#‘wet cat’ is just one of my favorite descriptors for a person

[cellgatinbo]

cellbit pointed out richarlyson’s white hair in the fanart, so richas turned it back on him with a “look who’s talking.” (about the white streak)

so of course cellbit got all dramatic about his kidnapping and the trauma and cried on the stairs like a wet cat

[motleystitches]

Guardian  鎮魂 (Chap 49) ..

...in which I translate my favorite chapter when Yunlan the badboy detective/reincarnated god(he doesn’t know yet) reveals how much he loves his fair professor/deadly soulless creature. This translation is based on how I would read it English (or close enough) so there are words that I emphasize that the Wattpad translation don’t and vice versa.

For example, there’s a phrase that translates literally to ‘brows and eyes like a painting’ which sounds very odd to me in English. Since the phrase conveys a literary descriptor of ethereal beauty, “pretty as a picture” wouldn’t do either so I’ve gone with ‘fair’ which Tolkien uses for elves quite often and occasionally for exceptional mortals. I considered “pulchritudinous” as well, but the Chinese phrase isn’t that obscure.

Zhao Yunlan was in a curious state of mind. 

He did drink too much and wasn’t walking steadily but after throwing up and a nap, the effects of alcohol were fading.

It was just that Chu Chuzi said that he was drunk and disorientated, so he played along and pretended he was completely drunk, and was only half-pretending that he was dead asleep.

Shen Wei had came upstairs to pick him up but he had left the engine running to keep the air on. Zhao Yunlan felt it when he got in the car.

Shen Wei sat down and pushed him gently. “Stay awake, sleep when you’re home. You’ll catch a chill outside.”

Zhao Yunlan played dead.

He heard a sign from the man beside him. Shen Wei couldn’t wake him so he bent down to buckle the seat belt, bringing the two close enough that Zhao Yunlan could smell Shen Wei; different from the winter Wraith Slayer brought with him, he had the soapy scent of the newly washed clothes- the Wraith Slayer stripped of the guise that both men and ghosts feared was a man of incongruous clean grace. (Note: the literal translation is that the man inside is so clean and soft, but ‘soft’ hear is more like..genteel- a good feminine descriptor of comfort, which is meant to contrast against the blood and violence in being a Lord of Abominations)

Then Shen Wei took out a bottle of mineral water and poured some of it into a small cup, he swirled the cup twice in his hand until steam covered what would’ve been cold water. He moved the cup beneath Zhao Yunlan’s mouth. “At least take a sip.” (Note: TV’s “rewarming porridge scene”)

Zhao Yunlan opened his eyes slightly. In the darkness of the car the only light seemed to be from Shen Wei’s eyes, just bright enough that they were neither grim nor burning.

Zhao Yunlan’s heart thumped once, hard. He pressed close and drank the entire cupful by Shen Wei’s hand. Then Shen Wei found a blanket from beneath the seat and covered him snugly before turning up the air. Only then did he start driving.

Zhao Yunlan leaned against the seat. His eyes were closed but his mind was clear...it had been a very long time since he had been so warm in such a cold night.

In the half month since they returned from the snowy mountain, he hadn’t contacted Shen Wei.  

Nevertheless, harassing him regularly and constantly noticing his likes had become Zhao Yunlan’s habit. And breaking a habit was painful. He had been living harder than usual with the excuse that it was the end of the year. But though man is a social animal, over-socialization was tiring. 

It was more difficult to appear alone if there was no expectation to be dapper and polished. 

There had always been men and women. When he was feeling like it, keeping a number of flirtations going gave him a sense of self-satisfaction, but ever since he cut off contact with Shen Wei, Zhao Yunlan couldn’t help but compare all others against Shen Wei with the consequence that his interest would fade because no one else had the same scholarly air so worthy of savoring, no one else had such a fair face.

Zhao Yunlan felt as if he had become a monk overnight. One day over dinner, they had invited a young model through an agency, but even she couldn’t arouse his interest- and with Da Qing as witness, for a while he had rather lewdly used that model’s swimsuit picture as his desktop. 

And every time he became so drunk as to forget the day and month, he would remember the time his stomach hurt but got his way to keep Shen Wei with him at home for half the day.

