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snowbellewells · 5 years ago

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“The Case of the Heart in Armor” {Part Five}

Wow, it’s hard to believe that I started this fic last fall for @csrolereversal and am just now getting close to the conclusion. A lot of other things have jumped in line ahead of it, but I am still really enjoying this one, and I hope those who are still reading it will continue to as well. Only one more part to go after this!

Thank you once again for the patience of @courtorderedcake for the lovely and inspiring art which birthed the idea and started it all!

Summary: Killian “Holmes” Jones is rarely surprised or shocked anymore, but that all changes when he meets one very stubborn - and very beautiful - pickpocket, and trouble brews in the distance, hidden by the London fog…

From the Beginning: on Tumblr HERE or on AO3 HERE

Part Five

The next morning found Inspector David Nolan once more within his well-appointed office at the Yard; this time not fruitlessly scrutinizing scattered photos for missed details, but pacing the length of the room with the restless energy of a caged beast. His walk to headquarters through a chill drizzle as dawn was just beginning to lighten the grey English morning, had been wet and cold, but nothing out of the ordinary for rainy London weather. Granted, he had barely slept that night, surely disturbing his sweet, compassionate wife. She had risen earlier than was her wont as well, making him a hearty breakfast and holding on more tightly than usual as she saw him on his way. He had been at work long before it was necessary, but it still did not explain why his second-in-command and his sister had not arrived for their meeting as scheduled; Emma to report anything she might have noticed on the streets in her previous evening’s scouting work, and David then intended to share with them both the clue he and Jones had uncovered.

Of course, he tried to recognize that his frustration was heightened, his patience not at the level he would normally attempt to exercise, and that they were merely a scant few minutes late. All the same, it was completely unlike Watson to be anything but prompt, following his superior’s orders to the letter (often even anticipating David’s wishes or going above and beyond in fulfilling them). It went against all established character for Graham to be tardy or forgetful, and though he did have a pleasant and more relaxed side to his personality once he grew comfortable with others, Watson was never careless. The fact that he had been meant to swing by Emma’s building and accompany her in, made Nolan’s already high tension all the more volatile. Though he knew his adopted sister could handle herself - had more than one permanent scar upon his person to attest to the fact - David Nolan would not be appeased until both Graham and Emma were present before him.

Even as he was thinking that very thing, pacing back over to the window to peer out upon the dreary sidewalk and damp grass in front of the imposing building in which he stood, Nolan heard the quick flurry of rushing footsteps at his door before it was flung open to admit his lieutenant’s abrupt entrance.

Whirling with all senses on the alert, David’s shoulders only lowered a bit in relief to find Watson standing in the doorway. Eyes wide and searching as they scanned the office anxiously, Graham panted slightly from clear exertion, his face worried and paler than usual. The deputy’s wheaten curls were riotously mussed and in disarray from his hands raking through them, as he proceeded to do once more upon seeing his boss was the only person in the room. “Isn’t she here?” he asked worriedly.

David shook his head tersely. “No, she isn’t. I thought you were going by there to walk in with her?” He tried to keep the bite of recrimination from his words, but winced internally at the way Graham dipped his head to avoid his eyes, knowing he must not have succeeded.

“I did go by her building. Rang for her several times, in fact. I got no answer and wasn’t sure how to proceed. Eventually, the building’s landlady came to the main door and let me in, but even going directly to her door, knocking and calling for her repeatedly brought no response. I couldn’t very well pick the lock and break in with the matron standing right there. I assumed - well, hoped really - that she had gotten an early start and was already here with you.” His words died out on the obvious conclusion that, not only was Emma not present, but she clearly had not been at her home either, or if so, was somehow unable to answer. The implication was chilling, to say the least. Their plan for the morning had been concocted between the two of them to see Emma safe but not make her feel coddled, doubted, kept on a leash, or watched like a child. All the same, now something might well be wrong, and they had been none the wiser.

“Send a runner to Jones’ residence. Holmes was here late last night; he saw Emma home from her undercover work, then wanted to discuss the last victim. We found something I was anxious to share with you. I’ll fill you in on the way, but we should get moving and figure out where Emma’s gotten off to. Have him meet us at her building as soon as possible - at least it’s a place to start.”

Graham gave a bob of the head and stepped into the lobby to flag down the needed messenger. Then both men were out the door and on their way again within moments; concern lending speed to their steps amidst hopes they were not too late. What neither man wanted to say was that Emma had likely not gone anywhere on her own - at least not of her own free will.

~~~~~~~~~~***

‘Holmes’ Jones met the Inspector and his friend Watson at Miss Nolan’s apartment, looking more rattled and concerned than David Nolan ever remembered witnessing; of course, he had done some research on the gentleman detective before reaching out to consult him in official police business. He had looked into the other man’s affairs well enough to know that there had been early abandonment, a less than savory romantic entanglement ended abruptly in a suspicious death, and a past proclivity to drown the memory of said losses in drink before his elder brother had lured him into an undersecretary position a few years back and seemingly given Killian Jones the rudder he needed to steady his course and once more find purpose. Said gentleman had eventually quit the position with his only known kin to go into his current private investigative endeavors, but it appeared that since his point of turnabout, Jones had maintained utter control of his more tempestuous impulses from the past. In fact, Nolan had often thought him rather cool and detached in his manner, unless he was employing charm and his handsome face to coax a witness into talking or to trip up a suspect. The inspector realized now that perhaps Jones’ business-like, emotionless distance had been a carefully arranged mask that was slipping away.

Killian Jones, for his part, could not help cursing his own negligence at simply walking away and leaving Emma at her doorstep the previous night, as if there were not a care in their worlds. Granted, she had been fine when they parted company; no doubt she would have balked at him insisting to see her all the way up to her private apartments as though it had been some blushing first date. The place had seemed normal and undisturbed - no signs of commotion or threat, no uneasy tingling at his nape (which once he could have depended on to give fair warning) - and so he had let it go, not wanting to push the tentative peace between himself and the prickly beauty.

However, fear for her safety and rampant self-loathing licked at the edges of his mind like ravenous ghouls in the changed circumstances of morning light. Had someone been lying in wait for her return home? How would said person have gained entrance? Or did a villain watch and wait until she was alone, asleep and off her guard, to break in and overpower her? Suddenly, Killian knew all too many details and statistics of this case and uncounted others to let that train of thought travel further without losing all composure.

The three men stood in Emma’s living room searching for anything which might provide a clue as to what had happened and how she had been accosted. Neither her door nor windows showed any sign of forced entry. The apartment reflected the comfortable clutter of a lived-in home, but it was free of the broken and scattered shambles that would indicate a struggle. Had Emma been overwhelmed before she could even attempt to fight back? Just as they had all feared, she seemed to have disappeared without a fight, in the midst of a case - something the feisty blonde they all held dear would never have allowed to happen without scratching and clawing and raising an alarm in her own defense if she were able.

That coupled with the discovery he and Nolan had made the night before was more than enough to set Killian well and truly on edge. Not only that, and the creeping fear that it was all connected, but an old memory of a disturbed individual whispered of some year before began to niggle at the corners of his mind. It had never become an official case - the clues and questions frighteningly sparse and circumstantial at best, but… there was a troubling echo of the deaths then with the ones they were seeing now. Holmes was just debating the efficacy of sharing his suspicions when the Inspector sat heavily on the large chest at the foot of his sister’s bed. His voice was weary as he looked down with unnecessary focus on his large hands clasped uselessly in his lap.

A deep sigh left him, broad shoulders slumped as David Nolan began, in a voice much softer than Killian had ever heard the officer use. “I don’t want to think this… and yet...I can’t in good conscience not tell you both that I fear Emma is in the hands of our killer.” His words were interspersed with reluctant pauses, but he continued. “She... she would want to strangle me…” Here he shook his head, looking almost boyish when some long ago memory caused a small grin to transform his face for mere seconds before slipping away once more. “If she knew I was telling you this...Emma would have my head...but let’s just say… she could easily be the ‘heart in armor’ from the clue we found.”

Graham at Nolan’s right side looked uncertain, brow furrowed as he considered his boss’ words. “Sire, no disrespect, I know she is tough and guarded, to be sure, but what makes her more so than many others?”

Killian arched a brow, surprised and rather impressed that Watson was going to push his superior for further explanation. Granted, he had wondered the same - especially since he had privately believed the clue was referring to him up until Emma’s disappearance at least. Still, he had figured he would need to ask the question himself.

Nolan ran a sharp, frustrated palm back over his close-cropped head, his agitation and discomfort growing continually clearer. “It wasn’t just that she was picking pockets on the streets to survive when Mum and I found her,” he murmured, forcing out the rest. “She wasn’t merely homeless; she’d never had a home at all...or anyone who cared how she was...if she were hurt...or angry...or afraid. There had been someone… an older boy who preyed on that...said he loved her. Then he betrayed what little trust she had for anyone… and left her with a baby… that she lost. She never told even me any more than that. So, yes, there is armor a foot thick and a mile wide around that heart of hers.”

Graham flushed and looked away, abashed and silenced as if he had forced Nolan to talk in the precinct box. Killian too blew out a stunned breath, well aware from just her small tells and the feeling of kinship with her he couldn’t ignore - despite their heated sparring - that Emma Nolan’s life must have been anything but easy. Still, he had not expected that depth of tragedy and pain. He was almost embarrassed to have assumed his own losses would have left a larger mark.

“Aye,” he murmured reluctantly, pursing his lips in troubled thought as he continued to scan the room around them, hoping to find something amiss or out of place, anything that might give them a lead as to where Emma might be now. “I can understand why such treatment might make anyone put up walls,” he finally added, coming to stand near the door and at last reluctantly admitting that there was nothing in the small apartment of any help to them.

Looking from one of his companions to the other intently, Killian bypassed his original theory - his own heart being the needed target. With Emma was missing and what David had shared, it seemed unlikely and a waste of their time. Instead he licked his lips, cautiously preparing himself to speak on the other odd connection that had been growing and solidifying in his mind. That half remembered case’s detailed were coming clearer as he pulled at the thread of recall. It had been suspected that the perpetrator had espoused the mad gothic ideas of reanimation, much like had been written of in Mary Shelley’s popular novel. He didn’t know any sensible way to broach such an outlandish theory outright with his colleagues, so instead he swept his gaze over to Graham’s face and queried, “Do you remember that mad tale Frankenstein which was all the rage some years back?”

He was banking on the fact that his friend enjoyed those same eerie Victorian authors Liam did, having heard them discuss many such fictional works over scotch or brandy in Liam’s study countless evenings while a fire roared in the hearth and they idled a while in companionable talk before night’s end. He was honestly hoping Graham would know of the twisted story so he would not sound to both men as though he were making up his next conjecture from pure imagination.

Graham’s forehead creased in curious thought, but he nodded, warming to the topic just as Killian had intended. “Yes, I remember it. The main character - a doctor, but more like a mad scientist - creates a man from parts of grave robbed corpses. Hair-raising, genuinely. The author claimed the entire thing came to her as a nightmare, and I would believe it.” He shook his head, then continued, “However, the doctor does bring the inanimate body back to life with electricity from lightning.” Graham’s voice trailed off, eyes widening as he stared back at Killian, understanding dawning on his face. “Surely you don’t mean…?”

Killian didn’t answer aloud. It was clear exactly what he was coming to believe.

Inspector Nolan looked between the two, his lieutenant and his consultant, with increasing impatience and frustration. “Mean what?” he prodded intensely, standing with hands fisted at his side and looking ready to take a swing at one, or both, of them if they didn’t start to explain. “One of you had better tell me what you’re getting at and how it ties to this case, and Emma, before I lose my patience.”

Sighing, Killian stepped forward to face the police officer he had come to genuinely respect and hold in high esteem. He and Liam had not had an easy start in life, as boys and young men who had encountered many coppers, lawyers, and others in positions of power who were as selfish, cruel, and crooked as David was straight and true. It was a new thing to look at this man and know that he truly upheld the law in order to stand for and protect those who could not protect themselves.

Killian hated the picture taking shape in his mind from a mixture of long-buried reminiscence and unsolved cases, but he owed it to them to offer all the information he had. “I’ll explain, Mate,” he assured Nolan in a clipped, heavy tone, clasping his shoulder for a moment before dropping his hand again, “but brace yourself. I’ll wager it’s going to sound a preposterous tale.”

David nodded curtly, crossing his arms over his broad chest and widening his stance as if to tackle whatever Killian said head on.

“Some years back, when I still worked under my brother in his diplomatic office, there were several suspicious deaths in a single fall and winter. All nameless victims, homeless, without any identification, anything to go on. The distinguishing factor tying them together was… the absence of a vital organ. There were also whispers - rumor and conjecture only, most thought - of an ambassador’s wife who dabbled in the occult and alchemy. Nothing concrete was ever found in order to charge her... but I met her, and the ambassador and their two grown daughters as well, at more than one political function when I was serving under Liam. It was not something which could be quantified, and shame on me, I did not pursue it. But she could freeze a man’s blood in his veins with a glance; there was truly something unnatural and unsettling about her - a Mrs. Cora Millsen, her name was. I kept my distance beyond a few necessary conversations. I could see she had intent to strike up an arrangement between myself and her younger daughter, Regine, and began to beg off engagements assisting Liam where the family would be in attendance. The ambassador himself, Henrik, was a pleasant fellow, honest and well-liked enough that most overlooked his peculiar family, as he was the one they had dealings with. I cannot say I made the connection until it began to prick my memory with this present case’s similarities, and its same lack of conclusive evidence. Perhaps most horrifying though was that the seemingly unsolvable wave of killings ceased when the Millsen family returned to their country, abruptly and suddenly after the fiancé young Regine did eventually choose, some young equestrian riding champion, died in their home.”

He took a moment to chance a look first at Graham’s stunned expression, the other man probably even remembering those unsolved cases which had continued to trouble his elder brother long after the book on them had been shut, and then to David Nolan’s face, a mask of stony silence. There was nothing for it but to finish what he knew of the sordid tale, so Jones drew a deep breath and plunged on. “Regine refused to go with her family. She came to Liam’s offices, raving about her mother killing her ‘beloved Daniel’. A report was drawn up, but her account was impossible, unbelievable. Nothing came of it. The young woman seemed clearly unhinged by grief and anger, almost deranged. Heaven help me, I was glad when Liam’s colleagues dismissed the charges. Obviously she was troubled and in need of help, but she made me every bit as unsettled as her mother Cora ever had.”

“And what happened to her after that?” David asked skeptically. “There was no more trouble?”

“After that?” Killian replied. “I do not know. She seemed to fade from public view… and I was relieved. I was happy to let her do so. I admit it.”

He looked to Graham then, and his friend took up the story when Killian paused. “It wasn’t always the heart - that was where those cases differed from ours currently. I remember the incidences you are speaking of Killian, but I failed to make the connection as well. One was missing lungs, another the kidneys, but there were two or three that were without the heart as well. The past case was kept within the offices of the embassy, largely because the only possible suspect known had immunity. Killian is correct. Something was not right about that woman; pushing her two daughters at any dignitaries who might gain them British citizenship and a finer, fancier life, but yet something cool and detached about her as well, as if all around were pawns to move on some chessboard only she could see. It was rumored she espoused the ridiculous popular idea in some circles at the time that perhaps Dr. Frankenstein was based on some real life doctor. Utter rubbish of course, no sane, self-respecting physician would…” This time Graham broke off in agitation, jerking fingers through his already disheveled hair and mumbling. “Simply not possible…” and “first do no harm” as he paced away from them.

“Anyway,” Killian intoned forcefully, determined to finish the story in short order. “The family’s official dossier attributed the woman with study of the occult and alchemy, as well as a rather accomplished knowledge of anatomy, botany, and medicine in her native land. But there was no motive, no evidence… well, unless you count the rather dramatic coincidence of the daughter’s suitor dropping dead of a heart attack in their parlor. Even that is not a crime in itself, however suspicious it looked that the family fled Britain back to Norway within hours of the incident, and that the bizarre killings then ceased.”

He could tell as he finished recounting the tale that David Nolan was fit to burst with numerous questions and arguments. Yet no words left the man’s mouth; instead it opened and closed mutely before he huffed and turned his back, gathering his composure. They were all quiet for a minute until David turned sharply, speaking in a voice that took command and snapped them into action. “None of that matters at present. What does matter is finding Emma and stopping this killer. Could your brother tell us if the Millsen family, or the wife at least, have returned? If so, we need to know where they’re staying, places they frequent…”

Killian nodded his assent, but it was Graham who spoke. “Liam has never really let that case go; he will no doubt still have documentation of any information that was unearthed, what little there was. Or, if nothing else, he will have kept tabs on the family.”

David sent him to call Liam and sighed, running a hand over his face as he looked once more to Killian. “Let’s hope your brother knows somewhere we can start. That tale of yours was far from comforting, and we need to be doing something.”

“I completely agree,” Killian confirmed gruffly, hoping his face would not betray the panic stirring in his gut. They needed to find Emma Nolan sooner rather than later. He did not wish to contemplate the terrible possibility that not all of her would be in one piece to find.

~~~~~~~~~***

The dark-eyed femme fatale looked down upon the operating table she had modified for her research, hidden in the basement of the home she had let upon her return to London. Most did not even know that the sub-level existed, which was exactly how she needed it - locked away, where she could do her work without fear of discovery.

Her eyes were sharp, narrowing in dangerous concentration as she studied the unconscious form laid out before her on the flat surface, though there was not a mark marring her fair skin, the debilitating cloud of vapour had struck the pretty flowercart girl as hard as any physical blow. Throughout the transport to her lair and depositing her on the hard surface the blonde had not wakened or even stirred. Her long hair was fell around her, hanging off the edges of the worktop and making Emma Swan look all the more vulnerable for her bared neck and shoulders; uncovered, unveiled, in only her thin shift as protection against the darkness and cold creeping in all around her and the jagged knife her abductor wielded.

Though the inspector’s younger sister - oh yes, she had done her research as well! - was merely the pawn in a sinister plan much deeper and more twisted than any had realized, the fiendish villainess had prepared for all contingencies. Waking up and beginning to fight would not free the lovely bait in her trap; it would only make the sacrifice more satisfying. She had already bound her prey to the table’s surface, at wrists and ankles and around her torso. She would not be making any sort of escape; even as she at last began to stir restlessly.

Perversely pleased with herself, Regine Millsen, daughter of the once-ousted ambassadors, had used her ill-gotten powers, first learned at her cursed mother’s feet and then honed in hatred and bitterness to something even more potent in order to transport and incapacitate her victims. She had bided her time until she was strong enough, smart enough, and assured of her victory. She had searched until she found the very spell she needed - and all the ingredients but this last one. She had watched long enough to know that the infamous Holmes Jones, cool of head and hard of heart through tragedy’s tempering, cared for this saucy slip of a girl, and when he came to her rescue, she would at last have the armored heart she needed. She would resurrect her mother’s last sacrifice: the man she had loved and lost. Smirking sadistically as she hovered over the younger woman blearily surfacing to a wakefulness that would not be pleasant, Regine considered, How did the poet Eliot put it - ‘pinned and wriggling’ ? She nodded to herself; like a helpless fly in her web this one was. And finally she would have what she desired most - none could stop her now.

Tagging a few who have been interested in the past: @csrolereversal @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious @cocohook38 @darkcolinodonorgasm @stahlop @laschatzi @therooksshiningknight @winterbaby89 @lfh1226-linda

#csrolereversal fic #cs Victorian au #The Case of the Heart in Armor #Part Five #Killian 'Holmes' Jones #cs au mc

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theexecutionerssong · 6 years ago

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It’s recap of the end of the year party time (with pics)! under the cut because I ramble a lot as usual.

First they gave us SKAM France pillows when we got there so we could sit as comfortably as possible on the floor of the venue. There were about 400 people and it was a tight fit! While we were waiting, they played songs from s3 and 4, everyone was already getting emotional.

The afternoon started with speeches from the execs and David as usual before getting the cast on stage - Assa, Coline, Lula, Maxence, Philippine, Théo, Léo, Robin, Gigi, Moussa, Edouard, Aliénor and later Laïs who was late - and then they showed us a tribute video with iconic scenes of season 3 and 4, in which they included tweets and fanarts by the fans, like testimonies, reactions, etc, everyone was a mess of tears after that.

