#and his beard is oxidised brass

[saym0-0]

Hello Drumbot Community

[artistic-writer]

Fairytale of New York :: A Captain Swan Fanfic :: Chapter 3

Notes: A very special thanks to @welllpthisishappening for giving this a look over and listening to me rant about mor eidea for more fics! ( and for loving my quick fanart concepts too! <3)  So kind of her to offer and i hope she really enjoys reading this as much as i enjoy writing it for you guys!  Don’t forget to like and reblog to all your CS pals, and subscribe to me on AO3 :D

Overall Summary: An AU elsewhere fic based in New York. Emma Swan and her best friend Mary Margaret “Snow” Blanchard are ready for a change. After Mary Margaret gets offered a new job at a school in Manhatten, Emma decides to go with her. She takes a job in a traditional, mom and pop diner called Granny’s and soon both of them are finding love in the most unlikely of places.

Chapter Summary: The one in which we meet Killian Jones.

Rating: T (for now and it will eventually be E)

Word Count:  3479

AO3 [chapter 1] - [chapter 2] - [Chapter 3]

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A short walk from their apartment building was a quaint little diner called Granny's and Emma had successfully passed the first stage of the interview process.  Being from out of town the owners had decided to give her a trail shift based on her experience and so Emma had headed over there as soon as she could.

The outside of the diner was like any other house on the street.  Emma suspected that at one stage Granny's had in fact been somebody's home, but had since been converted.  Outside, enclosed from the street behind some forest green fencing, was the patio area for outdoor dining.  Three huge cream canvas umbrellas shielded the tables below them from the sunlight and each metal table was peppered with home made jar candle lights.  There were potted plants around the courtyard and a well established grape vine had entwined itself over the wooden rafters of the roof.

It was magical.  Emma stood for a moment, taking in the majesty of the place from the street.  It was like something out of a storybook, and was the epitome of homely.  Emma loved it already, so with a confident stride she scaled the three low steps, grabbing the thin, metal handrail and pulling herself up towards the door.  The door was mainly glass, its panelled framework painted with white that had begun to curl and chip from the wood over time, and with an outstretched hand Emma wrapped her fingers around the long, oxidised brass handle and pulled the door.

The tinkle of a bell alerted the entire diner to her presence and Emma suddenly felt self conscious when five pairs of eyes turned to look a her.  Emma gulped hard, sucking a breath and fiddling with the sleeves of her red leather jacket, tugging them down in an attempt to cover her hands some more.  

The dinner was smaller than she expected with three small, round edged metal tables sitting in a line through the center of the room.  To Emma's left and right, inside the bay window spaces, were two similar style tables that seated groups of four.  To the left side of the restaurant were three tanned leatherette booths, each with a low hanging dish style downlighter above more of the metal round edged tables.  To the right was the bar area, a high topped counter where people could sit on one of the five rounded barstools, each one chrome legged with a seat that matched the colour and fabric of the booth seats.

In the far right corner of the diner was a dated but still functioning TV, mounted high on the back wall, its silent images flickering away unnoticed and its sub titles rolling across the screen.  Emma noticed a waitress breeze from the back room, the mint green door with a porthole window swinging shut behind her with a creak and continuing the swing on its hinges until it came to a stop.  The waitress was tall, her long black hair hanging over her shoulders that were covered by a plain white t-shirt.  As she turned, placing the plates on the table beside her with a smile Emma noticed her shorts, far too short for winter, that were the same shade of red as the lipstick across her lips.

Every wall in Granny's was covered in the same wallpaper.  It was a light grey background with rows and rows of pine trees, almost like a scene from Christmas, and Emma wondered why.  The whole place was a nostalgic mix of modern and traditional fifties diner styling, accented by the jukebox hidden through a mint green archway out the back of the main floor, towards the rest rooms.  Above the center of the serving bar was a clock, its plain white face and black hands illuminated by a neon ring of blue that surrounded them.  Emma couldn't tell if she was hearing the buzz from it or the open sign flashing out of the corner of her eye, hanging half way down the window and alerting the outside world to the status of the diner.

“Hi,” The perky waitress approached Emma with a broad smile.  She tucked her pencil and order pad into the front pocket of her white apron, its long straps wrapped around her thin body twice before being tied in a bow behind her back.  “You must be Emma,” she beamed, extending her long arm out to shake Emma's hand.