They watched movies, sometimes talked, and in the middle when the movie got boring, he flipped open half-read files and resumed reading. Each to his own, neither one bothered the other, and Shen Wei would shove a pillow behind his back. (Note: the pillow scene in the car in the show has a reference!)

That had always been the life he secretly wanted-- no complaints about being terse, no nagging, no demands- today a movie, tomorrow some flowers, they didn’t bother each other, but weren’t cold and aloof...but more as if they should’ve been living together in their own kingdom all along. 

Zhao Yunlan was old enough, his intellectual and emotional intelligence was evenly developed, generally speaking, and he was also self-aware, so of course he knew that when a man didn’t see the tiny waist, the long legs, and the shapely butt of another person, and instead saw the desire for a peaceful home, then it was no longer lust.

If not for this, he would’ve made a joke with the Wraith Slayer and that would’ve been the end to it. 

But he didn’t want to.

Every time Zhao Yunlan remembered the snowy mountain, that poor little shack, the pair of eyes that met his in the middle of the night, he thought if things were just to “end”, he would regret it for the rest of his life. 

Zhao Yunlan’s pigsty of a home wasn’t far from No. 4 Guang Ming Road so he hadn’t quite struggled through his complicated emotions before the trip ended. Shen Wei helped him all the way through the door, took off his jacket before hanging it up, moved him to the bed, then turned to the bathroom to find a wet towel. 

Though Zhao Yunlan looked like he was completely wasted, Shen Wei remained extremely polite. He only carefully rubbed down Zhao Yunlan’s face, hands and feet, and didn’t veer to touch anywhere else. Shen Wei pulled the coverlet over him, put the towel aside, and tidied up out of habit, putting the trash near the door with a plan to take it out when he leaves. He also picked up the clothes thrown all over the floor and put them all in the dry-cleaning bag Zhao Yunlan had abandoned near the door. He put a note on it to remind him to get it to the cleaners the next day.

He was so detailed he took away the half-glass of water left on the bedside drawers, just so that Zhao Yunlan wouldn’t knock it over in the middle of the night.

Zhao Yunlan listened to the other man tiptoeing around room, the susurrus of him tidying up, but the problem inside his heart remain knotted and was becoming knottier.

Shen Wei cared for him, Zhao Yunlan could feel it. Throughout his life, except for his parents, everyone else wanted something from him, or relied on him, no one had ever truly cared.

....oh Da Qing didn’t count, he was a sh*tty grump fat cat. 

After Shen Wei finished, he realised that Zhao Yunlan, who had peered at him before seemed to be now asleep. He wasn’t moving. 

He seemed so peaceful. Shen Wei hesitated, but couldn’t bring himself to leave. He stood beside the bed and looked at Zhao Yunlan greedily.

“F-ck!” Yunlan, who was pretending to be asleep, was finding it intolerable. “Please stop staring, if you are going, just go. This is killing me.” 

But the Wraith Slayer didn’t hear his thoughts and god didn’t hear his thoughts. After a few moments, like a man in a trance, Shen Wei bent down carefully, close to Zhao Yunlan, until he could feel his breath on his face.

Sheer willpower kept Zhao Yunlan motionless as a corpse. And yet he felt very clearly that this state of being wouldn’t last very long. 

At this time, Shen Wei finally couldn’t bear it, his arms propped beside Yunlan, he touched Zhao Yunlan’s lips lightly, a whisper of a touch, gone as it was there. He closed his eyes, as if the short contact provided him immense succor. His flesh shuddered with thunderous heartbeat so there was a moment, Shen Wei thought he was actually human. He had stolen a kiss from his beloved under dimmed lights; joy and sweetness welled up in his heart. He wouldn’t complain if he was to die now.

Yunlan’s mind was suddenly blank.

His temper, hanging by a thread that was increasing in tension, finally snapped. Zhao Yunlan’s alcohol fueled brain thought very clearly: “Wraith Slayer? So what if he is the Wraith Slayer? What I like is mine. F*ck everything else!” 

So the “dead asleep” Yunlan suddenly reached out and caught Shen Wei. Shen Wei, surprised, found himself falling. Then Yunlan turned over and was pressed half over him. 

There was still alcohol in Zhao Yunlan’s breath, but his eyes were clear. He met Shen Wei’s eyes and asked softly, “What are you doing, your eminence?”

Shen Wei opened his mouth but no sound came out, too awkward too answer. 