Then David asked every member of the cast how had their lives changed because of Skam. I filmed this part, link to the video is in the source at the bottom of this post. David hadn’t warned them they would have to answer that question so they weren’t prepared and many got emotional - poor Maxence who went first was a mess. Niels finally got here so he was asked the same question, Antonio too and David answered his own question. A lot of thank yous were exchanged and I’m sorry not sorry about my sniffling in the background of the video but I can’t see people cry and not cry too. The overall message was that they are all proud of what they have done because they can see what an impact the series had just by seeing us in front of them half crying half smiling, as well as with the overwhelming amount of messages they’ve been receiving for months. I really loved what David said about refusing programs that don’t show diversity, that we should stand our ground on this and say no to programs with only white characters or straight couples. That they told one story, but we can and should tell all the others.

Then the crew was called on stage, Jérémy and the editing team to talk a bit, before they showed us the bloopers. That’s when I stopped filming, the room was in the dark anyway and you all saw the bloopers on Youtube by now. Assa tried to leave the stage completely and hide ahah. The cast hadn’t seen them before and there must have been some inside jokes going on because they would laugh WAY LOUDER than us at some stuff. Maxence got so shy about the “I’m ticklish Daviiid” part while everyone was so fond :’) there were a few fond headshakes at Axel’s laughing too.

Then we played a game, a fan would go against one member of the cast and the first to answer the question would win the point. The questions were about the 4 seasons and David called actors who weren’t necessarily in the season just to check if they had paid attention / watched it at all but we DESTROYED THEM. We won so easily, it was hilarious. They got 4 questions right first. The questions ranged from who was Emma dressed as at the halloween party in s1 to what day and exact time did the trailer for s3 dropped. Theo is the worst loser in history, Lula is SO COMPETITIVE, Moussa tried to intimidate the fan that went against him and Coline tried to take her mic, while Niels got his question right and literally jumped in the air, he scared me sdfghjklkj. I was really into it so I didn’t film. But here are a few pics - I haven’t posted them anywhere else so DO NOT repost them. Please.

Then there was a little Q&A, questions were about if they had watched other remakes, why is Arthur’s ig on private and Maxence’s role in The House Of Gaunt - can’t believe there’s going to be a screening at the Grand Rex, I’m so fucking proud, this is HUGE!!!! I filmed parts of this too but not everything because it was questions we had heard before.

We took a lil break to drink and get a bit of fresh air after that before coming back inside. Laïs and Assa were on stage in the dark - keep in my mind we hadn’t seen Laïs before then so we were like ???? IS THAT LAIS?? When did he get here, what’s happening? - and they danced. Beautiful, adorable, show stopping, spectacular, emotional, out of this world. David teased Laïs for being late and asked him the same question about how Skam changed his life or not. I filmed all that.

David then called a fan on stage to share her story. Skam France saved her life. Really. It was extremely emotional. She was so strong, despite shaking so bad. We kept asking that they gave her a hug but David, Niels, Assa and Laïs who were on stage said they would hug her only once she was done talking. They wanted to let her say everything she had to say. Lots, lots of tears then. Niels took Assa under his arm because she was trying hard to keep it together for the fan’s sake. They gave her the biggest, tightest hug when she was done. I didn’t film because it was almost too personal, y’know? Sure she went on stage but her story still feels private, so I felt wrong about filming. I took a few pics though.

Then there was the concert! Coline was singing and playing the piano and guitar, while Léo and Edouard were playing the guitar and the bass. Lula and Gigi joined for the harmonies during Get Lucky and Remember. They sang Get Lucky by the Daft Punk, Fête de Trop by Eddy de Pretto (featured in s3), Unknown by Jacob Banks (featured in s4), Remember by Seinabo Sey and Jacob Banks (featured in s3) and an original song called Menthe à l’eau inspired by Demi Lovato’s overdose (Coline is a big fan). Most of the cast was standing/kneeling to the side of stage to watch and then you had Maxence right in the middle of the fans, hyping the crowd and jumping around. I didn’t film more than my ig stories because my hands were shaking too much but I’ve posted a few pics before, have some again

And then came the last goodbyes with everyone on stage, including cast and crew and I filmed all that. We were all holding our breaths for a potential announcement but they only said thank you, we love you, we’ll be in touch. I could barely hold my camera. And then Zina by Babylone, the music from the last clip of s4 started playing and Coline melted into Maxence arms crying, Assa was holding back tears, they all started hugging and then leaving the stage one by one, the lights went up and we all looked at each others like… so this is it uh. We were not fairing very well, let me tell you. Fans were hugging and drying each other’s tears, I was hugged so tight by people I didn’t even know two months ago and it was just… It was a lot of love. So much love.

Before going outside, they gave us a poster signed by the cast. I stayed in the lobby a bit to look at the BTS pictures I posted before. There was a stand thingy where we could take pics with the Skam Logo and quotes. Maxence saw fans were taking pics there and just jumped in the middle to photobomb them azedfghjk

We then went outside to talk with the cast and crew for a while but the security whisked them away quite quickly so we didn’t have that much time. We had maybe 30 minutes outside with everyone. I went around to take pics and thank them a last time. I’ve posted most of those already.

Niels, David, Jérémy, Coline, Robin, Moussa and Gigi stayed longer, I don’t know why the security didn’t asked them to leave. I had a chat with Jérémy that I want to share because it really struck me. He was wondering if it was true that Skam France was the only remake that does this kind of event. He was so surprised, because and I quote “but how can we not give back just a little bit when you give us so much? I’m just the editor, and you’re here talking with me.” According to him, it’s a feeling shared by everyone in the cast and crew, no matter their role on the show, fans are always happy to see them and talk and ask questions, and they are deeply appreciative of that. Not just the actor, but the crew too. He was extremely grateful and appreciative. And I loved that, because it’s so true, they don’t have to. I’m not saying they other remakes should do this. I’m seeing that I’m baffled the Skam France team considers this normal. They didn’t have to do all this, the screenings, the party. It was for us. Because they don’t know how to thank us.

I took the bus home while holding the pillow they gave us against my chest, not a care in the wolrd about who would see me. I was completely emotionally drained, but happy, and thankful for this amazing cast and crew, all the love that kept pouring out of everywhere during the afternoon. They gave us so much. I saw people on Tumblr and Twitter who were disappointed that they weren’t announcements or more bts content but… this was a party for the fans, a way to celebrate the success of seasons 3 and 4, the only way they found to tell us thank you. It wasn’t a press conference. It was magical. So many smiles. So much laughter. Such tight hugs. It was way more than enough for me.

#skam france #fête de fin d'année #im a MESS #gaelle parle #my pics #skam france event

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lifeinahole27 · 6 years ago

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Fic Bits 2018: Part 2

Here is the second batch of my fic bits from this past year of card-sending! There’s one more batch that are all in the canon universe, and I’ll be posting one more on its own! Enjoy!

Included in this batch:

“Baking SOS” – A short au where Emma relents in asking for help for a very serious task. PG

“Quick Thinking” – Killian works quickly to help out a “Damsel in Distress.” PG

“A Squished Affair” – My second prompt for bed sharing inspired by some of the absolutely tiny rooms available to rent in NYC.- Verges on M because I found more that I had written but didn’t send to you, @optomisticgirl!! Belated extra fic bit!!

“Baking SOS”

It’s not until she’s at home, settled in her bed, her eyes getting heavy, that she remembers…

“Oh shit,” she mumbles. “Mary Margaret’s Christmas Party.”

With a tired groan, she hauls herself back out of bed, typing out a quick text as she goes through her apartment, counting the amount of time it’ll take Killian to get there from the apartment complex next door.

One, two, three, four, five… Knock knock knock knock knock knockknockknock.

“Swan? Are you okay?”

She wrenches open the door with a disgruntled look on her face and gives him an exaggerated response of one, elongated “No.”

“What’s the matter? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I need you to help me bake the cookies,” she says, half muttering it because she really didn’t want to admit defeat on this.

The panic seems to totally drain out of Killian, and it’s only then that Emma realizes he’s rumpled and his hair is fucked up and he’s wearing glasses. Which… Killian in glasses? Hell yes.

“For the record, Swan, sending a man an SOS in the middle of the night should only be saved for real emergencies.”

He had asked her earlier if she needed help – had asked her multiple times, really – but she had brushed him off at least three times claiming she had it under control.

She did not, in fact, have it under control.

And now Killian is standing in her kitchen at what-the-fuck o’clock mixing wet ingredients and making dirty jokes about wet ingredients. Really, can anyone blame her for pulling him down for a kiss after the cookie sheet is in the oven and he’s officially saved Christmas?

Probably not, and least of all him, because he has her pressed against the counter giving her sleepy kisses, nuzzling against her cheek and telling her that she has flour in her hair.

They manage to wait until the cookies are out of the oven and cooling before they curl up on her couch.

She wakes up in the morning draped across his chest, his glasses askew and his mouth open with his quiet snores.

This is normally the moment she would panic, having gotten way too comfortable with a man, but this is Killian. And with the way he’s palming her ass as he stirs awake, she’s pretty sure he won’t leave any room for it to be awkward. Or weird. Or uncomfortable.

“What time is the party, love?”

“Late enough that we can figure out what this is long before I have to start getting ready.”

“Good,” is all he responds, righting his glasses and placing his hand right back where it was.

Turns out morning sleepy make-out sessions with Killian are even better.

So is introducing him to someone later at the party as her boyfriend.

“Quick Thinking”

It’s not really his place to go over and slide up next to the blonde by the entrance to the sitting parlor, but he does anyway.

The reasons are simple: She’s fidgeting uncomfortably, her hands twisted behind her back, her fingers restless. She’s being spoken to as if she was a child and she is definitely a grown woman who looks like she would normally be able to take on even the roughest of brutes, but seems to be felled by the man speaking to her.

So when he hears the definite tone of mocking coming from the man, he makes his move.

“You aren’t even here with someone, so what does it matter?”

“There you are, darling!” he greets exuberantly. He takes in the details fast – green eyes (shocked), beautiful bone structure, a small swan pendant on the chain around her neck. Then he presses his cheek to her own, pretending to give her a kiss. “I thought I’d lost you to the utter madness of this place. Who’s this?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Walsh,” the woman says sharply. He tries not to shiver at the tone in her voice and fails, and she definitely notices with the way he’s still pressed to her side.

“I’m Killian,” he says smoothly, hiding everything else. He shuffles his drink into his prosthetic hand and reaches out with his right to offer a shake, but the other man, Walsh, just stares at it.

“He’s my boyfriend, the one you didn’t even let me explain I had before you decided to make fun of me for coming to a party by myself – which, by the way, is the dumbest reason to make fun of someone I’ve ever heard.”

The woman sinks further into his side, her arm linking around his right elbow. “Come on, Killian. Let’s go find our friends.”

Killian can’t help the wide grin that spreads on his face at the utterly dumbstruck look on the other bloke’s face.

“Shit, I’m glad that’s over with.”

“Exes can be the worst,” Killian responds, happily leading her towards the kitchen and its plethora of beverages. A lady should never be without a beverage after what she’s just gone through.

“I’m Emma, by the way. Emma Swan.”

“David’s sister!” Killian exclaims, a smile lighting up his face once more as he puts together some puzzle pieces in his mind. “He wasn’t sure you were going to make it this year. I must say, Swan, that I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah,” Emma says as she accepts the drink from him. “I think I am, too. Tell me how you know my brother?”

“Miscreant poker player, that one,” Killian says in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Then you’re clearly the hustler that takes his money every week? That Jones?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me!”

By the end of the night, they’ve decided on a time and location for their first date. By the next time they see Walsh, Emma is shoving her engagement ring in his face before they both leave him behind in their wake.

All in all, Killian’s not even apologetic that he decided to meddle.

“A Squished Affair”

It’s not exactly ideal, but this is where they are: the last minute reservation for New Year’s Eve in New York City – their necessity to squeeze into a room intended for one single person as two people.

Two people who used to sleep together on the regular, but who haven’t touched each other in years.

At twenty, they were falling into bed every other weekend just to try to get it out of their systems. At twenty-one, she was with Neal and he was with Milah, and they both had reservations about the other’s choice but just wanted each other to be happy. At twenty-three, Neal was gone and Emma was doing her best to construct a concrete wall around her heart. At twenty-five, Milah passed away and Killian built his concrete wall right next to hers. At twenty-seven, Emma was dumb enough to let hers down for Walsh.

For the next three years, they had one-night stands and week-long flings, but at the first hint of permanence, they would split and run.

And after years without being intimately in each other’s company, here they are, back to back in what must be the smallest bed in the smallest room in all of New York City.

But Killian hates sleeping on his right arm because it leaves his only hand trapped.

“Killian, just turn over. It’s fine,” Emma finally relents.

It’s slightly more awkward, at first, but they shimmy into a more comfortable position, and soon Emma is sighing as she tries to fall asleep, lulled into relaxing by the way Killian’s hand comfortably strokes along her stomach.

“I’ve missed you,” she admits at some point, assuming he’s already fallen asleep by the way his hand had stopped moving. But it tenses up, and she feels him exhale against her neck.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

She shivers at the way the words caress her skin, and she presses back into him more, if that’s even possible.

“Emma, wait. I can’t do the friends with benefits again with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was in love with you, Swan.”

Now she’s shuffling, turning over to face him but really, finding herself up in his face is almost a bit much. Almost.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I was going to… the next time. But… You met Neal.”

Her heart sinks to somewhere near her feet. He’d been calling her the night she met Neal, his voicemails sounding twitchy and impatient in some way, and Emma just assumed it was because he was hard up and wanting. Not because…

She kisses him, hard, pulling him as close to her face as she possibly can.

“Does it count if I tell you now that I love you, too?”

His response kiss is just as enthusiastic, just as lovely, just as Killian as she wanted it to be.

It takes some serious maneuvers, but they somehow shuffle out of their clothes, exploring each other’s bodies like they haven’t in ten years.

“Why does it feel like I’m having sex in the beds I slept in as a teenager?”

It feels good for both of them to laugh in the intimate moment, and they’re both so glad to be back where they belong.

“I’m pretty sure those people don’t have walls actually touching the sides of the bed.”

“I’m sure you’re correct, Swan. But they also probably have to stay relatively quiet.”

“But we don’t have to be quiet, right?”

“I bloody well hope not,” he says, punctuating the sentiment with a bite to her collarbone, enjoying the way she involuntarily thrusts up against him and the way her moan stutters out at the action.

Neither of them stays quiet at all, and Emma is seriously surprised that the hotel doesn’t receive any noise complaints about them.

Not that they care, as the next night they’re holding each other tight when the ball drops, smushed up against several other of the million in attendance. They can barely even see the ball from where they are, but they can see David proposing to Mary Margaret, can see the crowd send up a cheer as she says “yes,” can see one of the cameras from the program zoom in and catch the moment.

And that’s how they ended up with national coverage of their New Year’s Eve adventures that they could cherish forever.

#sarah writes ff #christmas fic bits #cs ff au #captain swan ff #cs fanfic

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kathrynmaslow · 6 years ago

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Love Lies 15/15

Summary: Ever since Emma was 13, she knew she had the ability to destroy people if she wanted to, and some days, she really wanted to. After being forced to go to Greenwood Academy following a traumatizing event in her childhood that brought to the surface her ability to manipulate fire, she never thought she would be free of the place. So for nearly 10 years, she lived a solitary existence with the exception of her best friends, but that was all about to change.

Killian Jones had just been sentenced to attend the university campus at Greenwood Academy after an accident at sea caused him to be dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s royal Navy and lose his hand. He doesn’t know what to think about these newfound powers and what they spell for the rest of his now not-so-normal life. But a chance encounter one day has the ability to change all of that.

A story about love and redemption between two people that shows, if you have the right person beside you, you can find a light in the darkness.

Rating: M

Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence/Death, Brief mention of Childhood Abuse/Sexual Assault, Mild Sexual Content.

Chapter Notes: I can’t believe the end is here! This journey with CSBB2018 has been nothing like I would have ever expected, and I am so glad that I did it. I have never finished a single multi-chapter that I have started in my life, and thankfully BB gave me the support and deadlines that I needed to finally be able to do it! I have so many people that I have to thank for following me on this journey, thanks to the moderators, for running a great FF writing group. Thanks to all the ladies on Discord, your words, stories, inspiration and oversharing will stay with me forever. You all gave me the kick in the butt I needed when I needed it and all those long nights sprinting to get words in by the deadlines were amazing. I can’t thank you ladies enough. Even though it is cliché (and she will never read this) but I have to thank my mother, for telling me to do something for myself this year that I enjoy. I found BB and took the plunge, and have enjoyed the experience right from the start.

I would be remiss to not thank @daveyjacobsthepotterhead, for being my beta reader. You and I were kind of thrown together at the last minute and we worked tirelessly together to make this weird idea that I had into something amazing. Our chats on tumblr and in the comments of this document were able to get me through this thing and turn it from something that I wasn’t quite sure about something that I can say I am so proud to have written and put out there.

Also thanks to @princesse-swan, for your gorgeous story art that you put together for this story. We were also thrown together at the last minute, but we made the best of the thing and I felt that our collaboration together worked out wonderfully on both sides. Thanks so much for your commentary on my story as well and giving me feedback when I needed it most.

Thanks to all my readers, especially those who took time to comment on every single chapter of this on FF.net, your comments meant the world and certainly made up for all the stress of writing this without any feedback at the time. You Rock!

Now, here it is! Enjoy!

Read on FF

Catch up on Tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

Art by @princesse-swan here, here and here

Chapter 15

3 months later

Emma and Killian woke to pounding on the door.

Emma groaned, pulling the blankets further over her head and burying her face in the pillow. She felt more than heard Killian laughing from his place next to her in bed.

Ever since they had made up, they had been working on getting more comfortable with each other again, as well as working on some of their individual fears that lingered from their pasts.

The one they were currently working on having a breakthrough with was Emma’s fears of intimacy.

She loved Killian, had told him so many times in the intervening months, but she had struggled getting over that barrier of being comfortable with a lot of physical and, their current struggle, sexual contact.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, as Killian kept assuring her, he was more than comfortable moving at her pace.

But Emma was frustrated with herself. It had been so long since that incident with her stepfather and she wanted to be over it, she truly did so she didn’t feel like she was holding something back in their relationship. But anytime Killian put his full weight on top of her for an extended period of time she still felt that fear rising out of her, and her flames flickering awake to try and protect her.

She hadn’t burned him again since that one disastrous night, but she didn’t want to risk doing it again.

Killian’s wrist rubbed along her back as he rolled over and leaned into her side, his face buried against the back of her shoulder.

He clearly didn’t want to wake up and see who was at her door either.

The pounding became more insistent. “Emma, Come on, wake up!” She heard David call through the door.

Her and Killian both groaned at the familiar voice. They both probably should have moved faster at getting out of bed though, forgetting that David had a key to her room. The door swung open unexpectedly, causing Killian to bolt upright, lobbing the pillow he had been using in the direction of the door.

David caught it with ease, his eyes widening comedically as he caught sight of a bare-chested Killian in her bed.

“Uhhh, is Emma here?” He asked, sounding completely uncomfortable with the state of things.

She extended her hand out from under the blankets and grunting before dropping her hand back down to the bed. It was too early in Emma’s opinion for this to be happening.

“Are you dressed under there?” He asked, sounding even more uncomfortable than he had previously.

Killian laughed, causing the bed to shake with the force of his laughter.

“Yeah, I am.” She groaned, still not moving.

“Good, because I have some news for you.” He said, “Riggans was fired.”

That got her attention. She bolted upright in bed, shoving her hair out of her face as she fully started waking up.

“What do you mean Riggans was fired?” She asked, disbelief coloring her voice.

“I mean, he was removed from his position as Headmaster of the lower and upper campuses here at Greenwood, pending an investigation into his possible involvement with the attack that happened a few months ago.” David explained.

She looked over at Killian in disbelief. He looked just as shocked as she felt. Emma couldn’t believe that Riggans would have been involved with the organization of the military style attack on their campus that got both her and Killian locked down.

Then again, she had remembered August and Graham commenting about how it was unusual that she was the one who was punished for protecting her campus while Gaston hadn’t been sentenced afterwards besides being sent off campus to a different facility. Not even a more secure facility, one that had less security than the one they were currently attending. That had always struck her and Killian odd whenever they had talked about it.

“Bloody hell.” Killian intoned next to her.

She could tell that he didn’t know how to react to the news either.

David pointed towards the window, “As you can see, not many people are mourning him getting fired.”

She and Killian shared a look before darting off her bed and pushing aside the curtains on her window.

Normally, she had a nice view of the courtyard between all of the high risk buildings. The courtyard was normally pretty quiet as not many students lived this far out on campus and the only traffic was high risk students getting to and from their buildings.

