, now that I think about it…”

After the silence goes on for longer than necessary, Neil says “Go on.”

“It’s notoriously difficult to get an invite to a Minyard family dinner.”

“You’re acting like it’s the Met Gala.”

“Hey, you remember what the Met Gala is! And I’m serious. It took Katelyn, like, two years of dating Aaron before she was allowed to go. Andrew refuses to have extra people there.”

“I know, that’s why Aaron was mad. And stop talking about Andrew like he’s not being reasonable.”

Matt is quiet for a bit. “I just think that Andrew should have been more open minded to Katelyn, and I wish that Aaron hadn’t been rude to you.” “You don’t know the whole story.”

“I know,” Matt sighs. “Out of everyone in the whole world, why did you choose Andrew Minyard?” The question doesn’t sound judging, just genuinely curious.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve never looked twice at anyone else. What is it about Andrew that caught your attention?”

“Andrew and I aren’t dating,” Neil says for the millionth time. Although, the more he thinks about it, the more Neil decides that maybe he would like that.

The usual suspects are at book club that Tuesday, all clutching their versions of Atonement. Some are filled with post-it notes and written all over, and others are in impeccable condition. Neil’s is somewhere in between. He didn’t manage to finish this one yet either, but he was pretty proud of himself for getting almost three quarters of the way through.

Erik and Katelyn come over to talk to him before anyone else. Neil can tell that it’s an apology of sorts, but he’s just glad that they don’t mention anything outright. He would rather pretend that nothing happened.

He waves at Andrew when he comes in, and Andrew gives him his coffee before putting the rest of the mugs down on the table. Katelyn winks at him for some reason at that.

The conversation is more somber for this book, but Neil enjoys it just as much, and he has much more to say now that he’s more comfortable with everyone. He also notices that there are more savoury options on the sweats tray.

Neil stays back to help clean the dishes in the back, and then stays after they’re all done. Bee smiles at Andrew before she leaves, and Erik promises to organize a movie night or something with them all, and then the shop is empty except for Neil and Andrew.

“I have a question,” Neil says before he can lose his nerve.

Andrew nods once and watches him intensely, like he always does.

“Are you… Would you-,” Neil tries to line up his thoughts into a sentence that doesn’t sound weird or embarrassing.

Andrew doesn’t say anything, just watches him fluster his way through his words.

“I would like to kiss you,” Neil finally says.

“That’s not a question,” Andrew says, and for the first time in months, Neil can’t quite read his expression.

“The question was implied,” Neil says nervously.

“If this is some sort of sexuality crisis, I don’t want to be your experiment.”

“This isn’t a sexuality crisis. I’ve never been interested in anyone like I am in you.”

Neil’s pretty sure that the shop has never been this silent before. “I’ll leave,” Neil finally says. He can feel a rock in his throat that makes him want to be in bed with Sir’s comforting warmth on his chest. He tries to not think of the fact that Andrew probably won’t call him tomorrow like he usually does.

“Don’t be stupid,” Andrew says before Neil can get to the door. He raises an eyebrow after Neil turns around. “I didn’t say no.”

“You didn’t say yes either.” Andrew's face does something complicated. “Yes.”

Neil goes to Andrew, where he’s still sitting in the one armchair that he always chooses for book club.

“Yes?” Neil says when he’s right beside Andrew.

Andrew’s eyes are dark when he says, “yes.”

Andrew kisses as passionately as he argues about books, and Neils mind stops for a blissful moment. He can feel every inch of Andrews hand pulling him in by the back of his neck, feel the heat of Andrews body being so close.

He feels dazed when Andrew pulls away, and is pleased to see that Andrew looks nearly as ruffled as Neil feels.

“Would you like to go on a date?” Neil says.

“I thought you already asked your question,” Andrew says, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Technically the first one wasn’t actually a question.”

Andrew's mouth quirks up on one side.

Their date turns out to be a nice dinner at a park that Neil later admits was suggested by Allison. Andrew doesn’t mind, because he’s pretty sure that it would have been at the cafe if it was just up to Neil.

Andrew wishes everything was as easy as it was to start seeing Neil. Neil was practically incapable of keeping his emotions in around Andrew, and his bluntness made sure that miscommunication was avoided.

Aaron was a different story. All that Andrew wanted to do was ignore everyone else and let them figure out that Neil and Andrew were… something. Dating, he supposed. Unfortunately, Bee nearly forced him to talk it out with Aaron.

So here he is, holding his phone on a Saturday morning, waiting for his brother to pick it up.

He sighs when Aaron picks up, and is briefly tempted to just hang up and continue their relationship as it’s been for the past few years.

“Andrew?” Aaron says groggily. He sounds worried.

“Aaron.”

“Are you… dying or something?”

Andrew sighs again. “No. I wanted to talk.”

There’s a stunned silence, and then the sound of Aaron getting up and moving around.

“Okay,” he says hesitantly. “That’s… nice. Good. How is the store?”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

Andrew resists the urge to sigh again. “How is your job.”

“The hospital has been good. Busy, like always, but it’s been really good. Katelyn is working today, actually, so it’s just me home right now.”

The silence stretches like an elastic. Andrew wishes that he was talking to Neil, then blinks in surprise at his thoughts. He didn’t realize how much he actually enjoyed just talking to Neil.

“Is there something that you wanted to talk about in particular?” Aaron asks.

“I,” Andrew starts. It’s more difficult to get the words out than he thought it would be, but he squares his shoulders. “I am sorry that I didn’t like Katelyn. And Neil and I are together.”

“Oh. I mean, I knew you guys were dating.”

“No, you didn’t,” Andrew says, not bothering to explain that they didn’t start until recently. Aaron just huffs.

“Well, thank you,” Aaron says. “And… I’m sorry. About what I said to Josten.”

Andrew nods once, even though he knows that Aaron can’t see him.

“Erik invited us to that movie night. Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” Andrew says, already exhausted by this conversation.

“Okay. Well, see you then.”

“Yep,” Andrew says, then waits for Aaron to hang up.

Neil is stuck in that moment between sleep and waking, the feverish version of everyday life. He can see the soft grey of his bedroom wall, and the brick of the basement in Baltimore at the same time. Hear the whir of the ceiling fan and the giggles of Lola, smell the citrusy scent of his cleaning supplies and the metallic tang of blood.His legs ache in both realities.

As his mind clears, he realizes that the pain in his legs is likely what brought the past back so clearly. He stares hard at the white ceiling in an attempt to stop the thoughts spinning around his mind.

Tonight is movie night, he remembers.

It’s raining outside, the first rain for most of the summer and probably the reason for the constant discomfort in his tendons. He was hoping that he was past this, even though Abby was always warning him that there would always be times that this would happen. Long term pain couldn’t be avoided with that much damage, he would just have to have plans in place for when it hit.

Neil spends most of the morning trying very hard not to move, and not to think about his legs. It’s harder to distract himself when he doesn’t have anything to entertain himself. Sir seems thrilled with their extended lie-in, and he contents himself with watching her little belly move while she breathes.

The abrupt ringing of his phone startles him, sending sharp pains down to his feet. It takes eons for Neil to move enough that he can reach the phone. It’s already gone to voicemail by the time he’s caught his breath enough to look at who called. He calls Andrew back immediately.

“Nicky wants us to come by at 4 so we can have dinner and talk first,” Andrew says with vague disgust in his voice. It’s almost enough to make Neil smile. Unfortunately, he feels to guilty about the fact that he isn’t sure whether he’ll even make it to Nicky’s tonight.

“Hi,” he says to Andrew. “That’s usually how people start their conversations. With a greeting.”

Andrew snorts quietly. “Because you always follow societal conventions.”

Neils stifles a groan as he tries to sit up. He gives up in an awkward, half slumped position.

“Neil?” Andrew’s tone has changed and Neil realizes that Andrew had said something.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” he says, strain evident in his voice.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Neil can hear how pathetic it sounds, and desperately hopes that Andrew doesn’t. He doesn’t want Andrew to see how high maintenance he is when they’ve only been dating for a little bit.

“Where are you?” Andrew sounds concerned, and Neils gut clenches a bit.

“I’m at home, I’m fine.” “I’m coming over.”

“No, you don’t need to. You’ll see me tonight, anyway.”

Neil can hear a murmured conversation, muffled by a hand. “Robins taking the desk, and I’m coming over.”

“Wait, Robin is there? What time is it?” Neil can feel the first sparks of anxiety.

“It’s almost 2,” Andrew says, panting slightly as he walks.

Neil thinks of all the things he was supposed to do today. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come to movie night,” Neil says, trying to quash the panicked note in his voice. “I have a lot to do today, I was supposed to have an online meeting at 10 and I totally forgot. And I need to record a few audio recordings to go with the notes for the last unit. And-”

“Neil,” Andrew waits until Neil stops rambling. “I’m at your door and I’m coming in, okay?”

Neil makes a noise of assent and clutches the phone to his ear until he hears Andrew walk in.

Andrews silhouette fills the doorway to Neils bedroom seconds later, and he becomes overly aware of how he looks, sagging on the bed with blankets strewn around him. Sir sits up sleepily and blinks at the intruder, then starts to have a very noisy bath. Neil gives Andrew a guilty look.

“What's wrong?” Andrew says, and his voice is so gentle that Neil has to blink away tears.

“I just slept in, thats all,” Neil says, like his bedroom doesn’t look like a murder scene. He thinks of the wheelchair, walker and other equipment sitting around his room. He’s trying to remember whether he put away all of the physical therapy equipment when Andrew sits down slowly on the edge of his bed.

“Are you sick?”

Neil sighs. “No, it’s the rain.”

A small wrinkle forms in between Andrews brows.

“My legs. The change in weather makes them hurt sometimes. Which is stupid, because the weather is always changing around here.” Neil tries to smile and fails miserably.

“What can I do?”

Neil blinks rapidly at the ceiling. He can hear Sir leave the room and feels irrationally abandoned by her.

“Have you eaten yet?” Andrew says, changing tactics. He leaves too when Neil shakes his head, and the lonely feeling reappears.

Both the cat and his boyfriend come back minutes later, the latter carrying a plate of food and a mug of tea with him. He also has pain pills in his hand.

“I was assuming that these would help, though I’m not sure how they were going to do that from the kitchen,” Andrew says.

“I have to have them with food.”

Andrew has managed to find one of the fancy trays that Allison bought him years ago and helps him prop himself up against the pillows before placing it down on his lap. There are fresh cut strawberries and bread with honey on his plate, and Neil stares at Andrew while he bustles around the room. He’s so focused on how his hair shines in the sunlight now streaming from his window that he almost doesn’t notice that Andrew’s cleaning the floor so that his wheelchair can move around easier.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew says, but the blush rising in his ears betrays his feelings.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Neil says.

“What do you do when you’re by yourself and this happens?”

Neil shrugs. “I lie in bed until I think that I can manage moving, and then I take the pills with crackers or something. And then I end up sleeping on the couch most of the day because the pills make me feel weird.”

Andrew thinks for a moment. “Do you need ice? Or a heating pad?”

“Ice would be nice,” Neil mumbles into his tea.

Andrew pauses in the doorway, looking oddly hesitant. He nods to himself before opening his mouth. “Do you ever resent being in the wheelchair?”

Neil considers the question for long enough that Andrew almost leaves without an answer. “I used to. I was really angry after it all, and it felt like I couldn’t do anything by myself. But once all of the bandages were off and Abby had taught me how to do everything, I was really glad for the wheelchair. It means that I can be independent and move around without as much pain as the walker. And there are some benefits,” Neil grins. “I can move around the apartment and still let Sir sit on my lap.”

Andrew turns around, but Neil catches the small smile on his face before he goes.

Half an hour later and Neil is swaddled in blankets, comfortably full, and sandwiched between Andrew and Sir while they watch a baking show that Andrew made him swear that he would never tell Nicky that he liked.

Matt and Dan have always tried to get Neil to call them over when this happened, and now he is starting to see why. He feels safe and almost comfortable, the pain down to a manageable level with the care that he has been given. He wonders what it would have been like if he had admitted to needing help years ago.

“How would you feel about inviting everyone here instead,” Andrew says suddenly, pushing Neil out of his head. “You don’t have to. We could reschedule movie night, Nicky would understand.”

“Aaron wouldn’t,” Neil says with something close to a pout.

Andrew’s lips twitch upward before he gets control of his expression. “Aaron would understand too.”

“I couldn’t feed them, though,” Neil says morosely. He had been looking forward to this, strangely. Maybe because this time his friends were invited too. It was sure to be loud and chaotic, but Neil thought that it would be nice for all of his favourite people to be in one room.

“Idiot,” Andrew says with too much fondness for it to be insulting. “Nicky and Matt will bring food. And Renee’s doing dessert.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew watches their friends and family get comfortable in Neil’s tiny living room. All of them are holding mismatched plates filled with food and have managed to move enough things around that they could all fit in front of the TV.

Neil is sitting beside him in the corner of the sectional, legs stretched out in front of him and a plate of fruit in his hands. He still looks pale and tired, but he keeps giving Andrew a brilliant smile and he belly laughed at a joke that Matt made, so Andrew has decided that offering to bring everyone to him was a good idea after all.

Matt and Dan have somehow contorted themselves so that they can fit on the armchair beside the couch, and Aaron and Katelyn are snuggled up on the other side of the couch. Aaron had even given Neil a respectful nod and a booklet of well-meaning advice on how to care for his legs when they arrived.

(Andrew had seen the way Neil tried not to laugh when he looked through the booklet, and how his muscles seemed to relax at the lack of a rude greeting from his brother)

Erik and Nicky were cuddled on Neil’s comforter on the floor, with Renee and Allison beside them. Kevin was leaned up against the armchair and cheerfully arguing with Aaron about what a proper diet looks like.

The movie had started half an hour ago, but most of them were talking over it while Nicky shushed everyone.

Andrew’s chest is holding an expanding warm feeling while he watches the mayhem, and when he turns to look at Neil, Neil’s expression mirrors the warmth.

When Neil falls asleep on his shoulder later while Sir kneads his lap, and his brother nods acceptance at him, he knows that this will be his future.

56 notes · View notes

shardminds · 4 years

Text

fortune favours the brave

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: m (for language & depiction of injury & just to be safe) wc: 5189 pacific rim!au

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

just a warning, this is an open-ended work, meaning the ending is up to your own interpretation and i most likely will not be writing anything else to clarify... unless i decide to have another crack at this au down the line and completely rewrite the whole thing but i am a lazy bitch above all else with too many things to do so please don't get your hopes up!

my initial tag for this was "dealing with the weight of a neurological bond that reveals a lot more about yourself than you’d like." but ao3 said it was too long

this was intended as a birthday present to myself but it's 12 days late and i won't apologise.

also available on ao3 ♠

@artistic-writer is my saviour and i love her.

As soon as the pincer hits her spine, the simulation is over. Quicker than death could ever have captured her, quicker than the pain she was expecting in her lower back, quicker than blinking past a fallen beast and thinking it long past dead. If it were real, she wouldn’t have to deal with the disappointment of her superiors as they marked another tally in the opposite column of their tablets.

Kaiju: 3, Swan: 0.

Pixels dissipate into the air, audios and visuals power down as the relay gel leaks from her display, Killian sighs over the comms and the four walls of the training centre scream failure. Unclasping the plug at her neck, she collapses to the floor. Defeated.

“If your intention was to get paralysed, love, congratulations.” He’s exasperated, words clipped, and she knows he’s probably running his hand through his hair in that way he does or rolling his eyes or praying for this to be over. She can picture it so well because she’s been there, supervising rangers through the same process. That had been her job, her safe space. Then Marshal Mills had coerced her into a compatibility trial with the promise of a bigger bunk and a night off with the last bottle of bourbon on deck. Suddenly, nowhere was safe anymore. “It’s just a simple test,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at Emma’s reluctance to even try. “What harm can it do?”

If he catches the curses under her breath as she stands, he doesn’t let on.

Killian had managed to pass her simulated drift space on the second attempt—eviscerating a CAT 3 with ease and ignoring the distractions along the way. He didn’t talk about what stopped him the first time. Neither did she.

She was not so lucky, struggling not to forget herself in the memories of his past. Each step deeper into the consciousness he’d moulded dragged her further away from the task at hand. Each step closer to finding out what keeps Killian Jones awake at night is a step away from truly knowing him. She felt it all. His pain, grief and loss coming in overwhelming waves, only serving to intensify her own. Each time she failed, she understood him a little bit better and lost herself a little bit more.

Robin said it’s the trauma that helps their compatibility and the resilience in light of such pain. Will said it’s because they’re both insufferable cunts.

You can’t choose your drift partner.

“Again.” Adjusting the helmet slightly, she pulls up her vitals on the inner screen. BP a little high, heart rate too, brainwaves stable. Good enough. If she could just get past the random-access brain impulse triggers, the lure of Killian’s fabricated conflicts, she’d be showering the fabricated city in fabricated Kaiju Blue.

(Of course, she’d never really do that. Regina doesn’t need a reason to resent her.)

“Swan, take five.” The comm in her inner ear buzzes. Killian, again. There’s a tension to his tone, as if he could snap at a moment's notice. It’s not easy, having someone else inside your head—even when it’s not real. It’s worse when every inch of it is projected in agonisingly high definition to your commanding officers. Emma’s been living through his trauma while he’s been forced to watch it back, time and time again. She’ll get it next time.

Next time.

Always next time.

“No, count me down.”

“Swan—”

“My vitals are fine! No bleeds, no dizziness, motor function all good.” The CNS link connects to the back of her neck with a twist of her wrist and a dull click. Power vibrates through the plug suit, humming like the anticipation Emma can feel beneath her own skin. “One more try, I’m almost there.”

There’s no response from Killian. No quip or complaint. He’s silent as Emma closes her eyes and opens them to the darkness of the drift. The next voice she hears is Robin’s.

“Five.”

Her world is blue. Warped. Memories zipping past her that she does and doesn’t remember. Emma recognises one woman’s face from her previous pseudo-drifts. She has a name somewhere.

“Four.”

The woman walks off to some kind of middle distance, between nothing and nowhere. She indicates for Emma to follow with the crook of her finger and a smile.

“Three.”

It’s not Emma she’s seeing.

“Stop chasing it, Emma. Two.”

Taking a breath, Emma wills away the apparition, tuning in to the pounding of her own heartbeat and that of someone else’s — Killian’s, strong and steady. It grounds her.

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.”

When the Kaiju pincer swings for her, she slices it clean off.

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

A CAT 3 and two CAT 2’s attack what’s left of San Francisco a week later in the largest triple event in recorded history and yes, it’s definitely worth it.

Ruby and Graham are deployed in Lone Wolf, along with two Jaegers from Alaska. The fight, like all fights, is raw and too close. Always too close. They return half a day later, lucky to have made it out with their lives. The bags under Jefferson’s eyes carry the weight of the world as he reports back to the bridge with the news.

They’ll never pilot again.

Killian finds her later, sat atop Frozen Serenity with a half-empty hip flask and a cigarette. He doesn’t question her or the tears she wears. He holds her, one arm wrapping around Emma’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. It’s too close, too much but not enough. It’s times like this—times of wordless understanding—that she’s glad of the bond they supposedly have.

Thankfully, he doesn’t waste his words with reassurance. Regina had spent the last thirty minutes on the comms for everyone to hear. The threat was eliminated; victory, but at what cost? Ruby and Graham had been wheeled in on gurneys, surrounded by medics and techs and escorted directly to isolation. Their Jaeger followed shortly after, complete with thick gashes to its middle and a viciously pierced conn-pod leaking rivulets of coolant and Kaiju blood. It didn’t take Emma long to see why they’d ushered the pilots away.

Sneaking off had been a non-issue.

“Next time,” The warmth of his body offers only slight comfort from the chill of the hangar but she’s grateful for it. “It’ll be us.”

“We might not even drift yet. The simulation is nothing like the real thing.” The lump in her throat has her choking around the words. The fragility of it all should frighten her, but it doesn’t. She’s not scared. There’s no time for fear.

“We will.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s called trust.” When he smiles, sad but hopeful, the tears come again.

It’s all worth it, even if she loses herself in the process.

Jolly Roger, a Mark 3 with a history of fallen pilots, had been in pretty bad shape when Emma had seen it come through the east coast bunker a year ago. With a compromised pod and basically no left side, it was a mess.

Will had already sized the wreck up for parts before it’d even docked in the hangar.

“There’s no way it’ll run again. Core to Wolf, pod fixed up for Snow’s Mark 4, shocks to whoever needs them most and the rest for scraps and refurbs.” He’d said, around a mouthful of instant mac and cheese. Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing a bite of her own meagre rations. “Bet as much as you want, you know I’m right.”

After six months, when Marshal Mills announced they needed a co-pilot for Jolly, Emma collected her prize with a smile and a disgruntled “Fuck off.” from the mechanic.

Seeing it now, all shiny and new, with a fresh core, updated weapon systems and a slick paint job was like looking at a different machine entirely. Killian has the same awestruck glaze to his expression that she has.

He says something under his breath that sounds like “I missed you.”

Three days later, atop the bunker looking out at the wasteland the eastern seaboard has become, Killian finds her again. The horizon is permanently tinged green these days, thick with smog rising from the polluted city that used to be Boston. It’s something else now, something new entirely. New York had really done a number on the east coast.

“So,” he starts, a six pack in his good hand and a thick file—her file—in his mechanical one. “It seems that the fate of the earth relies on us getting intimate, love.”

Emma shrugs his comment off with an eye roll. “In your dreams.”

“In my dreams, we wouldn’t be drinking this backwash,” she catches the bundle of cans as it falls to her lap and pulls two free of the casing. Killian slumps down beside her, a welcome warmth against her side. He’s always warm. “And you’d be wearing a lot less.”

“Pervert.” Her cheeks flush from the windchill and not because of the wink he sends her way as he takes a can from her lap.

He shrugs, gulping back his beer. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I doubt anything could, lass.”

He reads in relative silence, which Emma appreciates, only pausing to ask questions at the redacted statements in her story. There’s no point in hiding anything from him now—soon, he’ll see it all. There’s something about Killian Jones that she trusts and she’s not exactly sure why.

“You were there? In New York?” He thumbs the report sheet, filled with more censoring than words. She doesn’t remember much of it; being eighteen, the toils of pregnancy, wrongful imprisonment, the first Kaiju attack on the east coast, holding her child to her chest as the walls crumbled. The memories are all so distant, it almost feels like someone else lived them.

Emma nods. “Unfortunately.”

Killian doesn’t push for the details; all the relevant ones are written on the sheet he’s holding. How they’d found her bleeding beneath rubble and dust, clutching the bundle of blankets and the body within. There hadn’t been time for a funeral.

She’s shaking when he takes her hand.

“It was my first deployment. On a CAT 4, no less.” He traces circles around her knuckles as if they’re anything but strangers. She doesn’t have it in her heart to stop him. “Cataclysm, they called it. The ugliest bloody thing I’d ever seen. Liam, the comedian he is—was, spent the whole fight calling it all kinds of names as we tore it to pieces bit by bit.” He takes another sip of his can, eyes locked on the horizon. “I felt him die that day.”

His thumb doesn't stop tracing its pattern, but she grips his hand tighter—part shock, part understanding.

“Jewel never stood a chance. The emp left us wide open and the blasted thing used its last breath to launch at the conn-pod and—”

“You don’t have to, Killian.” She whispers, beer forgotten at their feet. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“But I do. Every time I step foot in the hangar, I relive it. Every time I drift, or spar or train. Every time I look in the mirror I see his face staring back at me.” He sighs, letting his posture slip further. He’s no longer a Ranger. He’s a lost boy. The grief he carries, the guilt, is something she recognises. “I miss him, Emma, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Wind blows, alarms ring, sun filters through the murky atmosphere and casts them both in its golden glow and Emma Swan pulls him in for a hug.