Zhao Yunlan looked at him for a moment, an indecipherable expression in his eyes, then suddenly reached up and softly squeezed Shen Wei’s chin. “I always thought your eminence a gentlemen. Who knew you kiss secretly in the middle of the night, and such an unprofessional kiss, too.”

Then Shen Wei heard his muffled laughter.

Until Zhao Yunlan kissed him, Shen Wei remained stunned. He thought he was in a ridiculous and marvelous dream. Helpless, he embraced Zhao Yunlan’s body. (note: yes, it does read ‘his body’, not just the name)

That man’s kiss was skilled, sensual and tantalizing, and minimum effort was enough was to render Wei weak and confused, utterly vanquished.

Then Zhao Yunlan lifted himself up slightly. The two were most touching noses. Shen Wei heard Yunlan say softly: “Professional standards would at least be like this.”

Wei was speechless.

Two buttons of Yunlan’s collar were undone, exposing the long graceful arc of his collarbone, sending off traces of cologne. A whiff stoppered all of Shen Wei’s words. He couldn’t tell who was the one inebriated.

Zhao Yunlan sighed and reached out to brush aside the messy fringe on Shen Wei’s  forehead. “Let me ask you something. You’ve been hiding from me for a while but refused to stay hidden, was it because you knew me from a long long time ago and wronged me, or are you worried that man and ghoul do not share the same destiny?”

Shen Wei, shocked, became alert. He pushed him away and sat up. The flush on his face faded and the hands by his side tightened.

Zhao Yunlan moved sideways, half-leaned against the bed, and pulled at Shen Wei’s hand, opening up his fist a little at a time. “You always fight with yourself. If it’s the first reason, then I’m saying this now, whatever happened, there’s no debt between us. If you don’t mention it, I won’t remember. As for the second....isn’t the second reason a moot point? Even a living person will die.....maybe one day I-”

Shen Wei covered his mouth.

They looked at each other for a while but finally Shen Wei slowly shook his head.

Zhao Yunlan sighed and got out of the bed. He seemed clear-headed and articulate, so who knew his step would be so unsteady. He sat down hard on the floor. He held his head in his hands and complained. “F-ck, ten bees are buzzing in front of me.”

Shen Wei came to help him up. “I thought you aren’t drunk. Are you hurt?”

Zhao Yunlan’s was in that curious state of consciousness where he could think logically but could not walk in a straight line, otherwise he wouldn’t have had the courage to be so frank.

He shook his head, crouched down and pulled out the drawer from the bedside table, he drew out a plastic file folder from the bottom and dropped it in front of Wei. “Open it.”

Shen Wei hesitated, but he opened it and found a deed tucked inside, a single family home with a yard near Dragon City College’s college road…a substantially large investment, no wonder Zhao Yunlan seemed so poor recently.

Zhao Yunlan stopped smiling and leaned against the bedside drawer, stretching out his legs in front. He raised his head and took out a cigarette from his pocket.

He remained silent for the length of a cigarette before speaking, voice low. “I had the deed transferred before we went to the Snowy Mountain. Originally I was thinking, commute would be easy there, it’s quite a nice neighborhood, and it happens to be next to Dragon College, if you were willing to move in with me, then you wouldn’t have to drive to work. You could even get up later. Next year, I’ll try to transfer the SID over as well. The house is quite big, likely too big for two people, but then you can keep a large study. You would be able to bring students home and I could invite friends over....I thought of having a big stupid dog as well, and occasionally get it to fight with Da Qing, like a Cat vs. Dog New Years movie....”

Shen Wei’s hand couldn’t help shaking. The plastic folder rustled. 

Zhao Yunlan laughed quietly. “Who knew after trip from the Great Northwest, I would discover that it’s for Your Eminence-- you can move from east to west side of the city in the blink of an eye. Why would you need to drive? To get up early? I wouldn’t have bothered had I known. Now I almost don’t have enough for New Years because of that poor little place.” (Note: ;_; )

Shen Wei lowered his head and met his eyes and only thought that man had always looked at him that way. Without the teasing, only deep affection remained, just a fleeting piece captured was enough to drown a man.  (note: this is a mixed metaphor in Chinese as well)

Wei thought he was splitting in two. Half of him was so happy that he could fly, but the other half was sunk deep beneath the waters of the underworld. For a moment, he thought he was going mad.