Now it was packed, full of students chanting and cheering and celebrating the loss of the man who had ruled this school with an iron fist for the last two years.

Emma had the strong urge to join them.

But there were more pressing thoughts on her mind.

“Do you know who they have selected to replace him?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the scene in front of her.

“I don’t know him, but they announced that someone named August Clasen would be taking over until they could appoint a new Headmaster. Apparently he used to be the head of security.” David said.

Emma’s knees went a bit weak and she dropped her hand down onto the windowsill while the other went to her chest in shock and relief.

“Emma! Hey, what’s wrong.” Killian asked, his thumb brushing through tears she hadn’t known she was shedding.

“We get to leave, we are going to get to leave.” She said, hope shining in her eyes at the prospect of finally being able to leave this campus for good.

.o.O.o.

One year later.

Emma’s hands were shaking as she walked into the administrative building. She was finally doing this.

Not long after August had taken over as interim headmaster of Greenwood Academy, Edward Riggans, former headmaster, had been found guilty of conspiring to lead an attack against the gifted students at the academy in hopes of eradicating them.

The nail in his coffin had come when they called August onto the stand during his trial, and he had revealed his powers to the court and to Riggans for the first time.

Riggans had blown his lid in response, throwing out all kinds of slander at him and accusing him on manipulating him into doing all of those things that he was being charged for.

The only problem was that August could only read thoughts, not plant them. And the Judge knew that from first hand experience, because he had asked August to apply for the security job after a number of complaints had come in about how students were being treated at Greenwood that an investigation was launched while he was still headmaster.

The Jury sentenced him to life in prison for endangering the life of the minors on the campus and for targeted hate crimes.

Emma had never heard better news in her entire life.

At least, she hoped the news she was going to receive today would be better.

August had been selected as the new Headmaster for the Academy after the trial since no new candidates had applied for the position, and he had said when he took that office that he would listen to any case that came across his desk for a student requesting to live off campus.

Killian had held her when she cried after hearing that, because while Riggans had been headmaster, and the man who had held the office before him, they had both stated that High Risk cases wouldn’t get a hearing. They would get moved to a community that was assigned to them when they outlasted their stay on the upper college campus.

Now Emma, and Killian as well, would get the opportunity to apply to live off campus in the community of their choosing, and if they were lucky, without any of their suppression gear.

Killian had been working hard all year with a new trainer who had been brought in to help him with his abilities. It took August some time, and he called in a personal favor to do it, but he made sure that everyone who didn’t have a trainer before, or who wasn’t getting trained, was getting the care that they needed to become good functioning members of society again.

After a couple of sessions, they had finally figured out what was triggering Killian’s flares when he wasn’t wearing his glove, and had created a plan to help him contain the flare before it created any kind of an issue wherever he was located.

It took a few months, but he was able to tell her three months ago that he finally stopped having flares that he couldn’t control, and was able to use his powers with intent instead of it being a random explosion of darkness from around him.

And last month, she had applied to move the the community just off campus since she was graduating with her fine arts degree.

Killian wasn’t going to be that far behind her, since he was graduating in the fall instead of in the spring. But he had also applied to live off campus with her, pending a final review from the trainers on campus. August was willing to let him finish his last semester off campus, so Emma hoped that would mean good things for her as well.

As she walked up onto the floor where the hearings were held, she headed over to where the secretary was currently typing away at her desk and cleared her throat.

“Emma Swan to see the Housing Review Committee,” she said.

The woman looked up at her and nodded, gesturing to her to sit down in one of the empty chairs.

Emma tapped her hands against her knees restlessly. She was so nervous that her request was going to be denied.

“Emma Swan,” A gentleman called from the doors.

The 5 other students who appeared to have been waiting before her scowled in her direction as she made her way back, smoothing down the edge of her cardigan nervously.

As she made her way into the room, she saw a table seated in the center of the room facing the committee panel lined up along the far wall. August was sitting in the middle of them, shuffling papers around to find what she presumed was her case file.

The gentleman who had called her back gestured for her to sit down at the table, calling out her name and case file number one more time for the committee .

There was another flurry of activity as everyone moved papers again to double check they had the right case number before they all turned and looked at Emma.

She resisted the urge to shrink down in her chair a bit.

“It’s very nice to see you again Ms. Swan,” August said, still leafing through her file.

“You as well, Sir. I don’t think I ever got to thank you.” She said, folding her hands together in an effort to keep from fidgeting.

“Whatever for child?” He asked, looking up at her surprised.

“For having the mercy to remove my suppression bracelets and the gloves before locking me on ICE two years ago. If it hadn’t been for that kindness, I likely would not be here today.” She said.

“Think nothing of it. Anyone could have seen what was happening to you was unjust.” August said, returning to the files in front of him. “Now, it says here that you want to live in the community just off campus here, without visitor restriction, is that correct?”

Emma nodded at him. She didn’t say that she really wanted to live there without her bracelets, but that would be a request for another time. “Yes, My brother, his wife and daughter would like to come and see me if approved. I haven’t seen my brother in over ten years.”

August’s eyes crinkled behind his glasses.

“Yes, I see. The committee has taken the time this week to review your case and court files, and will be making a ruling today to either deny or accept the request to move off campus to the community.” August started, looking down at her.

She nodded to show that she was following the formal language of the proceeding.

“I move that we accept the request to move one, Ms. Emma Swan, off campus to the Greenwood community, allowing her full visitor privileges and the ability to live without the suppression gear that has been provided to her by this academy.” Emma’s jaw dropped in response. “The committee will review the case in 5 years time to determine if the suppression gear needs to be reinstated or she can begin to assimilate back into normal society while maintaining residence in a community. All in favor, say aye.”

Tears filled Emma’s eyes as one by one the committee members voted to live off campus without her bracelets. As the last committee member cast his vote, August turned his smiling eyes on her.

“Congratulations Ms. Swan, the committee has moved to approve your request. You will be assigned a housing location by the end of the week and will have a months time after the end of the spring term to move in. Case closed.” He said, hitting his gavel once on the desk.

Emma walked back to her dorm where Killian and the rest of her friends were waiting in a daze.

She was going to be free.

.o.O.o.

Killian groaned as his alarm clock went off. He rolled over and hit the offending device a few times before finally getting it to quiet.

Rolling back over, he reached his hand across the bed towards where Emma should have been laying, only to encounter empty sheets instead. He could hear the sound of the shower running in the other room.

Killian sighed. He knew Emma would be stressed out today, it was understandable considering the circumstances, but he had at least hoped that she would have gotten at least some sleep before she got up in the morning.

She had been turning over and fidgeting restlessly next to him for a good portion of the night, until he had reached over and pulled her body into his, tucking her back against his chest. He had hoped that stilling her movements and feeling the heat of his body would at least relax her enough to allow her to sleep, but it seemed like he was the only one who got some peaceful sleep out of the arrangement.

Pushing his hand through his hair to try and straighten it a bit, he pushed himself up and out of bed. Killian grabbed a shirt from off the floor and shrugged it on as he made his way downstairs towards the kitchen.

He thought it was the least he could do to make them breakfast.

Killian grabbed a box of pancake mix from the cabinet and set to work, grabbing the eggs and milk from the fridge. On a whim, he also grabbed the cinnamon from the cabinet as well, throwing a dash into the mix before whisking it all together.

Emma came pounding down the stairs just as he began to pour the first batch out onto the skillet.

“Morning Love,” He said, turning to look over his shoulder at her.

She gave him a half smile in return as she continued to rub a towel through her damp hair.

“Do I smell pancakes?” She asked.

“Of course, with a secret ingredient thrown in for good measure as well.” Killian said, flipping the first pair over.

“Color me intrigued.” Emma replied, leaning next to the counter next to him. She was distractingly clad in his black robe, and nothing else from the looks of it, and it took all of his focus to make sure he didn’t burn the pancakes.

He flipped the finished product out onto a plate, turning to pass it to her. Emma surprised him by wrapping her hand around the nape of his neck and pulling his lips down to hers, kissing him soundly.

He grunted, wrapping his left arm around her and pulling her as close as the plate between them would allow.

He broke away first, not wanting to get overly carried away. “What was that for Love?”

“Can’t I thank my boyfriend for making us pancakes?” She asked with a smirk on her lips.

“Of course, whatever was I thinking.” He replied sarcastically, even though he knew it was more than that in the kiss. She was still nervous. “Sit down and enjoy your breakfast Swan, I’ll join you shortly.”

Emma nodded, turning and sitting down at the kitchen table.

Once Killian finished the pancakes, he joined her at the table to eat. She still said little, pushing the pancakes around on her plate and not really eating them.