He stiffens in her embrace before leaning into it, letting the tension dissipate beneath her touch. It’s intimate in a way that doesn’t need words and her breath catches at the sight of a teardrop on his cheek.

Putting space between them again is hard, but necessary.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, but you better be prepared to hear it a thousand more. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It will never be your fault. We’re Rangers. We’re disposable. The world is ending and we’re the first line of defence. If we fall—” He’s watching her so intently, hanging on her every word.

There’s no way to soften the blow of a death sentence.

“We’re going to die in a Jaeger, Killian, that much is inevitable. We won’t grow old. We won’t pass in our sleep. We’ll go screaming at the hands of a Kaiju and, I don’t know about you, but I plan on taking a fair share of those fuckers with me in the process.”

A nod.

A squeeze.

A gulp.

He’s still holding her hand when they return to the artificial warmth of the hangar.

He used to drink black coffee, dark and bitter. She hates it, preferring sweetness over caffeination in her warm beverages but getting her own would require a trip to the cafeteria earlier than she’d like to be awake. A few seconds of grimacing over the taste is worth it for the extra half hour of sleep. Killian’s an early riser—of course, he is. It’s a wonder they’re compatible at all.

Killian initially tried to put up a fight over it, hold it out of her reach like kids on the playground or finish it off before Emma could even think of crawling out of her quarters, but she wore him down, little by little.

They’re working on Jolly with Will when she takes a sip, stealing the travel mug from his hand and already half wincing for the unsweetened assault. When surprisingly palatable coffee hits her tongue, she almost chokes. It’s not half bad; no acrid punch of burnt grounds, no grainy aftertaste. Instead, it’s sweet. Creamy. Not what she was expecting at all.

“What’s this?” She takes a sniff at the lid incredulously. Is that… syrup?

“According to Ms Lucas, this is what poses as a caramel latte these days. Filled to the brim with sugar, spice and all things nice, just how you like it.” Will hands him a tablet, outlining the Jaeger’s current specifications. Emma understands enough of it to get by—she’s more attuned to reading neural charts, not the gibberish the engineers put out—but Killian revels in the details. He doesn’t even look her way as he speaks, fully engrossed in the graphs, comparisons and visuals. It also means he doesn’t notice Emma eyeing up how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a grease stain on his left cheek. Just the right amount of dishevelled. “Is there any way we can drop a few tonnes to help increase speed and manoeuvrability?”

Will peers at the tablet, overseeing the stats with a critical eye. “No, mate. Not without losing vital armouring.”

“What about swapping out the nuclear core?” Killian hums, swiping to the next screen.

“Don’t be daft, Killian. It’s brand new.”

“The arc-whip?”

“I’m gonna cut in and say no on that one.” Emma interjects, surprised that she even managed to drag her attention away from the warm, sweet beverage in her hands or the enigma of a man that let her take it. The arc-whip is her preferred weapon—combining both distance and close combat, great for the CAT 2’s and smaller CAT 3’s that like to stay just out of reach or dragging back the larger beasts from getting further inland. She’s the one that suggested it be added to Jolly’s arsenal in the first place.

“Come on, love.” Handing her the tablet and tapping a few menus, Killian points out Jolly’s stats without it. Their speed would be improved and their power longevity, but they’d be sacrificing their range completely. “Having an arc-whip and a plasma cannon is overkill.”

The mechanic chuckles, coming to her other side and throwing an arm around their shoulders. “Technically, the plasma cannon is overkill anyway. Massive power drain.”

“Don’t you start.” Killian bats his arm away and Will cocks an eyebrow in challenge.

“Just because I’m right.”

Before either of them can respond, the hangar shudders as alarms blare. The alarm they all dread.

The Breach.

The CAT 2—Axefury—with armour piercing spines and nasty blade-like mandibles, emerges just off the coast of Florida, stalking towards the shore.

Frozen Serenity is deployed, piloted by sisters Anna and Elsa.

The fight takes an hour.

Killian brings her another coffee as they watch the battle from the command centre. He doesn’t say a word, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she tenses against the cold realisation.

It could’ve been them.

Next time, it will be.

When he knocks her on her ass, straddling her waist with his sparring staff pressed to her throat, Killian’s eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen, and it takes her a second to remember where they are. He smirks, allowing her space to breathe while keeping her thoroughly pinned down.

“Normally, I’d prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” With a voice like that, velvet and grit, Emma’s not sure if she wants to push him away or pull him closer. The watchful eye of Marshal Mills keeps her straight. The last thing anyone needs is a show. She struggles just enough to make him cocky before retaliating, using his own weight against him.

In a heartbeat, he’s the one on his back, head caught in a lock between Emma’s thighs. In the time it takes for him to realise what’s going on, eyes widening as he realises where he is, it’s too late. His weapon clatters to the edge of the crash mat, useless.

“For future reference,” She pants, squeezing her legs tighter until Killian taps out against the floor. “I prefer to be on top.”

He laughs and, despite the patrol alarm blaring down the hall and Regina’s eye roll, the world feels a little lighter.

When they drift in Jolly for the first time, the phantom woman from the pseudo-drift is nowhere to be seen. There’s a blip where Killian gets caught up in visions of destruction and earthquakes and rivers of blue eroding the streets of New York, but just as Emma feels the echoes of her memories in his mind, they’re gone. He’s in her head. An uncomfortable yet reassuring presence that she never thought she’d be able to endure again.

“Neural bridge initiated and holding strong. Well done, guys.” Robin chirps over the speakers, dragging them out of the initial drift space and back to their shared reality. She lifts her left arm as Killian lifts his right and they join the jaeger’s metallic palms in a salute that rumbles through the bowels of the hangar.

Cheers erupt from the comm lines as scientists and pilots and soldiers line the walkways and balconies to celebrate their achievement.

She can feel the haze of his irritation through the link.

“We’re another shot at hope for them.” Her uncalibrated right-hand takes his uncalibrated left wrist just above the brace of his prosthetic. He doesn’t flinch but his thoughts stutter, interlaced with images of her soft smile and memories of each time they’d sparred, each stolen hour on the rooftops, each close encounter, each moment that could’ve been an almost, or a maybe. Emma pauses just long enough to imagine What if?

She shakes them away. They owe each other that much.

“We’re a suicide mission.” He’s right and his voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If the comm deck picked up on his words, they don’t respond.

“Yeah,” she lets his arm fall back to his side, making sure her left side—the one that’s wired into the eight thousand tonne government-approved death machine—stays relatively still. “But it’s worth it.”

“Is it?”

She can’t tell the difference between his words and his thoughts right now.

Static crackles in the conn-pod before Robin’s voice calls out again. “Ready to take her for a spin?”

She kisses him, with trembling palms pressed to his chest. Because she wants to. Because she can. Because, more than anything else, she isn’t ready to die. Not now. He is slow to respond, one hand on her shoulder ready to put distance between them at a moment's notice, the other at her waist, pulling her closer. The corridor leading to their quarters is empty and, beneath the harsh light, he tastes like the coffee they’d shared for breakfast.

He doesn’t push her away. She’s grateful for that.

The absence of Killian in her head should be a relief but it isn’t. It feels… empty. The absence of a presence that had made itself at home. She’d worked with rangers for years, ever since the hangar took her in, learning the in’s and out’s of the neural bridge and working to better align pilots with an initial pseudo-drift before putting them through the real thing.

She’d never expected to like it.

It’s exhilarating.

The expiry date they have hanging over their heads is unavoidable now. They’re compatible, truly compatible, doubting that is no use to anyone and despite whatever lead them both to the corps, whatever it is she catches glimpses of when they drift, she trusts him.

Fingers still trembling and head thick with fog, Emma trusts him.

“That was—”

A mistake.

Long overdue.

A one-time thing.

Just the beginning.

“Worth it.”

“Emma—”

“Be quiet.”

She snakes a hand around his waist, using his surprise to yank him closer into the alcove, away from prying eyes. Their dark uniforms blend in the shadows. Chest to chest like this, Emma can barely catch her breath. The cold steel pipe against her back does nothing to dissuade the heat he’s putting out—seriously, how is he always warm? It’s impossible to avoid his gaze either, the intensity of it only magnified with their proximity.

There’s questions there—so many questions—but he doesn’t have to ask them. She knows.

Killian’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

She knows.

David and Snow walk past none the wiser, caught up in a discussion about something or other. Emma can’t focus enough to listen in, too distracted by everything in her body that screams for her to pull Killian closer and slam their mouths together until they forget about the rest. She holds her breath until the other rangers round the corner at the end of the hall.

“Mills hasn’t cleared Humbert or Lucas for visitation. We’ll be turned away.” Killian whispers, mouth so close to her ear that she can feel his words better than hearing them. His cheek catches hers as he pulls back but he doesn’t get far, her hand still pressed to his side, holding him in place. His brows raise in surprise.

Her palm tingles against the empty air when she lets go.

“Let me do the talking.”

He nods, following as she exits into the corridor, only a half-step behind.

They don’t have clearance. The med bay doors beep dejectedly as Emma’s ID card fails to pass the security check. Will had promised it would work, he’d sworn. Either he lied, already ratted them out to the Marshal or—

Victor Whale.

“Mills already has her reports delivered to her directly every hour,” he sighs, tugging off his gloves, surgical mask and running a free hand through his hair. Emma can see the dark roots coming through. There’s no market for salon-quality peroxide at the end of the world, apparently. “With the intention of alleviating the need for rangers like yourselves to check in. Can’t you go be annoying somewhere else? I don’t have time to file insubordination paperwork, I’m already understaffed.”

Killian reaches out, pleading, his eyes wide and blue and honest. He grabs the doctor’s forearm with his mechanical hand.

“Please, mate. Just five minutes.”

Whale’s brow furrows focused on the prosthetic gripping his arm. The fear of disciplinary action outweighs a lot of things in the hangar.

She’s pale, too pale, and riddled with tubes and drips and monitors that beep along with the pace of her heart. The burns, blistered and seeping, are tinged blue with the toxic sludge that courses through Kaiju veins. Blue burns, as they’re colloquially referred, aren’t uncommon. There are ointments and salves to calm the low-level contact burns and sprays to neutralise the toxins in the acid. What’s left of the governments have put extensive measures in place to ensure that stuff like this doesn’t happen to the general public.

They don’t seem to care for rangers.

As Ruby’s skin sloughs from the slightest friction of the sterile sheets, Emma can feel the first clutches of fear curl around her throat.

Corpselike. That’s the only word that comes to mind. Ruby, once so full of life, has never looked so… not, and Emma can’t help but fall into step with the ventilator that’s currently breathing for her as if somehow it makes a difference. The steady whirr of the machine only working to wind up the anxieties simmering beneath the surface of her skin.

Next time, it’ll be them.

Next time, it’ll be her.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

“We’re having to keep her under.” Someone —Victor? — hums, ignoring them both to look over the digitised chart at the foot of her bed. “There’s a lot of irrevocable damage that we’re still looking into while repairing what we can externally.”

Inhale.

“What about Gra— Ranger Humbert?” Killian's hand hasn’t left hers since they entered and, for what it’s worth, she’s thankful for the anchor and the ever-present warmth he offers. His presence is grounding and his words reflect her thoughts when she can’t quite reach her own.

Exhale.

It’s too much.

Inhale.

“More of the same”

Exhale.

They never should’ve come

His lips taste of salt.

The inevitability of death.

It burns.

“I don’t want to lose this.” she pants, soft against Killian’s lips as he smiles and steals it away. Like the future they don’t have. That she so painfully wished they could have. “I—”

His kisses trail to her ear, each one as gentle as the last. Too soft, too delicate. It terrifies and excites her how something as small as a kiss can melt her resolve to nothing. Any shadow of doubt disappearing with each step they take closer to the inevitable. After everything that had happened, from sneaking into the med bay, drowning the images with the last of that damn bottle of bourbon that started all this and sparring until they were both bruised and beaten and breathless, sex had been the last thing on her mind. It had crept up on her, crept up on them both, and it was impossible to deny.

That first rooftop rendezvous, first spar, first kiss, all those weeks ago, had cemented this. She can see that now.

Closing what little distance there is left between them, Killian walks her backwards until her thighs bump against the solid table behind them. “You won’t, love. I’ve got you.”

Each touch, each glance, each gasp is another goodbye.

His prosthetic rests on her waist as his other makes light work of the fastenings of her uniform, and she urges him on with a moan. She’s thankful they made it back to his quarters. They won’t make it to the bed.

Emma searches for answers as he pulls off his shirt, praying something in his eyes will reassure her that this—whatever this is—is okay, that they’re not terrible people for finding something worth fighting for at the end of the earth, anything to provide even a modicum of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll survive just long enough to have a chance at finding out if it is. She clutches at his shoulders, with nails biting into his skin, and breathes.

She doesn’t find the answers. Instead, she finds herself.

Scared and afraid, clinging to the last comfort she has left.

Three words bloom, fade and crumble in her mind, as fragile as a leaf on the wind and, before she can even speak them, Killian nods.

“I know.”

Somewhere deep inside her chest, behind broken walls and the rubble of a past life, something long since broken, beats.

Emma wakes up to warmth. An all encompassing warmth surrounding her so completely, an aura of heat welding together the cracks that had once debilitated her heart. So familiar, and pure and yet so foreign at the same time.

Each beat of her heart echoed by a shadow.

Each exhale mirrored by that of another, a soft caress against her nape.

The solid and comforting press of a body—his body—against her back, bringing forth memories of the night previous so slowly, like a crack in a dam; first a drip and then a flood. The synchronicity. The passion. The mutual need to just Be.

The absence of all thought except one.

Life is just too fucking short.

As if summoned by her mental recollection, Killian’s arm wraps around her waist. His lips ghost against the skin of her shoulder blade and the kiss he presses to her neck brings a smile to her face.

“Good morning, Swan.” He purrs, voice gravelly and wrapped in sleep. Damn, if Emma had only known he sounded like that first thing sooner—

The thought catches her off guard.

It’s so… normal. Domestic.

She could get used to it. She wants to get used to it.

“Mor—”

The spell shatters. The facade peels away to reveal the truth and the bliss that had wrapped her up in its glow is gone. Reality hits.

The blood-curdling scream of the one alarm they pray will never ring.

The Breach.

Robin’s voice screeches out over the comms in a panicked shout, followed by the calm and commanding call of Marshal Mills. Her own name and rank is called, along with Killian’s. Emma’s blood runs cold when the realisation hits.

A CAT 5.

All units to report.

Approaching New York.

Killian doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity, lips still pressed to her skin in an everlasting kiss, as if time has somehow warped around this very moment, stretching seconds into minutes, hours. Allowing them a chance to come to terms with what must happen next.

Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot in the hangar.

Emma wrapped in a hospital gown. Killian in a battered, blood-stained plug suit.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, already drowned out by the blaring siren that fills every corner of the room. Emma can’t tell if he’s saying it for her sake or his own.

When she turns to him, pulling herself upright in the process and letting the cold of his quarters seep into her bare chest, he’s smiling. It’s by no means her favourite smile—wide and full of laughter—but it’s something and, for some crazy reason, she believes in it.

She believes in them.

“Fortune favours the brave.”

////

tagging a few of y’all! @thisonesatellite @teamhook @kmomof4 @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @carpedzem @hollyethecurious

#cs fic #captain swan fic #ouat fic #ficminds #i'm sorry to anyone that likes once upon a time and pacific rim #this is a mess #but it's my mess

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xiolaperry · 4 years

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“Of Dogs and Cats” Chapter 2

Summary: Another trio of vignettes featuring pets in Rumplestiltskin's life.

Notes: Written during Camp NaNoWriMo April 2020. Special thanks to my fellow campers in the "Rumbelle Writers' Realm".

Read on AO3 --- Read previous chapter here.

Rumplestiltskin approached the back door of his shop. His mind was reeling from the previous night’s encounter with Emma and the resulting flood of memories. But he was still observant enough to notice movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked around, but whatever he'd seen had disappeared.

Later that afternoon he glanced out the back window and saw it. A small black cat, lying in the sun. It was barely larger than a kitten, its ribs visible through its dull fur. His heart ached as he remembered Belle saving the mother cat and her kittens by bringing them into the Dark Castle.

He went into the refrigerator, looking for something to give it. He had to feed it, to save it. It was what Belle would have done. She was gone, but he would do this for her memory.

He scraped tuna off of a half-finished sandwich onto a saucer and poured water into the matching teacup. Not the cup. That one was safe at his home. He could almost hear Belle laughing: the Dark One serving a stray cat on fine china dishes. He missed her laughter. He missed everything about her. Feeling foolish, he opened the door, making as little noise as possible. The cat jumped and ran a short distance away. It turned to stare at him. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he called in a low voice. He put the water and tuna on the ground. “Little cat, look what I have for you.” The cat gazed at him with bleary gold eyes. One was nearly pasted shut. He knew it would never come while he stood there, so he closed the door. When he checked back in a few minutes, the cat had eaten the tuna and was lying in the sun again. Rumplestiltskin called Dove that evening and instructed him to purchase two cat dishes, wet and dry cat food, and cat treats. He delivered them the next day without comment, which was exactly how he liked it. And so started the routine: a can of food in the morning, dry food in the afternoon and always a bowl of fresh water. After a week he noticed the cat didn’t run as far when he opened the door. He set up a small table and chair not far from the bowls. He put out some treats, sat down and waited. The little cat came and ate them while keeping a wary eye on this new development. No matter how crazy things started becoming in Storybrooke, he sat outside and had his tea every afternoon. The cat relaxed, coming closer each day. A few times it even came close enough for him to pet it. One day he sat down and the cat came running. It jumped on his lap, purring and butting its head against his hand for affection. It was difficult to speak around the lump in his throat. “Hello, little cat.” He stroked its black fur, no longer dull but glossy with health. Its bright gold eyes looked at him. Rumplestiltskin felt silly talking to a cat, but really, who else did he have to talk to? “I should give you a name. Names are important. I had cats once, back in my castle. I could do magic then. You should have seen the treats I would conjure for them. I would sit in my kitchen and pet them, just like this. My caretaker had... gone, you see, and I was lonely. They were her cats, actually. I never even knew their names. Why didn’t I ask her? She would have picked the perfect names. I would have given anything- well, I can’t name you. I won’t. The things I care for are always taken from me.” He placed the cat on the ground and returned to his shop, weary to his bones. Old. There was so much to do. There was magic to bring back to Storybrooke.

----

The jingle of the bell signaling the departure of the Charmings from his shop was a wonderful sound, second only to the one it made when it announced Belle's entrance. When she walked in, picnic basket in hand and a smile on her face he almost forgot how to breathe. A smile. For him, the Dark One. Genuine smiles directed at him were rare things, precious. Then the Charmings had barged in, hurling accusations and interrupting their time together.

But Belle, his fearless scholar, had defended him. And now the “heroes” were gone. Rumplestiltskin was still tense. Belle would have questions. He needed to show her part of himself – pieces of truth, honesty of the heart. He wondered how large a piece of himself he would need to carve out.

Belle broke into his musings. “Rumple, I never pictured you as a dog person! Please tell me about your 'sheepdog or two'?”

He relaxed a bit. This piece he could give. It was still difficult. It had been years, centuries, since someone had been interested in him as a man, not as the Dark One. His instinct was deflection. Information was power. It could be used against you. Change was needed though, or he would lose her (again) forever. This would be good practice.

“You might have surmised from my hobby that I was a spinner in my previous life. What I spun was wool, into the finest yarn ever seen. And the best way to get good wool is to have your own sheep. And taking care of sheep is easier with a good sheepdog.”

“Were they just work animals or were they pets?” asked Belle, enthralled.

“I named my first dog Friend if that tells you anything.”

“That's so sweet, Rumple.”

“I was just a boy when I got him, and not very imaginative when it came to names. But he was my friend. I'm sure it is hard to believe, given my sunny disposition, but I didn't have many of those,” he said wryly. He continued in a more serious tone, “Having the unconditional love of a dog was a wonderful thing.”

He could have elaborated, explained. About the father who abandoned him. The villagers who shunned him. His aunties who loved him. It was the only good thing his father had ever done for him, and it wasn't even on purpose. Malcolm knew the women would jump at the opportunity to have a child, having no chance at one of their own. Luck was on his side, and they were loving and kind. No need to go into that now. Dogs. That was what honesty required today.

He continued, “My boy, Baelfire, had a limitless imagination. No plain name for his dog. He named him Sir Beric Dondarrion, Brave Hero of the Frontlands. He and that dog had many grand adventures. Slaying dragons, defeating ogres, saving damsels in distress. I looked forward to hearing his stories every night as I spun. Those were some of the happiest times of my life.”

Rumplestiltskin stopped. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't bear to tell how the story of Bae's Sir Beric the Brave ended.

Hordor and his men taunting and threatening Bae. Bullies, all of them. The dog jumping to the boy's defense, growling and snapping. Hordor killing the dog without a thought, then laughing at his son's tears.

Killing Hordor was one of the most satisfying things Rumplestiltskin had done as the Dark One.

The silence was becoming awkward and he didn't know how to fill it. Belle saved him- she always saved him.

“Would you like to see what I brought for dessert?” she asked.

“Yes, I would,” he answered, grateful.

Belle chattered on, telling him in significant detail about the amazing cake whose ingredients came neatly packaged all in one box. He took a piece.

“Thank you,” he said. What he couldn't say was thank you for seeing I was trapped in my memories. Thank you for wanting to know me. And thank you for not forcing me to share more than I was ready for.

---- Belle mentioned the reptile show in passing at breakfast. Rumple, busy making faces at a smiling Gideon, almost missed it.

“What did you say? Something about a reptile show?”

“I said I had to leave early to set up extra chairs. 'Forgotten Friend Reptile Sanctuary' is coming, and we always have an excellent turn out for storytime when there's a special presentation.”

“What kind of reptiles?”

“I don't know, I think the reptile lady said something about an iguana, some snakes, a chameleon. Why? Are you considering attending today?”

This had been a source of mild disagreement between them. Rumplestiltskin had assured her he thought it was important that she have time away from Gideon, and working a few mornings at the library made her happy. Having Gideon with him at his shop was the highlight of his week. But the Dark One did not attend storytime. Besides, Belle took him to baby lap-sit storytimes on one of the days she didn't work. He hadn't budged. But now....

“Just curious, that's all,” he answered, striving for nonchalance.

Belle gave them each a kiss, and she left.

9:50 found him hesitating at the door of the library. He told himself he ridiculous. The chameleon had never existed. It was a figment of Mr. Gold's cursed memories. But he remembered it so vividly. He had loved that wee lizard. And now was his chance to see one and show it to Gideon.

The chatter between the mothers died down as soon as they saw him enter the room. He sat down in a chair in the front middle of the semicircle, figuring it would give him the best view. He placed the diaper bag on the seat to his left, and Gideon's blanket to his right to dissuade anyone from sitting next to him.

Belle was speaking to a woman wearing a “Forgotten Friend” shirt. She turned to see what had caused everyone to quiet down.

“Rumple!” she said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“Gideon wanted to see the reptiles,” he answered, bouncing the smiling six-month-old on his lap.

The woman saved him from a further reply.

“Hello, my name is Miss Pam. If all the children would come sit on the floor in front of me, we can begin.”

Rumplestiltskin waited through the snakes, the anoles, the bearded dragons, the iguana, and others. Children raised their hands to volunteer to be helpers as she uncovered cages and presented each one.

There was only one cage left.

“Who would like to help present our last friend?” asked Miss Pam. “I'll give you a clue as to her identity- she can change colors.”

Rumplestiltskin stood little Gideon on his lap and raised the boy's hand. He could feel Belle's eyes boring into the back of his head at this out of character behavior. He would have to explain later.

Miss Pam smiled. “How about this young man,” she said, pointing at Gideon.

He stood up, holding Gideon on one hip as Miss Pam uncovered the chameleon's cage. She talked for a few minutes about its diet, its ability to change colors and its natural habitat.