Millenia of solitude had not driven him insane, but two sentences from that man, casually spoken, was enough to stir his emotions to a storm. 

No wonder the sages say:  with love the living may die and the dead can live. only when love is not enough, the living cannot be with the dead and dead cannot live. 

Yet with the soul in disarray, who knew the hour or the year?

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

CS AU Week 2017: Day 4 - Favorite Tropes AU

Emma Swan is a crusty twice divorced bailsbond person who is a lone wolf by nature, excluding the company of her seven-year old son, of course. Her occasional companion of choice is a Seattle detective who is also a divorcee and an ex-military guy who got his hand blown off on some super secret Black Op mission in Afghanistan. Killian Jones is nearly as crusty as Emma and a closet sci-fi nerd who never fails to help Emma with a difficult skip or babysit her son last minute. There’s always been an unspoken attraction between them that’s held back by their memory of their failed marriages.

Tropes Included: partners-in-crime, bedsharing, UST, friends to lovers, living in the same building, wearing each other’s clothes and drunk kissing in the goddamn rain

As a general rule Emma Swan was a lone wolf, but whether she felt the need for assistance or human companionship, she often turned to Killian Jones. As a plain clothes detective in the Seattle Police Department with a military background, Killian made a natural ally considering Emma’s work as a bounty hunter; often contributing to the capture and pick up of the human trash Emma dealt with on a daily basis. It didn’t hurt that he also lived three doors down from her apartment, was a decent drinking buddy and was generally pleasant to look at. (Emma would neither confirm or deny that she made a sport of looking at his ass when he wasn’t looking. If the man didn’t want to be ogled, he shouldn’t wear such tight jeans.)

So, when Emma was handed a file of a skip with a profile that would have reasonably been used to describe the Incredible Hulk and a habit hiding out with his sister in Bandon, she didn’t think twice before asking Killian to participate in a weekend road trip/stakeout.

“If you wanted to go on a date, Swan, there are better ways to go about it,” he teased when she asked, taking a bite out of the double meat Italian sub she had bought him for lunch as a thinly veiled form of bribery.

“Please, that is never going to happen,” Emma scoffed, pushing his paperwork over onto his keyboard so she could sit on top of his desk.

“Famous last words,” he smirked, blue eyes dancing with mischief.

“Nope. Never. I couldn’t date you. You’re a pretty boy and you know it. I couldn’t stand living with that ego. I can barely handle it over three beers,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Killian shot back. “You’ve lasted five beers and a Lord of the Rings marathon. No point in denying it, Swan. There’s still video evidence on my phone.”

Emma couldn’t help it, she let out a laugh. She always had fun with Killian, particularly because they had a good banter going. Killian seemed to have the same dry wit and dark humor as her. Their rapport had a bit of flirtatious element to it, but it was relatively harmless. It never went beyond a few lines and mock confessions of love, but Emma would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about it. You would have to be dead not to.

“Okay, okay. I can last five beers and four hours as long as there’s Orlando Bloom making weird faces in the background to distract me,” Emma scoffed, lifting her hands up in exasperation. “But for real, I’ve sworn off men. And women. I’ve decided that I’m going to be a crazy dog lady.”

“When did you decide this, love?” Killian asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“When I got divorced for the second time,” she replied casually.

Killian nodded as if he understood, which wasn’t surprising because she knew he did. Like herself, Killian was a divorcee; his former wife Milah had left him while he was still doing military service, not long before his hand had been blown off on some mission in Afghanistan. It was one of the things that bonded them aside from their love for fantasy and science fiction movies.

“Divorce has a tendency to do that. I would sing about losing that loving feeling Righteous Brothers style, but I’ve seen the amount of damage you can do when with just a hot cup of coffee,” Killian chuckled.

“Damn right, buster,” Emma smirked, bringing the aforementioned cup of coffee to her lips.

He had said it jokingly, but there was an incident in their past where Emma had used her coffee as a weapon when she had been unexpectedly surprised by a skip at a Starbucks. It had been surprisingly effective, however neither the police department nor the skip’s publicly appointed lawyer were impressed with the second-degree burns she had left behind. Though the incident had led to Killian complimenting her Macgyver-like tendencies of trying mundane daily life things into weapons.

Killian shook his head, leaning back in his seat and appraising her. “And I suppose there are worse things in the world to be than a crazy dog lady. You could be a crazy cat lady.”