Killian sighed quietly and reached his hand over, stilling her fingers where they were tapping on the table top. “It will be fine Emma. I’m going to go up and shower.” He said, squeezing her fingers and leaning over the table to press his lips to hers, a chaste comparison to the kiss over pancakes earlier.

~~~~

Emma watched as Killian made his way up the stairs towards their shared room and sighed. She knew she was worrying him, but she couldn’t seem to relax. She hadn’t seen Sean since he was 16, and so much had changed in the last 11 years.

She also didn’t know what he thought of her and her powers, which made the fact that he was coming over for his first visit today the more nerve-wracking for her. For all she knew, their mother had changed his views of her over the last 11 years, which would make this all the worse.

But he agreed to meet, so that was at least something.

She pushed the rest of her half eaten breakfast into the trash and left the plate in the sink for them to clean later.

Heading up stairs, she began shifting through her dresser and half of the closet for something to wear. What did you wear to meet with a brother you hadn’t seen in 11 years? Not that, she thought as she passed on one of her short, red dresses in the back of the closet.

Finally, after a lot of indecision, she settled on a comfortable pair of jeans and a light sweater. She heard the shower shut off as she finished dressing, and she smiled softly as she heard him humming a song.

She was just as proud and excited as he was when he found out that his trainers had approved his request to be off campus for the remainder of his time at Greenwood. He still had to wear his glove, he wasn’t that in control of his powers yet, but that didn’t take anything away from the day they both found out. And it was a no brainer that Emma asked him to move in with her as well.

A good choice, she though as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low across his hips and his hand raised to towel off his hair.

They still hadn’t taken that last step, but Emma was certain it would be happening soon. She was finally reaching that point where sexual contact wasn’t sending her into a panic attack, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either. Her therapist, who she had started seeing to try and help things out, because she had a serious case of PTSD when it came to this even in her childhood, said that it would take time. And Emma was happy with the way things were coming along, it made her feel like maybe there wasn’t something wrong with her.

Killian walked over to her and pushed her still wet hair back from her face, “Feeling better Love?” He asked, kissing her briefly on the lips.

“Surprisingly, yeah,” She replied, standing up. “But you should get dressed, Sean is supposed to be here soon.”

She kissed him once more for good measure, and then moved around him out of the room.

Only, once she was away from him and by herself again in the main room, her nerves came back ten fold.

A loud knock on the door forced her out of her thoughts.

Killian came bounding down the stairs, fully dressed if barefoot, and moved to get the door for her.

The sun shown through the open door, obscuring the features of the person at the door.

A throat cleared. “Uh, does Emma Swan live here?” A deep voice asked.

“Yeah, come on in. Name’s Killian by the way. I’m Emma’s boyfriend.” Killian stepped back and let the gentleman in.

“Sean, Though you probably already know that.” The voice held a faint trace of a smile.

Killian’s response was lost to her as she took in the figure in front of her.

The face wasn’t that different, though he had shed the last of the teenage softness and grown into the gangly shoulders. Sean stopped short, mouth open in what would have been a response to Killian when he caught sight of her. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Emma?” He asked, of course she would have looked different to him.

She nodded her head, “Hi.”

Tear welled up in his eyes as well and he moved suddenly, pulling her into a crushing hug.

Her arms went around him and gripped him just as hard, both of them shaking with built up emotion.

“I missed you so much Bug.” He said, gripping her tighter.

“I missed you too.” She said.

Finally, everything in her life was perfect. And she could begin to leave behind the horrible things that happened to her at Greenwood for good.

Fin.

#csbb #2018 csbb #Love Lies #My writing #Emma swan #killian jones #Captain Swan #Emma x Killian

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trueloveseyeroll · 7 years ago

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The Dancing Thief (1/13)

Summary: Pretending to be a noblewoman might be the dumbest thing Emma has ever agreed to do. And she’s not sure if meeting Lord Killian Jones made the whole thing better or worse. (Better. Definitely better.)

Rating: T (language and mild violence)

Beta: The wonderful @forget-me-not-s

Artist: The lovely @captxinswans - check out her amazing artwork for this chapter!!

Word count: 6032 (62k words in total)

A/N: After trying to write this story for months, I signed up for the @captainswanbigbang in hopes that it would help motivate me to actually finish the story. And now, half a year later, I can't believe I'm sharing it with the world! I know for sure that I couldn't have done it without my wonderful beta and friend Aina (forget-me-not-s), as she encouraged me to sign up in the first place and gave me hope when I thought everything I wrote sucked. I'd also like to thank my incredible artist captxinswans! And of course, the moderators of the csbb for making all of this possible!

This story was initially inspired by one of my favourite books, The Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson. Especially the first two chapter are inspired by the books, so I would just like to say, that I do not own anything you might recognize :)

Now, I really hope you enjoy it! I'll be posting every Wednesday until Christmas :)

AO3

Emma no longer questioned whether or not she had lost her mind. Alone in the bustling carriage, she made peace with the fact that she was indeed completely insane. But she had a job to do, and nothing was going to keep her from following through with it.

In the dark outside, people hurried home to their hearths or perhaps to a tavern for a drink and some laughter. Lanterns were lit here and there, and smoke rose from every chimney. Emma had never before thought of Misthaven as charming per say. Then again, she was far from used to seeing her hometown from the inside of a horse-drawn carriage.

Emma stopped fiddling with the soft skirt of her dress. She refused to let her nerves get the better of her, and shifted in her seat on the cushioned bench. The corset of the dress forced her to sit with her back straight, and although she worried for her spleen, it was comforting to know that her dress would keep her from slouching.

The hair was probably the worst part. Snow had pinned it up so delicately, Emma worried it would all unravel at the slightest bump. But it was beautiful - the hair, the dress, all of it. Not even Emma could deny that. She looked like a noblewoman, and the moment she first tried it all on five weeks ago was the moment she started to believe the plan could actually work.

Robin knocked on the carriage from outside on the coachman’s bench. Will played the actual part of coachman, leaving Robin to signal that they were nearing their destination. Emma could already tell from the way the streets were lit up; nothing could brighten the streets of Misthaven quite like the great keeps. Not to mention the palace. But the destination tonight was Keep Jones, and Emma - a street urchin at best, a criminal at worst - was about to attend her first ball.

Now, this wasn’t Emma’s first time pretending to be a noblewoman. Sometimes pilfering a few items from a store called for a fine dress and some noble confidence. Of course, her usual “noble” attire wasn’t half as nice as the one Snow had dressed her in, and Emma wasn’t just planning on stealing a few things. She was planning on fooling the entire court of Misthaven.

Yes, Emma had indeed lost her mind, but at least she wasn’t alone.

Six weeks ago, Ruby’s tavern

“You want me to what?” Emma asked, certain she’d misheard Ruby.

“Infiltrate the court,” the tavern owner said as if it were the simplest thing ever.

Emma stared at her friend, waiting for her to admit that it was all a joke. Snow, sitting next to Ruby, spoke instead. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Emma, especially when you and I have only just met, but your help could make a big difference.”

If Snow hadn’t looked so sincere, Emma would’ve called her mad and left the table, uncaring that they were practically strangers. But she had known Ruby for a long time, and although she was prone to wild ideas, Emma trusted her judgement. And if Ruby trusted Snow, well...

“Why me?”

“Because you’d be amazing at this!” Ruby exclaimed.

“Ruby, I’m a thief. I might pull off a few scams here and there, but I’m no actress - and I’m definitely not a spy.”

“You might as well be,” Ruby muttered.

Touching as Ruby’s faith in her was, Emma couldn’t help but feel that it was misplaced.

“How is this gonna help David anyways?” Emma asked Snow, careful to keep her voice down. Although they were in a dim corner of the small tavern - the usual spot where Ruby presented Emma with new jobs - they weren’t entirely secluded, and helping the exiled prince in any way was treason. Helping him take his father’s throne was probably high treason.

When David was exiled seven years ago, Emma was eleven and cared little for the gossip. The story went that King George had discovered his wife’s unfaithfulness upon her death, and started to doubt if David was even his own son. He came to the conclusion that the Queen had borne another man’s child, and David was exiled. But it seemed the prince - and his fiancée Snow - weren’t going to respect King George’s wishes much longer.

“He needs support from the other Houses, and he already knows who might help him, but things can quickly change,” Snow replied. “So far we’re relying on informants and simple hope, but we need someone at court who can hear everything at first hand. Someone we can trust completely.”

“Someone who hates George as much as us ‘petty commoners’,” Ruby supplied, knowing just how to butter Emma up.

Hardly anyone liked King George - if anyone at all. He was a ruthless king who cared only for profit and power. He didn’t spare a thought to all those who suffered under his sky-high taxes and the beatings issued when one didn’t work hard enough. Orphans like Emma lived and died on the streets, and King George merely turned his head the other way.

Oh, how she would love to punch the bastard in the face.

However, the plan didn’t call for any violence from Emma. It called for delicacy and deceit. Snow was putting all of her faith in a thief she had only just met, and Emma could already feel a great weight on her shoulders.

“This is all risky as hell.”

Snow gave her a look of agreement, while Ruby bluntly asked, “So are you in?”

Emma sighed, downing the rest of her ale. “I can agree to discussing the plan, but I can’t promise I’ll go through with it.”

“Thank you, Emma. That’s all we can ask of you.”

“For now,” Ruby added.

Present time, just outside Keep Jones

Emma thought back on her first meeting with Snow as the carriage approached Keep Jones. She’d also met David since then. Now twenty-six with his hair at shoulder-length and a thick shadow of stubble, the prince had returned to his hometown after seven years. He wasn’t at all what Emma had imagined. He was actually... nice. Someone she would like to see on the throne, and it only assured her that she’d made the right choice.

For the past five weeks, he and Snow had trained her in proper etiquette, worked on her back-story, perfected her posture and refined her language. Robin had pitched in as well. He used to be a footman at some baron’s estate in the far west. In fact, Snow had been the lady’s maid in the same household, and Will a coachman. But when they’d come across David two years ago, all three of their lives had changed drastically, just like Emma’s had after meeting the lot of them.

Finally, the carriage slowed to a halt. Emma peeked out of the window to see various nobles mingling as they made their way to the entrance of the keep. Bright lights illuminated the grey façade, leaving shadows in odd corners. Emma took a deep breath, knowing that this was her last moment of just being Emma.

Then the carriage door opened.

A footman stood ready to help her out. Emma had never understood the custom - a woman could damn well get out of a carriage on her own. But with the dress flowing around her legs, she found herself grateful for the outstretched hand.

The footman briefly returned Emma’s smile before pointing Will in the right direction. Robin stepped down beside Emma, ready to play her steward for the evening - and for every ball in the future. It was custom to bring a servant to courtly outings, and while Emma mingled with the nobles, so would Robin with the servants. And Will with the coachmen.

“Ready, milady?” Robin asked.

Ready as I’ll ever be, Emma thought, offering Robin a nod.

Careful not to step on the hem of her gown, Emma followed the carpeted path to the open doors of the keep. She was tempted to look up and see how high the towers actually reached, but didn’t want to look stupid. Then, remembering that the young Lady Emma Swan was new to the city and easily impressed, she looked up anyway.

No building in Misthaven stood taller than the palace, she knew. There was doubtfully a building in all of the Enchanted Forest that could compete with its grandeur. But perhaps Keep Jones could give the palace a run for its money.

At the doors, two servants accepted the forged invitation as Robin introduced her as Lady Emma Swan. The servants bowed and waved them in, unknowing that Lady Emma Swan didn’t actually exist. Neither did her father, a fabricated baron in the far north. The Enchanted Forest was such a large country, no one could possibly keep track of every single lord and lady without studying records. As long as Emma dressed and acted as a lady, no one would be any the wiser.

Still, Emma couldn’t help the knots in her stomach as she noticed several looks in her direction. A group of noblewomen to her right in the foyer were surveying her, as well as a pair of young men. Emma kept her head high, ignoring the urge to run. They weren’t looking at her because they knew her secret, she told herself. They were simply interested in the newest addition to court. They were studying her dress, her make-up, her jewellery... none of them actually saw Emma underneath it all.

The thought comforted her, and she held on to it as she passed through to the ballroom of Keep Jones.

As grand as the building was from the outside, Emma wasn’t prepared for the sight waiting for her inside. Four or five daunting stories high, the ballroom was several times as long as it was wide. Not a single spot wasn’t decorated and not a single stone wasn’t skilfully crafted. Large stained glass windows adorned one long side of the hall, the light cast on them from the outside creating a magnificent display of colours.

It was a feat in itself to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor when she entered.

A string orchestra played on a platform to her left, several couples dancing to the beautiful music. It was a far cry from anything Emma had ever heard or seen in a tavern, that was for sure.

Robin settled her seating arrangements with another servant before leading her towards a small table some paces away from the dance floor.

“I asked for a solitary table,” Robin informed her. “As we’ve planned, you won’t need to do much mingling tonight, just be seen.”

“And dance,” Emma muttered. The dancing was likely the hardest part of pretending to be a noblewoman; David’s feet had certainly suffered through the few lessons he and Snow had given her.

“You could probably avoid that tonight. Just be respectful and you can refuse any young lord who asks. They’ll likely assume you’re flustered by all the impressions of your first ball and will take no offence.”

Part of the tension left Emma’s shoulders. She knew she liked Robin for a reason.

“Of course, you’ll have to dance with them at the next ball,” he continued, earning himself a glare.

While Emma took her seat, Robin went to get her meal from the serving table.

Looking around, the stained glass windows drew her attention in particular. Each showed a different picture - most of the sea or the creatures in its depths. Emma remembered something about the Lord Brennan Jones being Duke of a large stretch of land by the coast, and even commanding the royal navy under King George as well as other seafaring businesses. As such, House Jones was one of the richest and most powerful of all the houses, and their keep certainly showed it.

Robin returned with her meal before long, and Emma did her best to eat as slowly as possible. It wasn’t difficult, as her stomach could hardly contain anything but nervous flutters. She wasn’t quite used to the richness of the food either. Eating slowly was more about postponing the inevitable dance offers though.

Robin stood behind her, up against the wall. He was close enough that should she need him, it wouldn’t take much more than a whisper, but far away enough to give her the proper space. Emma wished he could just sit in a seat beside her and keep her entertained, but she’d surely turn too many heads if she asked her steward to join her.

Eventually, her plate was clean and Emma knew her small bubble wouldn’t remain up for long. The first young man approached her about two minutes after Robin had taken her plate.

“Lady Emma Swan?” he asked, bowing slightly. “I am Lord Grif Ladrian. Would you care to dance?”

“My lord,” Emma smiled politely, adorning the mask of a sweet young girl. “I am honoured, but this is my first ball and everything is just so breathtaking! I’m afraid I would fall over my own feet on the dance floor. Perhaps, next time?”

“Of course, my lady - I’d be honoured,” he said with a courteous nod. “I bid you a pleasant first ball.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded again and withdrew.

The small encounter had Emma’s heart racing, but she couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps she wasn’t absolutely terrible at impersonating a noblewoman after all.

Three more men approached her, but she turned them all down as politely as she had the first. They were all from the smaller houses, as expected. She was hardly going to turn the heads of the Great Houses on her very first night at court.

But things were going well enough, Emma felt, all things considered. Until Robin informed her he had to leave for the stewards’ dinner.

Emma knew he had to leave at some point, and she didn’t want to feel helpless without him, but the thought of being alone with all these nobles wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“You’ve done well so far, Emma. You’ve made no mistakes - at least none that wouldn’t be excusable for a lady new to court.”

“Like what?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“We’ll discuss that later,” Robin answered, a twinkle in his eyes. “Now just continue as you’ve done, and everything will be fine. I’ll come find you when I’m done, and we can call it an evening. Until then, just sip your wine - but don’t request too many refills, okay? You’re at a formal ball, not a rowdy night at Ruby’s.”

Emma wanted to curse him for being such a condescending asshole - even if he was merely joking. “Just go already, Locksley.”

“You have to dismiss me properly first, milady,” he said, the twinkle bright as ever.

Emma rolled her eyes at him. Thank heaven no one was looking their way or listening in on their quite improper interaction. “Fine; you’re dismissed.”

Robin bowed slightly. “Thank you, milady.”

And like that, Emma was on her own.

She sipped at her wine and studied the people mingling and the couples on the dance floor. Her reluctance to dance must have been passed on, because no one else approached her with an offer. She was quite relieved on that matter.

But sitting at her table alone was starting to get to her. She tried eavesdropping on the conversations around her, but they were either of no importance or the table was too far away for her to hear things properly. Restlessness seeped into her bones, and she longed to stand up and walk around - if only she could be sure no one would try to talk to her. She was still perfectly fine with just observing everything.

On the far side wall, Emma noticed something she hadn’t noticed before; above the windows, just underneath the ceiling, a long balcony ran along the wall, separated in several sections by pillars. The lights up there were low, and only a few guests mingled about.

Robin had told her to stay were she was, but the longer she waited for his return, the more her eyes sought out the balcony. She’d have a perfect view of the entire hall from up there. And some peace to study everything without seeming to gawk.

Her legs were on the edge of bouncing with unrest, everything in her itching to get up and move about. She waited one more minute, then stood.

It felt as though every eye was trained on her as she passed through the hall, but she forced herself to keep calm. She’d rather not appear to be running away from her first ball.

The stairwell to the balcony was hidden in the wall near the corner of the room, but Emma found it without difficulty. Climbing the winding stairs in a heavy ballgown was another matter though. The steps were small, and she couldn’t see her own feet. After climbing about half of the stairs, she began to feel quite tired as well. Ballgowns really were impractical as hell.

At least the climb was worth it. Emma instantly felt better with fewer lords and ladies around her. And the few that had found a spot on the balcony paid her no attention.

Crossing the length of the balcony, past pillars and guests, Emma kept half an eye on the floor below. At the far end, she was lucky enough to find an empty section, almost entirely secluded by a pillar. She stopped at the railing to get a proper look at the stunning hall. Invisible to her eyes before, she noticed that the tiles of the floor created a pattern; an elegant curving of grey upon white. Waves, perhaps. It certainly fit with the rest of the keep.

The balcony was dark, lit only by the warm flame of a sconce behind her. To the side, Emma noticed thick navy curtains that - if desired - could conceal the entire balcony. She glanced up at the pillars in the hall, seeing various animals and mythical creatures carved at the top, frozen in motion. Even the railing of the balcony was elaborate in detail, the twisted iron bars resembling seaweed.

Emma had always loved a view from above, and she would happily spend the rest of her evening in this beautiful, secluded spot.

“I never knew women could be such cruel thieves.” Emma startled at the sudden voice next to her, turning to see a young man with dishevelled hair and the hint of a smile. “But perhaps a stunning lass like you could be the cruellest thief of them all.”

Too busy recovering from the shock, Emma didn’t catch the compliment. She only caught the subtle accusation.

“I’m not a thief.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her cheeks turn red. Perhaps because she was embarrassed by the bluntness of her outburst. Maybe because she was too late in realizing the thinly veiled compliment in his words. Possibly because she was blatantly lying her ass off. But she couldn’t deny that it was also because he was one of the handsomest men she’d seen all night. Even with his eyebrow raised at her in question.

“And yet you’ve stolen my favourite spot on the balcony.”

“Oh. I, uh, I wasn’t aware of that... My lord,” she added.

Smooth, Emma. Smooth.

Something flickered in his eyes, but his smile stayed put.

“I suppose there’s no harm done. However, it is the best spot on the balcony - secluded and with the perfect light for reading.”

Only then did Emma notice the book threatening to fall out of the pocket of his coat. Made of thin black leather, with the edge of it reaching just above his knees, the coat wasn’t what Emma usually associated with noble fashion. It was rich-looking, but paired with snug black trousers, a dark brown vest and a shirt that hadn’t been entirely buttoned up, the young lord’s attire certainly stood out.

The dark ruffled hair didn’t help matters much. It added to his charm though, as did the gleam in his blue eyes. A bit of stubble graced his jaw, and Emma gathered he was a few years older than her - he could be no more than twenty-two though. Perhaps twenty?

“I don’t mind sharing,” Emma said, referring to the spot. She’d be damned if he made her leave. She had just as much a right to enjoy the spot as he did. Or so she assumed, at least.

“Brilliant,” the lord smiled, “neither do I.”

Without further ado, he pulled the book from his pocket and began reading. The open pages rested against the railing, and though he stood a few small paces away from Emma, she could see that he was right; the light was perfect for reading. She couldn’t discern the tightly scribbled lines though, not from afar.

A few seconds passed before Emma realized she was openly staring at him. She looked down at the hall again, trying to forget his presence, but it was all but impossible. The couples dancing below only made her wonder why a handsome lord like him was up on the balcony, reading. He hadn’t even introduced himself!

Emma shifted from one foot to the other. The upper-class world was full of rules and decorum; surely there was something odd about the current situation.

The young lord turned a page.

Emma contemplated leaving. The peace she had found in the once secluded spot was more than ruined now. Perhaps she could find another place to observe the hall. But stubbornness kept her rooted where she stood; she didn’t want him to think he had won the spot over her. He could ignore her all he liked, she wasn’t going anywhere.

The current melody ended, and the string orchestra began a slower tune.

Her growing annoyance nagged at her. She had no reason to be annoyed that some stupid nobleman found his book more interesting than her. She was used to being invisible after all. She hadn’t been much older than five when she learned that not being seen had greater advantages than the risks of being beaten if she did something wrong.

But being so blatantly ignored by someone who had been ever-so-charming towards her before, put her teeth on edge. Really, she should just leave him to his own stupid devices.

The competitor in her refused to let it go though.

“Do you always read at balls?”

The young man turned his head, looking up at her. “When I can get away with it.”

“Then what’s the point of even attending?”

“The wine, usually,” he smirked. “Though I always bring something a little stronger, just in case.” With a pat to his chest, he hinted at a hidden flask in an inner pocket of his coat.

“That can’t be reason enough to show up just to hide away on a balcony,” Emma said. She might be toeing the line of proper decorum, but he wasn’t exactly straight-laced either.

“Perhaps you’d enlighten me on what would be reason enough. You’re hiding away up here too, are you not?” he pointed out, his tongue clicking on the last t.

“I just wanted a brief view of the hall,” she lied.