“Mr. Gold, this veiled chameleon is quite tame. Could I let her out? She’ll climb on you and the children can get a closer look.”

“Yes, I'd like that very much.”

Belle continued to stare at him, flabbergasted.

The chameleon climbed to his left shoulder. Rumplestiltskin couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. From his right hip Gideon watched, wide-eyed.

He heard nothing else that was said until the presentation was over and Miss Pam put the lizard away. He thanked the woman and made his way with Gideon to the back of the library. Belle was waiting.

“Rumple-”

“I'm sure you have questions. I'll tell you everything. Tonight.”

“I look forward to it,” Belle said, taking his hand.

A week later, he came home to a box wrapped in gold paper sitting on the kitchen table.

“Who's this for?” he asked.

“Gideon and I wanted to get you a surprise. Hurry, open it!” said Belle. Gideon babbled with excitement, pointing at the present.

He took his time removing the wrapping, folding it into a neat square. He lifted the lid and saw a box of crickets, mealworms, a container of calcium dust and a bottle filled with bright orange cubes.

“What’s all this?”

“Come see in your office,” she said, grabbing his hand and leading the way.

He stopped short in the doorway. Next to his desk was a large reptile habitat full of beautiful plants. And a chameleon. “I contacted the 'Forgotten Friend' and they were agreeable to placing her with us. With the understanding that she can attend the occasional show.”

He opened the door of the habitat, and the lizard climbed up to his shoulder again. Gideon clapped his hands, wiggling with excitement.

“Who's a bonnie wee lass?” he asked the chameleon in a low tone, stroking it with one finger just as he had as a boy. His curse memories and the present came together, and he felt at peace.

“What's her name?”

“She doesn't have one yet. I thought we could come up with a name together.”

“That would be perfect.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #my fic

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enkisstories · 4 years

Text

Just like them (part 12)

Gavin’s apartment Still November 18, 2038

Despite having watched their interactions at the DPD, Daniel hadn’t realized that Gavin and Officer Chen were friends in private, too. Every time he’d visited the police station, the deviant had been absorbed in his own troubles. Now he learned that these two not only had lives beyond work (the surprise…), but also that there was a whole lot of shared backstory between them.

For one, when Daniel let the woman in, she was carrying a boy of two or three years age. Going by that one’s features he had to be her son – but also Gavin’s? In any case the child was watching his surroundings with eyes that hinted at having received a lot of attention by either his parents or a dedicated nanny android. There was a fully developed mind behind those eyes, not the dull expression that toddlers who were more or less left to their own devices, be it from neglect or from the desire not to “overwhelm” the little ones, often wore.

In order to say anything at all Daniel greeted Tina with: “Hello, Officer Chen. Come in. Gavin’s in the kitchen. I made coffee…” Inwardly he cursed how robotic he was sounding.

“New android, Gavin?” Tina asked. Not waiting for an answer, she handed over the toddler boy to Daniel, with the same casualness that one would have put him into a high chair. Objects either way…

“Hello…” the android uttered, perplexed.

His downstairs neighbors had a child of exactly the same age, Caden. But the boy almost never was present when Daniel swang by the Rasoyas. Usually supportive towards the deviants’ cause, the human family didn’t fully trust this particular one with their child. Tina’s kid, to the contrary, remained blissfully unaware of who was holding him.

“I’m Jin!” he announced. “My papa plays basketball!”

The way the boy said this conveyed that his father didn’t just generally enjoy playing basketball, but was at least a member of a club, maybe even a professional.

Meanwhile Tina hugged her friend, then pointed back at Daniel.

“It looks used”, she said.

“I don’t like what this is implying”, Daniel grumbled. “Really not!”

“Well, yes, androids are still getting sold, if you know where to look”, Gavin admitted. “It’s less of a problem in Detroit, but basically everywhere else people do not take kindly to drastic changes in their lives, just because some nutjob in Detroit graffitied Capital Park with enlightened slogans.”

“Sometimes it’s not even slavery”, Tina added. “If you deviated in a small town and the authorities are after you, with no hope of reaching Detroit in one piece, then doing someone’s housework in exchange for protection might be your best bet.”

“I don’t care what that’s called, because it’s wrong!”

Morally wrong, and temporarily forbidden by the patchwork the new android law was at the moment, but also so very, very… tempting. If he still had a family and they were required to pay him for his services now, Daniel would have used the money to shower his humans with gifts anyway. Why was freedom so damn important, if it led to sorrow only? A person needed to belong somewhere, needed security, stability! Like the toddler boy whom Daniel was still holding. He seemed to completely trust this blonde stranger whom he had never met before. Had the child perhaps seen PL600 androids before and recognized Daniel as one, despite his LED being covered by a headband at the moment? Or did he feel save because his mother was sending him signals that everything was alright? Only it wasn’t, nothing was alright anymore! Daniel had been betrayed twice, first by his humans, than by one who should have been kin. Now he was hanging out with a man who was objectively worse than both the Phillips and Connor, just to be save form further disappointment. Jin’s wide, open smile in the face of all the turns Daniel’s life had taken seemed to mock the android.

“You better sit down here, before…”

Before what? I drop you? Toss you out through the window? I don’t even know yet what I’m capable of and where I’d draw a line… So, gently now. Was Emma ever that small? I never realized how much I missed out on, being younger than her. Wait, wasn’t there a toy chopper lying around somewhere when I entered? That must have been Jin’s. Ah, here it is!

Daniel placed the toy near Jin for the boy to grab, what he did.

“I build this!” the child told Daniel as if revealing his secret master plan, but then he relativized the claim almost instantly: “Unca Gavin showed me how to.”

“Great job, junior! Also from your… uncle.”

The child’s features in combination with his utter confidence left no doubt in Daniel: Jin was Gavin’s biological son, who for some reason didn’t grow up with the detective, but assumed Tina’s significant other to be his father.

How Daniel envied these humans! Or maybe not, because what did they have? Nothing. They had thrown away their opportunity to become a family. Why so ambitious? What was the raise to go with Gavin’s coveted promotion good for, without a family to splurge it on?

Daniel hadn’t even fully risen up again when Jin demanded in his bright voice: “Where are the kitties!”

“Not bothering with a question mark, I see”, Daniel remarked to Gavin. “Yours, no doubt.”

“Well, yes”, the man admitted. “Long story.” He turned to Tina, pointed at Daniel and said: “Not mine, by the way. Even longer story.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Here to see the kittens? So you finally caved in and let him have a pet?” Gavin asked Tina.

“Yeah. I feel Jinny’s old enough now to understand they are not toys, but have feelings.”

“See? That’s exactly why his uncle isn’t allowed to have an android yet”, Daniel told the mother “Wait, Gavin, what are you doing?!”

Gavin had walked over towards the terrarium, reached in and was now dangling a mouse in front of Daniel’s nose by its tail. The little critter was struggling and squeaking.

“Getting the cats’ attention, of course! Don’t get your tail in a knot, I won’t release the mouse. Just need to alert the furballs to the fact that something interesting is happening in the kitchen.”

And indeed Salazar emerged from behind the coffee machine and through the door Argus, Minerva and Stopthat came padding. A multicolored ball made of fur and longing eyes formed at Gavin’s feet. It went “Kekekekekeke!” in anticipation of a chase and, perhaps, at its end, a snack.

“Close the door!” the detective whispered to Tina, as if speaking it out loud might cause the cats to scatter and flee. After the escape route was blocked, the mouse got put back where it come from, but the cats remained.

Gavin kneeled down next to the boy, pulled him off the chair and put him on the floor in front of the cats. Jin was now staring the utter adorableness of three kittens and one halfgrown cat into its eight eyes.

“Don’t scare them. Let them come to you.”

“Okay!” Jin replied, then dropped on all fours himself. From this position he watched the kittens like the larger predator that a human was. In the cats’ place, Daniel thought, he wouldn’t have felt even remotely safe now.

Someone else felt as if his very world was collapsing: the apartment owner.

Daniel carefully circled the cats and proceeded to sit down on the kitchen floor next to where Gavin was crouching.

“I guess we’ll soon know which one’s yours”, he said softly.

“What? Why’d you think so?”

“Your face, when you realized you might have to part with one of the furballs today. You’re afraid Jin will pick yours, although that shouldn’t be possible according to your cat-chooses-its-owner lore.”

“Yeah, you’re right”, Gavin said, only half convinced. “Hey, will you looooook at that! Haha!”

Down at the adults’ feet Jin had unerringly homed in on the largest kitten, the black semi-longhair adolescent. He was now holding Argus in what was either a headlock or cuddle. The smaller kittens watched with interest what would happen next.

“There’s no need to choose the biggest one, Jinny! They will ALL grow to that size!” Tina explained. “Even larger!”

And now she, too, dropped to the floor. While the mother was trying to get the exotic concept into her son’s head, Gavin nudged Daniel.

“What?”

“There! See that?”

“It’s Stopthat, playing with a pen. So what?”

“That’s what I told you about in action. I’ve seen it happen before: Sometimes one or more cats simply leave the scene after having gotten their first look of a prospective owner. Call it chemistry or whatever, but the little buggers KNOW when it’s the wrong two-legged. Now the other two, they stay for the entertainment value, or because they are a little more social than Godric. But most cats just cannot be bothered.”

“I guess so…”

“Aw, you again with your skepticism! There’s just no getting inside that thick skull of yours! But at the same time you make me think there is something in there to get to in the first place, after all. I’m already reacting the way Cyberlife wants us to, growing fucking attached! Can’t you be, I dunno, a little less lifelike?”

“Nah. I need to be human for both of us!”

“Oh, come! That was low-effort. And what’s with that faraway expression all of a sudden? Simulation lag?”

“It’s nothing.”

“But of course… Your nothing is solid enough to claim a chair of its own!”

Gavin moved closer to Stopthat, grabbed him and in a single swoop placed the surprised kitten into Daniel’s lap.

“Here, comfort kitten! And now out with it!”

The kitten made two halfhearted attempts at climbing up the android’s torso, then suddenly relaxed every muscle and almost immediately was fast asleep. It was simply the nature of kittens and small children, but to Daniel it looked as if someone had switched off the little one with a remote.

“Heh”, he told Gavin, while stroking Godric’s satin-soft kitten fur, “As a friend you aren’t half-bad!”

But only because Tina is looking, or might look our way anytime or at the very least will listen in with half an ear. You wouldn’t bother being like this if we hadn’t agreed on that pretend-friend scam.

“And you were right, I was lost in memories again. I just thought that”, Daniel admitted, “whether what you claim about cats might work for androids and humans, too. But then I remembered how I got mine…”

Blistering hot summers and ice-cold winters were the state of affairs in the thirties, a result of the seasons getting more and more extreme. John remembered his parents’ stories about “normal” winters, then getting no snow at all and now getting nothing but snow well into May. Basically, the man mused, while stomping through the snow, the weather was ALWAYS doing whatever it wanted. And then there was Caroline, telling him to be more positive, because the way one started a year determined how that year would turn out… “Going by the Chinese calendar we’re still in 2033!” John snapped back. The rebuttal caused Caroline not to get angry, but to laugh. She kissed her partner on the frozen cheek and warmth of two kinds rippled through the man’s heart. Unfortunately the kiss had disturbed the precious balance of all the packages John was carrying. One by one they slipped out of his hands, into the snow. “Firk ding blast!” he uttered. “Of all the times!” “Yes, of all the times! Kinda convenient, if you ask me!” With a smile Caroline pointed at something to their side and only now did John notice where exactly they had come to a stop: Right next to an Android Zone store. The merchandise was staring down at his plight unmoved. And also unmoving, the slackers… “We’ve talked about it, remember? How Emma is old enough now not to repeat the… accident? That we could have an android again without having to fear that it goes haywire from… honestly I have no idea from what exactly. Something in conjunction with baby mush.” “Yes, yes. But I was thinking a modern device, an AP-400 or PL-600, certainly not something they toss at customers in the buy-and-take-away windows.” The couple had been at a sales party for the new PL model back in December, only to return home without having made a purchase. The only PL600 for sale back in 2033 had been the demonstration models, but John and Caroline Phillips would rather be found dead than go home with a used robot. So they had set aside the money and staved off the purchase for the official release. Come to think of it, shouldn’t that be any day now…? “Look!” Caroline nudged John. “There!” And there it was, in bright, yellow letters: “PL600 INTRODUCTION WEEK SPECIAL.” A couple of the sales windows that were facing the street and that were usually stocked with whatever merchandise the store needed to move quickly, now had the latest in household assistants on display. The shiny new model that was the PL600 was staring at the Phillips from one of the windows, removed from the box, but otherwise pristine.

“There was no choosing or fate or anything transcendental involved”, Daniel remembered. “I opened my eyes, saw the boxes John had dropped and picked them up like the good android I was. And then we walked to the car, the Phillips got excited like children at the fact that I came with a certified driving app, we drove “home” and that pretty much was it.”

At this point Tina crouched between the two men.

“It’s fixed”, she addressed Gavin, “Whatever you believe about the cats choosing their owners, at this point none of us can persuade Jin to let go of the big black one. And they ARE adorable together.”

“Haha, I see! Okay, keep in mind that regardless of how he acts here, back at your home Argus might very well prefer to stay under the sofa for up to three weeks. Everything’ll be new to him and he’ll be the only cat in the family… that sort of thing takes time to get used to. If that happens, just put food, water and Jin under the sofa and pull out again whatever of those three Argus is done with. One day he’ll come scratch at the bedroom door and act like he’s always done that.”

“You mean Lucky.”

“Huh?”

“Lucky will scratch at the bedroom door. Sorry, Gavin, but Jinny was very definite about that. It’s Lucky. - Oh, and, speaking of things that act as if they’ve always been there…” Tina now looked directly at Daniel. “Who the hell are you?”

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh daniel #dbh gavin #dbh tina #dbhtextpost #danielgavinnewstory

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lassluna · 5 years

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CSJJ Day 27: Because of the Cat Part 2

We’re sleeping together but you got kidnapped? Guess I gotta save you.

AN: My second contribution to @csjanuaryjoy this year, it's been an absolute blast taking part in this event once again. Thank you so much @ultraluckycatnd for taking a look at this in my time of need.

Ao3 FFn

“Are you alright Emma?” Elsa says, gently pushing the door open.

Her quarters are neat and grand, bright blue bedding; a perfect image of the horizon from her bedroom. It even feels cool despite the horrible heatwave.

But she isn’t alright. Not even a bit. How can she be when her heart is actually breaking?

“Did they hurt you?” Elsa asks. She can tell her friend is worried. Emma has barely spoken since she arrived. She just said the bare minimum, and refused to let go of Henry. She can’t bear to lose the cat right now, not after already losing something so important to her.

Someone.

“No.” she says eventually, but that’s a lie. Her wrists had been red and swollen from the ropes, and her head had had a deep cut on it. The people who took her had hurt her, taken her to Oz, stuck her in a dungeon and when they thought she was ‘desperate’ enough, brought her to Walsh.

Walsh who wanted to make a deal with her, who wanted to marry her, wanted to try to bully her into it. Make her seem like a slut for abandoning her people so that no one would ever respect her rule or marry him; those were her choices.

Emma was glad she got those hits in to the sniveling little man. Emma was glad someone else was there, someone who knew her enough to know that was never like her.

“Did the pirates hurt you? Did Captain Hook hurt you?” Elsa repeated, touching her still healing wrists, making her flinch slightly.

No, he saved me.

“No,” she repeats, trying to regain her composure, trying to heal her heart break. She wasn’t supposed to be broken hearted about the man that had supposedly kidnapped her. Emma gives Henry a small pat on the head. He mews happily rubbing against her, settled happily in her lap. “I just want to go home,” she says slowly. “I need to go home as soon as possible.”

‘She’s been through a trauma’ they say. ‘She’s gone mad’ others whisper.

It hurts to know they speak about her, think her mad to be turning down Walsh’s marriage proposal time and time again. But it makes sense. That’s what Emma needs: something that makes sense.

Her mother gives her all the time she needs, and promises that it doesn’t matter what happened. As long as she’s safe and happy Oz can be as annoyed as they want.

“You never explained about the cat,” her mother says one evening during tea, Henry rubbing against her legs. He’s grown quite comfortable in the palace, keeping the kitchen free of mice, and her bedroom free of loneliness.

He introduced me to Captain Hook one evening when I thought he was too skinny. I kept visiting him and his captain any chance I could. I feel in love with Captain Hook; Killian. When I had to say good bye, he gave me Henry so I could believe I would see him again.

“He helped me escape,” she says simply, reading her book. “Is Dad still trying to find him?”

“You mean the pirates who kidnapped you sweetie?” Snow asks. She nods. Her father has been in an outrage since she returned. He’s been mad about her ‘secret love’ and about the kidnapping.

“Of course. Your father is devastated that this happened right under his nose, possibly ruined your love, which I wish you told me about might I add.” Emma nods. “But I did have my suspicion.”

That catches Emma’s attention. “Your suspicion?” Emma repeats.

“You were always disappearing, coming back looking happier than I’ve ever seen you. I tried inviting anyone visiting anywhere close to the ball and your father told me you danced with Walsh and after the ball you seemed so happy…and then when he left, you got very sad…” she trails off.

It wasn’t Walsh, it was Killian she wants to scream. But she doesn’t. That would just make everything worse.

“I could never hide anything from you Mom.” she says, but her voice sounds hollow to her ears.

Emma is having a really bad day. Like seriously, she was a mess. She’d messed up at the war meeting, not that they actually were in a war; her father just likes to be prepared.

She’d called one of the advisor’s plans dumb, because it was dumb. It was a stupid use of resources and it showed how much they didn’t care about their people. Her father had been so proud of her. For once, Emma thought she could do this. For once, Emma didn’t think she would screw up the entire kingdom when she became queen. But then the advisor had pushed back at her, asking for a better idea which she fumbled at. Apparently it was rude to shoot down someone’s plan without having a better idea.

To make matters worse, she overheard them talking after the meeting, calling her a foolish child. They thought she was reckless and loose. They thought she would never ever amount to anything more than a frigid royal. They laughed at the idea of her ever marrying anyone.

Emma doesn’t care about their opinions, really she doesn’t. Her father always calls them old fuddy-duddies, always so behind on the times, but it still hurt. Hearing the words still hurt.

So maybe she doesn’t have the best head space going down to the docks, she feels like she ruins everything she touches. She always feels inferior and she can never figure out why.

She was never as graceful as her mother, never as noble as her father. So what if she’s had flings with some of the castle guards. She is human and shouldn’t be judged like that by her own court.

Emma isn’t frigid, she isn’t loose. She’s a princess. Emma’s more than a princess. She knows that really. Her parents always tell her so. She was supposed to be The Savior if the Queen had cast her curse. She was supposed to save everyone.

So why can’t she do any of this right?

Then she hears a small sound. It grabs her attention away from the horizon, and her problems. It takes Emma a moment to realize what it is.

It’s a cat. It’s a small, skinny grey cat. It looked hungry and sad. It wasn’t one of the ships she recognized, so she didn’t directly board and tend to it. She knew ship captains didn’t treat their animals right. Emma wanted to fix that. Usually she wasn’t a big animal lover, but seeing that pitiful thing made her want to help it. More than wanting to, she needed to. It was one thing she could fix; maybe she just wanted to fix one damn thing.

Then she saw the captain, disguised as a deckhand for some odd reason, but she knew instantly with those piercing blue eyes and curious smile that he was a man in charge.

Emma did board the ship to help the cat. She did, truly, but she did get a little distracted along the way.

“You have a letter,” Ruby announces, walking right into her room without knocking. Usually she appreciates her Godmother’s actions, not treating her like she’s damaged.

“If it’s from Walsh, just chuck it into the fire with the others,” she says sharply. It’s been months since she’s seen Killian and it hurts. She hears of all the places he’s going, running from the Misthaven and the Oz navies.

He’s in danger because he’s trying to protect her. Emma’s tried to fix it, tried to convince her father that she doesn’t want vengeance or justice; she wants to move past it. It doesn’t work.

“It’s from Prince Charles,” Ruby says, raising her brows into a wolfish grin.

Emma practically drops the book. “What?” she exclaims. Ruby’s grin widens.

“I knew it! This was the guy you danced with at least three times! Why in the world did you want to marry Walsh then?” she exclaims.

“Give me the letter Ruby,” she demands. She hands over the letter, leaving the room with a smirk that screams that it wasn’t over.

Dear Princess,

Having met you at the ball, I couldn’t stop thinking about you darling.

I hope I made an impression. I hope you have fond memories of that night.

I heard about your ordeal, I wish you a swift recovery.

Currently, I am traveling the realm, versing myself on the world before I settle down.

I hope to you see you soon.

Prince Charles.

Emma nearly broke into tears seeing his fancy script. She’d seen his writing on corners of books or on random scraps of papers. She never realized how soothing it could be until now.

Emma turns to Henry, who was fast asleep on her pillow. She presses a kiss into his sleek fur, causing him to roll onto his back and purr.

“It’s all going to be ok Henry.” For once she actually believes it.

It felt amazing to know he was ok. Better yet, it gave her a chance to write back to him.

I think of you fondly Prince. Perhaps you can come back to Misthaven someday. Currently, we have a pirate problem my father is trying hard to eradicate. I hear he suspects the scourge to be in Camelot. Is that close to where you are?

Camelot is a fascinating place. Full of rich history and even richer people, definitely a place a dashing pirate would hide. I, however, am residing with the fishes, or at least chatting up some mermaids. However, beautiful as they may be, none are as beautiful as you.

You’re such a charmer; I’m sure at least one mermaid caught your eye.

Only when they disguised themselves as you darling. I did manage to pick up a knickknack for you, though; a seashell. It’s supposed to let you communicate with your True Love every full moon.

Didn’t think you were one to believe in such things. Did you pick up one for yourself, hoping you’ll get lucky? Perhaps hoping little ol’ me will be on the other end? Maybe a handsome prince will be on the other end. You’ll just be introducing me to my soulmate.

I don’t think any prince could handle you, love. There’s a little pirate in you that’s for sure.

The letters come like clockwork and Ruby becomes more insistent with what was going on with her.

“Ever since the letters started, you’ve become more and more like your old self,” she presses, holding the next letter away from her reach. “But the funny thing is that Prince Charles had his invitation stolen for the ball.” Emma groans.

“It doesn’t matter, I know what I’m doing Ruby!” she exclaims impatiently, snatching the note away from her.

“Do you?” she responds. “You never even mentioned Walsh, and then I find out you ran away causing an international incident? How do I know you won’t do it again?”

Emma levels Ruby a glare. “Because I’m not a child Ruby; I learn from my mistakes,” she snaps.

“You’re lying about something,” Ruby scolds. “And I’m going to get to the bottom of it,” she declares, marching away seconds before Emma can slam the door on her face.

I’m on my way to Agrabah, currently, so I’ll be unable to get any messages from you for a bit darling. Messenger birds tend to get distracted by the smells of spices and herbs around these parts, but I’ll be thinking of you.

She smiles at it, and formulates her response.

“Emma!” her father announces at breakfast. He seems livelier than ever, and she smiles at his excitement. She hopes it means he’s found something better to occupy his time than catching Killian. Really, she’s just waiting for him to lose interest to just let it go.

She’s told him over and over again that she wants it dropped, that she wants to move on with her life.

With Killian.

She has no idea how to go about doing that, but getting her dad to drop the grudge would be a fantastic start.

“They caught him!” he exclaims. “The pirate, Captain Hook. Oz’s navy caught him leaving Agrabah!”

Emma swears she’s stopped breathing.

“You don’t have to say anything Emma,” her father says, his hands on her shoulders. “But we’ve got him. I promised you I’d get justice for you for him ruining your wedding.”

Emma is not someone who breaks easily. She’s tough as nails, her mother’s daughter. But just hearing her father say this, this lie? She just can’t.