“Yeah, Emma Swan,” Emma took the waitress's hand in hers, noting her matching red nail polish immaculately covering each of her serviceable length nails.  Emma forced a smile but felt her cheeks redden under the gaze of more diners.

“I'm Ruby,” she beamed, shaking Emma's hand up and down eagerly.  “You're here for the trial, right?”

Ruby Lucas was taller and thinner than Emma.  Her long black hair was rough to look at, almost wirey and yet shiny at the same time, highlighted with the fainted traces of blood red hair dye.  Her skin seemed pale, but Emma wasn't sure if it was just her make up or how vibrant her lipstick was.  Ruby seemed to, as her name suggested, have an affinity with the colour red.  Her hair, her lipstick, her nails even her shorts were all the same colour and Emma would have certainly said that she was attractive.  Her eyes were kind, and a perfect shade of sea green that popped out against her pale skin.

“I am,” Emma confirmed, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her pants nervously.  It didn't help that all but one customer had stopped looking at her.  “I'm a little nervous,” Emma admitted quickly, falling into step behind Ruby as she headed towards the back door.

“Oh honey, don't be nervous,” Ruby laid a hand to Emma's shoulder and squeezed past a few customers.  “You'll do great,” she smiled, pushing against the handle-less door and motioning Emma through.

After Emma had discarded her jacket, thankful to have the foresight to wear a plain white t shirt similar to Ruby's, she took the apron Ruby had handed her and tied it around her waist.  “Now, you'll just be making coffee and chatting to the customers,” Ruby told her as Emma bunched her blonde locks into a messy ponytail.  “I've heard a lot about your coffee,” Ruby smiled.

“From who?” Emma asked suspiciously.  Never quick to judge, Emma was suddenly wondering how everyone knew so much about her without ever having met her.  Emma fished inside the pocket, checking to make sure her pencil had a point before tucking it behind her ear.  It was an old habit and one Emma didn't think she would ever break.

“The boss,” Ruby shrugged as if Emma should have known.  “Didn't you talk to him on the phone?”

Emma didn't remember talking to a man.  In fact, she was a little uncomfortable with the owner being a man, now that she had seen what Ruby was wearing.  Emma's eyes flicked up and down Ruby's bare legs, smooth as silk but still as pale as the rest of her skin, and wondered if the boss made all of his employ dress the same.  Emma wasn't objectifying herself for the sake of some grimy, slime ball diner owner to leer at for his own pleasure.

“Don't worry,” Ruby laughed as if reading her mind.  “There is no dress code.  This is just me,” She waved a hand through the air towards herself as she turned to head back to the bar area.  Ruby was confident beyond anyone Emma had ever known, which wasn't a bad thing in the slightest.  It just made Emma seem not as confident as she knew she actually was.

Ruby stepped from the back room, the mint green door which had a faded patch where people often pushed against it swinging closed in the gap behind them.  Emma followed her diligently, her head held high and her blonde pony tail bobbing up and down as she did so.  Ruby walked them behind the bar, showed Emma the coffee machine with a smile and then whizzed off to attend to a new potential diner who had just walked in.  Emma let out a breath and nervously balled her hands in the pocket of her apron.

“You're new,” a man spat from beside her and Emma's neck snapped towards the voice.  She offered him a smile, slightly forced, and took a step towards the counter top.  She took in his appearance, hunched over and squat on the bar stool, with a dark green jacket on and a black beanie hat.  Even sitting down, Emma could tell he was shorter than most people she had met, and an impressively even beard littering his jaw.

“Maybe,” Emma replied sweetly, her best customer service smile gracing her face.  The man scoffed and looked back to his hot chocolate with a huff.  He was a new kind of customer, the kind that Emma would no doubt get a lot of in a city as busy as New York.

“Leave the girl alone, Leroy,” another voice grabbed her attention and Emma whipped her head towards the middle of the bar.  Another man, this time taller and no doubt another regular by the way he was perched so comfortably on the bar stool, lifted his near empty cup to his lips and gulped down the last remnant of his coffee.  Leroy hunched up closer to his own cup, turning away slightly at the man's words.

“Mind your own business,” Leroy snapped, shooting the man a glare before wrapping his huge, bear like hands around the tiny white ceramic cup on the counter.