“And you chose the most secluded spot by coincidence, I presume,” he teased, “and have become so enraptured by my presence, you can’t find it in yourself to leave even if you’ve far surpassed a ‘brief’ view of the hall.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “No. I just... this is my first ball and it’s all a bit overwhelming, alright? I don’t even really know how to dance... not that it’s any of your business.”

Emma silently cursed herself. Why on earth did she tell him she couldn’t dance? And then of course, she had to go and try and cover it up in the least proper way ever. Fortunately, the young lord didn’t seem to mind her candour.

“You’ve got a bit more fire than your timid looks let on, don’t you, my lady?”

“Timid?” Emma repeated, an eyebrow raised. “I’m not the one staring at his book when there’s a lady standing next to him and he hasn’t even introduced himself.”

“Now, there you go sounding like my father. Far more beautiful, but just as grumpy.”

Emma glared at him.

“Fine; as you wish, my lady. I am Lord Killian,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “And who do I have the pleasure of sharing this wonderful spot with?”

“Lady Emma Swan,” she replied while mulling over his name. Lord Killian. Was it his given name or a family name? She couldn’t remember any Killian from her few lessons - then again, there were far too many noblemen and houses for her to remember all of them. Luckily, no one expected her to, what with her being new to court and all.

“Swan...” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. Hopefully he wasn’t wondering why he’d never heard that family name before. “It suits you.”

A treacherous blush found its way to her cheeks again. “Thanks.” Before she could say anything else, he gave her a charming smile and returned to his book. Emma was left even more baffled than before.

“You still haven’t told me why you’d rather read a book alone than participate.”

Killian sighed, more for show than out of true exasperation. “Well, you see, I’m not really much of a dancer either.”

“Ah.”

“And even more important, believe it or not, Lady Emma, but once you’ve attended five or six hundred of these balls, they start to come across as a bit repetitive.”

“You’d probably be a better dancer if you practised more.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “You’re not about to let me return to my book are you?”

Emma shrugged, a slight smile curling her lips.

“Well, not that it’s any of your business,” he said, playfully throwing her words back at her, “it’s not that I don’t know how to dance. It’s that I’m rather tired of ladies scowling at me because I’m not as ‘into it’ as they’d like me to be.”

“Maybe they’d scowl less if you were more of a gentleman.”

She didn’t know what she was getting herself tangled up in, but for the first time that evening, Emma found that the racing of her heart could be fun as well as nerve-wrecking.

Killian wet his bottom lip with his tongue. “Oh, I’m always a gentleman, Lady Emma. In fact,” he said, swiftly closing his book and holding out his arm, “would you care to share a dance with me this fine evening?”

Emma froze.

In less than ten minutes, Killian had gone from charming to rude to annoying to flirtatious... he was either socially incompetent or incredibly smooth and it irked Emma that she couldn’t decide on which.

Killian took in her surprised look and chuckled as he lowered his arm. “Or perhaps it’s better we spare my toes from being stepped on and you from having to scowl more at me because of my presumably festivity-dampening-energy.”

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

Killian smiled good-naturedly, and Emma found herself pleased to notice that he didn’t open his book straight away again.

“So, Lady Emma, what brings you to Misthaven?” he asked, folding his arms over the railing and looking down at the festivities below. It didn’t occur to Emma until then that the people below could probably see her and Killian easily enough if they looked up and squinted their eyes a bit. Should she be worried about people getting the wrong idea? They weren’t standing awfully close together, but they were unaccompanied. Emma tried to subtlety shift a few inches away from Killian as she contemplated her answer.

“The chance to see more than my tiny corner of the world, I guess.”

“And how are you finding it?”

“It’s nice,” Emma said, briefly meeting his eyes.

“Merely nice?” Killian teased.

“Well, it’s a bit overwhelming; I’ve never seen so many buildings in one place.” Truthfully, Emma had never been outside of Misthaven. She never really had the chance, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go. At least living in the capital of the Enchanted Forest meant there were more pockets to steal from. “It’s beautiful though.”

“I’ve always been partial to the open water myself,” Killian said.

“This hall must be to your liking, then,” Emma nodded at the glass stained windows, each of them depicting the ocean or various sea creatures.

“Aye, it’s quite magnificent. It can’t compete with the real thing though.”

“So, books, liquor and the open water - you’re not secretly a pirate or something, are you?” Emma joked, though a part of her wondered if it could be true. If a street rat could infiltrate the court, surely a pirate could too.

Killian laughed. “No, I’m not. Not yet, at least,” he said, eyebrows waggling.

Emma couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips. “I’m not sure if pirates are that much into reading though.”

“I’m sure they could be; not all treasure is made of gold, after all.”

The smile lingered on her lips as she looked down at the mingling guests. But then her eyes fell on her table, and, more importantly, Robin.

Shit. If Robin found out she’d spent her time alone on the balcony with some young lord, she’d never hear the end of it.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Is everything alright?” he quickly asked, startled by her abruptness.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only my steward has just returned from his dinner and he’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Oh.” His face fell, but was quickly masked with a smile. Emma was sure she’d imagined the touch of disappointment in his eyes. “I suppose I’ll finally get to return to my book then.”

“I’m sure it was awful to be kept from it for so long.”

“Oh, it most certainly was,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “But it was a pleasure to share this spot with you, Lady Emma.”

Emma returned his playful bow with her own playful curtsy. “Likewise, Lord Killian.”

They shared one last look, and then his book was open again before Emma had even taken her first steps towards the stairwell.

She walked the length of the balcony, refusing to look back to see if he’d looked up from his book to see her retreat. (Which he definitely didn’t do, of course not.)

Robin met her halfway between the stairwell and her table.

“I see you found your courage to walk about,” he greeted, speaking quietly as to not be overheard.

“I figured it couldn’t do any harm.”

“Would you like to walk about a bit more then? I thought we’d head back home around now, but if you’d rather stay a bit longer...?”

“I think I’ve had my fair share of ball-entertainment for tonight,” Emma answered, and she and Robin began to make their way towards the main entrance again.

“So...” Robin began, “who was that fellow I saw you with on the balcony?”

Damn.

But Emma knew she’d have to mention Killian at some point. She might as well just get it over with. “A Lord Killian.”

“Killian Jones?”

Emma was just about to shrug when she realized what Robin had said. “Jones? As in House Jones?”

Thankfully, she kept her voice down despite the surprise. Robin seemed as surprised as her though.

“Well, that’s the only Killian I know of. I’ve heard he’s quite against the frivolity of balls though.”

“Sounds like him,” Emma said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Had she really just spent her evening with a member of one of the most powerful Houses in all of the Enchanted Forest? “But he’s not like... an important member of the family, is he?”

“He’s the only living son of Lord Brennan Jones.”

The only living son... Fantastic. Emma had called the heir apparent to House Jones a pirate.

“Perhaps we should wait until we’re at home before we discuss things further,” Robin said as they neared the foyer. Emma gave a vague nod in agreement, her mind already going over the conversation she’d shared with Killian.

Why hadn’t he introduced himself with his full title? Before she could stop herself, she looked over her shoulder, squinting at the balcony.

Killian held his book, closed, in one hand - and she could have sworn he was looking down in her direction.

“There you are!” Snow greeted Emma and Robin as they entered the townhouse. The dark-haired woman leapt to wrap Emma in a tight hug which she awkwardly reciprocated. After knowing each other for little more than a month, Snow already liked to think of herself as something of an older sister, being seven years older than Emma.

“So,” Snow started, pulling away, “how was your first ball?”

“Intense,” Emma answered, honestly. “But it wasn’t too difficult, I guess.”

Snow’s smile grew impossibly brighter. “I told you, you could do this!”

“Right now, I could really do with getting out of this dress though.”

“Of course! We’ll wait in the drawing room for a quick chat. Would you like some cocoa?”

Emma nodded. After her first taste of the chocolatey goodness, she had developed quite the affinity for the drink.

Emma’s bedroom wasn’t large, but it had four walls, a roof and it was hers. That alone was more than enough.

Of course, the room wasn’t actually hers, neither was the townhouse. Snow’s godmother Johanna owned a few houses and rooms in Misthaven, and had offered one of the better residences to Snow and David without a moment’s hesitation. Without Johanna, Emma wasn’t sure the operation had any chance of succeeding. If anyone ever wanted to call on Lady Emma, send her a letter or even shadow her after a ball, the townhouse was exactly the kind of place they would expect to find.

After swapping the ball gown for a loose shirt and a pair of breeches, her hair now in a messy braid, Emma joined the rest of the gang in the drawing room.

“So, did anything interesting happen?” Snow asked when they’d all sat down.

Robin looked at Emma. Emma looked at the cup of cocoa in her hand.

“A few lords asked me to dance,” she began. “I had to turn them down ‘cause I was too nervous, but they were all nice about it.”

Snow asked for the names and jotted down Emma’s answers in a small book.

“I also met Lord Killian Jones.”

“Killian Jones?” David repeated, incredulous.

Emma nodded. “I kind of took his spot on a balcony and we ended up talking-”

“Did he ask you to dance?” David interrupted.

“Yeah, but I don’t think he meant it.” Emma shifted in her seat, her legs curled underneath herself on the armchair.

“I’m sorry, Emma, but this isn’t good,” David said, never losing the kind spark in his eyes despite the gravity of his tone. “Lord Brennan Jones has always been close with George, and Killian was always a bit of a troublemaker as a kid. I’ve heard he’s only gotten worse since - and he shouldn’t be taking any lingering interest in a noblewoman far below his station.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Snow said.

“You’re making it sound like the world’s ending,” Will chipped in.

“It is bad. If Jones decides to use Emma as his next opportunity to spite his father, the whole plan might backfire! And I can’t have anything happen to you, Emma, not on my behalf-”

“Hey, no one forced me to do this,” Emma interrupted. “I know this is risky - hell, I’ve had more than a few doubts about it all - but whatever happens to me is my fault alone. You don’t have to worry about me.”

David looked as if she were asking for something perfectly impossible. “Just try to stay away from Jones, okay?”

“Sure.” It shouldn’t be a problem. Killian had probably already forgotten all about her anyways.

Still, Emma had the feeling she wasn’t likely to forget Lord Killian Jones too easily.

#csbb #my writings #cs ff #the dancing thief #chapter 1 #cs fanfic #and so it begins!

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the-captains-ayebrows · 8 years ago

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Handy Helpers

A CS Modern AU featuring Captain Charming as Handymen with a side of Snowing and some Ruby being Ruby.

Rated: M for smut and swears. One-shot. About 13K words.

[On AO3 here]

A/N: About a month or so ago, my house was being remodeled to sell. I made a post about how it gave me a need to write David and Killian as handymen, and a few folks seemed interested in the idea. So, instead of updating one of my many WIPs, I did... this. It is silly and a little smutty and full of bad puns and innuendo. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If not... then go yell at @tnlph because she read the beginning part and egged me on.

Emma always thought of her apartment as quirky and charming. It had character. It’s… okay, it’s kind of a dump. But it’s hers and she liked it the way it is and had no intention of changing it. That is, until her building all of a sudden went co-op, meaning her quirky little rent-controlled rat hole is about to be a gentrified, mortgage-requiring nightmare that she simply can’t afford on her bail bondsperson income.

To add insult to injury, the new co-op board is making her fix the place up so they can sell it out from under her. They had the decency to offer her reimbursement for some of the renovation expenses, but damn. After the fourth general contractor laughed in her face when she told him the budget, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

Well, besides whiskey drinking and late-night google searching.

It is in the throes of these activities that she finds them: Handy Helpers. Two guys, three hands, everything you need for your home improvement project. It doesn’t occur to her until much later that there’s a numerical irregularity in that advertisement.

Much later, as in, at 8 am the next morning when they show up at her door.

“Emma Swan?” The man is tall and blond-ish, with a kind face and a slightly worried expression. When she only stares at him blankly, he prompts, “You, uh, submitted a request through our website for a free estimate?”

Website? Emma narrows her eyes, racking her brain and absently smoothing down her sleep-rumpled hair. Just as she’s about to tell the guy he has the wrong apartment, another voice - this one crisp and accented - chimes in from the hallway.

“I believe the exact words you put on the form were, ‘As soon as humanly possible before the co-op harpies swoop in and make me homeless.’ We don’t normally do estimates on the weekend, but far be it from us to allow a lady to be kicked out on the street. So, here we are.”

Here they are. Here he is. Oh, just… oh crap. He is not quite as tall as the first man and of a leaner build, but where the first man strikes her as the human manifestation of a yellow labrador, this guy is a black cat. Sinuous, wry and smirking, he’s all dark hair and smooth lines and eyes so blue they probably glow in the dark, and why is she standing here not talking and making up animal analogies in her head?

She pulls her eyes away from his, dragging her gaze floorward as she tucks her hair behind her ears, and it is at this point that she has the realization. The end of his left arm is covered by a brace and hook-like prosthetic. Two guys, three hands. Oh crap.

Emma looks up at the blond man who had first spoken to her. “You’re the Handy Helpers.”

He smiles at her, seemingly relieved to have cleared things up and places his hands on his hips in something of a superhero pose. “That’s right, ma’am.”

“Says so right on the shirt,” the dark-haired man adds, tapping a finger just beneath the logo embroidered on the left side of his chest.

Emma follows the movement with her eyes, and that proves to be a huge mistake as just next to that logo is a rather enticing thatch of chest hair, exposed by the fully unbuttoned placket of his polo shirt. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she can stop herself, and if the guy was smirking before, now he’s… Is there a level above smirking? Smarking. He’s smarking at her because he’s smiling and smirking and those stupid blue eyes are sparkling and, oh geez, she must still be a little drunk from last night. What the hell is wrong with her?

The blond man throws a quick dirty look his partner’s way, then extends his hand for Emma to shake. She accepts it, feeling vaguely reassured by his confident grip. “I’m David Nolan and this is Killian Jones. May we come in?”

Emma jolts as it finally registers in her brain that, why yes, in fact, she is supposed to be doing something besides standing in her doorway ogling strangers and steps aside. She gestures awkwardly in the direction of her living room. “Yes, yes of course. Come on in. I’ll just -” and it’s at this point that another completely humiliating thought registers and she looks down at the oversized t-shirt she’d slept in that at least thankfully covers her underwear, if only barely.

“I’ll just go and put some pants on. Sorry. Be right back.” She flees to her bedroom and slams the door.

Aside from the initial embarrassment, it’s hard to argue (and Emma prides herself on her ability to argue about damn near anything) with the Handy Helpers’ estimate. Their bid is thousands (thousands!) of dollars lower than any of the other contractors - completely within her budget, in fact - and they seem to have a realistic view of what work actually needs to be done and what was just the co-op board’s wishful thinking. She hires them, and they agree to begin work the following Wednesday.

On the appointed day, David and Killian arrive exactly two minutes early, which Emma takes as a good sign. As much as she hates to be kept waiting, she also gets irritated with people who are too early. It just seems like pointless sucking up, not to mention the fact that if they’d been about ten minutes earlier, she would have once again been caught pantless. Now, Emma Swan does not have any hang-ups about her body. She’s actually pretty comfortable naked, but at this point, it’s kind of the principle of the thing because what she doesn't like is to be caught off guard. Metaphorically pantless, so to speak, and she’ll be damned if it happens again.

Speaking of attire, this time, instead of their company polos, the guys are dressed for manual labor: basic tees, heavy boots, and looser fitting jeans. There are no buttons to leave undone, and yet Killian’s chest hair seems determined to make its presence known, peeking out at her at the neck of his t-shirt. Not that she was looking. That would be creepy.

They get to work right away, leaving Emma in relative peace to sip her coffee and watch Brooklyn 99 on Hulu until a knock at her door signals the arrival of her ride to work.

“Hey, Snow. Thanks for the lift. The shop called back this morning and the Bug isn’t going to be ready until Friday afternoon. Come on in, I’ll go grab my jacket.” Emma turns and walks back toward her coat closet, hearing the shuffle of her best friend’s feet follow her into the living room.

“It's really no trouble, Emma. I told you I…”

Emma pauses, jacket in hand and looks over her shoulder to see what made Snow trail off mid-sentence. She never considered herself much of a romantic, hell, she avoids rom-coms like the plague. Yet as she looks at David standing stock still, a paintbrush dangling precariously from his hand and his eyes locked on Snow who in turn is staring back at him as if she’s seeing a sunrise for the first time, well… Emma could almost swear she hears a swell of violins in the background.

It’s one of those great moments - the kind you use years later in a Maid of Honor toast. So naturally, Emma ruins it with an unsuppressed snort of laughter that she tries to cover with a cough. David startles at the sound, dropping the paintbrush onto the floor with a wet squelch and Snow nearly jumps out of her skin.

Emma clears her throat (for real this time) and pulls on her jacket as she begins the introductions. “Snow, this is David Nolan. He’s the handyman I mentioned before. David, this is Mary Margaret Blanchard, better known as Snow.”

“Like Snow White? It’s just a silly nickname because of the black hair and fair skin.” Snow tosses her head with a girlish giggle and literally flutters her eyelashes like a Disney princess and Emma had no idea her best friend had that in her. But it seems like David-

“The fairest of them all? I’d say it suits you.” Yep, he’s clearly eating it up if the broad grin splitting his face is anything to go by.

Well, this just got weird. Not bad exactly, but weird. Definitely weird.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular Prince Charming,” Emma says, unable to curb her sarcasm. Snow glares at her, muttering ‘Emma’ under her breath in that disappointed teacher voice she’s perfected over years in the classroom.

David ducks his head, finally remembering the paintbrush he’d dropped a minute ago. “I’ll clean that up while you’re gone. Throw in a free floor polishing.”

He bends to pick up the brush and dammit if Snow doesn’t stare at his ass the whole time. It’s a good ass. Emma can’t really blame her, but she’s going to be late for work and for some reason she really, really wants to get out of the apartment before-

“As the lady said, you’re a regular Prince Charming, Dave. Swan, I’m nearly finished in the bedroom. Do you have anything else that needs nailing?”

-that happened.

He didn’t really say it like an innuendo, but Emma can feel her face heating up, and it has nothing (everything) to do with the mental images inspired by Killian’s particular choice of phrasing.

Now Snow is staring at her with narrowed eyes and a calculating expression and that’s the Snow Emma knows and loves, but really hates in moments like this. And Snow is the one who should be embarrassed right now, not her, because what kind of person just blatantly stares at the ass of some contractor she’s just met, and why does her voice inside her head sound so high pitched and squeaky?

Emma is sick and tired of being wrong-footed by co-op boards, and handymen, and best friends who are looking between her and one such handyman with way too much interest, so she defaults to her best scowl. “Nope. I have no interest in any nailing. Guess you better put your tool away.”

Three pairs of eyes are staring at her now, Snow’s in near horror, David’s in surprise, but Killian? Killian’s got one thick, dark eyebrow raised, one corner of his lips tilting up, and she meant to be off-putting and prickly, but somehow he doesn’t look the least bit put off. He looks kind of… impressed? Oh crap.

His tongue swipes across the back of his teeth as he seems to consider something, then he narrows his eyes. “How about screwing then? I’ve an incredible tool for that.”

Did he just? Ridiculous smirking, smarking bastard. If he thinks that fake innocent look is fooling anyone he’s- he’s- “No need. I’ve got my own tools actually. Motorized. Nothing gets the job done like a little extra power.”

Emma crosses her arms, smug as can be and sure she’s won. Instead, Killian does something positively sinful with his tongue, his entire bearing radiating a challenge, and she has to tighten her arms around her torso, bracing herself for god-knows-what and then-

“Ah, a woman with her own tools! I can respect that. I’d love to take a look at your box-”

“Jones!” David shouts, then catches himself, turning a polite, if tense, smile to Snow. “Why don’t we let these ladies get to work before we get ourselves fired?”

To his credit, Killian manages to school his features into something more or less apologetic and relaxes his stance. “Too right, mate. Have a lovely day, Swan. Miss Blanchard.”

With a genteel nod to each woman, Killian returns to Emma’s bedroom as if nothing had happened. As if he- As if they- But then nothing did happen, besides him being a dick and she was only showing him she could give as good as she got and boy, was that a poor choice of words and ugh. Irritating, attractive asshole!

When she finishes her internal fuming she looks over to see David shaking, or more accurately holding , Snow’s hand, both beaming like it’s Christmas morning.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blanchard.”

“Snow. Please call me Snow.” The fingers of her free hand trace the strand of pearls around her neck and David stands taller.

“A pleasure, Snow.”

Emma’s had about all she can take. She grabs Snow’s arm and practically drags her out the front door. No sooner does said door latch shut behind the two women when they both speak simultaneously:

“What the hell was that about?”

“You tell me!” Emma retorts, each heavy thud of her boots down the hallway serving to underscore her words. “What was all the giggling and hair tossing and please call me Snow ? You went full southern belle in there, bless your heart. I thought you were about to fan yourself and faint.”

Snow matches her pace, the sharp clack of her heels against the wood floor acting as a jarring counterpoint. “Me? What was with you and all the dirty puns and the eye-fucking?”

Emma stops dead, nearly knocking into Snow as she whirls to face her friend. For the first time in forever, Emma Swan actually feels scandalized and maybe she’s the one who’s gone full southern belle. “You teach your students with that mouth?”

Snow rolls her eyes. “Emma, I teach middle school. Where do you think I learned that term?”

It takes a beat because it’s been a weird week and holy crap Snow just said ‘eye-fucking’, but Emma bursts into laughter, and Snow joins right in.

As they settle back down, Emma swipes a thumb under her eye. “Okay, so we both got a little weird around the cute handymen. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“But above all else, we can’t tell Ruby about the cute handymen. Agreed?”

“Absolutely agreed. We’d never hear the end of it.”

“You’re both hiding something.”

Well, that lasted all of two minutes. Ruby had fixed them with a gaze like a tractor beam as soon as they'd sat down in her section, her eyes narrowing in suspicion with every sauntered step across the checkerboard linoleum floor.

It was all Emma could do not to squirm. “Hi to you, too. How’s life treating you? Looks like a busy lunch shift-”

“Don't start that with me, Emma Swan. You can't lie and Snow can't keep a secret, so let's save us all the trouble by just telling me.”

“Can we at least get our tea and hot chocolate before the interrogation begins?” Snow pleads.

Ruby purses her lips, then nods magnanimously. “I’ll give you a hot beverage reprieve, but as soon as I get back with those drinks you better spill. The gossip, not the drinks. You know what I meant.”

As Ruby hustles through the swinging doors that lead to the diner’s kitchen, Snow rolls her eyes. “Remind me why she’s our favorite waitress again?”

Emma shrugs. “She gives us free drinks. That, and because she let you hide in her Granny’s barn when you were convinced Regina and her clique were ‘out to get you’ back in ninth grade.”

Snow’s expression shifts from annoyance to fondness. “Yeah, right. That.”

Ruby returns with the steaming drinks, placing the mugs down in front of Emma and Snow, then plunking herself down in the booth, bumping Emma with her hip to force her to make room. She dramatically places her elbows on the table, lacing her fingers together under her chin, then tilts her head and smiles expectantly.

“I’m listening.”