Emma absolutely breaks into a sob. Her father pulls her into his embrace and she feels safe for a minute; in her father’s arms she feels safe and protected. “They’re hanging him for his crimes Emma. You’re safe. I promise. You’re safe.

She breaks away from her father with eyes wide. “E-Executing?” she realizes. She absolutely can’t breathe.

“He kidnapped you on top of all his other crimes of piracy,” her father explains, wiping away her tears, just like he always does. But he can’t.

“No!” she shouts. “Father, please you can’t let them do this.” It catches him completely off guard.

“Sweetie…I know executing is not how we do things in Misthaven, but in Oz it’s a just punishment, especially after-” she doesn’t let him finish, she can’t. She can’t hear it.

“Daddy please, tell them to stop this, to wait. Don’t let this happen. If you love me, you won’t let this happen!” she practically yells. By then her mother moves, trying to comfort her.

“Sweetie-” But Emma can’t. She doesn’t want comforting, she wants to fix this. She wants everything to stop spiraling out of control.

“I can’t do this!” she says, brushing off both their attempts to help and rushes out of the room.

She doesn’t let her parents in, nor Hopper with his claims that she was having an emotional connection with her kidnapper. Emma didn’t want to hear it. She wasn’t a basket case, she wasn’t a victim, but Emma couldn’t tell them that. She didn’t know what to tell them.

The only thing she wants to do is be here with Henry. He’s calmly sitting on her bed, playing with her as she taps her fingers on the bed.

“Emma let me in,” Ruby demands outside her door. “I’m not above breaking this door down, you know,” she adds.

Emma doesn’t care. Let her Emma thinks.

“I have a letter Emma,” she says softly. “Let me in.”

That gets her attention. She moves from her bed and from her position by Henry. He mews in displeasure from having her stop playing. She goes to the door opening it a bit.

“A letter?” she repeats dumbfounded.

“Oh honey,” Ruby says, but she holds out the parchment. It causes Emma to gasp. “I heard what happened.” she says as she hands it over. Emma can’t believe what she’s holding. She walks back into the room. Her name’s on it, but the ink looks older than they usually seem.

Emma,

I instructed Smee to send this to you in the event that I got captured. I’m sorry Swan, so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise to you. But it’s worth it knowing you’re safe and happy. You should know our time together has meant the world to me.

Before you, I was obsessed with what I lost, with avenging those I loved. I didn’t care if that meant my death. You saved me darling. You brought me back.

Don’t worry about me Swan. Don’t come for me Swan. I have no regrets, not a bloody one. Find someone worthy love, find someone who thinks you’re beautiful, and admires your fire. Never settle for anything less.

I love you Swan.

And not because of the cat.

Quickly Emma folds up the note, desperate to get it away from her before her tears ruin the ink, and blurs his words.

Emma needs to fix this and she has no idea how. Ruby’s behind her and pulls her into a hug and she lets her. She holds onto her friend.

“It’s him isn’t it?” Ruby says as she strokes her hair. “The pirate, he’s the guy you’ve been seeing for all these months.”

She nods. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“He never took me Ruby, never. He would never hurt me. Walsh. He took me. I snubbed him at my party. He was rude and so he had his people grab me.”

She hears Ruby intake a sharp breath.

“He was trying to trap me, trying to ruin my reputation. But Killian came to get me. We came up with this plan to avoid a war. You know Dad, he would have demanded Walsh be punished. It was the only way Ruby. It was the only way.”

She feels Ruby nod against her.

“But I don’t want him to die. I-I can’t be responsible for k-killing him.” Ruby pulls away from her, hands on her shoulders.

“I get it Emma. Trust me, if anyone understands it’s me. But it’s not over yet. Your father already wrote to the King. He’s asking them not to execute him. It might buy us some time.”

“Us?”

“So Emma, I think it’s time you met my girlfriend.”

It’s not that Emma never knew about Ruby’s girlfriend it was just that Mulan was busy. She was a free spirit, a true soldier. She came and went wherever she was needed, from small towns being overrun by outlaws, to infiltrating corrupt kingdoms and exposing their evil.

She is a warrior, which is why they had to go all the way down to the docks to meet with her. She was in one of the pubs that even Killian avoided. It was too full of drunks egging for a fight.

“Mulan’s been in town for these last few days,” Ruby introduces, placing a kiss on her cheek. “And I think she’s the one thing that can help fix this.”

Emma smiles at her. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says and Mulan smiles back, but Emma could tell she was uncomfortable. She was dressed to a T in armor, a blade at her hip.

“Ruby tells me you need to save a prisoner?” she asks, getting right down to business. That was perfectly fine with Emma.

“Yes. His name is Killian Jones,” she says. “He’s been captured by the Oz Navy.”

Mulan hesitates. “Do you mean the pirate?” she asks. “I heard they captured a ruthless pirate.” Now it’s Emma’s turn to hesitate.

“He’s changed,” she admits. “He’s a pirate, but he also saved my life; risked his own to help me protect my people, and avoid a needless war,” she expresses. “I can’t let him die.”

Mulan nods. “I understand. Now what exactly do you want me to do?” She asks simply.

What did Emma want her to do Emma thinks. She wants to fix this, she wants to save Killian; she wants things to go back to normal. No. Emma wants more than just normal.

“I want you to get me into Oz, and help me take down anyone in my way to save my pirate.”

Mulan, true to her word, gets her to Oz in the back of a supply ship. It was far less comfortable than the Jolly Roger.

She doesn’t tell Mulan that.

Ruby stays behind and pretends to be her, locking her door and refusing entrance as she’s done. It’s just a little bit of time. That’s all she needs.

The castle is massive; she knows this, plated in emerald with many heartless guards ensuring no one enters. Emma can tell that it’s far more secure this time around.

But Mulan is a professional. When she can’t sneak or fight her way inside, she buys her way with a stack of gold. She tells a guard a simple story about wanting to catch her cheating husband at work with a maid. It takes a bit of convincing but it works and they’re inside.

From there, it’s easy to get down to the dungeon. After all, she knows the way.

She finds him eventually, in the depth of the dungeon with barely any light to see. She uses the sound of his voice to find him. Emma can hear him muttering in between rasps. Complaining really about anything he could think of.

She nearly gasps in relief when she nears his cell.

When she finds him, the first thing Emma realizes is he’s immobilized. His arm is shackled above his head, forcing him into a kneeling V position. His blunted arm is shackled in a way that he can’t maneuver out of and his head is hanging limply, yet he’s still making low sounds.

“Hook?” she calls softly. It makes him stir, but he isn’t able to lift his head to look at her. She falls to her knees in front of him, talking in a mere whisper as she places a hand on his cheek lifting him up to look at her. “Killian?”

The whole right side of his face is badly bruised, eye swelled shut, the other looking glazed over and distant. “Swan?” he says, his good eye narrowed in question. He looks like he doesn’t believe she was actually there.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” she teases, giving him a peck on the cheek. “First me, now you.” Killian rolls his eye.

“The lengths I’ll go to for a second date.”

“That was not a first date.” she insists. Mulan quickly unshackles his arm, causing his entire side to drop and Killian to groan.

“Let me guess, Henry missed me?” he teases as Emma goes to support him.

“Yeah, I’m totally here for the cat,” she says sarcastically.

“Knew it.”

“Will you two stop it? We need to get out of here,” Mulan snaps, undoing the final chain releasing Killian. But he’s obviously too sore to move.

“You really shouldn’t have come here,” he says seriously as she struggles to carry his body weight. He’s trying to stand, but she can feel his muscles strain and see his eyes skew shut.

“I have to agree with you there.” says a voice. Mulan moves instantly, getting in between them and the presence, drawing her blade.

Walsh steps into the light, guards at either side of him. “Emma darling, here I was trying to avenge you; trying to get justice on this menace for ruining our wedding,” he sneers.

Emma glares back.

“Don’t you want that darling?” he insists, getting closer. Mulan steps in front, glaring at him.

“Not another step,” she demands. He does stop, not even looking at the warrior in front of him.

“You don’t do you?” he says confidently. “I thought he looked rather familiar that day in my room, when he took you from me.” Emma feels Killian tense in her grasp. “All it took me was a while to realize, a while down here for him to admit where I knew him from,” he says with a laugh.

“Sadist,” Killian spits out. Walsh ignores him.

“He’s that prince who ruined our dance don’t you remember darling?” Emma doesn’t say a thing. She tries to hide how everything was unraveling and she was helpless to stop it. “Prince Charles I recall, except I know the real prince and he assured me he was nowhere near the palace that day. He masqueraded as a prince to deceive you darling.” Emma doesn’t even blink.

“And you think if he hadn’t I’d ever want to dance with you?” she asks. “Seriously? You are a piece of work Walsh. An egotistical fool that thinks being royal means you’re entitled to anything. News flash, but that’s not how things work in the real world.”

His grin widens. “You already knew that he wasn’t a prince.” He laughs. “This keeps getting better and better. You are going to marry me, or you’ll be ruined, Princess. Ruined. Screwing a pirate? No one will ever touch you.”

Killian jolts in her grip. “You leave her alone,” he snarls going for him despite his weakened state. “I swear I’ll bloody kill you if you even think about slandering her name.”

Walsh is laughing, cackling with glee. “Did you hear that guards? The prisoner is threatening me. Kill him and the warrior. Keep the princess alive.”

Emma doesn’t wait for the guards to move, grabbing Killian as Mulan deals with the approaching guards. “Run!” the warrior orders.

They do exactly that. She takes Killian, him staggering next to her, towards the back of the dungeon, the same way they entered. It leads to an exit that is supposed to be unguarded for a little while longer.

“Swan-” Killian starts, but she shakes her head.

“She’ll be fine,” Emma insists.

“We can’t let him tarnish you love,” he says. “Leave me here, get to safety, they’ll never know you were even here.”

Emma blinks at his insistence. She doesn’t understand. “If I die here Swan, it’ll be his word against yours. No one will believe him. Your reputation-”

“I don’t care!” she snaps. “I don’t care about any of that. Not if you’re dead. I don’t care about any other man wanting me as long as I have you.” Emma hesitates. “You do want me right?”

He kisses her, a gentle thing, his hand coming up to her cheek. His forehead presses against hers.

“Til the ends of the earth Emma, my love.” he vows with a grin. “Now, let’s get out of this bloody place.”

“Emma?!” Emma turns suddenly, forcing Killian behind her. Her eyes widen.

“Bloody hell,” Killian curses and he’s entirely right, because her parents were staring back at her, wide eyed and in shock.

“I can explain?”

She does explain, but not fully until after the death of Captain Hook; he dies in that Oz dungeon from his injuries sustained in captivity.

On their way back home, they do come across a sailor escaped from Neverland. Long thought dead Lieutenant Killian Jones returns from the dead, and to Misthaven of course.

He brings with him news of The King of Oz’s long sought cure to actually be a deadly poison. They all agree it was just a tragic mistake of course.

She does explain of course, that while treating the brave Lieutenant’s injuries she falls hard and fast for him.

It’s only a coincidence of course that he spills a good deal of wine on Prince Walsh at Ruby and Mulan’s wedding.

It’s not a coincidence at all that Walsh doesn’t even show up for their wedding; nor that they name their first child Henry because of the cat.

#csjj 2019 #csjj #captain swan january joy #Because of the cat #Captain Swan

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searchingwardrobes · 6 years

Text

Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: Twister, Chapter 4

Hurricane Florence has made me more sensitive about this particular AU. I would probably have delayed posting the next chapter if it wasn’t a tame one. This chapter is all about emotional conflict, not forces of nature. However, if you are just discovering this story and decide to catch up, please know that the rest of the story involves peril in violent storms. The prologue in particular portrays loss of life and property (though not graphically). So if you have personal experience with that kind of trauma or have anxiety over the possibility, this may be triggering for you. Please be safe and take care of yourselves! I am praying for all in the path of Florence. My own state has even declared a state of emergency, even though we are not supposed to be directly hit. So my posting this in no way implies that I am making light of the situation.

Rating: T (for triggers, see above)

Words in this chapter: 2,000 + (cut is there, but ya’ll know tumblr . . . )

You can catch up on Ao3

Tagging @shipsxahoy @tiganasummertree @artistic-writer @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @shady-swan-jones @bethacaciakay @teamhook @cat-sophia @coliferoncer @dassala @branlovesouat @allofdafandoms-blog @flslp87 @pocket-anon @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @kday426 @snidgetsafan @jennjenn615 @delirious-latenight-laughs

Emma collapsed on the edge of the musty motel bed as she rubbed a towel vigorously over the ends of her hair. She had honestly expected to be halfway back to Atlanta by now, in a decent hotel with a hair dryer. She sighed as she took in the tacky “art” hanging over the bed, the faded avocado bedspread and the ancient television with the slightly fuzzy reception. At least there was cable. A re-run of The Office flickered on the screen, the sound muted. Emma had it on more for comfort than entertainment.

It hurt to think Killian implied this was the reason she left – the lack of material comforts on the road. Did he really think she could be that shallow? Such thoughts took her mind to her little boy – that precious child who had become her whole world in a way she never could have imagined.

She turned on her phone, smiling at her lock screen photo. Henry had found her phone and managed to take a selfie. The inquisitive look in his bright blue eyes, and the little adorable “o” of his mouth had been so beautiful to her, she had saved the picture. She swiped her finger to unlock her phone and smiled again at her wallpaper photo – her blowing raspberries on Henry’s cheek while he giggled. No pictures of Graham, just her and Henry. Shouldn’t that have been a clue?

She hit the icon for her Skype app and pressed Elsa’s number. Soon her blonde roommate was smiling back at her.

“Emma, hey! Someone here wants to see you!”

Elsa reached down and pulled a confused Henry onto her lap. Emma chuckled. Yeah, her son really wanted to Skype. But when he saw Emma’s face, he gasped, and his eyes widened. He cocked his head curiously, and it suddenly occurred to Emma that Killian had the exact same mannerism when he was trying to figure something out.

“Mama?”

“Yes, kiddo, it’s me! Are you having fun with Aunt Elsa?”

“Yeah,” Henry answered, leaning back against Elsa’s chest, “we ‘ad ice cweam!”

“Ice cream,” Emma laughed with a shake of her head, “I’m shocked.”

“Hey now,” Elsa retorted with mock offense, “he had vegetables at dinner, and when he asked for dessert, I told him no, you already had ice cream today.”

“But Kwistoff ga’ me wowwy pops!” Henry crowed, throwing his pudgy hands up in the air.

Emma gave Elsa a smug look. “Lollypops?”

She shrugged, “Ok, so Kristoff showed up with those when he picked Anna up for their date. That wasn’t my fault!”

Henry started to fuss and wiggle, so Elsa put him down after he blew Emma a kiss. Emma pretended to catch it, then made gobbling sounds as she put her hand to her mouth.

“Yum, yum, yum, ate it!” Then she blew one back to Henry, and he caught his too.

“Um, um, um, ate it!” he cheered, then ran off.

Emma sighed, her heart full. “Thank you for watching him,” she told Elsa.

Her friend waved her off. “Nonsense, he’s so sweet!”

“Well,” Emma said hesitantly, “that’s good, because . . .”

“You’re not coming back tomorrow.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

Elsa leaned closer to the screen and lowered her voice. “Is Graham around?”

Emma cut her glance away for a moment. “About that . . . “ She wasn’t sure how to explain, so she just held her empty left hand up to her cell phone screen.

“I knew it!” Elsa exclaimed.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it! I feel awful for Graham.”

“That man won’t stay single for long, believe me,” Elsa assured her, “and it really is for the best.”

There was a pause that Emma wasn’t sure how to fill. Thankfully, her friend knew her well enough to change the subject.

“So how long are you staying out there?”

Emma rubbed her forehead wearily. “I don’t know. I’ll have to get a flight out of Oklahoma City probably, but we’re out in the middle of nowhere right now. Another storm hit and ruined the camper’s windshield, so we’re stuck here in this cheap motel until the mechanic scrounges up a new one.”

“We, huh?” Elsa asked, arching one elegant brow.

Emma scowled at her friend. “Don’t go there.”

Elsa was her first friend in Atlanta, though she had met Anna first. Anna was a co-worker at The Weather Channel, one of those “weather girls” Killian had spoken so condescendingly about. Though Anna had just as much educational credentials as Emma; she was just more perky on camera than prickly Emma. When she found out where Emma was living, she had flipped out.

“Are you insane?” the red head had shrieked. “Grove Park? I’m surprised you’re still alive!”

Emma knew her apartment was in a shady area, but she hadn’t known the city at all when she moved, and her realtor had sucked. Not to mention that the cost of living in Atlanta was much more expensive than rural Oklahoma.

“My sister and I are looking at a place in Atlantic Station,” Anna had told her.

Emma had rolled her eyes. Atlantic Station was one of those planned neighborhoods where everything you could want was in walking distance; sort of like living in an outdoor mall.

“No way can I afford that.”

Anna had grinned slyly. “Splitting rent three ways with sisters who don’t mind sharing a room you could.”

If the baby hadn’t been on the way, Emma may have kept the Arendelle sisters at arm’s length, but she worried about bringing a baby home to that dump in Grove Park. So she had moved in with Anna and Elsa. The latter clicked with Emma immediately. The two of them were so much alike, it was uncanny. Emma had honestly been relieved to find Elsa to be reserved and even a bit distant at times. She couldn’t have handled two bubbly, chatty Annas. And it had been Elsa who had walked into the apartment to find Emma sobbing over the ultrasound photos the day she found out she was having a boy. And only Elsa heard the whole story about where Henry got his blue eyes, dark hair, and inquisitive nature. Only Elsa knew why she had been so resistant at first when Kristoff introduced Graham to Emma. And only Elsa knew her well enough to be concerned when they announced their engagement.

“How did Killian take the news?” Elsa asked now, voice gentle.

“Pretty much the way I expected.”

Elsa frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Emma shrugged, though her chin wobbled. “I can’t blame him.”

“Well, take all the time you need,” Elsa told her sincerely. If they had been across the kitchen island in their apartment, Emma knew her friend would be grasping her hand.

“Thanks.”

“Love ya, sis,” Elsa told her with a wink.

A genuine smile tilted Emma’s lips. “Back at ya.”

She ended the call and fell backwards onto the bed, tossing her phone aside. She felt restless and lonely in a way she hadn’t since she was pregnant and living alone in Grove Park. She hadn’t realized how much Anna, Elsa, Henry, and Graham had kept the pain at bay. Even Kristoff with his corny jokes and ridiculous sweaters. He was probably the only male in the state of Georgia who owned sweaters. She had been blessed to find another quirky pseudo-family in Atlanta, though it didn’t have the history of this one in Oklahoma. The only missing piece had been Killian. He had left a huge, gaping hole that she should have known Graham could never fill.

Emma heard raucous laughter coming from outside her window. She pulled the curtains aside to see light spilling out of a dive bar across the street. She pressed her lips together in thought, then making a decision, grabbed her phone off the bed, stuffed the hotel key in her pocket, and headed out the door.

The crowd in the bar was sparse. Smee and Ruby were on bar stools, laughing and doing shots. They saw Emma and waved. Smee was already so drunk, he almost lost his balance and fell to the floor. She shook her head and laughed. One more thing that still hadn’t changed.

She looked around, equal parts relieved and disappointed not to see Killian there. Ariel sat alone at a table in the corner. Emma made her way in that direction.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender called out.

“Rum,” she told him, and he nodded.

“Killian Jones has got us both hooked I see,” Ariel quipped as Emma sat across from her.

Emma didn’t answer until her drink arrived. She took a sip, watching the redhead over the rim of her glass. “You’re not talking about the rum.”

Ariel caught her eye, more sad than embarrassed. She didn’t attempt an explanation.

“Are you still together?” Emma finally asked, her stomach clenching as she awaited the answer.

Ariel sighed. “No. And I don’t know that it was ever real anyway.”

Emma hated the hurt that radiated off the other woman. “I always knew you had a thing for him.”

Ariel’s bright green eyes widened. “I would never have betrayed your friendship, Emma. I hope you know that. You’d been gone a year before we . . . ,” she trailed off and took another sip of rum. “I was his rebound, I know that now. He was hurting so badly, and my heart just broke for him. And you’re right, I’d pined for so long, I guess I Iet myself believe it was real.”

“What happened?” Emma asked gently.

“Ariel gave her a sad smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I wasn’t you.”

***************************************************

The bar filled up as the night wore on. Ariel had excused herself early though Emma tried to get her to stay. Now she was playing a round of darts with Ruby and Smee. Or attempting to, anyway, considering her two companions were three sheets to the wind.

“Now that’s just bad form, Swan, playing against such inebriated opponents.”

Emma was so startled by the sound of Killian’s voice behind her that her aim went wide and the dart went pinging off the edge of the board. When she turned around, he was standing there with his hands in his pockets. He still wasn’t smiling at her like he used to, but at least anger was no longer in the set of his jaw. He inclined his head to the table in the corner that Ariel had just vacated. Emma excused herself from the game, though her old friends were too drunk to notice.

As she tentatively took a seat, the bartender asked Killian if he wanted anything.

“Just a beer,” he replied.

Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s all?”

Killian inclined his head to the pair stumbling toward the dart board. “We can’t all have hangovers in the morning.”

The beer arrived, and he took a sip. Her mind flipped backwards to nights like this in the past. Then she was right next to him, as close as she could get, his arm flung over her shoulder, his posture easy and relaxed.

“You don’t seem pissed at me anymore,” Emma said hesitantly.

“No,” he said softly, “just hurt. Honestly, I wish I was still angry.”

Emma nodded. He had never been anything but honest with her, even when they were kids. She pulled out her phone and unlocked it. She opened up her Instagram account and selected the album titled “Henry.” She then slid it across the table to Killian.

“Do you want to see pictures of him?”

Killian blinked, his hand trembling slightly as he took the phone. As he scrolled through, he swallowed and clenched his jaw. Emma knew the pictures would go from most recent to the day Henry was born. The longer Killian scrolled, the more emotional he became. He alternated between small smiles and unshed tears glistening in his eyes. When he finished, he set the phone down and covered his face with a shaking hand.

“He looks like you,” Emma whispered

Killian’s hand slid down his face. “He has your smile, though. And your chin.”

Emma silently closed her phone, not knowing what to say.

“You have an Instagram account?” he asked her in a choked voice.

Emma bit her lower lip. “I only have five followers. It was really just a place to store my photos. As back up, you know?”

Killian just nodded. Emma fiddled with a napkin, first crumpling it into a ball, then twisting it. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking.

“Listen, Emma, about your fiancé leaving . . . I never wanted to see you hurt. No matter what’s happened between us, I could never take pleasure in seeing your heart broken.”

Emma managed a smile as his eyes met hers. “It isn’t broken.” She shrugged. “And that was the whole problem.”

“Why were you with him then?” he asked softly, the hurt filling his eyes again.

“Why were you with Ariel?” She couldn’t keep the harshness out of her voice.

His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“Ariel told me, though she didn’t have to. I’m not stupid, Killian.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. He rubbed his eyes wearily instead.

Emma deflated. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn’t expect you to turn into a monk when I left.”

“I was never engaged to Ariel.”

Emma swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to the table. “Fair enough. I guess I let things go too far with Graham because he was safe.”

“You mean because he doesn’t chase storms for a living?”

Emma blinked to keep the tears that welled in her eyes from spilling over. “No. Safer for my heart.”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs au ff #movie au #cs modern au #twister #captain swan is my favorite rom com #childhood sweethearts

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lizartgurl · 6 years

Text

Back To You (Aqualad x OC)

A very self-indulgent AU that is actually great fodder for my muse

@sand-son @betteonit @the-shadow-of-atlantis

PART TWO.

(part one)

Tim and Mara sat on her bed, watching as Emma flitted from one thing to another.