“Yeah, no thank you,” Emma replied, making a small gagging noise. “I would die if I lived in a house that smelled of cat piss.”

“Quite right, Swan,” Killian laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between them as Killian dug into his sub and Emma sipped on her coffee. One of the things she loved about Killian was that he never felt the need to fill the quiet with unnecessary chatter.

“You’re a lucky woman, Swan,” Killian said as he finished the rest of the Italian sub. “I do have the weekend off, so I do have time to help you with your hunt for…the Incredible Hulk?”

“Just wait until you see the file then you won’t be questioning the nickname,” Emma replied, somewhat defensively. “The asshole looks like Lou Ferrigno.”

“Oh, you’re talking old school Hulk,” Killian nodded in realization. “I was thinking about the new one.”

Emma gave him a look like he had grown three heads.

“I wouldn’t be bothering you if he looked like Mark Ruffalo,” she scoffed. “Besides, if he looked like that, he wouldn’t have been able to put a cop through a window let alone attempt to lift an entirely filled safe out of a jewelry store.”

“For real? And Regina paid for his bail!?” Killian asked in disbelief.

Emma shrugged.

“I don’t make the decisions. I just pick up the trash regardless of how big. He might be big, but he’s a fucking idiot. Besides, this guy is like worth like $2,000 and Mama needs to pay rent and pay for some car repairs.”

“Maybe you should just buy a new car,” Killian replied with an arch of his eyebrow.

Emma scowled at him. He was constantly dissing her yellow bug. She loved that thing. It refused to die.

“I’m not responding to that slanderous suggestion,” Emma said, crossing arms in front of her chest.

“You kinda just did, love,” Killian snorted.

“That was an acknowledgement, not a response,” she argued.

“Whatever you say, counselor. I didn’t realize I was dealing with a lawyer, instead of a bailsbonds agent,” he chuckled.

Emma gave him a half-hearted swat as she hopped off his desk. Killian feigned injury, letting out an exaggerated “ouch” as she smacked him but his huge grin made it more than clear that he wasn’t really hurt.

“Quit being a baby,” she scolded. “I’ll see you Friday night. Seven sound good?”

“Eight might be best, love. I get off at seven and I’ll need a mo to shower, shit and shave,” Killian responded, chuckling.

Emma pulled a face.

“That’s more than I needed to know,” she responded, fishing out the keys to the bug.

“I’ve picked up your kid’s vomit, Swan, I can say whatever I want.”

The next time Emma saw Killian that week, it was to pick him up from his apartment. He came out the door before she even had the chance to knock. It’s fairly obvious that Killian’s just showered; his hair was still wet, dark strands plastered against his forehead while his black jeans and shirt clung to him in a fashion that told Emma he barely had time to towel off. (She wasn’t complaining.) He carried only an army duffle over his shoulder.

They made idle chatter as they walked towards Emma’s car.

“Where’s Henry this weekend?” he asked casually.

“With my brother and resenting every second of it,” Emma replied with a sigh.

“I thought David and Henry got on,” Killian frowned.

“They do, but everything is all about the baby lately so as you can imagine, my seven-year old isn’t so interested. Plus, he was really intent on joining me this weekend on this stake out. He doesn’t seem to get that my job isn’t as glamorous as the TV makes it out to be,” Emma sighed.

“Maybe you should let him ride along at least once, so he realizes that,” Killian advised.

Emma glared at him.

“I’m not taking my son with me when I’m taking down possible rapists, murderers and scumbags, Killian. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not suggesting you do,” he responded with a roll of his eyes. “I meant taking him on the more boring ones, you know, like your tax evaders and absentee dads that don’t pay child support.”

Emma continued to glare him, not bothering to respond. She climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The last example hit a little too close to home, bringing to mind her first husband Neal, who originally identified himself as an antique collector when they first met. The descriptor wasn’t necessarily a lie, but Neal’s choice of collection was a little less than legal and he had tried to take her down with him in hopes of a lesser prison sentence towards the end of their marriage. The three months after he got out of prison, he went AWOL and currently owed Emma $12,850 in child support; not that she expected to ever see a cent of it.