Emma sighs. “There’s nothing to tell. I have a couple of handymen at my apartment doing some reno. No big deal.”

Ruby raises an eyebrow. “Are they hot?”

“Ruby!” Snow exclaims, once again reverting to teacher voice, while Emma makes her standard ‘unimpressed’ face.

“They are . I told you guys you couldn’t hide anything from me. My shift ends at 4, I’ll be over there at 5. Make popcorn.” Before Emma can object, Ruby begins muttering to herself. “I need to think of some home improvement related innuendo between now and then. Lemme see…” She taps a red manicured fingernail against her chin. “Something about pounding? Banging? Nailing! That’s a good one.”

Ruby is rising out of her seat and Emma’s almost in the clear now that Ruby’s been distracted, but she sees it in Snow’s eyes the moment before -

“Emma already used ‘nailing’. ‘Screwing’, too.”

Emma crosses her arms, hunching over until she’s burrowed as far as she can into the cracked vinyl seat and grumbles, ‘ Traitor, ’ under her breath. At the same time, Ruby spins back to face their booth, eyes wide.

“She what?”

Snow’s got this wicked gleam in her eyes, and Emma doesn’t like it one bit. “Oh yeah, Emma was definitely having unprotected eye sex with one of the handymen while the two of them traded comments about his ‘tool’.”

Ruby presses a hand to her chest and blinks rapidly, a distinct look of pride on her face.

Emma makes a garbled noise of disgust. “Seriously, Snow, your eighth graders are rotting your brain, but you’re one to talk. Ruby, miss innocent over here is skipping the part where she fell in pearl-clutching, eyelash-batting, gag-inducing love-at-first-sight with the other guy.”

Ruby presses her lips together and slaps the edge of the tabletop for emphasis. “This is the best day of my life. You guys are better than a primetime drama. I’ll be there at 5:30. I’m gonna need a fresh manicure for this.”

Emma makes a pained expression and catches Ruby’s wrist. “I know better than to try to stop you, but if you insist on coming over, can you at least attempt to be cool? Please?”

Ruby’s smile is broad to the point of being unsettling. “Would you expect anything else?” Emma releases Ruby’s wrist in defeat and sighs, not looking up when her retreating friend calls back over her shoulder, “I’ll bring the wine!”

It’s 5:47 pm. Ruby was early and Ruby is never early. There is a glass of chilled rosé in each woman’s hand and they’re pretending to be watching some movie on Netflix, but in reality, their attention is all elsewhere. Mostly about 7 feet to the left of the TV, where Killian and David are on all fours hand-polishing a paint splatter off of Emma’s wood floor. It’s really all too much.

Emma takes a sip of her wine but nearly chokes on it when Ruby nudges her shoulder.

“Girl, I’m going to buy you a pair of safety glasses. Even eye-fucking that man could get you pregnant. Holy shit. You need protection.”

Snow lets out an inelegant snort and Emma really does choke on her wine, but most of all Ruby really needs to work on her stage whisper . All the blood rushes to Emma’s face because Killian has definitely paused mid-polish or whatever and is looking at her with that damned raised eyebrow. And he winks.

Way, way too much. Emma’s hackles rise. “Does it really take both of you to clean the floor? Jones, why don’t you go work on the bathroom or something. The shower drain is clogged.”

He stands slowly, hitching his thumb at his belt buckle and takes a swaggering step toward her end of the couch. “I see. Sounds like someone needs their pipe snaked. I’d be happy to oblige.”

While Emma splutters, Ruby squeaks in delight, and David sits back on his heels and shakes his head in annoyance. “Actually, I think we’re about done for the day. Jones, how about you help pack up our gear and we’ll get out of here so Emma and her friends can enjoy their evening?”

“Oh, you’re not in the way,” Snow pipes up. “We were enjoying, um…” She trails off, her cheeks pinkening.

Ruby turns to Snow, an exaggerated expression of interest on her face. “Yes, honey, what was it that you were enjoying?”

“The show?” It comes out as a question and Snow is clearly floundering for a reason to keep David there - a fact he must be realizing because his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and he’s grinning - but Emma is so glad to have the attention off of herself that she can’t quite make herself say anything to help Snow.

“I, I mean it’s like getting to watch an HGTV show live. I just love Fixer-Upper ,” Snow finishes lamely.

Ruby pats her on the shoulder, but the stage-whispered, “Nice save, honey,” falls a little flat.

Anxious to avoid death by secondhand awkwardness, Emma downs the rest of the contents of her glass and taps her finger against the side. “I’m gonna go get a refill. Anybody need anything?”

“Ooh! Me.” Ruby gulps the last of her wine and hands Emma the empty glass.

David stands, tucking his wipe rag into his back pocket and wiping his hands on his pants, and Snow couldn’t possibly be staring harder if she tried. “I’m more of a beer man, myself, but if you’re offering?”

Emma stands there blinking, making some kind of intelligent sound like “Ummmm”, but David just laughs.

“I’m kidding, Emma, you don’t need to fix me a drink. But,” and at this, he turns to Snow with a hopeful gleam in his eye, “I’d be more than happy to buy you a drink sometime if you’d like?”

Snow is wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open in surprise, and it’s Ruby that speaks first. “Oh, that was smooth. Say, yes!” She chucks a piece of popcorn (rosé and popcorn, god they’re classy) at Snow’s face.

The kernel bounces off Snow’s cheek and that seems to remind her she’s supposed to say something. “I’d like that.” She beams, reaching for those pearls again, and Emma really needs more alcohol for this.

Emma escapes to the kitchen and snatches the bottle out of the fridge. She chugs the first glass she pours herself, then pours another liberal measure, leaving only enough left in the bottle for Ruby’s refill. As she’s taking a sip from what would be her third glass of wine for the evening, she hears footsteps coming her way, and she knows it’s him even before she hears-

“Easy there, Swan. Don’t want you getting tipsy and recruiting more handymen in the middle of the night.”

“That was…” Emma sighs and sets her glass down on the counter. “A one-time thing. I don’t really make a habit of drunk dialing contractors.”

He smiles warmly and his eyes are doing that annoying twinkly thing. “More’s the pity. I wouldn’t mind a late night call from a tough lass like you.”

Emma leans back resting her elbows against her newly installed granite countertop. “And what makes you think I’m a ‘tough lass’?” she asks in a poor imitation of his accent, then raises a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I mean, I am , but how would you know that?”

Killian leans back as well, resting his (firm, shapely - not that she’s been looking) ass against the edge of her new flat glass cooktop. He crosses his legs at the ankle and his stupid feet are so big that if Emma pointed her toes, their feet would touch.

“You’re something of an open book,” he answers finally. “You don’t want to reveal yourself or be vulnerable, so when you get caught out, you use sarcasm and innuendo as a shield.”

Is this guy for real right now? Emma scoffs. “Hi there, Pot. I’m the Kettle. Nice to meetcha.”

Killian chuckles. “Thank you for proving my point. But you’re right, I suppose. I think the phrase is ‘Takes one to know one’.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but this time there’s a smile teasing at her lips that she can’t quite stifle. Killian reaches out with one of his big, stupid clown feet and nudges her calf to get her attention. When she looks up, he’s smiling at her and it does strange things to her insides.

“I’ll make you a deal. Tell me one true thing, something real, and I’ll stop with the innuendo. Otherwise, I’ve got some great material in store for you.” He waggles his eyebrows and Emma can’t decide if it’s dorky or obscene. “Really kinky stuff about taping and bedding. You’ll have to step up your pun game to keep up.”

“Much as I’d love to hear that ...” Emma exhales slowly, scrunching her mouth to the side in thought, but with the way Killian is studying her face, his eyes catch the movement and flick down to her lips. Her breath catches and her mouth goes dry and… something real, something real… She’s not ready to tell him anything real about her yet, but maybe - “How’s this for real? I’m pretty sure my best friend has a massive crush on your partner.”

Killian laughs, his hand reaching up to tug at the slightly too long hair at the back of his neck. “Fair enough, Swan. I suppose I should have specified I meant one real thing about you , but that’ll do for now.” He drops his hand and Emma finds herself fascinated with the way the little flips of hair he’s just rustled fall back into place and curl around his ear as he speaks again. “Tit for tat, I feel obligated to tell you that I’m quite sure my partner has a massive crush on your best friend.”

They’re talking about their friends but still, Emma suddenly feels a fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, which of course means she needs another sip of wine to drown the stupid bugs.

“Hey! Where’s my refill? I know I heard a man’s voice in the kitchen with you. Are you guys making out in there?” Ruby’s voice can really carry like no other, and Emma huffs, both grateful for and irritated by the interruption.

“I’m coming, Ruby.”

“Oh, good! Take your time then. Go back for seconds if you want!”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I-” Emma stops herself, shaking her head as she picks her glass back up and drinks deeply. She looks back at Killian to find his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, then returns her attention to the wine bottle and Ruby’s refill.

“She’s just trying to get a rise out of me,” she says half to herself.

“By insinuating that you’re getting a rise out of me.”

“Not helping, Jones.”

“Sorry, Swan, that was low-hanging fruit. I couldn’t resist. But speaking of helping, David is right. We should be going. We’ll, ah, get a fresh start in the morning.”

There’s something about the way he looks at her when he says it. Something almost hopeful, and it knocks on a door she thought she’d dead bolted and padlocked years ago.

“Fresh start, huh? Sounds good.”

Thursday morning, when the Handy Helpers arrive to resume their work, Killian proves true to his word. Not a single innuendo in sight. He even goes so far as to start her coffee pot for her when Snow arrives a full half-hour early to take her to work and Emma’s only gotten half her makeup on. A hissing gurgle heralds the end of the brew cycle and draws Emma to the kitchen where she finds Killian tightening the new hardware on her cabinet doors.

“You didn’t have to do that you know.”

Emma catches a hint of a smile in Killian’s profile, but he simply keeps working. “I considered it a public service. Wouldn’t want to send a cranky Swan out into the world.”

She gives him an unimpressed hum in response, but as she grabs a mug from one of the cabinets he’s already finished and pours herself a cup, she feels an odd sense of relief. Almost as if some part of her was afraid she’d miss his banter if he stopped altogether. Huh.

He finishes installing one last drawer pull and asks if she’d mind him having a cup with her.

“Help yourself, Handy Helper.”

“Droll, Swan. Very droll.”

They stand side by side leaning back against the counter and sip in silence for a few moments, but they’ve got a great view into the living room and of the two people in it. David is listening with rapt attention to Snow who is gesturing enthusiastically (and occasionally reaching out to touch David’s arm) as she tells some story they can’t quite hear.

Without thinking, Emma leans closer to Killian and raises her mug in the direction of the living room.

“Think he’s proposed yet?”

Killian takes a sip of his coffee and moves closer as well until they’re shoulder to shoulder, the warmth from that point of contact sending tingles down Emma’s arm.

“Of course not. David’s a bit old-fashioned. He would never propose to a lass before the third date.”

Emma chuckles at that, and they spend the next few minutes imagining what David and Snow are talking about with Emma playing David’s part and Killian playing Snow’s. Emma clamps her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting her coffee when she hears Killian’s falsetto.

“ Oh, David, when you’re finished here, why don’t you come to my place? I’d love to put you to work. I have a gap that needs filling and you seem like a man who can handle his caulk…”

Far sooner than she’d like, Emma’s cup is empty and it’s time to go. She hates being late to work, but still she catches herself lingering. With a deep breath, she pushes off the counter and sets her mug in the sink. Before she walks into the living room to hustle Snow along, she turns back.

“Will you, you know, still be here working when I get back?”

Killian nods, his eyes fixed intently on hers. “Aye, Swan. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

Without anyone ever really saying anything about it, morning coffee and making fun of David and Snow has become sort of a thing. Not like a thing- thing. That’s crazy. Emma has known Killian barely more than a week. They can’t have a thing . It’s more of a- a habit .

Just a silly habit. Like their fake flirting (yep, totally fake). Or his habit of scratching behind his ear when he’s being awkward. Or her habit of scowling at him when what she really wants to do is… but that’s neither here nor there.

She can’t deny he’s easy to talk to, not to mention easy on the eyes, but what difference does it make? He’s only in her life and her apartment because of a job. When the job is over, he’ll be gone. So, there is no thing between her and Killian.

When the work is done, she probably won’t ever see him again until the inevitable wedding of David and Snow, who had their first date Friday night. And now her traitorous brain is lighting up with images of Killian in a tux, raising a glass of champagne as he delivers a best man speech and that’s just- just counterproductive is what it is.

As she slumps into her desk on Monday, her mood is thoroughly soured. Today was supposed to be a good day! The apartment is almost finished. Her beloved yellow Volkswagen is running again. She’s got a new stack of cases to work.

Work! That’s what she needs to do. Go round up some scumbag and slap a pair of handcuffs on him. Because cuffing a guy will definitely not make her think about Killian, especially in any sort of kinky or inappropriate way. Right.

Eleven hours later, however, Emma is more disgruntled than ever and dammit, what the ever-loving hell is that noise coming from her apartment?

Seething with frustration, she jams her key into the lock and shoulders her door open. The noise only grows louder.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Emma drops her purse on the couch and sticks her fingers in her ears to muffle the sound. Getting angrier with each step, she rounds the couch and ducks under the metal stairs leading up to her junk loft. The pounding finally stops just as she reaches her half-bath where she finds Killian Jones on the floor, pry bar in hand ripping up her old tile.

“Jones, what the hell are you doing here? It’s after 8:00!”

Killian, clearly having not heard her approach, jumps several inches in the air and the pry bar falls from his hand, crashing to the tile with a deafening clank.

“Bloody hell, Swan! You could give a man heart failure.”

“And you could make a woman’s ears bleed from all that racket. What are you doing here so late?”

Of course, the answer is that he’s working. For her. She knows this, and it does a little bit to abate her anger. Emma swallows and shifts her weight between her feet as Killian sighs heavily and stands to face her.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. Snow came by earlier and left a key for David and me to lock up. She said you had a stakeout?”

Emma deflates at his words, her shoulders sagging. “I was supposed to, yes. My mark showed up earlier than I expected and saw me taking pictures of the front of his building from my car. He ran and I lost him and now the bastard knows what I look like, so I have to hand the case to someone else.” She pauses, takes a deep breath and shoves her hair behind her ears. “Sorry for yelling. I guess I’m just frustrated.”

Oh and now the corners of his eyes are crinkling with his stupid grin and Emma remembers the other reason she was feeling frustrated when he says-

“You know, perhaps I could help you with that.”

Emma’s eyebrows form a little peak above her nose, and Killian takes a step closer. “Some physical exertion to blow off steam. Care to bang one out? I’d wager a good pounding would make you feel better.”

“Killian…” It was meant to sound like a warning, but Emma’s so tired it comes out more like a whine.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pair of neon orange earplugs and offers them to Emma. “Here, love. Put these in.”

She takes them and after an encouraging nod from him, places them in her ears. He gestures for her to follow him and she sits down next to him on what’s left of the tile floor. She watches in fascination as he places the chisel on the grout, maneuvering his hook to brace it in place, then using his other hand to hammer until the tile pops loose. He then drops the hammer in favor of the pry bar, positions it and pulls until the tile is removed completely. He slides the hammer and chisel over to Emma.

“Your turn. Picture the face of your runaway criminal or whomever you find most vexing and have at it.”

Emma gives him a sidelong glance but does her best to copy what he’d just done. After a few good hits, she feels the grout and glue give way and dammit he’s right. It’s really, really cathartic. She looks up at Killian and he’s wearing an expression of pride that somehow eases even more of the tension from her. She can’t help but smile back at him.

“I pound, you pry?”

“As you wish, Swan.”

Emma scoots back away from him only long enough to remove her boots, and the two of them set to work. Between the hammer’s noise and the dampening effect of the earplugs, conversation is difficult. The silence between them is comfortable. Easy. Though it’s a small space, they never get in the other’s way. But still…

Emma finds herself hyper-aware of how close Killian is to her. Even with her eyes focused on the chisel and hammer, she feels his every shift and movement. Feels the warmth from his body. Feels his eyes on her. Her pulse kicks up a notch and all the stress she’d been feeling earlier is rapidly being replaced by a completely different kind of tension.

When the last tile is removed, Emma sits back on her heels and pulls the plugs from her ears. Instead of just handing them back like a normal person, she takes the hand holding the plugs and slaps it against Killian’s chest. The gesture was supposed to be playful, or at least that’s how it went in her head, but Killian quickly catches her hand with his, trapping it against his chest. And then they’re just sitting there, eyes locked on each other, both breathing a little fast and he’s kind of almost holding her hand while she can feel his heartbeat under her palm and it’s just... It’s- it’s-

“How about a drink?” Emma blurts, standing up quickly. “To, you know, celebrate my first job as a handyperson.”

Killian eyes her for a second, then stands as well, his hand drifting up to scratch behind his ear. “Aye. That sounds grand.”

Emma digs a mostly empty whiskey bottle out of the back of one of her kitchen cabinets, laughing to herself a little when she realizes it’s the same bottle she’d been drinking the night she ran across the Handy Helpers’ website. She pours two fingers of liquor into each glass, adds a couple of ice cubes and meets Killian at the table where he’s taken a seat.

He fiddles with the glass for a moment, his eyes studying her face, then he raises the glass toward her propping his elbow on the table. “To us, Swan. I don’t mean to upset you, but I think we make quite the team.”

Emma gives him a quick smile and clinks her glass against his. As she sips the whiskey her thoughts are all over the place, but the burn of the liquor is helping and she finally manages to catch hold of one idea. “You know, you never did tell me why you’re here so late. Just because I wasn’t here didn’t mean you couldn’t go home.”

Killian looks down for a moment focusing on the ice cubes as they swirl in his whiskey. “I may have encouraged Dave to leave with Snow for a drink.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Emma can tell he’s holding something back.

“That just tells me why you were here by yourself, not why you decided to stay late.” A thought occurs to her that saps the warmth the whiskey had been building inside her and she instinctively draws back. “Are you that ready to get this job finished so you can move on?”

She hates the defensive edge to her voice and the way Killian’s eyes have gone wide and most of all the way this turn of conversation is making her gut churn. But Killian surprises her (which shouldn’t be a surprise, she guesses, because he’s constantly surprising her) by reaching out for her hand.

“No, no, love. Not at all. In fact, if I’m being honest, I’m rather loathe to be done now that I’ve discovered such a competent new apprentice.”

Emma rolls her eyes even as her smile returns because this is the second time he’s used that particular epithet and she maybe kind of doesn’t hate it. He gives her hand a teasing squeeze before releasing it to lean back in his chair.

“I suppose…” and here goes that hand to the back of his neck again, “I just don’t have much to go home to. Not for a while now.”

His eyes fall to his hook. Emma follows his line of sight and it all finally clicks. Why he can read her so well. Why he understands her defenses. Why he feels like a kindred spirit. He’s known loss and loneliness just like she has. It takes one to know one.

“You lost more than just your hand, didn’t you?” It’s a statement, not a question, and Emma levels him with a stare that she hopes shows she gets it. That it’s okay.

He nods and in the slight uptick in his lips, the flash of recognition in his eyes, she knows that he knows. “Aye. But that’s a grim tale for another day. Not appropriate for what’s supposed to be a celebratory drink.”

He picks up his glass and raises it toward her again. “To lost boys and lost girls?”

Emma nods, holding his gaze, and a warmth that has nothing to do with the whiskey begins to bloom in her chest. She raises her glass. “To us.”

By noon on Wednesday, the guys are finished and gone. Emma comes home that evening to an immaculate and beautiful apartment that is barely recognizable as hers. Well, that’s only partly true. It’s not recognizable as her old one bedroom, one-and-a-half bathroom, plus a storage loft apartment, but it does look strikingly similar to the two bedroom, two bath apartment she dreamed of but never thought she could have. Which, she supposes is still accurate because the place really isn’t hers. In two days, it will belong to the co-op board and she can only stay there until they find someone to buy it.

So, as lovely as it is, it feels… empty. Or maybe she’s just projecting. Maybe, just maybe, it’s because she didn’t get the chance to tell her handymen goodbye. Because maybe, just maybe she’s going to miss them. Miss him.

On the kitchen counter, right next to the coffee pot, Emma notices a business card for the Handy Helpers. When she turns it over she finds a phone number and a short note written in perfect looping script:

“In case of emergency. -K”

Just like that the butterflies are back in her stomach. She tries valiantly to squash them, tries to fortify her defenses to keep them at bay, but the little critters are tenacious. Still, she decides that the sensible thing to do is program the number into her phone. Like he said, just for emergencies.

It figures that she wouldn’t even get to enjoy her final days in her gorgeous remodeled apartment. Thursday afternoon, she’s assigned to an overnight stakeout. Thankfully, when Emma stops at Granny’s Diner to get takeout, Ruby agrees to help her by swinging by the apartment to turn Emma’s spare key over to the board first thing the next morning.

Stakeouts have never really bothered Emma before. She’s always been okay with her own company, but the long hours alone sure give a person a lot of time to think. About all kinds of things. Like lost boys with understanding eyes, and a lewd sense of humor that matches right up with hers. And how hard it might be for a person to break her own radiator. And what exactly constitutes an emergency. Stuff like that.

She arrives back at the apartment (she can’t even bring herself to call it home anymore) Friday evening. She caught the skip, saved the day and collected her paycheck, but she doesn’t really feel like celebrating. All Emma really wants is to finish off that bottle of whiskey and take a long, hot bath. And maybe if while she’s soaking in the tub, her mind drifts to a certain handyman and her fingers decide to wander, well… who’s to know?

Much to her consternation, there’s really only about one good shot left in the bottle. With a half-hearted shrug, she drinks it down then walks over to the sink to rinse out the glass. One problem. The water is running, but it’s not draining. Maybe she just needs to run the garbage disposal?

She flips the switch and her only warning is a wailing groan like a dying cow before orange gloop shoots up out of the drain three feet into the air. The splatters are everywhere. All up the wall, all over the floor, all over her face, her sweater, her hair… Emma has the presence of mind to flip the switch back off, but now her damn sink is broken and she has to have the place ready for the co-op board tomorrow and she’s freaking the hell out.

She grabs a dish towel and wipes off her face and hands. Somehow she digs her phone out of her purse without dripping goo all over it and calls the first person she thinks of. He answers right away.

Later, she doesn’t even remember what it was that she said to him. All she knows is that he’s here. No questions, no innuendo. He made it to her apartment before she’d even gotten the kitchen floor mopped, and now they’re working more or less side by side. He’s half under the sink while she finishes cleaning the walls and countertop.

“Killian, you need anything? If you’re good, I’m gonna go wash this gunk out of my hair.”

“All set, love. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Emma slinks off through her bedroom to her en-suite, carefully picking up some clean clothes to change into along the way. It isn’t until she’s standing under the shower spray that she finally begins to process the evening’s events. How when something went wrong, Killian was the first person she wanted. Not Snow. Not Ruby. And how he was there for her. Without batting an eye or raising an eyebrow. Not so much as a smirk.

She doesn’t even bother trying to tell herself that she called him because he’s her contractor. Contractors do not show up at your door to fix your sink on a Friday night. Friends do, though. Is that what they are? Okay, yeah. She can deal with the word ‘friend’ as applied to Killian Jones. Even if it still somehow doesn’t sound exactly accurate.