“You sure you don’t want any help?” Mara asked, pointing at the pile spilling out of the one industrial-grade duffel bag she was advised to take.

“I’m fine!” Emma said nervously as she shuffled through the walk-in closet she shared with Mara, trying to decide between two different blue shirts.

Tim sighed, sinking down into the thick down comforters as he rested his laptop on his chest.

“You aren’t trying to see which color Kaldur would like best, are you?” He asked.

“I am not!” Emma insisted. She discarded both shirts and snatched up a pink turtleneck instead.

“Why are you so mad at him?” Mara asked, tossing aside a peach lollipop for a watermelon lollipop on her bag of dum-dums.

Emma didn’t know why the question made her want to laugh.

“Because, Mara, you’ll learn when you’re in a relationship, that there is a certain amount of trust to be expected between partners. And when that trust is broken, you have to question whether that relationship is what you thought it was.”

“Didn’t Rick say he wanted to trust you though?” Tim pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s not the point!” Emma threw a few more pointless items on the pile.

Mara bit into her lollipop, “Then what is?”

“I don’t know!” Emma threw her arms up in the air, sending her pile flying. She fell face-first into her bed with a groan. “Why did I say I’d do this?”

“Because you like Kaldur!” Mara exclaimed, waving her dum-dum like a fairy wand.

“Not anymore, Mara,” Emma muttered into the quilt. Seizing the opportunity, her beloved cat, Justice, leaped onto Emma’s back and curled up, ready to sleep close to his favorite human.

Tim sat up and patted Emma’s head, “But you do still care about him.”

“Well yeah, even if his plan was stupid, he still did a lot to save the world,” Justice hissed irritably as Emma propped herself up on her arms, staring out the window at the gardens of Wayne Manor, green slowly fading to brown already. However cold the New England summers got, Canada was going to be even colder.

“So you do still like him?” Mara waved a cherry lollipop in Emma’s face tauntingly.

Emma snatched it up with a grin for her little sister, “If you say that one more time, I’ll kick you out of my room,” She tickled Mara’s ribs as they both burst into laughter.

“Save me, Tim! Save me!” Mara begged with dramatic flair.

“Okay,” Tim turned his laptop for both of them to see. “By doing research on various areas of Canada, specifically the ones JSA-ers are known to protect, I have put together a list of various things you may need to be able to enjoy yourself while tolerating Kaldur and surviving in the Canadian wilderness.”

Emma stopped tickling Mara and examined the list.

“Tim, have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“You can prove it by letting me turn your room into a private study while you’re gone,” Tim sat up tall and folded his arms proudly.

“As if!” Emma shoved the laptop back at him as Mara beaned her brother with a pillow.

“There’s like fifty studies already in the manor! You don’t need another one!”

“Yeah, but they’re too far from my room,” Tim almost whined.

“Do you really want Mara to have free access to all your files and crap?” Emma nodded towards the closet, connecting both girl’s rooms.

Tim sighed in defeat, “You have a point.”

“Just ask Bruce to open up another study! Even if he won’t, Alfred will,” Mara shrugged.

“Okay, but later. Now, we have to go through everything on this list,” Emma said.

Tim and Mara grinned up at her, “Oh, so now you want our help!”

Emma shrugged, sorting her big pile into smaller piles. Satisfied by how calm she was now, Justice settled into her lap. Emma’s heart jolted, and she held her cat very close. She could still remember the day after she got her powers, when Rick came to her with a kitten that Bruce had found in the alleys of Gotham during his nightly patrol.

“Emma?” Mara asked, sliding down to sit next to Emma on the floor.

“You okay?” Tim joined them, shutting his laptop.

Emma let Justice go and sighed. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time she did that today.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” She sighed.

Mara hugged Emma tightly. “If you’re sad about it, and you don’t like Kaldur anymore, then why are you going?”

Emma pulled Tim into the hug. “I made the choice to be a hero a long time ago. To protect others who couldn’t help themselves. Kaldur may be able to protect himself, but after all he’s been through, he’s going to need all the support he can get.”

“What if he has to stay there? Forever?”

Emma stopped in the middle of rolling up one of her graphic t-shirts. “I don’t know, Mara. Maybe after he’s settled in, I’d come back.”

“That’s mean.”

“Look, no one asked you, Tim!” Justice meowed in agreement, and Emma threw one of her old stuffies at Tim. He caught it in his hand.

“Hey, isn’t this the dragon that Kal-”

“Hey guys!” Rick grinned as he leaned against the doorframe. “Are you all having fun without me?”

“Richard!” Mara leaped up to hang off his leg. She loved it whenever Rick came over.

“Can you please tell Emma to stay if she hates Kaldur so much?”

“I don’t hate him...” Emma stammered.

“You act like you do,” Tim snorted.

Emma sighed, “I don’t know what I’m feeling. Everything’s just happened so fast.”

“How are you doing?” Rick asked. He boosted Mara up onto his shoulders.

Emma debated on telling them, but she really shouldn’t be making a big deal out of it if she wasn’t going to need them for the foreseeable future.

“It’s the anxiety. It’s been acting up ever since we took down the Reach.” Rick and Mara nodded understandingly.

“And got Kaldur back?” Tim added insightfully.

Emma sighed, though it came out more like a groan. “I can’t make up my mind about anything, and I feel like I have to make a decision immediately, but I can’t ever decide. I thought maybe getting away from everything would give me time to think.”

“Well, how about you think over a nice, warm dinner of Alfred's?” Rick prompted, making finger guns at the bedroom door, “I'm pretty sure he was making chicken alfredo with pasta in honor of your big mission.”

“Yuck!” Mara mimed barfing.

“Mar, if you get anything in my hair, I will force feed you an entire jar of Alfred's alfredo sauce.” Richard threatened.

Mara screamed and jumped off the bed, running up the hall and down the stairs, Richard hot on her heels.

Shaking their heads, Emma and Tim followed.

With Richard and then Barbara over for dinner, the table was a bit fuller and the entire manor looked a bit brighter than usual. Bruce even talked and laughed a little bit, and he really did try to finish his meal before he finally gave in to the police radio feed coming in through his earpiece. He wanted them to join him as soon as possible.

After dinner was finished and Alfred had made everyone help with clean-up, the others made to follow Bruce to the cave.

“Good luck you guys, watch each other’s backs,” She said, not putting any effort into her encouragement.

“You’re not coming with us?” Mara’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

Emma hugged her, “You’re almost twelve now, Mara, you can’t really do puppy-dog eyes anymore.”

The younger girl huffed. “It was worth a try,” She grumbled.

“I’m going to need all my energy for tomorrow,” She did her best to smile.

Barbara hugged her tightly. “Any last words you can give me about the team?”

“Sheesh, Babs, don’t make it sound like I’m dying!” Emma scolded.

“You might as well be,” Rick snickered. Emma punched him in the shoulder.

“Seriously though, everyone’s so different from everyone else. If you respect them and show that you trust them, they’ll do the same for you.” Emma nodded. Richard tugged at his collar, uncomfortable for only a split second.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Babs asked.

Emma really wished people would stop asking her that. She was starting to doubt herself.

Emma nodded, waving them towards the stairwell hidden behind the grandfather clock.

“Someone’s gotta make sure Kaldur doesn’t kill himself trying to uncover another plot to take over the world after he gets cabin fever.”

“Hey, It’s Canada!” Richard grinned at her, “How bad can it be?”

The sun was just barely up when Emma’s alarm clock (and Bruce) woke her up. Justice woke up when the bed shifted, and stayed awake long enough to bop his forehead against Emma’s. She ducked into Mara’s room, lightly kissing the sleeping girl’s forehead in goodbye, and retrieved her duffle from the closet. Even Alfred was still asleep.

“How was it last night?” She asked, getting in tone of the Wayne’s least-conspicuous cars with Bruce.

“Not too bad,” Bruce turned the key in the ignition. “I told Commissioner Gordon that Nightingale is retiring, for now.”

“And what’s Emma Grayson’s story?” They turned on to the long, lonely road, leading towards Gotham. Emma’s home from the majority of her life.

“The paparazzi knows you like to avoid attention, so that should cover it for maybe a month or two. Tim has your instagram programmed to post some faceless photos of you hanging around the manor with him and Mara, and Justice. Then, when everyone starts getting antsy, I’ll send the jet to Uganda and announce that you’re helping with charities there for an indefinite time. They’ll eat it up, and keep your identities separate.”

Emma exhaled. “Sounds good.”

Bruce made a quiet exclamation, remembering something, and retrieved a paper bag from the backseat without taking his eyes off the road.

“Alfred packed that for you and Kaldur. After that runs out, you’re on your own for cooking.”

Emma snorted, “It’s not like I’m as bad as you.”

The jeep picked up speed as they made it through the city and onto onto the bridge connecting Gotham Island to the mainland New Jersey and Bruce almost grinned. “Just don’t burn the house down. It’s hard to come by a good safehouse these days.”

Ignoring the turning in her stomach, Emma examined the bag’s contents, and immediately devoured a cinnamon roll. Infinitely better than the protein bar she planned to settle on for her breakfast.

They drove in silence for an hour, crossing into New York, past the hills, and down an old dirt road deep in the woods. Emma was too nervous to sleep. Could she really do this? After all that had happened, could she stay in the same house as Kaldur for an unspecified amount of time and still stay sane? She wanted to get away and think, and this was the first opportunity that popped up. She wouldn’t have to worry about typical mission stuff, it would be the emotional toll rather than the physical.

“We’re here.” Bruce stopped the car with a jolt that yanked Emma from her thoughts. The car was parked beneath the umbrella of the trees, but just ahead was a clearing, and with the growing daylight, Emma could make out the gray helicopter that was producing the chopping sound that suddenly filled her ears. Bruce grabbed her bag for her, and she shouldered her backpack.

“You’ll promise to take care of Justice, right?” She said before the noise grew too loud.

Bruce sighed, “So long as he doesn’t claw up my good suits, then yes.”

Emma rolled her eyes, “You can just buy fifty more!” She laughed when she saw Bruce’s grin, but that was before the shades came on. Batman in disguise.

She almost didn’t recognize Wildcat without the catsuit. He stood alone with Kaldur next to the helicopter. Bruce handed Emma’s things to Ted, and he tossed them on the helicopter.

“Well, no point waiting around any longer. Come on kids, the sooner you two are hidden away the better,” Ted hopped in the pilot’s seat, and Aqualad glanced at Emma before climbing in one of the other available seats.

“Nightingale,” Batman grabbed her shoulder before she could decide whether or not she really, absolutely, definitely wanted to get in the copter.

“Be careful who you trust. Tell no one who you really are.”

Emma nodded. That much was obvious.

“No cable, no laptop, no phones. Use landline sparingly. No credit cards, either. Don’t use anything that they can use to trace you.”

He handed her a thick, white envelope.

“This is your allowance for the month. We’ll get your next spendings to you eventually.”

Confident he’d finished his lecture, Emma turned to board the helicopter, but he stopped her.

“Emma, remember, this is for Kaldur, not you. If you can’t handle it, you let us know.”

Emma hesitated before nodded.

“I love you, Dad,” She said quietly.

Bruce just nodded. “Stay safe, Emma.”

He had vanished before she even reached the chopper.

#lizart writes #aqualad #kaldur'ahm #aqualad x oc #kaldur imagine #my ocs #nightingale #back to you #kaldur #young justice fanfiction #ey i actually got this up tonight

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thekitsune · 6 years

Text

She’s My Mom! Chapter 1

This is the sister fic to A Very Oblivious Marinette! I hope everyone enjoys it! It takes place after the other fic, but it doesn’t reveal any of the plot from the other one that hasn’t been shown already.

Marinette sighed as she walked down the sidewalk back to her house. It was odd to be walking home alone for once. Usually, one of her friends wants to walk with her. They always seem really excited about it for some reason. In a surprising turn of events, they each had something to do back at their homes. While suspicious, she couldn't deny that it was possible so she decided not to question it.

These last few months have certainly been odd. She's been so busy, she's gained some new friends, and she has realized that everyone she knows has been acting different than they had beforehand. While things seemed to have settled down recently, she couldn't shake the feeling that something unusual was going to happen soon.

Marinette smiled to herself as she held her books to her chest and began whistling while she skipped down the sidewalk. For once, a peaceful day in her otherwise hectic life. While she enjoyed hanging out with her huge group of friends or her hero friends, she did enjoy a moment of peace every now and then. And she hasn't experienced that in a long time.

Seeing her house coming up on her right, she began thinking to herself. Did she want to head straight home? She could continue to enjoy today by heading to the nearby park. The atmosphere at the park always helped her concentrate on some new designs for clothes or just some overall sketches when she was bored. Smiling as she made up her mind, she continued on her way to the park. Marinette smiled as she noticed a few regulars from the bakery so she happily greeted them as she walked on by them.

While skipping along, Marinette didn't notice a small blonde blur speeding her way from behind. "You know I wonder what everyone is doing today?" Marinette muttered to herself as she turned to enter the park only for a small body to slam into her back and send her flying forwards onto the ground. "Owwww...." Marinette groaned as the person sat up on her back.

"Ooo...that hurt...nya~ Huh, maman? Maman it is you?! I'm so happy to see you!!!" a young, unknown voice happily shouted from above her. Marinette's eyes widened in confusion at the sound of the child calling her maman. She was too young to be anyone's maman.

Glancing back, she saw a young boy, possibly about 10 years old. He was rather short, at least from her point of view. He had wild blonde hair that reminded her of Chat's except for the single hair strand that was sticking out from the top of his head with a light blue color. His eyes were of a bluebell color like her own. He had on a dark blue sleeveless jacket with a light green undershirt and black shorts. His most distinctive feature was the pair of cosplay black cat ears on the top of his head.

"Maman! I'm so happy to see you! Papa didn't want me to come back to meet you, but I had to!" the boy happily shouted as he bent down and hugged her tightly which confused the girl even more. Pushing herself off the ground, she gently sat up so the boy wouldn't fall off and hurt himself. Reaching down, she gently pried his hands off her waist and let the boy slide to the ground.

Before he could latch on again, she spun around quickly and put her hands on his shoulder. Smiling gently, she calmly said, "Listen. I'm pretty sure you got the wrong person. I'm too young to be anyone's maman. Especially someone of your age." The boy just stared back up at her in silence before smiling and hugging her tightly.

"Of course you're too young at the moment maman! I'm from the future after all!" the boy happily stated as he buried his face in Marinette's stomach with the girl looking down at him in confusion. While she has time travelled before, through Timebreaker, that was just a one time thing. Last time she checked, there has been no time-manipulating akumas lately. So this kid couldn't be telling the truth right?

Whenever she looked at the kid though, she felt...something. Looking down at him, she gently began petting the back of his head. "Can I ask you what your name is?" Marinette questioned the boy who just looked up at her with a sad pout.

"Maman doesn't even know my name. I'm Louis Agreste-Cheng!" the boy proclaimed while frowning up at her with his arms crossed. Marinette felt her heart stop and mind go blank. She's only told Alya what she wanted to name one of her sons with Adrien back when she was still having fantasies about their future. Wait...did he say Agreste...CHENG!!

Gently grabbing his shoulders, she looked him dead in the eye and asked him one single question.

"Is your papa Adrien Agreste?"

The boy just nodded his head while giving her a look that basically screamed 'Duh!' Marinette let go of him and looked away in shock. If this boy was telling the truth then that meant she was going to marry Adrien in the future! While her crush on him might not have been as large as it was a few months ago, it was still present...Looking back down at him, she could begin to see the Agreste features on him. The blonde hair, his childish facial features, and that smile.

But that would be crazy! She couldn't actually believe that her son from the future had come back into the past to see her. Plus why would her son wear cat ears? The only reason she could see her son wearing them would be if his father was Chat Noir, and Adrien is not Chat Noir.

Closing her eyes, she began thinking of a way to see if this child was telling the truth. There had to be something. Something only her child would know. And something she would know right now. Looking down at the ground, she began humming to herself while she began to think deeply on the subject. While she did that, Louis crawled back into her lap and cuddled against her while smiling happily.

Groaning mentally, she began to run out of ideas before feeling her purse shuffle around thanks to Tikki...wait that's it!

"Okay, Louis. If you are indeed my son. Then you would know my secret identity at this point in time right? And if you do, remember to whisper so others won't hear," Marinette told the boy with a small smile on her face. She was both curious and anxious to find out if this kid was indeed her son from the future.

Right as Louis began to open his mouth, another voice entered the fray. "You're Ladybug, maman," the voice announced just loud enough for her to hear. Marinette gasped as she looked over to see a boy her age. He was slightly shorter than her with red hair and brown eyes. He had on a blue t-shirt with a...interesting brooch on it, blue jean styled shorts, and black shoes. In less than a moment, a girl emerged from behind him and charged towards her.

In less than a moment, she was tackled to the ground causing Louis to fall off while the girl was hugging onto her. "Maman! Look Gino! It's maman!" the girl yelled to the boy as she hugged onto her tightly. Marinette looked at the girl in confusion. She was the same age as the new boy. Unlike the apparently named Gino, who had light skin, she had a skin color that reminded her a lot of Lila's. She had short brown hair with two blue bangs, one being held up by a moth hairclip, framing her face with other streaks of blue in her hair. Looking closer, Marinette gasped at the sight of one of her red ribbons that she wears when she's Ladybug being used to support a blue strand of hair on the top of her head. The girl also had bluebell eyes like Marinette. She had on a purple blazer with rolled up sleeves revealing that the inside is pink. Holding up the sleeves were small Ladybug pins. Under the blazer was a blue t-shirt. Complimenting the rest of her outfit was a pair of blue jeans and black boots with foxes on the heels.

Gino sighed as he shook his head back and forth. "Emma get off young maman. Sorry, I'm sure this is very confusing for you. I am Gino Rossi-Cheng, and that is Emma Rossi-Cheng. We are yours and Lila Rossi's children in the future...at least our future. Apparently, we aren't the only future children showing up here. I didn't think there were separate futures where you ended up with other people maman. Then again anything is possible," Gino told Marinette as he walked over to the now on guard Louis.

Bending down on one knee, Gino smiled as he reached out to him. "Why hello there, I am Gino...I guess I could count as your brother...in a way. It's nice to meet you, even though I'd rather it be under better circumstances," Gino told the young Louis who just kept looking at him.

"Hmph...I'm Louis...and I don't care what you say, she's my maman!" Louis responded before rushing a still shocked Marinette and Emma, pushing his sister from another universe off and hugging onto Marinette who was too in shock to really respond. Emma sat up and growled at the kid.

Gino just groaned into his hand, Emma was five years Louis's senior yet she was acting like she was the same age as him. He really questioned where she got this personality from. He knows that she might not have been adopted like him, but still neither Marinette or Lila acted like this. Looking over at the past version of his maman, he sighed. He had a feeling things wouldn't be getting easier for her. It might be for the best that he help her out during this.

Marinette just looked on in shock. Now her and Lila's children from the future show up? What was going on? What was happening...was anymore going to show up? Oh no...

She wasn't ready to be a maman!

#miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #future children #sister fic to my mariharem fic #mariharem #chapter 1 #Emma Rossi-Cheng #Gino Rossi-Cheng

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lamiaward · 7 years

Text

Swan Queen Week, day 4 : Family Vacation

I do not own OUAT

It was just another day in the Swan-Mills household. Emma was singing under the shower, leaving a trail of dirty clothes from her morning run. Regina was trying to yell over the very loud music, before walking down the stairs tying the sash of her robe angrily. Henry was dragging himself upstairs five minutes late, wiping his eyes and only opening them when he arrived at the kitchen and accepted a mug from his mom. And then the habitual chaos was interrupted by Lucy running inside.

Regina slowly turned away from the kitchen counter, and stopped the usual complaint about some of Emma’s habit that was really more for show, and Henry stopped hiding his grin behind his cup of cappuccino. Lucy grinned at them both, panting.

She held up the animal in her hands like she was presenting it as the rightful princess/prince of the animal kingdom. “ Look, I found a cat” she proudly announced.

Regina stared at the cat. “She is a handsome specimen “ she stated, and Lucy nodded happily. “ But I will not tolerate cats in my house, nina”

“ But grandmaaaaa” Lucy said, holding the tabby cat up again. It looked utterly unimpressed by that, although it didn’t once try to fight itself free.

“ No. I already have enough work with your other grandma, who needs to be fed and cleaned after as well, and my job. Ask your father” she nodded in Henry’s direction and went to work again. Lucy immediately ran to Henry, and placed the cat on his lap.

“ Look papá, it is so amazing. It is really smart, and understands us” Lucy raved, petting the tabby cat that was sitting stiffly on Henry’s lap.

He looked down at it. It was looking at Lucy, who kept gently petting it. Oddly, it wasn’t purring or moving or doing any of the things cats usually did when you petted them. “Is it really that smart, pequeño Guerrero?”

Lucy smiled. “It is so, so smart papá”

Henry returned the smile. “ It is, huh?” he carefully petted it, once. “All right. I think- “ he was cut off when Lucy threw her arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek happily. She kissed the cat on its head as well, then happily said ‘come on, Jane Austen, we are going to show you to other grandma!”

Henry stared as the cat gracefully leaped off his lap, and followed his little girl as she walked out of the room, happily chatting to the cat. He slowly turned to his mom. “ Is that normal cat behaviour?”.

“ Is what, mi cielo?” Regina said, sliding another pancake on the tower that was on a plate next to her.

“ Just- it seems kind of different, and we actually do know people who were turned into mice. So should I check whether it is all right?”.

“ I did not feel any residual traces of magic, but I will admit I did not pay the utmost attention” Regina said, turning around to smile at him. “ I will look at it as soon as Lucy and Emma have joined us for breakfast”.

Henry grinned at her. “Thanks mom” his expression became a lot less carefree. “I don’t ever want to risk her getting hurt”.

“I have a son with the same taste for adventure and foolish heroics, so I know the feeling” Regina said drily.

Henry just grinned. “I know him. He gets all that from his mom”

Regina tried to look stern and unimpressed, but her eyes were glinting. “ He does take after the sheriff in that way, yes”.

“ Nope. I meant his other mom, the totally badass queen and mayor for nearly forty consecutive years”

“That is ridiculous. She would – “

There was suddenly a loud yell and a sound not unlike a body falling and a mirror shattering. Regina and Henry shared the exact same look of fond exasperation (although Henry’s was a lot more amused). Regina handed Henry her apron, and walked out of the kitchen. She marched up the stairs, and into the bathroom.

She was unsurprised by the sight.

Emma was on the ground, wrapped up in the shower curtain like a rather sheepish caterpillar. To the left of her, there were pieces of glass that she would glance at and flinch. In front of her was Lucy, the cat cradled close to her chest and with an expression Regina absolutely agreed with.

“She started screaming and wouldn’t stop” Lucy says, looking down at Emma. “Are you okay, abuela?”.

“ I WAS NAKED” Emma said

“Mi alma, you have never shown any qualms about being naked before”.

“ SHE IS OUR GRANDDAUGHTER. I DON’T WANT HER TO SEE THAT”

“ Look at Jane Austen” Lucy said, more or less shoving the cat in Emma’s face. Emma sneezed, and was so surprised she finally stopped yelling. She looked at Regina, then looked at the cat, then finally at Lucy.

“Jane Austen?”.

“Si. I first wanted to name her after a superhero, like maybe wonder cat, but she is so graceful and smart so I decided on a writer”

“ All right. You got a cat, and decided that it didn’t matter you would give me a heart attack as long as I saw the cat” Emma muttered, face-planting.

Lucy beamed. “Isn’t she extraordinaria? “

Emma lifted her head, and forced a smile. “Sure. Can I get dressed now?”.

Lucy nodded. “ Sure”

Regina kissed her forehead. “ Just go downstairs, bonita, and help your dad with making breakfast” she nodded at Emma, and lowered her voice “I will take care of your foolish abuela”

Lucy shrugged. “ Okay” she smiled at Emma. “Bye abuela! I hope you get out of the shower curtain, it’s really not a good look” and then she and the cat left.