“Oh don't be so grumpy,” yet another voice turned Emma's attention to direction of the kitchen.  It was familiar and seated behind a clear cake filled dome was another man, taller still and Emma recognised him as the dashingly handsome delivery guy from the night before.  He offered Emma a grin and leaned forward on his elbows.  “You'll have to excuse Leroy,” he began, licking his lips to moisten them.  “He has no manners.”

Emma smiled back at him, looking over towards the door at where Leroy was sitting.  “It's okay,” she caught his eye as he looked up to her.  “I'm sure I'm a curiosity.”

“That you are,” The middle man piped in again, running a finger over the rim of his empty cup.  The off white ceramic has a browning lip stain down one side and Emma wondered if he had his own cup in this diner, or if he had brought his own from home.  The cup before him didn't match any of the others in the bar area which intrigued Emma no end.

“I'm sorry, where are my own manners,” Man number three called her attention away once more and she took a step towards that end of the bar.  The three men were all seated with an identical stool empty between them and man number three jumped from his, pulled at the hem of his dark blue sweater and straightened himself up.  “I'm David. David Nolan,” he offered her his hand.

Emma took it with a smile, giving it a single shake before pulling hers back to her chest.  “Emma,” she said simply, giving him only her first name but already knowing his.

“Nice to meet you Emma,” David said hurriedly, flicking his wrist and checking his watch.  “Shoot, I'm really sorry,” he apologised, stepping back and pushing the stool closer to the counter.  Emma tried to suppress a smirk at the way he censored his language, much like Mary Margaret would have done.  “I have to run back to work.  Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, his voice a little louder as he was stepping closer to the exit.

Emma laughed a little, her voice hitched and nervous.  “I hope so,” she offered, not promising as David disappeared with a jingle of the bell above the door.  She wondered what he did as an occupation during the day as it was clear to her that she had already discovered his second job delivering food to the weary and hungry in the evenings.

“Now why would you say that?” Emma’s attention fell back onto the middle man.  His words were soft, with a tinge of mystery and Emma stepped closer to him.  He was handsome, Emma couldn't deny, with an air of arrogance that she found quite endearing.  If Emma had to guess, he was a Big Boss customer, but probably ran his own business and could afford to take an extended lunch break to talk to baristas.

“I'm only on a trial shift,” Emma said, swiping his cup from in front of him and twisting the tap on in front of her.  He watched her contently as she washed up his mug, a smirk playing across his lips at her eagerness to impress.  “Would you like another coffee?” Emma asked, holding his mug aloft and eager for him to reply with an answer that could show her skills.

“Aye,” The man all but breathed, leaning back slightly on his stool and stretching his arms out on the counter before him.  Emma's eyes fell onto the marbled pattern of the counter top and tried not to stare at the fact that the middle man had in fact only one hand.  His right hand stretched out his fingers over the cool surface and Emma heard the distinct sound of his many rings as they tapped the marble top.  Where his other hand should have been was a carbon fibre prosthetic, stretched out atop the counter as if it belonged there as much as the other side.

“What happened?” Emma asked unashamedly.  If foster kids were anything it was inquisitive and sometimes, without realising it, Emma's words ran away with her thoughts and she couldn't stop them.  “I'm sorry.  It's none of my business,” Emma retorted quickly, not giving the man chance to answer.

He laughed and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning forward on his elbows to watch her steam the milk for his coffee.  “It's no bother,” he offered her an understanding smile and let the bluest eyes Emma had ever seen roam over her blushing features.  Emma turned her attention back to watching the temperature of the milk rise, flicking off the steam wand quickly and wiping away the excess milk with a damp cloth.

“It was a sailing accident,” he told her, and when Emma didn't answer for a second he continued.  “Damn hand got caught in the rigging, wind caught the sail and took it clean off,” he made a chopping motion with his other hand, slamming it karate chop style down on the counter next to his mechanical fingers.

Emma winced a little at his action.  “Your accent,” she noted, pulling the paddle behind the coffee grinder and letting two shoots of coffee fall into the waiting handle. “Where are you from?” she enquired, using the detached tamper to flatten and level the coffee before expertly twisting the handle into the head of the machine and pressing a water flow button.  Ruby had said talk to the customers and Emma was going to do just that.  She had already charmed David Nolan and caught the attention of Leroy.  The Middle man was next.

“England,” He said simply, watching her work.  