Their four-hour drive to Bandon was less tense as they move to lighter conversations like their disappointment in Peter Jackson’s adaptation of The Hobbit and whether or not they considered Deep Space Nine to be a rip off of Babylon Five or not. Despite their easy rapport, they’re bone tired by the time they reach their destination and roll into the nearest motel they could find with a vacancy sign. Emma was dead on her feet when she went to the reception desk. Killian was even worn out, leaning against Emma’s side as she approached the desk.

“Two doubles,” she asked, stifling a yawn.

The moment the old woman behind the desk gave her a sympathetic look, Emma knew something was wrong.

“I’m sorry, young lady, but all I have left is a room and that’s with a single queen. It’s wedding season, you see, and I’m nearly all booked up,” she informed her.

“Wedding season,” Emma repeated, blinking.

“Wedding season,” she affirmed. “All those young kids don’t want to get married in a church anymore. They all want seashore weddings. So, like I said, I’ve got a room with just a queen and I’m willing to give you a discount. Ten percent for the inconvenience.”

Emma glanced in Killian’s direction. His eyelids were drooping and he didn’t seem to be understanding what the old woman was saying, not that Emma blamed him. He just got off a long shift, which was followed by a long drive no matter how entertaining the company was.

“What are you thinking, Kil?” she asked gently.

“That I just want to sleep, Swan and it’s one in the morning and I don’t care if I have to bunk on the floor. Slept in worse conditions, remember?” he muttered against her shoulder.

Emma sighed. She wasn’t necessarily comfortable with the idea of Killian sleeping on the floor, especially since he was doing her a favor. However, she was exhausted and didn’t feel like driving any more if she didn’t have to.

“We’ll take it,” Emma replied.

The room they get was tired and in desperate need of a remodel. The bed didn’t look too terrible but the rug was positively disgusting, patched with suspicious dark stains. There was no way that Emma could let him sleep on the floor in good conscience. She didn’t care if he was used to sleeping in dirt holes from his time in the Middle East, he was now back in the States and deserved to sleep in a bed.

“No,” she said aloud in a firm tone.

Killian looked at her in bleary eyed confusion.

“No?” he echoed questioningly.

“There is no way I’m letting you sleep on that floor, Killian Brennan Jones,” Emma stated, placing her hands on her hips.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Emma,” Killian replied, irritation in his tone.

“Better me than you,” she replied.

“Emma, you paid for the room and I know you hate the argument, but I’m a gentleman, love, and there’s no way I’m letting a lady sleep on the floor,” he argued.

“I’m hardly a lady and Killian, it’s your weekend off and you’re spending it with me,” Emma shot back, frustration coloring her tone.

“I was going to spend it with you anyway,” he scoffed. “But the point still stands that I refuse to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Then we’ll just have to share then,” she snapped without thinking.

Killian looked her in bewilderment, jaw dropping slightly.

“Share?” he repeated. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“It’s a queen size bed so it’s not like we’d be on top of each other,” Emma reasoned. “I mean, we’re both adults here. What? You think just because I’m sharing a bed with you that it will automatically lead to sex? News flash, Jones, you might be attractive, but you’re not so attractive that I’m just going to start molesting you the second we hit the sheets. Get over yourself.”

Killian’s jaw clenched and Emma watched as a muscle jumped. He was as pissed off as a man could be when he was bone tired. She knew in any other situation that this would have blown into a fight of epic proportions, but neither of them had the energy to put the effort in.

“Fine,” he replied tightly, grabbing his pack and heading towards the bathroom. Emma nearly jumped when the door slammed angrily behind him.

Emma took advantage of his absence, changing into a pair of candy cane stripped pajama bottoms and an Army shirt that had once been Killian’s, but had long since been pilfered by Emma and become a permanent resident in her closet. She hopped on the bed, choosing the side closest to the nightstand rather than the door. Killian emerged from the bathroom not to long after, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and a shirt advertising Mills’ Bailbonds. Emma quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Nice t-shirt there, Jones,” she replied, biting her lip to hide her smirk.

Killian blinked before glancing down at his shirt as if just realizing which one he was wearing. He gave a shrug then realized that Emma was wearing something of his own collection.

“Same to you, Swan,” he nodded, all the fire and frustration from before erased.

He hopped onto his side of the bed without further comment, immediately seeking refuge under the covers and turning with his back facing her. Emma understood the sentiment and unfolded her own side, ready to go to sleep herself.