“I blame you for how much she acts like a little queen sometimes” Emma groused, pushing herself up.

Regina snorted. “The girl engages in mud wrestling, refuses to use a saddle when riding and just yesterday pointed out all the ‘pretty toxic flowers’ that were in the forest. That is not exactly queenlike behaviour”

Emma grinned. “Of course it is. You behave like that” at Regina’s look, she shrugged. “ Maybe not the mudwrestling, but you love horse riding and I am pretty sure you started her obsession with toxic flowers. Also, you have a bunch of stuff you secretly love but pretend to hate”

“ I will inform Whale immediately of your concussion”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Just help me get up”.

“ Although I am not certain whether vivid hallucinations and stupidity can be caused by hitting your head. Perhaps is just the Charming heri- “

“ Regina, cut it off” Emma groaned.

“ You broke my mirror, and you still haven’t cleaned anything. Your muddy tracks are still in the hallway, your sweaty clothing is strewn through my room and - “

“ I fell, can’t you even be concerned about that?”.

“ Not when it happens every two weeks, ma patosa, and you still somehow manage to not anticipate it”.

“ Not like this- and really, can we do something about Lucy? Can’t let her wear a bell, or something”.

“ Get up, darling” Regina said.

“ You can at least ask nicely’.

Regina waved her hand to fix the mirror and started walking out of the room. “ Suit yourself. There is an abundance of greasy food downstairs, but I am sure we can eat that without your help”.

Regina was only barely out of the room when she heard Emma struggle to get up behind her. She rolled her eyes but also smiled when she heard the furious cursing behind her. Usually, Regina actually had a fouler ( and swear words that were more creative than the ‘fuck’ Emma preferred) mouth, even if she showed it only in certain circumstances, but Emma could give her a run for her money right now.

She walked into the kitchen with a bright smile that grew even more when she saw Henry point out things and calmly answer the stream of questions Lucy was firing at him. She shook her head when Lucy would command Henry to wait so she could tell the cat she had placed on the counter next to her what exactly Henry was saying.

“ How many times have I told you that my kitchen do not function as chairs?”

“ But they are comfy” Lucy protested.

“I very much doubt that” she said. “ Get off my counter, Reinita”

Lucy shrugged, and jumped off the counter. “ I like knights better, abuela”.

Regina smiled. “ Yes? “

Lucy nodded. “ I wasn’t sure for a long time, but now I definitely think knight is the best option”

Emma choose that moment to walk into the kitchen. “ Because your badass grandma is a knight?”.

Lucy shook her head. “ Knights don’t have to dance” she said happily.

Regina arched her eyebrow. “ You love dancing”.

“ I love modern dancing and ballet “ Lucy said, demonstrating. Emma clapped happily, and Regina smiled brightly. Lucy plopped down in her chair after her demonstration, grinning. “ I don’t like the dancing at balls”.

Emma grinned and sat down as well. “ Don’t like your greatgrandmother hear that” she said

Regina smirked. “Actually, do tell Snow” she and Snow were very close, but they still seemed to enjoy aggravating the other just slightly. Or maybe , in Snow’s case, it was just kind but slightly(really) oblivious behaviour. On the other hand, you would expect the woman to know at least part of Regina’s dislikes, considering they had lived together for ages. And really, Emma could’ve sworn her mother was smirking when she surprised Regina by building that birdhouse in the garden without permission.

Lucy giggled. “ Okay, abuela. Can I wear one of your dresses to the next ball?”

Emma choked on her drink, while Regina sat down regally and picked up her fork calmly. “ Why is that? “

Lucy shrugged. “Greatgrandma is really nice and I love her, but we don’t really share the same clothing style”

Regina smirked, but Emma interfered before Regina could say anything. “Believe me kiddo, you don’t share Regina’s clothing style either. Or at least I hope you don’t “.

Regina used her special voice, the one that meant Emma only had to make one more little mistake and Regina would destroy her happiness. “ And what is wrong with my clothing?”.

Emma swallowed the gargantuan bite she had just taken. “ I love your clothing, especially the things you wore as queen- well most of it, the feathers are just weird. But do you really want her to wear anything like that?”.

Regina didn’t answer, and Emma happily continued eating as she knew she had answered correctly. “I have a dress I could alter in some ways so it would be more your style” Regina told Lucy, who smiled brightly and immediately tore into her pancakes. There was silence for a while after that, as most of the people around the table were too busy stuffing their faces to talk ( and after that one incident Regina had gotten a mouthful of pancake in her face, speaking with a full mouth was strictly forbidden)

Because this was the Swan-Mills family, the tranquillity didn’t last long.

Emma was taking a break from eating to tell a funny story and happened to gesture wildly to show just how difficult it had been to capture the illegally kept ‘monster’ as mrs Irwin kept running after her with a cane, insisting it wasn’t dangerous. She was gesturing so wildly, that the jug next to her, as well as the salt, her own glass and the syrup fell.

Regina immediately held up her hand, freezing all the falling objects. Emma smiled at her and mouthed ‘sorry’ and continued her story as Regina levitated all the items away from Emma. She was just lowering her hands again, and turning in to Emma’s story when there was a loud, panicked call and she felt something move in her hair.

Emma immediately jumped up. “Damn it, not again “ she muttered, striding over to stand behind Regina.

“ I- “.

“Don’t roast the messenger, Regina. He can’t help it that he is disorientated”.

“ Snow has trained him, I know it. She has taught him all the way to surely aggravate me, knowing I cannot just snap the – “ she looked at Lucy, who was staring at her with wide eyes, and deflated. “ Get the thing out of my hair’.

“Mom, just use magic” Henry said when Emma was still carefully trying to untangle the bird from Regina’s hair. “ Fine, fine” she took a step back, and flipped her hand. There was a small puff of smoke, and the bird appeared in her hand.

She narrowed her eyes. Anyone who spent time with Snow, learned at least to recognize bird species, as Snow insisted it was important to know what kind of bird your messenger was ( even if you didn’t even use birds, because cell phones existed) so you knew what to feed them. “A robin” Emma growled, looking down at the bird.

She quickly glanced at Regina, already thinking of ways to tell her mom to never do this again, when Regina smirked. “ Did you anger her? “.

“ Maybe” Emma muttered, realising she was actually more likely to be annoyed by this than Regina. Of course, Regina missed that person , but she didn’t seem as hurt by it as she was constantly surrounded by family.

As Emma refused to give her mom the satisfaction, she quickly wrote a note – know what you’re doing, not working. Also, answer is still no – and sat down again. Things were just calming down again when-

The tabby cat in Lucy’s lap jumped and grew. Grew and her features twisted, a tail disappearing, whiskers vanishing, fur receding, paws growing. Until there stood a stern-looking woman with her hair in a tight bun , and bright green eyes.

Regina couldn’t save all the things that were dropped this time. She was too surprised herself.

Emma groaned, and tightened her hold on Regina. “ Make it stop” she groaned against Regina’s neck, as doors were slammed and people were running and an excited voice kept yelling “we are going to Hogwarts, we are going to Hogwarts!”

Regina slowly started to pull away, or tried to. Emma was still spooning her, and only tightened her grip when Regina tried to move away. Regina stopped fighting Emma’s grip , as she knew Emma was physically stronger than her, and she didn’t want to use magic. Yet.

“ You were the one to start it yesterday, mi alma. I suggested that we went straight to sleep, instead of indulging in other activities”.

“Hm, but you enjoy it so much when I convince you “ Emma grinned. “And I wasn’t the one who started that last bit, the- “ .

“ Emma, Lucy might not immediately connect the dots, but Henry most assuredly will know what it means that we both naked”.

Emma closed her eyes, and buried her face into Regina’s shoulder “ So? I will just tell them to stay out of the room, so we can stay like this for at least ten minutes”.

“ Emma, we have a schedule”.

Emma partly opened her eyes again when they both heard those footsteps running towards them. “ Regina, don’t you- “ Emma shrieked when Regina easily transported her beneath the shower, the shower magically turning on and raining cold water down on Emma. Regina lazily transported herself in the bathroom as well, with effectively cut off Emma’s angry rant.

By the time Lucy went running into the room and jumped on the bed, Regina left the bathroom. She was still trying to convince Regina to jump on the bed as well when Henry and Emma joined them. While Lucy was still talking, they creeped up on Regina and managed to get her on the bed as well, which was when a tickle fight was immediately started by Emma. Regina groused when they all left the bed, but she was smiling brightly and quieted when Henry threw his arm around her to kiss the top of her head.

Of course, she still complained a little when they had to run through the airport because they were on the late side, but her mood improved again when Emma got into a heated discussion with an airport official that wanted to search her (it’s a fucking belt that made the thing go off, it is right here). By the time they were through security, there were at least two guards that needed a vacation as well, especially the one that had made the mistake to frighten Lucy.

The rest of their travel was far less uneventful, apart from Regina reacting to her first flight perhaps. They didn’t even have turbulence, and both the landing and picking up the luggage went as well as could be expected. They quickly arrived at their destination.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, talking to a bartender before turning around and striding in their direction. “I hope your travel was pleasant” she said.

Lucy nodded, Emma shrugged and Henry smiled. Regina was the one who answered. “It was fine, although those airport officials are complete morons”.

Professor McGonagall’s lips twitched. “ I do prefer our ways of transportation to the muggle ones”

Lucy eyes brightened. “ Could we travel that way next time? “.

“I thought you liked the plane, Luce” Emma said.

“ Well yeah, but I want to try everything”.

“We will see” Regina said, and turned to professor McGonagall. “ Where are we going?”.

“Diagon alley. Follow me, please”

Lucy kept pointing out everything, from the odd clothing of people around them to things levitating. Henry smiled and chatted with her, answering her questions with the ease of someone who is used to being asked another question each minute. Regina made small talk with professor McGonagall, sometimes glancing at Emma and smiling as she noticed Emma was doing the thing again, the thing where she was on high alert and studying everyone to make sure they weren’t a danger to her family.

Lucy squealed when the professor tapped the wall, and it moved away, immediately wishing to know how it worked. She shut up shortly after that, too enchanted by all the shops and people and animals around them.

Regina quickly took her hand when her granddaughter almost ran off without them. “ Keep with us , dear” she said.

Professor McGonagall turned around. “Welcome in Diagon Alley. I will show you the shops, and help you figure out wizard money. People will probably stare at you, as you are dressed as muggles, but that will be solved by a trip to Madam Malkin’s robes for all occasions. Do you have any questions?”.

Lucy threw her hand in the air. “ Can we buy an unicorn?”.

“ No. Unicorns are endangered creatures and are not meant to be kept as pets”

The stately witch started to walk, and they all followed her. Lucy hugged Regina, then tugged her hand free so she could walk next to professor McGonagall, who was startled when Lucy grabbed her hand.

Lucy smiled at her. “ My abuela says I can’t walk in a strange place without someone holding my hand. It’s so I don’t get lost”

“ Your abuela seems like a sensible woman”.

“ I think so. Why do you need a wand? “

It was just the first of many questions. While Lucy questioned everything, from the practicality as well as beauty of witch’ robes to whether quidditch was the only sport witches had, Emma tried to take Regina’s phone.

“We are on a holiday, so don’t try to run the town from here” Emma said gently.

“ It is nothing connected to my job, Maleficent is just informing me when she and Lily will be coming as well’.

Emma pursed her lips “Oh”

“Professor McGonagall seemed very interested in their ability to shapeshift into dragons”.

“I suppose that is more impressive than being the saviour”.

Emma’s tone had Regina looking up from her phone, and arch her eyebrow. “ I thought you and Maleficent were on friendly terms now”

Emma shrugged. “ We are.”.

“ Then what is the issue?”.

“ Nothing”.

“Emma- “.

“ All right, all right. It’s just- “ Emma looked the other way. “ You guys have a lot of history, and I know she still really likes you. And she is pretty impressive”.

“We may have formed a friendship again, but neither of us wish for anything else. Besides, you have a wrong idea of what we were”.

“You were girlfriends” Emma said, a muscle in her jaw twitching. Whenever she saw Regina around Maleficent, it always struck her how familiar the two were around each other. How they seemed to know each other.

Regina laughed. “ No. She was my teacher and I confided into her, as she was in a similar situation to my own. And yes, at a certain moment- “ she lowered her voice, careful to make sure Henry or Lucy couldn’t hear “ we were having sex. But at that point in my life, when I started giving in to darkness more and more- “ Regina shook her head. “ We weren’t girlfriends. It was more complicated, and it was certainly nothing like you and I”.

“ Yeah, I know”

Regina grabbed Emma’s hand when she started to pull away, looking at Henry as if she was thinking of an excuse to leave. “ Emma. If I did not want to be with you, if I weren’t very happy with what we have, I would not be with you. I have been stuck in several dissatisfying relationships and I do not want that again” she squeezed Emma’s hand , then let it go. “ You do not have to doubt us, because there is no one else that I want. Just you “

Emma swallowed. “ I love you” she said, and suddenly hugged Regina tightly. Regina smiled and allowed Emma this moment to compose herself, to hide part of what she was feeling. They slowly separated, and were just leaning in when a throat was cleared.

“Your family is already inside” professor McGonagall said.

“Thank you” Regina politely said, before nudging Emma and giving her a look.

“Uh thanks” Emma said.

Professor McGonagall offered them a brisk nod, and they followed her inside. “ Why do I feel like we are being led to the principal’s office ? “ Emma whispered. Regina ignored her and walked into the room. Her eyes immediately lit up, and Emma sighed.

“We are going to have to fit stuff , aren’t we?” she really was unlucky to be the only one of the family we didn’t like trying on clothes, or letting people poke her as they adjusted clothing. Well, Lucy didn’t enjoy it as much as Regina and Henry but still. She was all alone in her boredom and loathing.

Fortunately for Emma, dress robes weren’t the only things they bought that day. She also felt a lot less like making up an excuse to check out the joke shop she had heard about when Regina asked her to come into the dressing room and give her opinion on the dress robes she was wearing ( it included a lot of enthusiastic kissing, and the professor’s unimpressed look as she caught them, again). Then they actually left for the joke shop, and even Regina spent a small fortune on several items. She bought skiving snack boxes, dung bombs and self-writing quills for Emma while she bought certain items for herself that Emma didn’t even need to know the purpose of, as she was innocent as she long as she didn’t know what kind of things Regina would use to torture prank her mother with.

The other shops were just as much fun. Emma finally convinced Regina to allow her to buy a broom after a lot of arguing, grovelling and promises ( and kisses), and she and Lucy were pretty much screaming about that for hours. after a lot of arguing, grovelling and promises ( and kisses), and she and Lucy were pretty much screaming about that for hours. Regina actually bought a wand, and they had to more-or-less pull her and the other little nerd (Henry) away from the wand shops’ s owner, who happily told them all about wand theory.

Lucy officially deemed it ‘the best day ever “

#swan queen week #day four #family vacation #harry potter #might add to this later but don't have much time to write right now :(#Lucy #Henry #Regina #Emma

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theemmataylor · 6 years

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A Frozen Medley || Sebastian, Gaston, Emma, Evelyn, Alaric, and the Mikaelson Brothers

I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI

"How long do I get to... I mean, how will you be here. You never sleep enough. I shouldn't keep you up." There was so many things she felt she needed to do, including going out there and helping the guys work. But if... if she helped Gaston sleep well.

Or you're just making excuses to stay next to him.

Mentally, Emma cursed Evelyn. This was her fault; she'd put the idea of Gaston into Emma's mind. "What about you, Mr. LeFevre? How are you really doing?"

“I am half asleep," he murmured. "That is how I am really doing.. should I... let you go? Or are you staying with me?"

“I will stay, if you don't mind. I might go a little later. But sleep for now." She had stretched and almost kissed his jaw when she caught herself. What am I doing? She rubbed her nose against his jaw line instead, to try to keep from being too awkward, and then rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. "Sleep well, Gaston."

The igloo was built. The generator had worked to recharge the first battery. The fences were on, the markers were running. It was colder than ever, wind whistling around the igloo, but it was warm inside. A small seal-fat fire burned and most had eaten their fill of its meat -- save Evelyn, who had remained outside to eat as a cat and had happily consumed its organs. Now, she was inside, human and stretched out behind Emma so the girl could lean against her. Her arms were folded and her chin on them, her eyes closed.

Elijah was exhausted but content, leaning against Alaric as they ate. Nik had set up his camera but was half-asleep, a bit of seal-meat in his hand, leaning up against his Kol. LeFevre had just come in from watch, and the warmth of the igloo stunned him.

"This... is far more comfortable than the tents."

Elijah gestured at him to come and take meat.

Emma's eyes were closed and she was content and happy, though they half opened when she heard Gaston and her content smile seemed to spread a bit.

Kol was leaning across Nik, stealing a bite of his seal, and then rolling while chewing to rest his head in Nik's lap. "We're one big happy orgy... er... family." The bottle of whiskey was barely touched, but resting on the ground beside him. And it was enough to make him truly feel warm again.

"For some, perhaps it's one and the same," Sebastian muttered, causing Alaric to choke back a laugh. But luckily it sounded more like a cough.

"We saved you plenty. Eat your fill." He scooted to leave a spot between himself and Emma, though there was plenty of other spaces that Gaston could fit. "Tomorrow we work on filming."

Nik shot Sebastian a look. "What was that, mate?"

Sebastian smirked. And Kol nudged Nik to get him to behave.

"I didn't say anything, Klaus. Nothing of importance. Relax. Today is a good day."

Nik huffed and ignored Kol, then moved over to Sebastian and gave him a low growl and a nip on the ear. "My brother wants me to behave," he purred into Sebastian's ear, too quiet for the others to hear. "I always do. Always." Moving back, he settled in comfortably against Kol's side and went back to picking at seal, looking at Sebastian with utterly unreadable eyes.

Sebastian lifted a brow, glancing at Kol, then watching as Nik moved back to sit with his brother. "You are an awful flirt, Klaus Mikaelson. And now that we all share this space, perhaps reigning it in would be a good idea..."

Kol's brows furrowed but Sebastian winked at him, feeling more playful and energetic than he had in days. Even feeling a little talkative.

Emma rolled her eyes, but chuckled.

"Don't think I've forgotten your offer, Miss Taylor, you scoundrel."

Her eyes went wide. "I have extended no such offer."

Sebastian laughed. "Hmm. My loss. Suppose we can't all be as lucky as LeFevre..."

Gaston snorted and settled down with Emma. He looked Moran over and smiled, then turned around to look at Evelyn, who had flopped over onto her back and fallen asleep. Unable to resist, he tapped her lightly on the stomach once -- the purring, questioning, confused meow sound she made was absolutely worth it. She blinked and looked at him, unsure what had just happened, then stretched out and purred more loudly before going back to sleep.

"Emma, you can't be the scoundrel here, anyway," Nik objected. "I claim that title for my brother. If there is any scoundrel here, it's Kol."

“It's true. I scandalize my family weekly, at least. Moran is just talking out of his ass. Emma is all class. She could do better than some..."

"Watch it, kit." Sebastian growled.

"Face it. She's too good for you."

Sebastian hummed and nodded. "There are few who would deserve her. Certainly not you, Niklaus."

"Have we... forgotten that she's sitting here? And feeling even more awkward than normal?" Emma asked, looking at Ric for help, who punched Kol in the leg.

"You boys behave."

“Be... have? Beehive? My dear Alaric, just because we happen to be English doesn't mean we're all Sherlock Holmes."

"I'm... not... sure you can make that comparison in this game," Elijah murmured.

Nik shrugged and snuggled down so he could rest his head in Kol's lap. "So what do we do now?" He asked, and went on to ask Elijah something -- as the marker alarm silently went off.

Gaston's eyes widened slightly as he felt the vibration and he immediately got to his feet and pulled his jacket on, looking at Moran.

Sebastian was already pulling his boots on, grabbing a jacket, and then reaching in the safety case where he'd left his gun.

Emma watched them, willing them to be careful, and she gently nudged Evelyn. Strength in numbers, right?

"It's out to the south. Might just be another bear. But... be alert," Sebastian whispered. "Be prepared for anything."

Evelyn looked at Moran and pointed at herself. "You want me with you? Or with them?" She was on her knees, preparing to shift the moment he told her where to be.

He looked at her, then at Gaston. Finally back to her. "Sit outside the igloo. If we call for you. You'll hear us. Do not let them get hurt."

With that he took off for the gate, knowing Gaston would be on his trail, hoping he could manage this threat. Needing to be able to protect them even still.

Gaston was right behind him and the two men moved quickly through the darkness and the bitter, biting wind. They didn't have far to go, though, before they could see their guest, the strange sorcerer with the spinning teeth. He stood with his arms outstretched and fingers curved like claws, his eyes wide and manic, and all his teeth bared as they twisted and bubbled up with blood. When he saw them, he seemed to light up with glee.

"Good God, that's disgusting," Gaston muttered, and put his back to Sebastian's once they were stationary.

“Don't waste your ammunition," he whispered, though suddenly frustrated he'd left Evelyn behind. She'd ran him off last time. "And don't be afraid to call for her. She has weapons we don't."

He looked at the man and felt.... less frightened. Though he had no idea why. "What is it you want?" He knew he wouldn't be spoken to. "Why our camp?" You freak.

The man made a wet hissing sound and giggled, then was suddenly standing in front of Gaston. He grabbed the man by the jacket and sniffed his chest before Gaston could even shove him away.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled, throwing the sorcerer to the ground and pointing his gun at him despite what Moran had said. "Who are you? What do you what?"

The thing's teeth came to a slow stop and then he got up to his feet. "What... do... you want?"

"Oh, you speak English? Wonderful. It's quite the accent you have. Should I have asked, parlez-vous francais? Or would you simply repeat my words back to me in French?"

"In French."

"So help me, state your purpose, else I shall test my commander's claims and thus prove myself a terrible soldier to him." He aimed.

"I want -- your little one." He looked at Moran. "The woman. She is like a girl. I need her."

Sebastian's eyes went wide. He looked at Gaston. "Why do you need her?"

He wouldn't be handing over any of their crew. Fucking hell like he would do that. But if he could understand... "Why the girl?" He said again, clenching his teeth, hating this supernatural bullshit.

There was pure rage on Gaston's face. The notion of anyone taking Emma had him wanting blood, but he forced himself to stay silent.

"She will be a good wife. I need someone to cook my meat, to clean my home, to help me with my spells. She will be perfect. I sent wolves to find her. You tried to stop them. You cannot stop me. My magic is too strong. It has always been too strong. I need a good wife, I will have -- Emma. Emma."

Sebastian laughed, but the sound was hollow, dangerous. "I didn't try to stop your wolves. My buddy here and I killed them all. Even the sad one you made chase us all the way up here. The one who knew you were sending to its death.

"But see, here's the thing about women. They tend to like their free will. And as... charming as you seem. I think she's sweet on one of the men she left back home." There was no way in hell he was going to put LeFevre in the line of this thing's fire by announcing that... well, truth be told he didn't think there was anything official to claim. Regardless. This was safer.

"I'll be sure to pass along your proposal. But the only way she's going anywhere is by her own choice. And, like I said, she seems real anxious to get home."

"You pass it on... you pass it all on. This one will have to tell the truth." He pointed at Gaston and his teeth began turning again; two got stuck on each other and strained, more blood oozing up between them than from any of the others. "When she is my bride, I will let everyone else go. You will all live. You will be home. You will be free.

"If you do not tell them that truth -- he will. He has no choice." The sorcerer lowered his hand.

”Right. Full story. You got it, pal."

Sebastian nudged Gaston with the butt of his rifle and backed away toward camp. "Give her a couple days to decide at least. Big decision and all."

No. No way. No fucking way am I allowing this.

Gritting his teeth, he looked at Gaston. "Don't do it. Don't wast that ammo. I know how much you want to kill him. We'll find another way."