“And you can sail?” Emma pried, feeling his eyes on her with every move she made.

He nodded.  “I learnt to sail in the Navy.  I love the freedom of the open sea but I'm afraid I am a very boring person beyond that,” he chuckled as he watched the honey like coffee trickle from the handle into his mug.

“Oh don't say that,” Emma said charmingly with a smile.  “In my experience, customers can be very interesting.  They often surprise you when you least expect it.”

“Is that so?” The man titled his head to the side and a few strands of his otherwise immaculate hair spilled over his forehead.

“Absolutely,” Emma nodded quickly, banging the metallic jug gently on the counter beside the machine to coax out any remaining bubbles in the milk.  “I once had a man tell me he was moving to Thailand to live with his online girlfriend because he didn't love his wife anymore,” Emma twisted her mouth into a sideways grin.

“And that was interesting why?” The man grinned, tapping his fingers against the counter as he intently stared into Emma's eyes.  She wished he wasn't because he was affecting her in ways she hadn't felt in nearly five years, making it difficult to act professional.

“His girlfriend turned out to be a boyfriend but he was smitten anyway and asked me if I thought he should actually go through with it.” Emma rolled her eyes and blew out a breath.

The man laughed heartily.  “What did you suggest he do?”

“If I remember rightly, it was at this exact moment another customer walked in and I practically dived on them,” Emma laughed as she shook her head.  “I honestly couldn't make this up.”

“You sound like you have a way with customers,” The man commented when his laughing had stopped, his gaze still fixed firmly onto Emma.  It was odd.  She didn't feel uncomfortable around him like some of the Big Boss customers she had encountered and she found that she couldn't stop herself matching his smile.  Emma often used a subtle mixture of flirting in her interactions with customers and he was probably going to be no exception.

“I like to make sure people are happy,” Emma beamed, swirling the milk in her jug and pouring the frothy milk into the cup with a gentle wiggle of the small metal jug.  The milk arched around the top of the coffee crema and Emma watched it as she repositioned the jug to create a straight line, some sideways lines of white and then a single flick sent them all flowing together to finish her latte art.  Emma picked up the mug, banging it against the counter allowing any remaining bubbles to pop before spinning around and placing it in front of the man.

“Of this I have no doubt,” he said smoothly, his voice seemingly even more seductive with his accent.  His bionic hand reached out to encircle the mug with a slight electronic whirr and a smile played across his lips.  

“Because you like sailing,” Emma said sweetly as she leaned on one elbow on the bar beside him, watching his smile grow wider at the sight of the sailing vessel latte art she had created in front of him.

“Very good, Swan,” The man arched his brow at her and Emma's features dropped.  Her face went pale and for the first time she really took in the man's demeanour.  He was about her height, thin with broad shoulders and obviously, a bionic hand.  Aside from that, he was very easy on the eyes, his black hair swept back from his forehead except for a few loose strands that were still so eager to interrupt Emma's view of his beautiful face.  He had long, full eyelashes that encircled his Mediterranean blue eyes and a perfect toothy grin to accompany his lightly stubbled jaw.

He was wearing mostly black, his long legs covered his black skin tight jeans that disappeared into a pair of heavy, black boots.  He wore a a dark blue linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up the the elbows and the top three buttons popped open behind a black waistcoat to reveal a generous amount of delectable chest hair.  The more she looked over him, the more Emma's throat became dry, and she wasn't sure if it was because he had called her Swan and she had liked it or because he was so devilishly handsome.  Emma decided he would probably get most of her barista flirting whenever she saw him.

Sensing her unease, he cleared his throat and offered her his hand.  “Killian Jones,” He beamed and when Emma took his hand, she was sure he burned her skin.  Even though she flushed hot with heat, she felt the colour drain from her face.

“Killian Jones,” Emma held onto his hand, unable to let go.  “As in, the owner of Granny's Killian Jones?” She gulped hard again.  He was the owner of the damn diner.  Emma's heart pounded in her chest, her lungs burned from holding her breath too long and she was sure her mouth was hanging open slightly.

“Aye. At your service, love,” he grinned at her unease, quirking an eyebrow at her playfully as he held onto her hand, also reluctant to let go of the warmth of her milky skin.  He kept eye contact the entire time, his blue hues burning an ice hole into Emma's soul.  “Welcome aboard.”