“Mind turning down the light, Swan?” Killian asked gently.

“Sure,” Emma replied, leaning up to turn off all the lights before snuggling into the sheets. There’s a reasonable amount of room between them without her feeling she’s hanging to the edge of the bed.

“Night, Swan,” Killian muttered so quietly that Emma almost didn’t hear him.

“Night Kil,” she murmured back, nuzzling her pillow.

Emma was tired enough that she didn’t remember falling asleep. She would, however, never forget waking up. Somehow over the course of the night, they both had gravitated towards the middle of the bed. Emma awoke the next morning, warm despite the fact both she and Killian had kicked the sheets to the bottom of the bed. Killian had molded himself against her back, seeking the warmth of her body underneath her shirt. She was somewhat mortified to note that his hands on curled itself around her breast and both of their legs were tangled together. Killian was still asleep, his even breaths puffing against the base of her neck, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She immediately removed herself from the situation as carefully as she could, ignoring the hammering of her heart. Killian let out a small whine of protest, but didn’t wake. Feeling slightly bad, she gathered the neglected sheets and covered him, in hopes of keeping him asleep just awhile longer. He deserved it.

Emma gave the ancient alarm clock a quick glance. It was roughly eight in the morning and she wanted to stake out the sister’s house by nine-thirty. She could take a shower and get dressed at her leisure. If Killian was sleeping when she was done, she would give him a jostle and some space while she got some coffee. Satisfied with her plan, Emma went to work and tried to ignore the events of the morning.

As she predicted, Killian was still asleep when she was done getting dressed. He wasn’t particularly pleased to be woken up, but she had mollified him with the promise of coffee. There was a Starbucks not too far from where their motel, located on Virginia Ave. She ordered herself a large iced caramel macchiato and a large dark roast coffee with a shot of espresso for Killian. After a near three years of friendship, she knew his coffee order by heart, not that it was a particularly hard one to remember.

When she arrived back at the hotel, Killian was dressed albeit still on the sleepy side. He had a tendency to be barely coherent and irritable without his coffee, so before he even said a word she shoved his dark roast in his hands without comment. He raised the to-go cup in silent thanks before taking a sip.

The majority of their day was rather uneventful. They sat in Emma’s yellow bug two blocks from her skip’s sister’s house the entire morning and mid-afternoon without so much of a hint of movement. When it came around to four-thirty, they got a bit testy with each other.

“We haven’t seen a lick of anyone. You sure, they’re home, Swan?” Killian asked, drumming his fingers against the dashboard.

“Her car is parked in the driveway,” she replied flatly.

“Doesn’t mean she’s home or he’s here,” he responded, raising his eyebrows.

“I know, but I have a feeling in my gut.”

If it were possible, Killian’s eyebrows would have risen past his hairline.

“We’ve been sitting here for the past six hours based on a feeling in your gut?” he asked incredulously.

Emma gave him an annoyed look.

“You’ve always trusted my gut before,” she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Yeah, but before now, your gut hadn’t gotten me leg cramps from being awkwardly folded up in your small ass car.”

“Don’t insult my bug,” Emma snapped, pointing a finger in his face.

“Your bug is an old rust bucket in dire need of being replaced, love,” Killian replied matter-of-factly.

Emma was about to yell at him when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. As if he had sensed their argument, Emma’s skip of the week emerged from the barely there raised ranch, tossing a pair of keys leisurely into the air.

“Son of a bitch,” Killian muttered, pulling out his gun.

“I told you he was here,” Emma replied smugly as she pulled out her taser.

Killian gave no verbal reply, but rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the car. Emma followed in suit, quietly snickering to herself. As could be imagined, Emma’s skip was not happy to see them and immediately tried to bolt, only pausing when Killian fired a warning shot. When the asshole thought it was a cute idea to try and charge them, Emma hit him with her taser. It took two jolts to take him down, but all in all it wasn’t the worst take down in Emma’s experience. The only thing that royally sucked about it was that it took nearly two hours to fill out all the necessary paper work in order for Emma’s bounty to be processed properly. By the time, they left the station, it was nearly eight-thirty at night and neither was in the mood for a long drive.

“Want to find a new hotel so you can have your own bed?” Emma asked lightly.

Killian made a noncommittal grunt.

“That wasn’t answer,” Emma said, raising her eyebrow.