Once she’s all clean and shiny again, Emma shuts off the water and hopes to God she remembered to shut her bedroom door, because it’s just now occurring to her that she’s very naked and there is a very attractive man-friend-person in her kitchen. She can feel her face and neck flushing at the thought while she towels off and pulls on her yoga pants and a t-shirt. She wills the blushing to stop, but figures at worst (meaning if he notices it) she can blame the heat from the shower. As she’s standing in front of her mirror running a wide-tooth comb through her wet hair, Emma hears a knock on her bedroom door. Guess she did close it after all.

“I’m decent. You can come in.”

Muffled footsteps signal that Killian is crossing her bedroom, but she doesn’t turn around, still attempting to unsnarl a particularly nasty tangle. One last thud of a work boot on tile and the footsteps stop. She looks up from her split ends to see his reflection behind her in the mirror. He’s leaning against the door jamb smiling softly, a hint of smugness but not his usual variety of smug. More like he’s just really, really pleased with something, but she can’t imagine why he’d be so proud of unclogging a drain.

“What?”

“All fixed.” He pushes off the door frame leading with his hips and takes a slow, deliberate step toward her. Emma can’t take her eyes off his reflection, mostly afraid that if she looks at her own she’ll see how flushed her face and chest still are. “You know, if you want to get close to me, you just have to ask. There’s no need to use home repair as an excuse.”

Emma huffs and rolls her eyes, though her pulse has kicked up several notches. Oh, God. Deflect! Deflect!

“Why am I not surprised you’re making this about you?” she mutters, more to herself than him. Setting the comb in her hand down on the countertop, she meets his gaze in the mirror again. “I guess I could’ve called David, but he’s out on a date with Snow right now-”

“Right, right. You could have.” He nods and takes another step forward. “But, that wasn’t really what I meant, and I think you know it.”

He’s right behind her now, close enough she can feel the warmth of his body on her back and the next thing she knows he’s grabbing her hips and spinning her around to face him. So, of course, she goes into full defensive mode. Arms crossed, scowl on face.

“Oh you think so, do you?”

“I do. I also think that perhaps gratitude is in order now.” And with this, Killian somehow manages to turn his usual adorably awkward ear scratch into a smooth as hell move ending in a tap of his finger against his lips. His eyebrow raises inquiringly, but there’s no question at all in Emma’s mind what he’s asking for.

Are they there ? Is this...? Are they...? Careless innuendos and shameless flirting are one thing, and yeah, they’ve gotten pretty friendly lately, but, but, but-

“Please. You couldn’t handle it.” Her voice is breathy and husky and a smile toys with the corners of her mouth, but for a second at least she feels like she has the upper hand again.

His eyes dart between hers, piercing blue and searching. She doesn’t know what he sees, but he’s suddenly locked on target. It’s a strange turn of phrase even as she thinks it, (okay, what she actually thinks is something along the lines of holy shit his eyes are pretty ) but there’s not a better way to describe it, and then-

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.” Low, but clear. Inviting, but challenging. His words shut down Emma’s ability to make words of her own, except for the one word that keeps flashing in her brain like a giant neon sign: Want, want, want, want.

She’s staring at his eyes, his lips, and she’s not even sure if he’s breathing anymore. Then her hands are moving, gripping his ratty black t-shirt and pulling him down into a kiss filled with hours, days, weeks (fucking years for all she can think right now) worth of pent up sexual tension and maybe’s and what if’s finally getting an answer. And that answer is yes. Absolutely, unequivocally and perfectly yes.

It’s messy and urgent. Their noses crush against each other’s cheeks, and Killian can’t seem to decide where to put his hand, first threading it into her still-damp hair, then clutching at her waist to pull her closer. Emma is no better. Her fingers hold so tightly to his shirt she has the fleeting fear she’s ripping out the chest hair beneath it, and she isn’t quite sure if she should use her tongue, but then Killian kind of sighs into her mouth and makes this sort of growling noise in the back of his throat and… Oh yeah. Tongue. Definitely tongue.

But for all the first-kiss frenzy, it’s everything . Passionate and scalding hot and sweet and tender and a little desperate. This isn’t just a guy who wants her. This is a guy who actually gets her, understands her, likes her, defensive mechanisms and all. So, she takes a breath and dives back in, letting herself go and holding onto him for dear life.

When the initial hormonal burst begins to wane, Emma finds herself smiling against his mouth, damn near giggling and Emma Swan does not giggle. He pulls back to look at her, his own smile outshining the vanity light fixtures he’d installed last week, and shakes his head in bewilderment.

“That was…”

Emma presses her forehead against his. “Yeah, it was.”

He lets out a relieved breath, and she releases her grip on him, leaning away just enough to rest her ass on the edge of the counter, but still close enough to loop her arms loosely around his neck. They both really seem to have lost track of the whole personal space concept, and she could not possibly give less of a damn.

Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she looks up at him through her eyelashes and waggles an eyebrow. “So. You wanna see my toolbox now?”

He gapes only for a split second, running his tongue along the edge of his teeth as he recovers. “No need.” He leans in, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “Darling, you are about to discover just exactly how handy of a man I can be.”

It’s entirely possible that the sound Emma makes when Killian’s lips descend on her neck could be classed as undignified, but it doesn’t seem to bother him much. If anything, he must find it rather encouraging because he redoubles his efforts there, the drag of his scruff against her skin heightening the sensation of his warm mouth and the occasional nip of teeth. His hand and hook find the back of her thighs, lifting as he nudges her further onto the counter and then he’s right there where she wants him, thick and hard and hot. Wrapping her legs around his waist seems like the best idea she’s ever had in her life and he apparently agrees, groaning softly as he nuzzles behind her ear.

Emma threads her fingers into his hair, carefully guiding him back to her mouth. Her whole body is singing, hips rocking against him, lips and teeth and tongue working in tandem with his, but there’s something that’s-

Something she can’t quite-

The back of her head touches the mirror as Killian leans into her and gives a throbbingly wonderful, if hesitant, experimental thrust. Oh. That.

She halts him with a hand on his chest and his face when he leans back is a picture of confusion and worry. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but if we fuck up my new bathroom counter, the co-op board is going to kill me. And then I’ll have to kill you.”

Killian’s look of panic immediately shifts into her favorite smirk ( smark? ), and he’s clearly headed right back to her lips again as he whispers, “I was thinking more ‘on’ than ‘up’, but if you-” he stops and pulls away again, this time looking supremely affronted. “Wait a minute, are you seriously saying you don’t trust my installation job?”

“Are you seriously saying you don’t want to take this to the bedroom?”

He shrugs a little and good grief, could the man possibly have a more expressive face? Now he’s right back to lascivious again. He takes a quick but deliberate glance at the mirror behind her. “I don’t know, love, I rather like the view right here.”

Emma pats him on the shoulder and rolls her eyes, then nudges him aside so she can hop down from the countertop. She takes his hand as she walks past him and begins pulling him behind her to her bedroom.

“Comfort over kink, babe.” She pauses and looks back at him over her shoulder with what she hopes is a coquettish expression. She can be expressive, too, dammit. “Besides, we’ve got to save something for next time.”

She turns to start walking again, but Killian tugs on her hand, making her turn back to face him.

“Next time?”

And if she wasn’t absolutely sure about this - about him - already, that right there. That little uptick in his voice, that little flash of vulnerability and hope in his eyes. That would’ve done it.

She lets just one corner of her mouth curve gently upwards. “Yeah. Next time.” She gives his hand a squeeze and raises her eyebrows. “Or the time after that. Come on.” She finishes the command with a quick jerk of her head toward the bed and he’s already beaming at her, and after that, it’s less her leading him by the hand and more her just trying to keep up.

Eager hands and searching lips seem to be everywhere at once. His t-shirt is done for. She’s not sure if it was her nails or his hook, but that rip isn’t fixable. Her bra suffers a similar fate. Her pants get stuck on one leg in her haste to get rid of the damn things, but it’s hardly her fault. Killian is already naked and all tight and lean and in her bed looking very much like he belongs there and it’s really freaking distracting.

She finally manages to extricate her foot and lays down on her side, leaning over the edge of the bed to drop her pants on the floor. In an instant, there’s a warm body wrapped around her from behind, a scruffy chin rasping her shoulder and a large hand splayed flat against her stomach. Emma really can’t be held responsible for the sound she makes when he ruts his hips forward, her ass cradling his manhood as he nips playfully at her shoulder.

She cranes her neck to kiss him, but can’t quite reach, so she lays her head back down, opting instead to wriggle back against him and lace her fingers through his.

Killian grunts in disapproval. “Angle’s all wrong.”

Emma cants her hips back suggestively and he groans, tightening their joined hands around her waist. “Seems like the angle is pretty good to me.”

“While I must admit it offers certain intriguing possibilities, I can’t make out with you like this.”

Emma looks up at him, frowning in confusion. “Is that a problem?”

Killian sighs, a heartbreaking openness in his gaze. “You know, I’d normally make a crack right now about how a true craftsman begins every job with a good priming, but the truth is I just really, desperately want to kiss you. Is that alright?”

Emma blinks, swallowing hard, and it takes her several moments before she trusts her own voice not to waver because she can’t remember the last time a man simply wanted to kiss her and be with her. Probably never, actually. And she just- She just-

“Yeah. That’s alright.”

He scoots backward to make room for her and she rolls over to face him. Her arm snakes around his neck, one thigh hitching over his hip, wrapping as much of her herself around him as possible. And he kisses her. God, does he kiss her. So different from the flash-bang clutching and scrambling of their first kiss, this time there’s an unhurried determination about him. It’s almost funny when she thinks about it, how she’s gone from feeling like this is her last night on earth to feeling like she - like they have all the time in the world.

But still…

Just because they have all the time in the world, doesn’t mean she wants to spend it all on first base. Even naked first base. Because that flashing neon sign of WANT is back. His lips are just too damn soft and his arms too solid around her, and with every breath, the coarse hair on his chest teases her breasts making the WANT rapidly shift into NEED.

He’s rock hard between her legs, his hips moving in minute thrusts and she doesn’t think he even knows he’s doing that, but it’s slowly driving her crazy. So she shifts her weight and rolls on top of him until she’s straddling him and this time it’s Emma who can’t keep still, lightly rocking in his lap as she urges him to sit up with her.

When they’re practically eye to eye, his hooked arm holding her fast by the waist while he keeps his balance with the other, Emma realizes he’s studying her face, his eyes darting between hers searching for some sign of hesitation or uncertainty.

“Love, are you sure this is what you want?”

Killian’s dark hair is a mess. Not it’s usual devil-may-care mess, but an I’ve-been-fucked-proper mess courtesy of her wandering fingers. She rakes it back off of his forehead, trailing her hand down to cup his jaw and he leans into her palm, closing his eyes as he presses a light kiss to the inside of her wrist. And if he isn’t the damndest thing she’s ever seen, Emma doesn’t know what is.

She doesn’t even bother trying to hide her smile. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Oh, thank God.”

He surges forward, the words barely out of his mouth before he captures hers in a toe-curling kiss. His arm tightens around her and he flips their positions, Emma bouncing against the mattress at the impact. She giggles (maybe Emma Swan is a giggler after all?) and thinks something very eloquent along the lines of, “ That was hella impressive .”

She’s ready. She’s so, so very ready as he lines himself up, and God, it’s been awhile, but her body seems to remember how this all works. Because as he slides in, slow and steady, there’s no awkwardness, no distracting stops and starts to take her out of the moment. Their eyes are locked, faces flushed and it’s just them. Like this how it’s supposed to be. Like the universe is smiling indulgently at her as if she’s an idiot for not realizing this was its idea the whole time.

His head tips forward, resting his forehead against hers, and they’re breathing the same air, and yeah. This was definitely the plan the whole time. She didn’t know. She’s not sure how she didn’t know, but at least she’s finally learning.

She’s learning a lot right now actually. Like the way that dip just beneath his Adam’s apple tastes. Like the color his skin turns where her questing mouth has left its mark. Like the sound he makes when she drags her nails down his back. Like the way he can make her back arch off the bed when he swirls his tongue around her nipple. Turns out he’s a pretty fast learner, too.

Speaking of fast. It’s illogical and unbelievable and she’s never been able to get off from missionary, but she feels her orgasm building and it’s gonna be the good, deep kind. The kind that makes her teeth buzz and toes go numb. She opens her eyes (because when he found that spot behind her ear with his tongue, there was no way she could manage to keep them open) to check and see if he’s as far gone as she is. There’s a sheen of sweat over both of them. He’s just as flushed as she knows she is, his face set with tension.

“Are you close, love?”

Words are not within her power right now, so she nods quickly, her breaths coming shallow and fast.

“May I…?” He shifts his weight onto one arm and begins to reach down between them to where they are joined, but Emma stops him with a small shake of her head. Instead, she widens her thighs, wrapping one arm tighter around his waist and squeezing his ass (and it’s everything that his stupid tight jeans had promised) to encourage him to go deeper. Not exactly spurring, but it’s close enough for him to get the message.

She has no idea how he’s managing to grind against her clit and thrust at the same time, but it’s-

Oh…

Oh, fuck…

“Oh Fuck!”

Yeah, that last one was definitely out loud, but she’s too blissed out to care. Oh, she was right. Right with the buzzing and the ringing in her ears and the tingling toes and the freaking unicorns and rainbows dancing across her vision as he thrusts a few more times and calls out a few expletives of his own. And her name.

They’re breathing hard, both of them, and he’s smiling down at her and it’s really not fair for a guy to have eyelashes that long and black. She scrunches her nose at him and he kisses the tip of it before shifting himself off to her side.

“You got me all sweaty.” Emma clearly displays her distaste for said sweat by snuggling herself under the crook of Killian’s arm and using his chest for a headrest. It’s a good vantage point for her to hear his low, skeptical hum in response.

“I understand you have a lovely newly remodeled shower you could use to rectify the problem.”

She lifts her head to look at him, and he’s got an eyebrow raised, but his eyes are twinkling.

“The shower head has way more settings than I’m used to. If only someone knowledgeable could, you know… give me a demonstration?” Emma tries to pull her lower lip between her teeth suggestively, but when Killian chuckles she joins right in.

“Oof, give a man a moment to collect himself, Swan. Though I suppose I’d prefer to give you a demonstration of the hardware, rather than have you resort to sabotage for my attentions.”

She was with him right up to the word ‘sabotage’. Emma sits up on the bed, her brow furrowed. “Wait, what?” Killian only grins broadly and tucks his arms behind his head. He’s still gloriously naked and it’s horribly distracting, but she won’t be deterred. “What do you mean ‘sabotage’?”

“Come now. Surely you didn’t think I’d believe the better part of a frozen lasagna accidentally shoved itself down your garbage disposal. I’m actually quite perceptive, darling. And I must say I’m flattered.”

His voice had taken on that rich, purring quality and under other circumstances, Emma would’ve melted like Milk Duds in warm popcorn, but she’s incensed at the accusation. Mostly because she’d kind of thought about doing that. Something like that anyway. But the point is she didn’t .

Her jaw drops open to protest, and he’s starting to look a bit unsure of himself. Good. He should be unsure of himself because did he really think that she-

“Hang on - did you say frozen lasagna?”

“Indeed. Several helpings by the look. Jammed the gears in the disposal, then melted which is why the sink backed up-”

“And then exploded all over my kitchen.”

Killian’s sitting up now, too, looking thoroughly confused. “You mean you didn’t…?”

Emma drops her chin to her chest and huffs a laugh, before meeting his eyes again. “Nope. But I know who did.”

“We’ve been set up?”

“Uh huh.”

“Bloody hell.” Killian flops back down onto the bed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. Emma scooches closer and nestles back into his side.

They lay there together for the space of several slow breaths, Emma absentmindedly toying with the soft hair on his stomach, while Killian gently strokes his fingers up and down her arm. It’s so peaceful that when his hand stills she thinks he may have fallen asleep.

“Hey, Killian?”

“Aye.” His voice is a little rough and maybe he was asleep, but something is bugging her.

“Was that the reason you made a move on me tonight? Because you thought I’d blown up my kitchen just to get to see you?”

“Oi! You kissed me first, Swan, but aye. I must admit it gave me a boost of confidence.”

“I didn’t know you were lacking in confidence, Jones.”

He chuckles softly and resumes trailing his fingers over her arm. “I’m confident in most things, true, but when it comes to whether I’ve won the heart of the woman I fancy? I suppose I have more hope than confidence.”

Emma looks up at him wide-eyed, searching for any hint of a lie, but he means it. She tucks her head beneath his chin to hide her smile.

“Hey, Killian?”

“Aye?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got a massive crush on David’s business partner.”

“Just pretty sure?”

“More like very sure.”

“Good. Because I’m very sure I’ve a massive crush on Snow’s best friend.”

After a short nap and a thorough demonstration of her new shower hardware, Killian spends the night. Emma wakes up warm and sated, her head pillowed on his bicep. He makes a compelling argument for spending the day in bed, his lips on the back of her neck and his fingers slowly slipping down her abdomen and stroking gently when they reach their destination.

It’s tempting. So, so tempting, especially when he dips one finger, then two inside her, curling and thrusting them in earnest now. But her stomach is growling and there’s something she really needs to do, so she very reluctantly stops him with a heated promise to pick right back up where he left off after breakfast.

They dress hurriedly. Emma offers him one of her oversized ‘Storybrooke U’ t-shirts to replace the one she basically ripped off of him the night before. There’s a little bit of groping and a lot of kissing, but they finally make it out the door and down the street to Granny’s Diner.

As soon as they walk through the door (hand in hand, and Emma could really get used to that), they spot a familiar couple canoodling in a corner booth. Ruby spots Emma and Killian a moment later and shoos them over to sit with Snow and David. David shakes Killian’s hand with a knowing smile. Emma hugs Snow who looks as tired and happy as Emma is fairly sure she herself does.

Ruby pulls out her notepad and pen and beams at the four of them. “And what can I get you lovely fornicators for breakfast this morning? And don’t even bother trying to look innocent, Snow. Your eyeliner has clearly been slept in, and that-” she jabs her pen in Killian’s direction. “-is clearly Emma’s shirt. Love to hear about what happened to his, by the way. But I’m just so happy for you guys!”

Honestly, Emma’s feeling pretty good about life right now, but she didn’t come here for pancakes and girl talk. She leans back in her seat and crosses her arms.

“Ruby, did you drop off my key to the co-op board yesterday morning?”

Ruby’s smile falters for a second, but it’s enough to confirm Emma’s suspicion. “Sure did. Now, do you want bacon or toast with-”

“Did you take a look around the apartment while you were there?”

“Oh, yeah. The place looks fantastic. You boys did a great job. So how do you take your-”

“And did you maybe shove half a frozen lasagna down my kitchen sink while you were there?”

Ruby exhales sharply, all pretense gone, and puts her hands on her hips. “I did and I regret nothing. My evil plan clearly worked.”

Emma groans, letting her head fall to Killian’s shoulder. “But why-”

“Because you needed a little extra push, babe,” Ruby answers kindly. She looks over to Killian who is now resting his head atop Emma’s. “Maybe he did, too.”

Killian squeezes Emma’s leg under the table. “Hard to argue with that, love.”

Snow leans in and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, she can argue with anything. Stick around a while, you’ll see.”

Emma harrumphs, but there’s no real rancor behind it. Ruby raises her pad and pen again.

“So, pancakes, bacon and coffee all around?”

There’s a general murmur of agreement, and Ruby scribbles down the order.

“She’s right about the apartment,” Snow says after Ruby disappears back into the kitchen. “I saw it Monday when it wasn’t even finished yet and it looked terrific.” She nudges David with her shoulder and looks up at him through her eyelashes. “You guys really did an amazing job.”

Emma sighs. “Yeah, so amazing that it’s gonna sell immediately and I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

Killian drapes his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, the quiet show of solidarity making her feel slightly better.

Snow furrows her brow. “You know you can stay with me as long as you need.”

Emma gives her a small smile in return. “Thanks, but I think it could get a little crowded since you’ve just got the one bedroom.” She turns a sly look to David. “And a little noisy.”

Snow blushes, and David laughs, tucking Snow’s hand into the crook of his arm. “It just might,” he confirms. “You don’t think you can talk your board into coming down on the price?”

Emma shakes her head. “Nope. Definitely not, now that you and Killian converted my junk loft into an actual second bedroom.”

“What about a flatmate, love?” Killian asks. “Perhaps Snow?” He nods in her friend’s direction, but now Emma and Snow are both shaking their heads.

“I’m stuck in my lease for another nine months,” Snow replies.

“Not to mention the building doesn’t allow sub-leasing, and I’m sure as hell not about to try to buy my apartment with some stranger.”

At that moment, Ruby arrives with four mugs and a coffee pot in hand, but she stops at the end of their table, a frown at the corners of her scarlet lips. “And what am I, a day-old bagel?”

“Huh?” is the best response Emma can come up with.

“Emma, I’ve been living here with Granny rent-free for years. I’ve got a pretty nice nest egg saved up. What if I bought half the apartment?”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Look, honey, much as I love Granny, she’s really starting to cramp my style, if you know what I mean. I can’t get away with anything. The old battle-ax has ears like a wolf.”

The kitchen door swings open, and Granny herself sticks her head out. “I’m a wolf? You’re the maneater, girl.”

Ruby turns and calls back, “My Granny, what a big mouth you have!” There’s a loud hmph and a smacking sound as the kitchen door swings closed again. Ruby sets the coffee down on the table and faces Emma again. “You see my point. So what do you say to taking on a delightfully inappropriate roommate?”

Emma blinks a few times, still trying to come to grips with this new information. Is it really possible? Can she actually be lucky enough to get to keep her apartment? She can feel everybody at the table looking at her expectantly and it finally occurs to her that she’s not speaking. She shakes herself and looks wide-eyed up at Ruby.

“Yes. Ohmigod. Yes! Ruby, thank you so much.”

Ruby grins brightly. “My shift ends at two. I’ll meet you at the building to do the paperwork after that. We don’t want those co-op bitches selling the place out from under us.” She takes a pointed glance at Killian then waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “And it looks like you’ve got some business to attend to while you still have the place to yourself. I’ll just go pack your breakfast to go.”

Before Emma can say anything else, Ruby turns on her heel and heads back to the kitchen. The next thing Emma knows, Snow is congratulating her and Killian is brushing a kiss to her hair and David is grinning at her and she's just- she’s just…Happy. And it kind of surprises her to realize it, but she thinks maybe she can get used to it.

Ruby returns with a take-out bag a few minutes later, and Emma and Killian stand to leave. Killian reaches to take the bag, but Ruby pulls it back, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re gonna take good care of our girl, right? Because I'll be right there to know if you don’t.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but Killian nods solemnly. “I promise I will.” And Emma’s heart melts just that little bit more.

Ruby releases the bag to him with a toothy grin. “Good. And don’t worry, I’ll give you a good deal when you want to buy out my share of the apartment later.”

David and Snow laugh, Emma splutters, and Killian’s ears turn pink and she knows he’d be scratching behind his ear if he wasn’t holding the food. Before either of them can say anything, Ruby is waving them away.

“Now don’t even try to argue with me. You two just go on home and have… pancakes.”

With a little wave of her fingers, Ruby was off to the kitchen. Emma glanced back at the table to find Snow and David completely engrossed with each other once more. As much as her head was reeling from everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, looking up into Killian’s smiling (and maybe a little bit smarking ) eyes, she finally feels that yes, this is it. She’s finally getting it right.