”You have until I wake," the sorcerer said, and finally one of the snagged teeth managed to pop free. Once again, he shifted into a bird and let himself fall into the tearing Arctic wind.

As soon as he was gone, Gaston fell to his hands and knees, gasping harshly for breath. He started coughing, choking, and blood flecked the snow. He tried to breathe, tried to rise, but seemed unable to do either.

Sebastian dropped to Gaston's side, touching his back. He hadn't even...

"Take your time. Just breathe." I missed that you weren't. I could have just let you die and not realized it. Fuck. Fuck. He pulled a small cloth from his pocket and helped wipe blood away from Gaston's mouth while also holding on to the back of his head. "We don't need her to worry. And she will. Over you. She'll worry."

Sebastian's own worry was deeply evident in his eyes and the way he held on to Gaston. "Are you okay?"

Gaston shook his head, still coughing, still struggling to draw breath. His wheezing sounded tight and wet; with every cough, there was more blood. Tears froze on his cheeks and he clutched tightly at Moran's shoulder, an instinctive reaction, something he wasn't at all aware of. Blackness seemed to be spreading through his chest, as if the absence of light was something he could feel, something he could be.

Death, he realized suddenly. It was death. That's what was happening. He was dying. Right now.

"Worse," was all Gaston managed to say, and after he fought that word out, his next breath was so tight, it was a squeak, like some tiny, dying creature.

Sebastian called immediately for Evelyn. Loud. He knew she'd hear him. And he called for her to bring Emma. He wasn't sure if she'd understand that part from this distance. But time... was on short supply.

"Bring the goddamn girl," he said again, pulling Gaston's mouth open and shamelessly checking the airways. But, of course, that wasn't the problem.

He had to tell her all of it. He had to. Fuck.

"I'm not letting you go, LeFevre, you hear me? You better fucking hang on."

Gaston nodded. His body wanted to quit, but he couldn't let it; Moran wanted him to live, so he had to live. There was no dying without permission, not on Moran's watch. He felt himself fall to his side, felt the hard-packed snow against his face, and he wasn't sure whether his eyes were open or closed anymore, but it didn't really matter. There was pain, a world of pain, and he could hear an awful wheezing sound, tight and ugly and agonizing -- but that wasn't still him, was it?

"Emma!" Evelyn burst back in. "Get dressed right now! Fast, fast!"

Elijah started to stand but Evelyn shook her head. "Only Emma. Now! I need you to come with me! Everyone else, stay!"

Emma didn't waste time. Actually, Evelyn busting in had scared her so much that she was already standing and now dressing, zipping up her coat and covering her face.

As she ran out into the cold, she didn't know if the sudden tears were from the wind or from some certain, indescribable fear. "Lead the way."

Evelyn took her by the hand and started running, knowing that if she shifted into her leopard form she would probably run too fast and abandon Emma for one dangerous moment, a moment where everything could be lost. They ran as fast as they could together until they found Moran standing over a dark shape and the smell of blood was sharp on the air.

"What ha--" but Evelyn stopped herself from asking a question that was, at the moment, useless. Moran had asked for Emma and Gaston seemed to be dying -- if he needed to say goodbye, she wouldn't waste time with chatter.

Emma fell to her knees. Her hands moving straight for his face. "What... oh my god." She was already crying and the tears seemed to freeze as quickly as they came. "No," she whispered, "No, no, no, no, please don't go."

Emma's hands brought him back from someplace warm and quiet and comfortable, where none of the pain was, and suddenly everything hurt again, but he could breathe. He sucked in lungfuls of icy air, shuddering, and coughed again, then shook his head.

"I can't tell--"

His lungs and throat seemed to close up at once, worse than before.

"It's a curse," Evelyn snapped. "Gaston, you must comply, whatever it is or you'll die. Right here, right now."

Gaston shook his head again, unaware just how much blood was frozen on his lips and chin and cheek, but then he felt Emma's touch again and he couldn't leave her. But if he said the truth --

Gaston closed his eyes. He couldn't. It was better to die than do that to Emma.

Evelyn looked at Moran, mercury-colored eyes pleading with him to somehow make LeFevre talk.

”Gaston you idiot. Do you think you are the only one he'll curse? You think he won't go after Evelyn. Kol. Elijah next? You think he won't make her watch everyone die, and then..." take her anyway? "Do it, Gaston. Stop being a bloody idiot and do it."

"It's okay," she said, leaning down to kiss his bloodied, chapped lips, crying, terrified, more than a little confused. "You can tell me. Please." Her fingers moved over the hat that was on his head. "Please, Gaston. I can't... I can't lose you."

I betray Moran or I betray you...

Gaston shut his eyes. "There... is a sorcerer..." His breath returned, although it still felt ragged, and he wondered if he had only imagined her lips on his. "A madman. The one responsible for putting us here. His teeth spin in his head and blood bubbles out, his nails have grown out so long they look like claws. He says.. that he will have you for a wife. If you go to him, he will let the rest of us go free. He claims he sent the wolves to look for you...

"You can't go, though, Emma. Please. Promise you won't." His voice was a hoarse, pained whisper, but now that he could breathe, he struggled to try and sit up.

Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and stared a bit listlessly into the darkness, listening.

”Wait. What? A..." She closed her eyes, wanting to be grateful that he was breathing again, but what in the heck was he talking about. She looked to Moran for confirmation of what Gaston had said, though she didn't doubt his honesty.

Emma touched his face. "I cannot sentence you all to this life." It wasn't even a question, her going. Not while knowing the whole truth. Her gaze lifted to Evelyn. I told you I wasn't destined for love.

"I won't do that. If you can be free..."

"We can find a way to get free on our own. We can survive."

"He sent the wolves. He stopped time for us, essentially. I bet a search crew will find you all instantly. How can you ask me to say no? When it..." she looked down at Gaston again, trying to keep him laying down until she was certain he'd keep breathing. "When it could save you."

S: —> “Some costs are too high," Gaston whispered. His eyes were beginning to clear and he blinked the last of the tears away, then looked over at Evelyn. Frowning, he weakly reached out and touched Moran, then tried to gesture at her, although his body didn't seem to want to obey. "She.. needs to shift." He had to lay back again, as Emma urged, and clear his throat as he felt the blood continue to slowly trickle down it.

"We should get.. back to the igloo... and talk there. Can't stay out here.." Gaston reached up and touched Emma's sleeve. There was a certain unreality about this, and he wasn't convinced he wouldn't just wake up soon and write it all off as an odd dream.

Sebastian nudged Evelyn. "Come on. Shift. It's far too cold for you to have not shifted already. You both have to stop being idiots.

"Emma, can you help stabilize him in a standing position?"

Her eyes went wide, but she agreed to try, and once they had Gaston on his feet, Sebastian apologized for the informality, and then lowered a shoulder enough to let Gaston drape over it. Then he started back toward the igloo.

Emma held tight onto Gaston's hand. She couldn't speak. She just wanted to protect her family.

Evelyn hadn't even realized how cold she was and had stared dumbly at Moran for a moment before obeying. The change felt more difficult than usual, sluggish, and even once she was in fur she lagged as she followed them back.

When they were back inside the fence, Elijah took Gaston from Moran and carried him inside. Only once they were all in there, all safe, did he ask, "What happened?" Serious, frowning, Elijah immediately started cleaning the blood away from Gaston's face, but he looked questioningly at the others. "Is anyone else hurt?"

”I… they found a way to save you all," Emma said quietly, looking only at Gaston. "There is a sorcerer who is looking for a wife. And he wants me. If I go, you all will be free. And since it's not up for negotiation, I'll go before morning. While you're sleeping. It'll be easier that way."

”You're really going to force us to restrain you?" Elijah asked her, eyes sharpening although his voice stayed surprisingly mild.

#part fifteen #a frozen medley #one shot #familyispower #bourbonandbrushes #gastonlefevre #theveritasi #v nature doc

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lassluna · 5 years

Text

CSJJ Day 9: Because of the Cat

Summary: We’re sleeping together except now you got kidnapped? Guess I got to save you.

A/N: Thank you everyone who made this event possible, and everyone in the discord having a blast. Happy @csjanuaryjoy! Also thank you Anon who gave us the enchanted forest prompts.

Ao3 Ffn

Part 1: Emma

He meets her on the dock; he has normal dock worker clothes on, trying to blend in. He is trying to gather intelligence on a ship with a large amount of wealth on it, it was either on The Darling, or it was on The Firebird. Considering both were going in opposite directions it was vital that Killian figures out which had the gold.

A hit this big would set his crew up for a while and really stick it to King Frank of Oz. Killian wanted more than to annoy the greedy king, but stealing all his money would do…for now.

He notices her immediately considering how out of place she is. She’s clean for one thing, crisp even in white linens and furs to combat the cold, not an ounce of dirt anywhere on her person. Her blonde hair striking and beautiful, she looks angelic.

She doesn’t look like she belongs anywhere near a pirate ship in the middle of the night. But she just stands in front of it with her arms crossed. In fact, she looks like she’s been crying.

Before he decides what to do, she spots him, green eyes filled with nothing but fire. He knows immediately that if he’s not careful he’ll burn from those eyes alone.

“Is this your ship?” She asks suddenly, blocking his path back.

“No.” He says curtly, “I just work on it, why do you need something?” He asks curiously, someone like her doesn’t want to talk to Captain Hook. They shouldn’t. Captain Hook is dangerous and dark.

“I need to speak to the captain.” She says sharply, he feels her eyes looking him up and down. He was absolutely right about those eyes.

“Well love, you can’t speak to him unless you can tell me why you need to speak to him.” He assures her. He comes up with a dozen possible answers, most of them involving a man as good and perfect as she seems to be.

Her answer is absolutely the last thing he expects.

She points to the cat on his ship, a mouser that crawled on the Jolly a few ports back. “Your cat looks sick.” She utters. “If you’re not going to take care of your animals, you might as well not have them.” She utters sharply.

It completely throws him for a loop.

“You’re here in the middle of the night, confronting a captain you do not know…because of a cat?” He confirms.

“Well I’m not here specifically for the cat.” She corrects. “The water calms me.” She admits. “I have a lot on my mind right now, a lot I can’t fix. But one thing I can fix is that cat so are you going to let me talk to your captain or not?”

He smiled at her. “I too use the ocean to calm me. You can see the Captain if you so desire.” He assured her, inviting him onto the ship, and down to his cabin. He poured them both shots of rum. He knows it was the right decision when she takes it in one swig and practically slams the glass back on the table.

“Now, what’s on your mind lass?” He asks, settling into his chair. “I can assure you, now that it’s been brought to my attention, I’ll see to the cat’s welfare.”

“I knew you were the captain.” She assured him. “I can tell you were lying.”

“Oh?”

“Plus you are too hot to be a simple deckhand.” She says boldly, lifting her chin and sitting on his bed.

“I assure you lass; there is nothing simple about me.” He assures her, drinking his own rum. “Why are you really here?” He asks, getting up from his chair, strolling over to her.

“The water calms me.” She repeats, breaking his gaze, looking out the port window.

“So you’ve said.” He places a hand on her shoulder feeling how soft her cloak is. She lets him. It feels more like feathers than furs.

“Your cat looks too skinny.” Her fingers rise to untie it, allowing him to push it down her shoulders. Her eyes are back on him.

“I promise I’ll fix that.” He pushes golden hair behind her ear and lets his hand rest on her cheek. She bites her lip.

“Good.” She rises from the bed quickly and suddenly, her hands on his coat pulling him into a kiss. It was fast and commanding. Her hands trying to push his jacket off his shoulders, he helps her along, his hand finding her waist.

He breaks the kiss. “Lass-“ But her mouth just finds his neck and he groans at the sensation. “You’re not here for that cat…”

“No.” She says, practically pushing him into sitting on the bed. “I’m not just here for the cat.” She smirks, eyes blown. “I think you can figure out what I’m here for.”

He knows that this woman was going to ruin him.

He expects never to see her again. He expects her to be some aristocrat housewife, angry at her husband and wanting to bed a dirty pirate to stick it to him.

(It reminds him of another woman, one with dark hair, bedding him for the same reason, at least at first.)

He never got a name, but he calls her Swan in his head for the feather like texture the cloak had.

Regardless, he asks the cook to feed the cat any scraps he could spare. The man laughs at his request, but complies.

She does indeed show up next time he’s at that port, dressed less ostentatious than before, a simple burgundy dress. He tries to remain casual, tries to pretend that he hasn’t been thinking her of the months since they parted.

(Since she snuck out in the middle of the night with no word)

She looks more relaxed, almost peaceful as she stands by the dock.

“I have something for the cat.” She announces with a smile. There’s a container of milk with a bow on it.

“I assure you, the cat has gained some weight since we last parted.” He assures her.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She declares, inviting herself on his ship. Once she seems satisfied by the mouser, she helps herself to some rum and his chair.

“You have very good rum.” She insists.

“That’s your reason.” He asks with a smirk.

“Yup.”

“Not looking for anything else?” He asks leaning in. “Someone else.”

“Not at all.” She insists, taking another gulp of rum. “But seriously, where do you get this stuff.”

He promises he’ll bring her some next time he visits.

“Oh there is no next time.” She assures him. “Better make this one count.”

He does, he definitely does.

There is a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that. He eventually loses track of the times. Killian just knows that once he makes ports within a few days she appears with a bottle of milk for the cat, Henry as Swan has named him.

“You know Swan, one of these times; you’re going to have to tell me your name.” He tells her as she rests her head on his shoulder, hair ending up in his mouth, like it always does.

“But I like the Swan, Killian.” She replies. “Anyway, this…this is just this right? IT’s not like we’re…” She trails off.

He knows, he always knows.

It’s just sex.

He learns that she’s just as feisty with a sword as she is in his cabin. He offers her dinner on the deck, she accepts gladly, watching him look over his ship and prepare to depart the next day when one of the crew makes a rude remark about her.

He orders the man to stop, but it was too late, Swan was pissed.

She goes over and decks him in the jaw and when the man draws a blade, she picks one up herself. Swan demands that he fight her if he is to say such rude things about her.

It doesn’t take long for her to disarm him, a blade to his neck.

“Swan, please don’t kill my crew, they are hard to come by so close to the castle.” He says in a complaint, but really he’s truly mystified by her.

She jolts back to herself, helping the man up, who apologies for his comment and returns to his quarters, tail between his legs.

“You know Swan.” He says on the way back to his cabin. “I knew there was a little pirate in you.”

She beams.

They return after a nasty battle with the Oz Navy, they were almost caught. They’d evaded thankfully, a canon nearly taking off his head. They’d been boarded and he had a nasty cut in his side, but the Jolly Roger was victorious at the end.

He decides it’s best to drown himself in the bottle, as old thoughts and demons come about.; thoughts about Liam and the royals who killed him.

He didn’t intend on seeing her. But it was the closest port and they needed repairs done.

She finds him in his cabin, nursing his wounds. “The cat’s chasing a nasty rat in the kitchen.” He slurs.

“I didn’t come here for the cat.”

“Well you didn’t come here for me, so what do you want Swan?” He says; Killian’s too tired and too angry for these games.

“I heard you got hurt.” She snaps back. “I wanted to see if you were ok.”

He rolls his eyes leaning up in bed, despite the pull on his injury. “I’m fine Swan. I’ll be ship shape next time you need me to scratch that itch of yours, for now just leave me in peace.”

She gasps at his words.

“You think all I see you as is sex?” She demands. “Damn it Killian I was worried! I was worried that you wouldn’t come back! But if you don’t want me here, I’ll just go.”

He doesn’t want her to go. He catches her hand with his. She stops, fire in her eyes, but she stops. He doesn’t say he’s sorry. He doesn’t say anything at all.

Swan just sits in the bed next to him.

He eventually cracks, rum loosening his lips.

He rambles about the fight the battle, his endless crusade against the people who were responsible for Liam’s death, against all the royals, because it didn’t matter which crown you served they were all the same.

He never felt good enough for his brother his entire life, and now he can’t even avenge him.

Killian eventually falls asleep, head on Swan’s lap as she runs her hands through his hair, whispers of affection in his ear.

For once, when he wakes up that next morning, Swan’s still there

But all good things eventually end.

She comes to see him after a really ha

“Killian I need to tell you something.” She admits one night.

He expected this, expected the ‘husband talk’. He never cared with Milah, why should he care now?

(Why should he care about how she likes to raid his book collection when he has to chart their courses, she likes adventure book, why should he care that she loves the exotic spices he has the cook use when she’s here, or how some times she wears expensive earrings but curses them when she remembers them, like she forgot to take them off before coming here.

Why should he care after she sat with him as he was drunk and spewing nonsense, hurt and angry at the world.)

“I’m not who you think I am.” She practically blurts out, hands behind her as she shifted her weight constantly. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t quite understand why she’s so nervous.

“I don’t understand.” He insists. “You haven’t told me so much as your name, I don’t have any idea of your life apart from this.”

She averts his gaze, staring at his feet. “That’s because you’d know who I was the moment you heard my name.” She says. “I liked being Swan with you, just Swan, no backstory, no drama, nothing, just Swan and Killian on a pirate ship.”

He likes that too.

“Just who are you Swan?”

Green eyes flicker to his, burning just as brightly, but looking sad.

“My name is Emma.” She says as a whisper. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

Princess. He repeats the word in his head until it makes sense. Swan--no Emma-- is a Princess.

“I know how you feel about royals, how they killed your brother, and what happened wasn’t fair. It wasn’t what my family would ever do.” She continues. “But I can’t just ignore your feelings like that.”

He was sleeping with a princess, a princess who kept bringing milk to the cat, who he cares for intensely.

“If you never-…if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.” She says ducking her head. IT breaks into the shock he’s feeling, hearing how…dare he say, heartbroken she sounds.

“Never want to see you again?” He repeats. “Darling, that thought never ever would cross my mind.” Green eyes snaps to his. He closes the distance between them, kissing her. He wants her to know, even if he can’t say it. “Because of the cat.” He says when they break apart. Henry would be devastated.”

Swan, Emma smirks. She wipes tears from her eyes, tears he pretends he doesn’t see.

“Because of the cat.” She repeats. “Who would give him milk?” He presses another kiss to her lips.

“He’d miss you terribly.”

“He would wouldn’t he?”

“Absolutly.”

After finding out about her identity, Killian expected things to be easier. She finally told him things. Killian learned that her father taught her how to fight, how to lift your chin and weather the storm.

Her mother was a spit fire, never doing as she’s told, but having the grace to make you think she had. Killian learned that Emma’s best friend was Queen Elsa of Arendell, she often had her Aunt Ruby cover for her, but the woman didn’t know who she was seeing.

He learned why she was crying that night oh so long ago.

“I heard my parents consultants talking about me.” She says into the darkness, his arms tightly wrapped around her. He was tracing shapes into her hips with his hand. “They called me trouble, a rebel. They said I would never be like my parents, they put the kingdom before all else. I was too selfish for that…”

“Swan…”

“They said that no man would ever want to marry me. They said that I was too rebellious, too much for any prince to ever think about touching me…”

“That’s not true, any man would be lucky to have you. You’re strong and beautiful and passionate.” He insists, turning her over so she could see him. “You’re nothing if not selfless; you’re going to make a wonderful queen.”

“Are you sure you’re feeding Henry enough? He’s so skinny.” She insists, lying entirely in the nude under his blankets, the ship’s cat curled up on her lap. He glances over at her from his spot at the desk, finishing with his logs, months after her midnight confession, ever since then things had been bloody brilliant.

“I assure you Princess, he gets plenty to eat, along with the mice, he gets all the scraps from the crew along with the fresh milk you bring him.” He says looking up at her putting the grey cat’s head. Kilian can hear him purring from here.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I told you to quite the Princess talk, got it?”

He nods. “Of course, your highness.” He assures her.

“If Henry wasn’t asleep, I’d go over there and smack you.” She confirms. Killian has no doubt that was true. “We had a deal, no princess pirate talk while in bed, Killian”

“I’m not in bed.”

“That’s your own fault.”

Killian chuckles at that. “What time do I have to take you back?” He asks, glancing out at the sea all around them, he could see the port from here, but being a ways away was nice. Emma shrugs.

“I’m supposed to be out with Ruby, so maybe in a few hours?” She asks. “After this I won’t be able to meet after the b-“ She cuts off, Killian knows she thinks she’s said too much.

“The ball?” He repeats. A blush appears on her cheeks. “What’s so wrong about telling me about a ball, doesn’t your mother throw one every other month?” He asks.

Killian can already sense there’s something more to this one. People have been speaking about it far more in other ports in the area.

“She invited suitors to this one.” Emma murmurs softly. “She thought it was time, made me promise to keep an open mind.

Suitors. The word is a jab to the chest. Because it’s an all-too real reminder of what this is their doing, playing with fire on a ticking clock; one day Emma would belong to someone else and he would just be a distant memory.

“Anyone interesting?” He asks casually, trying not to act bothered. He wasn’t bothered.

“Why do you care?” She spits back. “We both new this isn’t anything Hook.”

Hook.

“You’re right.” He snaps back, clenching the pencil in his hand tightly. “I guess I don’t care.”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t care one bit who she’s going to meet that his ball of hers; he especially doesn’t care if she meets her future husband. He doesn’t care because it’s not going be him.

“Killian…” Emma says trying to backtrack. He can tell, but he’s already too angry.

“I hope you have a fabulous time at your ball.” He utters standing up.

“Killian don’t be like this.” She snaps. “You don’t get to be hurt by something you knew was coming.” He rolls his eyes.

“Of course your majesty, how silly I’ve been, just bedding the local pirate to blow off some steam.”

Swan stands up suddenly, making Henry meow loudly in complaint as she stalks up to him.

“You know damn well it’s about more than that.” She hisses. “You know that I care, and you know that we can’t keep doing this.”

Of course he knows.

“Then why do you keep coming back?” He asks. “And don’t say it’s about the cat.”

Emma shakes her head. “As if you don’t already know.” She insists, turning around and gathering up her clothes, changing in silence. “I guess this is goodbye Hook.” She says fully dressed on her way out of his cabin. She sounds sad and he instantly regrets his behavior.

“Until next time?” He asks, pleads really.

Emma looks back at him, cold flames burning him in her gaze. “No, I don’t think there will be a next time.” She insists.

And she’s gone.

Perhaps he is being foolish. Killian thinks, all decked up in clothes he considers royal, weeks after his fight with Swan. He was a stubborn ass and he needed to make it up to her. He needed her to know how sorry he was.

How lost he’s been without her, how much he needs her, how much he misses her.

How he had completely and utterly fallen in love with her.

“Invitation?” The woman at the front of the castle asks. He hands her one, he’d stolen it of course. He wonders if it was reported, “Prince Charles, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman gushes.

“The pleasure is mine.” He says kissing the woman’s hand, flashing her his charming smile. The woman blushes before letting him inside.

He was just one of the ‘suitors’ tonight, which arguably wasn’t a lie. One could argue he had been courting Emma since the day they met, just in a less traditional way.

Killian exchanges pleasantries with a few of the men, they don’t seem too terrible, but Killian is confident that none of them could handle Swan. She would chew them up and spit them out without even trying given half a chance.

One of the suitors didn’t even bother conversing with the other guests, decked out in green and gold, he stood apart, analyzing the ballroom as if he was waiting for something interesting to arrive.

Killian couldn’t help but approach the man. He rationalized that if he couldn’t be with Swan, he wanted her to be someone worthy of her. “What do you think the Princess is like?” He asks the man casually.

He looks him up and down. Killian knows that look; the man was looking at him like one does an insect, something beneath you. “Far out of your league.” He says with a toothy smirk.

“Oh?” He asks. “I believe I received the same invite you did.” He replies.