“I don’t see the point. We’re not paying that much at the place we’re at now and it’s not like last night was a complete disaster. Like you said, Swan, it’s not like you molested me once we hit the sheets.”

Emma bit back the snarky reply about him molesting her in his sleep that was laying on the tip of her tongue. She refrained however because she was pretty sure Killian wasn’t aware of what had happened and she didn’t feel like hashing out that can of worms.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian replied, clapping her on the back. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

They ended up at a small bar across the street from the motel they were staying at. As with how things usually were with Killian and Emma, they stayed for more than a drink. They drained three beers each and shared a plate of onion rings. Killian insisted on paying the bill since Emma was paying for the motel room, but she refused to let him pay the tip and threw ten dollars on the table while ignoring the disapproval in his gaze. Emma couldn’t bring herself to care too much however, she was feeling slightly buzzed and giggly.

They were halfway to the motel when the heavens decided to open up and a heavy rain fell. Emma let out a loud shriek of surprise and immediately jumped to Killian’s side for warmth. He grumbled in irritation, taking off his leather jacket and hauling over their bodies in a haphazard way of shielding them from the sudden shower.

“Get a little closer, love, or you’re going to get drenched,” Killian grumbled, pulling her towards him.

Emma let out a shuddered breath as his fingers unknowingly brushed against her breast, bringing back thoughts of this morning. He immediately caught the sound however as his eyes zeroed in on her lips and held their gaze there longer than was entirely appropriate for platonic friends; not that Emma had much of a leg to stand on, she had been unabashedly checking him out for the past three years.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his hold growing tighter.

When he spoke, she couldn’t help but focus on his mouth. It was only fair that she got to look as well. Unconsciously, she licked the corner of lips and despite her near hyper focus on the lower half of his face, she caught his eyes zeroing in on the action.

What happened next was an impulsive decision on Emma’s part that was no doubt fueled by a combination of liquid courage and her long-held desire to resolve the sexual tension that had been lingering between them ever since she found him teaching her son how to play air hockey. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and immediately tugged him down for a hard and unyielding kiss. Their teeth clashed together, the angle was more than a little awkward and Emma was pretty sure her lip was split from the roughness of her actions, but that didn’t seem to matter. Killian immediately dropped his jacket, letting it plop wetly onto the cement as his arms curled around her back in a vice grip to pull her closer.

She broke a way for a moment to take a quick breath before diving back in for another kiss. Killian let out a pleased noise from the back of his throat that Emma was pretty sure she wanted to hear on repeat for the rest of her life. She awarded him with affectionate nip of his lower lip before deepening the kiss. If she had been soberer, she would have been a bit mortified with how liberal she was being with her hands.

Emma made a noise that sounded embarrassingly like a whine when he pulled away. However, embarrassment soon turned to pride when she realized how heavy he was breathing.

“Emma…” he whispered. “Please tell me you’re not drunk.”

“I had only three beers,” she scoffed. “You know as well as I do that it takes more than three beers to knock me on my ass.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, though the sound was a bit strangled. “I…I just don’t want this to be a mistake.”

“This isn’t a mistake,” she whispered. “This…this is long overdue.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she laughed.

Killian laughed as well before hauling her over his shoulder and marching determinedly back to their hotel room, leaving his leather jacket behind in the rain without much thought as he made his single-minded trek. Emma let out a peel of laughter, pounding her fists against his back half-heartedly.

“What are you doing!? Put me down!” Her demands lost held no heat as she couldn’t stop giggling.

“Doing something I should have done a long time ago,” Killian replied. “And I’m not wasting any more time than I already have.”

When they finally got to their room, he immediately pressed her against the door and lifted her drenched shirt over her head, flipping it across the room without much thought. After such a caveman-like display, Emma had expected him to be rough but she was surprised by the softness of the kiss he placed on her lips.

“This is okay, right?” he murmured quietly.

“It’s more than okay,” she said, her hands absently soothing over his back as she rose on her toes to silence him with a kiss.

The next morning, she awoke in the same fashion she had the previous one with Killian pressed up against her back, his breath curling on the base of her neck and his hand on her breast. However, incident was a bit as it also involved a lot less clothing than the day before and there was a pleasant ache between her thighs and more than a few love bites on Killian’s neck. Instead of removing herself from the situation, she merely cuddled closer and went back to sleep.