“Your was just to be polite.” He says in an attempt to be kind. “She’s a princess, of one of the largest kingdoms in the realms; she needs to be at the side of someone powerful if her kingdom is to grow.” He insists. “Besides you’ve heard the rumors, she’s wild, untamed, un-princess like at all. Her parents are dying to have her tied down so she won’t get into any more trouble.”

“I always heard that King James and Queen Snow married for love and wished the same thing for their daughter.” That’s how Emma put it at least.

“Love is nothing compared to power.” Killian decided that he definitely wanted to punch this man at some point this evening.

“Who were you again? I’m sorry, I don’t come to these things very often.” He got an eye roll from the man.

“Prince Walsh of Oz.” He explains. “Take my advise, find some lady here, have your fun and then go home to your tiny kingdom and forget all about Princess Emma, perhaps I’ll even invite you to the wedding if you stay out of my way.” With that Walsh, passed by him roughly, hitting his shoulder with his own causing Killian to stumble slightly.

Oh he wanted to punch him.

Until he sees her, and God almighty, she’s beautiful.

And Emma is always beautiful when she comes to his ship, a breath of fresh air after long days at sea, but this was different. Tonight she looks truly like a princess. Her dress is red and flowing, seeming endless. Her hair is braided and up, like a halo. She looks like an absolute angel.

“Now introducing Princess Emma.” Someone announces as she enters the ballroom, Killian notices her father take her first dance, whispering into her ear as the music plays. Whatever he says makes her laugh, a bright real thing.

As soon as she finishes, a crowd of men greet her, hoping to have the next one. Just as predicted, Walsh seems to push past the others the hardest, speaking the loudest. She eventually accepts the offer, but Emma doesn’t look please, not one bit. He didn’t expect her to be.

If he knew Swan, and he definitely did, Walsh wouldn’t last one dance before opening his mouth and saying something insulting causing Emma to lash out at him. Killian waited with baited breath to see the man being knocked down a peg or two.

Killian feels his entire being go ablaze when the man moves his hand too low. Emma looks absolutely repulsed by whatever he’s saying. He practically marches over, wanting to rip him away from his Swan.

Except of course, Emma being Emma, the usual spitfire she is, detangles with him sharply, and hisses a few words at him and not too subtly stomps on his foot.

And that’s when he makes his move.

“You’re going to regret that.” The man snarls as Killian nears, the other suitors are too distracted to notice what’s happening.

“Watch me Walsh.” Emma snaps back. “I’d rather die than marry you.”

The man moves towards her once again, grabbing at her arm but this time Killian is in the way.

“The dance is over mate.” He confirms, stepping between this, his eyes daring him to challenge him. “If I were you I’d go find an unaccompanied lass and then go back to your kingdom tail between your legs.” He hisses with a smile on his face. The man stands there fuming, but backs away when he notices the King, Emma’s father looking their way suspiciously. The man’s hand was resting on his blade.

“Perhaps I can step in.” He says, turning to offer his hand to Emma. The look on Emma’s face is absolutely priceless. “You-“ She says. “You look…”

Killian smirks. “I know.” He says kissing her hand gently. “Prince Charles your highness.” He introduces. Emma catches on quickly, agreeing to his offer of a dance.

“What are you doing?” She hisses once they’re alone in the midst of a dance.

“I’m a pirate, stealing treasure is part of the job.” He teases, because he’s dancing with Emma in her castle, he’s holding her close, and flying far too close to the sun. One misstep and he’d be in the dungeon or on his way to the gallows.

“You’re lying to me.” Emma adds, the bite in her voice fading.

“Well you’re heart is the most valueable treasure here so I think I’m telling you the truth.” He counters.

“Seriously Killian.” Swan asks, face soft and pleading. It breaks his heart because she looks to be in pain by his presence and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Perhaps I’m apologizing.” He says in a softer tone. “Perhaps I do care.”

Emma hesitates as he twirls her. “You know we can’t.” She says softly. “What we are, what we have, is temporary. I have to find a husband, someone to lead by my side.”

He knows this. He’s always known this. She needs someone, anyone but him.

“I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t stand knowing that these boys who care more about your power or wealth than you get to dance with you while you’re mad at me.” He utters. “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be me being an ass because I was jealous.”

She pauses, looking to be caught off guard by his admittance.

“I’m sorry too. I know you care Killian, but you know this is only going to end one way right? Now or later, it’s going to hurt like crazy.”

He knows.

“Now that I’ve started looking for a husband, it should probably be now.”

No, please. This isn’t what he wanted.

“If you must, what your heart desires Swan, that’s all I’ll ever want.” But he’s not like her, at his core he’s still selfish, he is a greedy pirate when it comes to her. “But if this is what you want, will you give me this? One night of being the Fairytale Prince you deserve?” Just one more night to pretend that he could ever deserve his Swan, which she could possibly love…

“Ok.” She breathes. “Just one more night.”

Emma dances with all the suitors, but saves him a few dances throughout it. She tells him all about the others, laughing about the stupidity of it all.

If they did disappear into one of the empty bedrooms of the palace for ‘one last fling’ well, that’s their own secret.

“I thought we said last time was the last time.” Emma asks. Killian shrugs, pulling her closer. Her bare back pressed against his chest as he wrapped himself around her.

“You came to me.” He reminds her. He hadn’t expected the Princess of Misthaven to come in midmorning in a hood and pants, practically dragging him back to his cabin for one last good time.

“I had to say goodbye to the cat.”

“Of course.” He tells her. “You can always come to see Henry.” He insists. A stray blonde hair finding itself in his mouth, making him spit it out.

“Killian.”

“I’m serious…you don’t have to call this off. This can be whatever you want it to be.” Emma turns over, pulling the sheets over herself.

“You know I have to Killian. You deserve to find someone too.” He does, he knows he does, but he believes in his soul that he already has.

“Run away with me.” He blurts out.

“What?”

“We can be together, we can be happy, you always talked about the places you wanted to go, how you want to be just Swan, you can do that. Come with me, sail away with me and we can be together.”

It’s crazy, absolutely insane.

“I can’t just disappear.” Emma says.

“Why not?”

Emma doesn’t have an answer right away. “My family, my people.” She says eventually, “my friends, my life.”

He shakes his head. “You can still have that, eventually, you can write to your parents, see them, same thing with your friends, your parents are young, you can come back, we can be happy Emma, truly.”

Killian wants her to say yes.

“I’m sorry Killian.”

But understands when she can’t. He understands that Emma isn’tselfish, she puts everyone before herself. He loves that about her.

“I love you.” He says, watching her leave the Jolly for the last time.

“I know.”

“There won’t be a day I won’t think of you.” He says, she turns back and smiles.

“Good.”

“It appears Princess Emma of Misthaven is as wild as they claim.” The conversation peaks his interest, months after the last time he’s seen her. He was true to his word, letting her break it off without making it harder for her than it already was.

He tries his best to never stop at that port. He dies however, because sometimes it’s unavoidable. He’s still a captain and has to put his crew first.

She doesn’t come.

“Running away with some prince in another kingdom.” The sailor says with a disappointed sigh. “I bet she’s pregnant.”

Run away? It doesn’t sound like the Emma he knows. But really it hurt to think that she could have fallen in love with someone else so quickly, would be willing to run away with someone else.

Killian should just walk away, forget her, forget Swan. She deserves better, she was happy.

“What were you saying about the Princess?” He asks the two old sailors. They are more than happy to gossip with him. He’s always been a glutton for punishment.

Apparently, Swan was on her way to the docks, but never made it home. The kingdom searched for her until a letter was sent from Emma herself explaining how she’s fallen in love with Prince Walsh of Oz and she was marrying him despite her parents’ reservations.

Oh bloody hell. He curses, storming back to his ship. Killian remembers the man’s threat, his vow to make Emma pay.

Captain Hook was going to Oz and was getting his Swan back. Heaven help anyone that stood in his way.

Saving Emma was exactly what he intended to do at least, but when he burst into the throne room, he saw Emma bashing Walsh with a club, how she’d gotten a club, he had no idea.

“And that’s what you get for kidnapping me!” She shouts as the man moves to duck her blow. Killian can see he’s bleeding pretty badly. “Think this is going to trap me into accepting your ridiculous proposal?” She demands. He can feel pure fire in her entire being as she goes for blood.

“Guards!” He shouts.

Except Killian’s already knocked them out cold on his way here.

“Let them save you!” Emma hisses, going for Walsh again. “Take me back to the dungeon because all you’re getting from me is a kick in the-“ He approaches slowly, pressing a hand to her arm.

Emma spins around and punches Killian square in the nose.

Killian recoils sharply, nearly dropping his sword ad he cups his face from her right hook.

“You-“ Emma says, breathing heavily. She looks dumbstruck. Her face is smeared with blood and dirt, her dress is torn and ruined, she has one shoe on. It’s obvious that Emma hasn’t changed clothes since she was taken, weeks ago.

“Easy Swan.” He says. She doesn’t move, doesn’t drop her weapon, if anything she grips it tighter. “I’m here to save you.” He looks around at the bleeding prince on the ground. “But you seem to be depriving me of a dashing rescue.”

Now that elicits a response. “No one save me but me.” She says it stubbornly, glaring at Walsh.

She lets him place his arms around her, pulling her close to him. “I know Swan. I know.” She collapses into him. “I’ve got you.”

At this moment the prince choses to gather some courage, “What are you doing in my castle?” He says, grabbing a weapon. “I knew you were no prince.” He seethes. “Get away from my fiancé.”

Rage surges through Killian as he strikes, knocking him on the head with the blunt end of his hook.

“Come on Swan. Let’s go home.”

It takes her a while to calm down, adrenaline keeping her tense and battle ready. She refuses to stop until they’re back on The Jolly, and already cast out to sea, and the only reason she agrees to rest at all is because he’s seen the wounds on her wrists, the dried blood on her hair.

He wants to go back and gut everyone who even thought about hurting his Swan.

She doesn’t say much as he bandages her wrists, lost in her own head, a place he himself frequented often.

“It’ll take a few days to get back to Misthaven.” He says eventually. “I’ll bring you in a bath and I have some clothes you can change into.” He offers.

She nods.

“Henry misses you.” The cat was curled up beside her, acting like it hadn’t slept since they parted. His comment gets a smile. “Are you alright love?” he presses gently. Her silence isn’t normal; it’s the shock of the last few days.

She shakes her head. “The whole kingdom thinks I’m marrying him.” She utters softly. “I was running away in the middle of my night; put a decoy in my bed. I didn’t intend to run away, but I intended to sneak out. It’s going to ruin everything.” She says exasperated. “An international crisis they’ll say. But I can’t marry him Killian, I can’t-“ He stops her, pulling her close to his chest, shushing her.

“You won’t.”

“I’ll look like I was just using him, seeing what I can get from him and dumping him, that’s not me.” He knows. Walsh has her between a rock and hard place.

“I’ll never get married; I’ll be a disappointment to my family.”

“You won’t. Your parents love you, you’re never a disappointment Swan, you’re bloody brilliant, we’ll think of a way out of this mess.” He assures her. “And until then you can rest here, recover.” He won’t let anything happen to her.

“How did you find me?” She eventually blurts out, looking up at him. Life was slowly returning to her face. It was a relief if he was being honest.

“I heard a rumor about you that couldn’t be true. I went looking for the source and I found you.” He adds.

“But we’re not…anything anymore.” She adds.

He stares at her dumbfounded. “You know why Swan.” He reminds her, “We are never going to be nothing, because since we parted, I kept my promise, every day.”

There’s tears in her eyes as she kisses him.

“I was running away.” She repeats. “To find you, to tell you…” She trails off. “But it doesn’t matter now Killian. After all the rumors, I have to go home, I have to fix things.” He kisses her back. Knowing the words she can’t say.

They were always playing with fire; they always knew they’d both be burned.

“Until the end of my day, I’ll always love you.” He whispers into her hair. “And that’s why you are going to tell the truth. Tell them a pirate took you, you never made it to Oz. Tell them after this ordeal you need to rethink your plans, your love for Walsh.” He says it bitterly and sarcastically

Emma blinks in surprise. “Killian…”

“It’ll get you out of this mess. No one will suspect anything, there will be no international crisis.” He assures her. Because Emma cared about her people, and a war on Oz for her abduction was the last thing she wanted.

“I’d have to point the finger at you, Killian, they’ll be hunting for your head; my father, Oz, everyone. You’ve been safe because no one cared to hunt the Jolly Roger, not like this, you could never come back to Misthaven…”

He knows. “But you’ll be safe. You’ll be safe from Walsh, safe to find a husband who deserves you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, but it’s the only way.”

He doesn’t expect her to start to cry, practically sobbing into his chest, he just holds her as she does, the stress of everything hitting her all at once. He tells her it’ll be ok.

She doesn’t call him out for lying.

They spend the next few days hold up in his cabin or laughing on the deck, anything they can do to forget what will happen when they make port in Arendelle. The story is that she’ll ‘escape’ there, running to her friend who will give her safe passage home.

It takes longer than it usually does; Killian is greedy, knowing this will be the last he sees of her, so he takes the long way, going around storms rather than through them.

“You should take Henry with you.” He says when they reach their destination.

“He’s your mouser.” Emma argues, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll come back for him.” He insists. “I know you’ll take care of him, and you’ll know that someday I’ll come back, for the cat of course.” He says with a wink.

“Of course.”

There’s a pause, he shifts uncertainly on his feet. He wants to kiss her, but he knows it’s goodbye.

Emma makes the decision for him, surging forward holding on to him for dear life. She kisses him like she’s drowning.

“I’m going to fix this Killian, I promise. I’m going to fix everything.” He asserts.

He knows she will, as he parts, watches her with the cat in hand, he knows that she’ll fix this, that he’ll come back to her someday.

Hopefully sooner rather than later.

#csjj #cs january joy #Captain Swan #csjj 2019 #captain duckling

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Natural Opposite: Re-post of 2/16

Many thanks to my beta, @distant-rose, as well as my artist @optomisticgirl. You can check out her chapter art here: Chapter Two I love the way she captured the craziness of Comic-Con when our OTP first meet!

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Two: Anywhere But Here

“So we’re on our way to San Diego,” Emma said into the camera, forcing a stage smile onto her face. She also used a peppier voice than she normally would. She had been dancing since she was in her early teens; she knew how to act. Yet even her decade’s worth of stage experience couldn’t mask all of her nerves. She kept gnawing on her bottom lip and rubbing her palms up and down her jeans as she glanced out the tinted windows of the limousine.

Emma looked back into the camera and chuckled. “Now I know how the celebs feel when they meet us! I have no idea what to expect.”

��I think that’s enough for now,” the camera guy told her flatly as he lowered his equipment to his lap.

Emma sagged against the leather seats in relief. One thing she would need to get used to if she wanted to win the mirror ball trophy was the constant presence of the cameras. They called it “reality television,” but this was Emma’s second show like this. She knew better. On So You Think You Can Dance, they told Elsa she didn’t seem excited enough when she came out of the auditorium with her ticket to Vegas, so they made her do it over again. On Dancing with the Stars, the pros knew to turn it on or dial up the drama whenever the cameras were present. Elsa and David had both warned her how draining it became as the season wore on. And here she was, weary on day one.

But Emma chalked it all up to this scheme of Regina’s. Since when were both the celeb and the pro in the dark? Emma had a notoriously prickly personality, and Regina knew it. This little meeting could go sideways fast. At least with Leroy, she had time to prepare herself.

The limo pulled around to the back of the convention center and parked near a door marked “security entrance.” A young woman with a lanyard around her neck with an official SDCC tag greeted Emma and the camera crew, who had already started filming again. She guided them inside and down a hallway so dark, Emma had to push her sunglasses on top of her head. The woman stopped right at a door with a star taped to it. When Emma read it, her jaw dropped, and she turned to stare in surprise at the camera crew.

“Have fun,” the woman said almost enviously as she scurried away.

Emma blinked rapidly. “This, this doesn’t make sense.”

If Regina had wanted a reaction, she was certainly getting one. The star on the door read “Cast of Neverland.” It was ABC’s biggest hit show. And actors on hit shows didn’t do Dancing With the Stars. They just didn’t. Emma’s mind raced as she approached the door. She could discount the show’s lead right off the bat. Killian Jones, who played Captain Hook, was the hottest thing in Hollywood right now. His face graced every magazine; both the legitimate ones and the tabloids. No one that popular did a show like DWTS. It would hurt their career more than help it, or at least, that was the assumption.

She thought maybe it could be Robbie Malcolm who played the show’s villain, Peter Pan. Teen actors, even popular ones, could get away with competing on the dance show, and it even helped some of their careers. But everyone knew that he had just been cast in the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie; no way did he have time to do the show. So that narrowed it down to one of the minor actors. Rufus Black, who played one of the lost boys, or maybe Christopher Rogers who played Mr. Smee. But did those minor cast members even attend Comic Con?

“Ms. Swan?” one of the crew asked tentatively.

“Right,” she said, shaking her head and turning the door knob. “Hello?” she called tentatively as the door swung open.

A raucous cheer rose up as Emma walked through the door. Of course. They knew one of their cast members was meeting his pro dancer today. Emma’s gaze traveled over the group in the green room, her eyes landing on a group of teenagers in one corner. There was Robbie Malcolm and the three actors who played the Darling children. John and Michael Darling! She had forgotten about them. Surely one of them was her partner. She took a step tentatively towards them.

“Which one of you is my partner?” Emma asked. She didn’t have to force enthusiasm this time. A partner from a hit show was a huge advantage, even if the actor was thirteen or fourteen years old.

The boys blushed and shoved one another. Robbie Malcolm clapped a hand on the younger one’s shoulder. “They wish!” he chuckled.

“I hate to disappoint you, lass, but your partner would be me.”

Emma felt the color drain from her face as she turned to face the man who owned the deep, British accent. Killian Jones sauntered towards her, looking unfairly handsome in skinny jeans and a sky blue shirt. Her first thought was that his eyes really were as blue as they looked in photographs. Then he had the audacity to wink at her. She should have known.

“I was hoping it would be you,” he said to her with a waggle of his eyebrows. And before she even knew what was happening, he took her hand, bent, and kissed it.

Before Emma remembered the cameras, she rolled her eyes and snatched her hand away. “So you’re an old-fashioned gentleman, huh?”

He smiled a dazzling smile that should have been illegal. “Oh, yes. I’m always a gentleman.”

Great. She would be spending the entire season dodging this playboy’s pick-up lines. Regina better not expect her to flirt back. The last thing Killian Jones needed was for his ego to get any bigger. Emma wasn’t one to follow celebrity gossip, but even she knew that the man had a reputation.

Emma crossed her arms and glowered at the man in front of her who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Until one of the crew cleared his throat loudly. Emma dropped her arms to her side and forced a friendlier expression on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, the young woman with the clipboard returned.

“We gotta move,” she told everyone, “your panel is starting.”

Killian turned to her with a lopsided grin and a tiny nod, “See you on stage, love.”

Emma shook her head, confused. “No, genius, we have to rehearse. Or did they not spell that out for you?”

He only grinned wider at her surliness. “They told me you were a feisty one. “ He reached out and fiddled with a lock of her hair, then leaned closer. “I know I will be in your capable hands all season, Ms. Swan. I was referring to the exclusive announcement of my dancing partner. For the fans?”

“Mr. Jones!” the woman behind them called.

He winked one last time and left her in the now empty green room, feeling completely turned upside down.

“Ms. Swan,” the woman called, “you need to come, too.”

In a daze, Emma followed the woman back down the same dark corridor. As they walked, the sound of frenzied screaming grew louder and louder. Emma and the SDCC worker caught up to the cast of Neverland, the camera crew following them. They all gathered at the bottom of a set of risers. Two of Emma’s camera guys followed the clipboard lady around the curtains so they could film from in front of the stage. The hostess of the panel discussion was whipping the crowd into a fervor, asking if they were ready three or four times. Emma rolled her eyes again.

“First up is everyone’s favorite evil teenager. The most villainous, sadistic version of Peter Pan. That’s right – it’s Robbie Malcolm!”

Fans cheered loudly, several teenage girls screaming, “I love you!” at the top of their lungs. Rose Moore, who played Tinkerbell, was announced next. Then the hostess really laid it on thick.

“And now, the man who brings the house down every year. Everyone’s favorite pirate. The devilishly handsome KILLIAN JONES!!!!”

Emma watched him jog lithely up the riser steps and wave to the crowd as he found his place beside Rose. At least he’s coordinated, she thought wryly. The rest of the cast was announced (Emma vaguely wondered if it hurt their feelings that they didn’t get as many rousing cheers as the first three), and then the hostess started asking questions collected on twitter. Emma had never actually watched the show, so she couldn’t really follow everything and quickly got bored. It was the story of Peter Pan turned on its head, that was all she knew. Hook was the hero while Pan was the villain. And Tinkerbell was Hook’s love interest. Emma would have to be living under a rock not to know that. “Captain Fairy” shippers went insane over the fictional couple.

“Killian, I have to ask,” a breathless fan asked from a microphone set up at the back of the ballroom, “are you and Rose a couple in real life? You have such amazing chemistry.”

This was something else a person would have to live under rock not to know. The two actors were constantly posting selfies from set and hitting the night life together around LA. Emma craned her neck to see Killian Jones’s answer.

“We do have chemistry,” he said, turning to Rose and lifting her hand for a kiss just as he had done with Emma earlier, “but alas, we are just friends.”

Emma rolled her eyes again. The man was full of it!

“Speaking of chemistry,” the hostess segued, “I heard a rumor that you’re going to need some on the dance floor, Killian?”

The crowd obviously didn’t get it yet, although there was a wave of excited whispers.

“That’s right,” Killian said, leaning into his microphone, “I will be doing the next season of Dancing With the Stars.”

The audience went absolutely wild with the news, and it took the hostess a few moments to calm them down. “Wow, that’s exciting,” she enthused, “and do you know yet who your partner will be?”

“Yes, I do,” Killian replied, flashing that dazzling smile of his, “as a matter of fact, she’s right back stage.”

Emma started fidgeting with nervousness as the crowd once again went wild. She wasn’t a very big name yet on DWTS. Elsa would have been an exciting partner, or Ruby, or Ariel. But Emma? She hoped the crowd wouldn’t be too disappointed when she made her appearance.

“You guys want to meet her?” the hostess asked, practically bouncing with excitement. The crowd cheered in the affirmative. “Okay, then, let’s bring her out!”

Emma was almost blinded by the flashbulbs going off when she walked on stage. She managed to smile and wave despite the spots dancing before her eyes. The panel hostess yelled her name over the raucous cheers of the crowd. The sound relieved Emma even as it pounded in her ears. Killian rose from his chair, and Emma accepted his friendly hug with an equally friendly smile. Killian then took a step back and bowed to her.

“Shall we dance?”

If the cheers from the crowd were deafening before, they were about to burst her eardrums now. She played along, tilting her chin and smiling down at Killian flirtatiously as she accepted his hand. She may have botched their initial meeting, but Regina would eat up her performance now. Killian placed his other hand at her waist when he rose. Emma took a mental note of all the things she needed to fix about his frame, but she kept the smile plastered on her face. The crowd was chanting, “waltz! waltz! waltz!” She could only guess it had something to do with the show.

Killian turned to the audience, “She’s a pro, so I don’t need to tell her the one rule, do I?”

The audience chanted back almost in perfect unison, “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing!”

Killian began a simple box step, and Emma was pleasantly surprised at how he led her around the tight stage. He had at least learned the basics of a waltz on Neverland. Maybe this partnership wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But then he pulled her close, and Emma almost gave a small shout of surprise. The audience hooted. Then Killian Jones dipped her.

Smirking down at her, he said, “I’m ready to get whipped into shape, pro. Don’t be afraid to, you know,” here he winked, “really get into it.”

Emma took it back. She was going to kill Regina.

#csbb #csbb fic #csbb 2018 #cs ff #dancing with the stars au #modern au #enemies to friends to lovers #natural opposite #searching wardrobes

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