She wraps her fingers around Killian’s hook, taking note of the little hitch in his breath when she does, and smiles up at him.

“Yeah. Pancakes sound good.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs modern au #Handy Helpers #cs handyman au #with a little bit of Snowing #and some Captain Charming #and Ruby save the day #God I think I'm funny

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emmakillianfan · 8 years ago

Text

Music of the Heart Chapter 50 of ?

So I didn’t ever imagine this story would go on this long. When I started it, it was an experiment to see if I could write something that was a different style and more of a romance than my usual stuff. And so here we are at Chapter 50. There will be just a few more chapters in this story. I am still overwhelmed at the reception this has received and the messages supporting and encouraging me. Thank you all for that love and support!

Previous Chapters: FF.net and AO3

Killian was more excited about the idea of a dog for the family than Emma anticipated. He and Henry rushed through their school assignments – math problems and a vocabulary review for Henry and grading tests for Killian – with a fervor that she had not seen in either of them lately. Once responsibilities were done for the evening, they had barricaded themselves on the couch to view the photo galleries from the animal shelter and were placing calls to David about the different possibilities for the new family pet.

“Killian and I like this lab,” Henry told his mother when she carried in a tray of hot chocolate and strawberries for their evening snack. He shoved the smart phone in front of her and shook it until she commented.

“Nice,” she said, holding her head back to better view the image. “I thought we were going to look at the shelter after we get back from London.”

Dropping his hand, Henry let out an exasperated sigh. “But this one is perfect. He’s just two years old, already house broken, and has a sweet temperament. It says it right here.”

“After London,” she reminded him, placing one foot and then the other on the coffee table and crossing them at the ankles. “We aren’t adopting a dog and then disappearing for a week. That’s just cruel.”

“We could take him with us,” Henry quipped, quickly silenced by his mother’s put upon groan.

“If he’s available when we get back then we’ll talk about it, but for now…no.”

Killian shot an amused smirk at Emma, his hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear as he watched the exchange. He’d considered adding a dog to his life for the past few years, but had not felt comfortable with the idea given the state of his life. He wanted a dog to fit seamlessly into things, not add burdens or distract him. However, Henry had been so excited by the idea that he had jumped aboard immediately. “He’s a fine one. But perhaps we should keep our minds open until we see the animal. Perhaps there is another that might be more suitable for our family.”

“He’s perfect. He even likes the water.” He shoved the phone under Killian’s nose this time. “See! Water! He’s perfect for us.” There was as self-satisfied grin on the teenager’s face as he re-read the description off of Killian’s phone, declaring again that the dog would be a welcome addition to the family.

Killian abandoned the talk to show Emma the website where he’d been tracking prices for their airline tickets. He was trying to find the perfect price and time that would avoid jet lag and not cost a fortune. She should have known he’d be that organized about it, ranking the different flights from 1-10 with notes about the suitability of each. She was a little surprised he was letting her do the packing.

“So Henry will be back on Sunday around 2, right? I was thinking we could fly out that evening about 7 or so. That would put us…”

“Before you book that, maybe I should ask you something first,” Emma said, chewing at her lip as both Killian and Henry peered over at her. “It’s not bad or anything. I mean I guess…well, see…” She went ahead telling him about the offer to do the interview with the radio program. This was not going to go well.

“Wait, you want me to do an interview on a radio program?” Killian asked, his voice cracking. “What the bloody hell would I even talk about?”

Emma scrolled to the second picture of the dog Henry was back to excitedly studying on Killian’s phone. “Well, you wrote the song and penned the lyrics. I suppose you could talk about your thoughts on the final product, inspiration, process, and stuff like that. You don’t have to do this, but I know it would mean a lot to Elsa.”

“Would there be cameras there?” Henry asked, his interest in the dog waning momentarily with the thought of his future step father getting 15 minutes of fame. “Will you be on television?”

“It’s a radio interview,” Killian said, then shook his head. “And I haven’t agreed to do it.”

“Well, Henry’s not totally wrong. They sometimes record them for social media.” She flinched at the sight of Killian’s reluctance. “But we could totally ask them not to do that. And you wouldn’t be alone. The whole thing would really feature Elsa. It’s just that the duet is getting some attention. It could mean better sales for her, which frankly is a concern what with her not touring and Anna taking time off.” She tried to relax her own expression, indicate to him that this was no big deal. “And if you’re not comfortable, I totally understand. I just thought that what with Henry out of town on a camping trip, you and I could have a fun weekend in New York.”

“If I skip camping, can I come to New York? I like New York,” Henry jabbed his elbow at his mother and looked the picture of innocence. “You would just have to buy me food. I wouldn’t be a problem at all. I’d stay out of your way. Or I could help!”

“You and your dad have a camping trip,” Emma reminded him, nudging him back. “Besides I don’t think Killian is going to want to do this.”

Killian stared at the screen with flight information, studying it carefully. His hand moved on its own accord, each finger brushing the pad of his thumb in turn just inches in front of his mouth. “I gather this was Regina’s idea.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it. I mean Elsa’s under contract, not you.”

***AAA***

Liam flipped the page in the outdated magazine with so much force that the slick paper almost ripped from his effort. Growling his discontent at it for daring to be so flimsy, he threw it back on the stack of equally useless periodicals that seemed to be the norm in every waiting room.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Emma ventured, clasping her own cup of coffee with a vice like grip. It had been more than an hour since she and Killian had received the frantic call from Liam about the accident. And while they had sat there with him for the entirety of the time, none of them had been allowed past the double doors, as they weren’t family.

“You bloody well got to see Granny,” Liam pointed out when she said the nurse who had informed them of that rule was just following protocol. And while that was true, Emma was sure that the difference was the area of the hospital since Elsa was in the trauma unit and not simply under observation. She didn’t bother building up her case for Liam though, simply nodding and sipping on the stale distraction of the coffee.

“Perhaps Anna has heard more,” Killian offered, standing up and brushing his hand against his jacket and pants before taking a few steps toward the reception desk. In his haste to get to his brother and Elsa, he had left the prosthetic at home so his left arm was significantly shorter and drawn under the long flannel sleeve of his shirt. “It’s worth a try.”

Liam gave no indication of his approval or disapproval of his brother’s actions, leaning his head onto his hands and staring down at his knees. It wasn’t until Emma stood and changed to the seat next to him that he even breathed out a sign that he was aware of the others in the room.

“Have you heard from Graham?”

“Useless wanker,” Liam groused, rubbing his forehead with a finger. “Said car accidents happen all the time and that we shouldn’t automatically assume…” He snorted, pushing his hands down on his knees. “I know about car accidents, almost lost my brother in one. Don’t think I don’t know what it’s like to sit here and wait on word…any word about someone you love.”

She had not even thought about how similar the situation must have been, the connection between sitting there waiting for news and not knowing all the details. There were differences though, including the fact that he wasn’t also learning of the deaths of two friends at the same time. But that wasn’t what she pointed out to him. “Maybe it’s time to figure out what we can do to protect you and Elsa from your brother? I know that Graham had suggested before that a protective order might be a possibility.”

“You think that a bloody piece of paper will do anything to protect us?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a thought. Look, I know this sucks. I know that you’re feeling a lot of things right now. Scared that Elsa is hurt. Frustrated that despite Graham’s efforts this hasn’t stopped. Guilty that maybe your brother thought it was you in the car…”

“I hadn’t gotten to that last one,” he said, smirking sardonically before grimacing. “So I guess I can add that to my list. If I’d picked up my own car from the shop this wouldn’t be happening. If I hadn’t asked her to do that so I could avoid the hassle, she’d be fine right now. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Liam!” Killian’s voice was sharp as he rejoined them, looking harshly at his brother. “I know you’re worried, but taking it out on Emma is not the answer.” He crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the look Emma gave him that said to just blow it off. “And just so you know, Anna is back there now with the doctor. They are x-raying Elsa’s shoulder to see if there is any damage, but it appears she made it through without a scratch.”

Liam let out a sigh of relief, mumbling maybe a thanks or an apology before stalking off in the direction of the bank of vending machines against the far wall. Killian didn’t follow, taking root in his brother’s now abandoned seat. “He didn’t need to snap at you that way, love.”

“He’s worried about Elsa and remembering the last time he was waiting on word from an accident,” she said, dropping her head down on Killian’s shoulder. “I get it. I said the wrong thing and he snapped. It’s understandable.”

“We’re all under a lot of pressure, but there is no reason to turn on each other. I doubt he’s going to appreciate it very much when I ask him for our father’s contact information. But we must do what we must.” He rested his cheek on her head and tugged her into his side even tighter. “We didn’t get a chance to talk about it, but is Henry okay? I didn’t wish to pry.”

Even though he couldn’t see her face from that vantage point, he knew that she had closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose as she did when she was preparing to say something. “I guess I just needed reminding that my son isn’t oblivious. He’s worried about all this and thought maybe we were hiding the danger from him.”

“Poor lad. Perhaps we should keep him updated on Elsa. I doubt our rushing him off to Mary Margaret and David’s made him feel much more secure tonight.” He jostled her a bit with his shoulder. “Why don’t you go take care of him. I can handle my time bomb of a brother and get him and Elsa situated. You go give the lad a hug and see that he’s thinking of nothing more taxing than asking Violet to the basketball game and what to pack for his camping adventure.”

She shot up, the golden blonde hair that was no longer in the intricate braid flying wildly in odd directions. “Basketball game? Who gave permission for that? He doesn’t even like basketball.”

“It’s a school function, love. It’s not the same as a date with dinner and movies and such.”

Her eyes closed again and her chest rose with the deep breath she drew. “Seriously? I have to learn about my son’s social life from his music teacher?”

“Who is also your fiancé,” he said, his finger touching the tip of her nose. “I thought your rule was that they were free to spend time together at school functions?”

Her mouth screwed into a thoughtful pose. “Just a basketball game, right? You didn’t offer to take them out for dinner afterwards or something?”

“Just a game, love. It’s over by 5:30.” He smiled brightly, waggling his eyebrows at her obvious discomfort. He knew he was overdoing it. “I suspect that the most that will happen will be them holding hands or sharing a box of popcorn.”

“You are not cute,” she said, tapping her foot wildly. “You’re not cute at all.” She rolled her eyes, leaning over and kissing his cheek, muttering still that he was not that funny either.

“And yet you still love me. I can see it in the way you roll those lovely green eyes. Go see your son; it’s fine. I’ve got this.”

***AAA***

“I want you to follow my light with your eyes not your head,” Dr. Whale said, his normal bedside demeanor on display for the two sisters. “Good, very good.”

“She’s fine, right?” Anna asked, holding her sister’s coat like a life preserver in the ocean. “You’d tell me if she was really sick or hurt. She’s awake so that’s a good sign. And she’s talking…” Leaning forward, she yanked her sister’s chin toward her. “You’re talking, right? Talk to me!”

“I’m fine,” Elsa said in a low tone. “I know Liam is out there worried. Go see to him, okay? Please.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Anna protested, her bottom lip protruding as she backed away from her sister. “The doctor’s here. I should hear what he says. What if he says something important but you don’t remember? What if you have amnesia and can’t remember anything?”

“I don’t have amnesia.” She grimaced as the doctor pressed delicately on her shoulder. “I promise. I remember everything.”

Victor chuckled, dropping his pin light back into the pocket of his lab coat. Feeling the eyes of the younger sister on him, he smiled patiently. “She doesn’t have amnesia. I am a bit concerned about this pain in her shoulder though. I think I’ll order an x-ray and get you a little something for the pain. If there is no damage to the bone, I’d say we can get you out of here in an hour or so.”

“You could have damaged a bone?” Anna wailed. “Which bone? I know it’s your shoulder, but there’s more than one bone there. It’s a joint. Ball and glove. No, ball and socket. Did she hurt the ball or the socket? Or is it wrench?”

Grabbing the clipboard off the end of the tray beside the exam table, Victor made a few notes. “We’ll know more after the x-ray. In your condition you can’t be around for that so why don’t we see about an update for the patient’s boyfriend. Think we can trust you with that?”

Anna stood up quickly, the coats she held falling to the ground. Chin held high, she turned to the door. “Got it. Update Liam. Shoulder hurts but no amnesia.”

***AAA***

Stairs creaking beneath her feet, Emma lumbered up to the door of Mary Margaret and David’s loft in the dim light of the hallway. She knocked twice, softly so as not to wake everyone with the pronouncement of her arrival. It must have been just loud enough as the bleary-eyed David who answered and swung the door open to welcome her.

“He’s upstairs on the daybed in the nursery,” David explained, stepping over a video game controller that Henry had probably left out before bed. “I thought you were going to let him stay here? You said that, right?” He bent to pick up the game device, looked around, and then threw it on the coffee table next to a display of pink and white peonies.

“I did. I am. I just…well, I needed a break.” She wiggled her shoulders as she attempted to rid herself of the too thin jacket, standing in the center of wicker and pastels that were her friend’s trademark. Even David’s addition of a mountain bike hung from the wall and a leather hassock next to a mint green armless chair had not done much to affect the overall look of the space. “I didn’t mean to wake you guys…”

“You didn’t,” Mary Margaret said, coming out from behind the Chinese screens they were using in lieu of the French doors to separate the bedroom from the rest of the first floor until David had time for the installation. “Well, you did but I get up about 20 times a night anyway. So it’s fine.”

Her yellow and white robe hung open to reveal and oversized shirt that was probably something David had brought her back from a conference or event. Short black hair sticking up in wild directions and her green eyes squinting at her husband, she kissed his cheek as he laid a gentle hand on her more obvious belly. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.”

He blinked back at her, gave the baby a final caress and nodded. “Yeah, I should. Don’t stay up too late. Good night, Emma. I didn’t even ask…Elsa’s alright?”

“Banged up her shoulder a little, but fine. They are releasing her soon.” Emma sank into the armless chair, picking a throw pillow from behind her back and tossing it aside. “Sorry for waking you.”

He waved his hand as he lumbered toward the alcove where they had their bed. “No big deal. I’m a heavy sleeper. Won’t even remember in the morning.”

“Tea?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes a bit more awake now. “I could scramble an egg? Juice? I’ve got grape, orange…maybe some…no I don’t have any pomegranate. I think David finished that yesterday. I’ve got milk. And…”

“I am fine,” Emma interrupted. “Honestly I just needed a moment away from the hospital. The guard that was supposed to be watching Elsa drove me over here.”

Mary Margaret crossed over the u-shaped living room and plopped down across from her friend. “That bad? I know you said she’s okay physically, but…” She sighed. “Is it the brother?”

“Possibly? Probably? I don’t really know. She never got a look at the guy or that good of a look at the car. Graham and Liam think it is him. Graham’s talking about calling in the state police to look into things. I’m looking at adding more security because this guy was able to get past the one guard we’ve got.” She sighed, throwing her head back dramatically. “I’m sorry. It’s late and I thought…Killian suggested and I guess I just wanted to see Henry.”

“He’s upstairs. Want to go up there?” The pregnant woman moved toward the edge of her seat again. “If it will make you feel better, let’s go.”

“You’re not mad?” Emma asked, cringing. “I am not usually like this.”

“No, you’re not like this. So clearly something is wrong and we’re going to talk about it when you come back downstairs. Now go look in on your son and pull it all together. I’ll make us some tea and we’ll chat when you get back.” Giving one of those patented teacher looks, she pointed at the metal stairs. “Go! Oh and bring back a pillow and blanket from the linen closet. You’re staying here tonight. I’m not having you drive back given what’s going on with this guy.”

***AAA***

She would have fought him had they not given her a strong pain killer for her shoulder. Instead, she felt herself going limp in his arms as he carried her from Killian’s jeep up the couple of steps and through the front door of the house. He must have said he had her safe and sound at least a dozen times on the 100 foot journey from the garage, his breath warm at her temple and hands gripping her denim clad legs and her lower back.

“Take her on upstairs,” Killian said, turning on lights as he waded through the room toward the kitchen. “I’ll fix up an ice pack for her to keep the swelling down.”

“Nothing’s broken,” she informed them, not realizing she had said that over and over since her release. It was true that the x-rays showed nothing to be concerned about, the impact having simply bruised her rather than broken or dislocated her shoulder. “We’re here?”

“Aye, darling, we’re at Killian’s…”

Her nod was more like bobbing, her eyes wide and studious. “I like it here. Emma lives here too.”

Ignoring his brother’s chuckle, Liam readjusted his hold on his girlfriend. “Aye, that she does. She’s a good friend.”

“Yup,” Elsa agreed, kicking her foot a bit too wildly and sending her shoe in an arc toward the couch. “I think Killian really likes her.”

That earned a loud guffaw from the younger Jones, his shoulders shaking as he paused from making an ice pack to laugh at the blonde’s drug addled observation. He laughed even harder when Liam responded with, “I think you might be right about that, lass.”

There were only a few protests as he carried her up the stairs and to the guest room, promising that she could make dinner for everyone soon. She could be heard calling out menu ideas even from the landing above.

“You like garlic, right? Killian? You like garlic? And chocolate! Everyone loves chocolate. I’ll make something with chocolate!”

“Sounds magnificent, Elsa!” he shouted back, tossing up the newly frozen ice pack when his brother reappeared on the stairs. “I will look forward to it.”

In the haste of getting to the hospital there were more than a few items placed haphazardly throughout the living room. While he should have been considering sleep or even texting to make sure that Emma was snug at the Nolans’ loft, he found himself cleaning up a bit. That was where Liam found him a few minutes later, throwing a few of the forgotten cushions back in place on the couch.

“She was passed out before her head hit the pillow,” Liam announced, sinking down onto the newly restored sitting space. “Thanks for the ride back.”

Shrugging off the compliment, Killian folded the throw that Emma was so partial to over his left arm a little awkwardly. He frowned at it and tried again, this time making the ends meet. “Sounds as though Elsa will be paying us back with quite a feast of garlic and chocolate, mate.”

“Yum…” Liam said, rolling his head on his shoulder from one side to the other. “I owe Emma an apology. She was concerned about how I was feeling and I jumped on her a bit too harshly.”

“I doubt she’ll hold it against you.” Killian draped the newly folded blanket over the back of the chair. “She has a thing for a hot cocoa with cinnamon though. And since she’s staying the night at the loft, you could have one waiting for her when she comes back in the morning to get ready for work.”

“The least I can do.” Liam folded his hands over his chest and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. One look from his brother and he removed his shoes before reassuming his relaxed position. “So let’s hear it? I’m a stubborn arse for letting it get this far. If only I’d called father and told him what I thought instead of ignoring his pleas. I know the drill. I also know that we should pursue this protective order and look at where that brother of ours is before anyone gets truly hurt.”

“If you already know what I plan to say, there is very little need for me to say it,” Killian teased. “But yes, I do think it is time that we take some action. Let the authorities deal with Liam, but our father…”

“I’m not going to London.” If Liam were a child, one might understand the petulant tone better. He might have even stamped his feet and stuck out his tongue. But Liam was a grown man who should be above such things.

“Aye, I can respect that, brother. But you should understand that I wish to go. I have every intention of seeing this through. So I would appreciate your telling me what you know about where he is living now. London is no small place.”

“I won’t be a part of this.” Lowering one of his hands, Liam reached for the remote control for the television only to have it snatched away by his brother. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to change my mind.”

“After your first refusal, I never invited you again. I was simply hoping you might share with me what you know about father’s whereabouts. It would make my task infinitely easier to at least know where I was going and what I might face.”

“This isn’t your fight, brother. Nobody’s after you or your fiancé. I have to deal with this the best way I know how.”

Clenching his hand, he tried to find the words that would convince his brother. It would be a tall order that would require skill and care. Or perhaps he should just stick his middle finger in the air and call it a night. “He is my father as well as yours,” he said, settling on reason rather than emotional appeal. “And this brother of ours could have easily enough targeted me. Still might.”

“It doesn’t involve you. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk to simply be disappointed with that lout won’t give you the time of day or seems to forget that you even ever existed. You’ve got this week planned. Take Emma to Paris or Rome. Go have a bit of romance in Vermont or on a cruise. Don’t waste your time trying to mediate between me and a man you and I always said was no longer our father. Don’t subject Emma to him and his lies. It’s a mistake.”

He briefly closed his eyes, remembering the panic and pain that his brother had displayed at the hospital. While he had heard Liam’s expression had been similar after his own accident, he had never actually seen his brother so distressed. He couldn’t blame him. If something happened to Emma, he’d be likely to lose what he had left of his sanity. “You’re in danger, brother. You of all people can’t expect me to sit back and watch this come to a head. Let me try to help.”

***AAA***

Liam did eventually pass on the information he had on Brennan Jones, swearing that he couldn’t confirm it was accurate. However, Killian went with it and made hotel arrangements and rented a car that would carry him to the small house that was their father’s last known residence. It took most of his time during those last few days of the week, especially combined with Elsa’s demand that she would do the interview and her impassioned plea for his inclusion. He’d finally given in on that detail. So when school let out on Friday he carried his and Emma’s bags to the jeep while Henry and his father prepared to leave on their own weekend adventure.

Neal’s car disappeared down the road with Henry and a few bags inside it, the trip to the cabin still a viable option even after the rough week. While Emma did not want to come straight out and ask if Tamara would be joining them, she had noted that there was no room in the sedan for her with the equipment, games, and whatnot littering the backseat.

“Good thing we won’t be here this weekend,” Killian said, dropping a weekend bag next to the door where she stood looking out at the now empty road. “Maybe you won’t miss him so much.”

“It’s crazy, right? Henry’s 13. I’ve shared custody for years now and he’s always headed off for this camp or that friend’s house. I should be used to him traipsing off for weekends away, but I’m not right now. I miss him.” Letting the curtain on the window next to the door fall back into place, she spun to face him. “You probably think I’m a co-dependent mess of a mother who is the laziest helicopter parent ever.”

“I’ve been around my share of such mothers and fathers, love. You are nowhere near that level of insanity. And to be honest, I hope to distract you as much as possible this weekend.”

“You’re not angry that this is weekend is turning into a work thing?”

“It seems to mean a lot to you and to Elsa,” he shrugged. “It’s not as though you are dragging me on some awful adventure to a foreign land to look for your wayward father.”

Giving him a quick peck to his lips, she smiled. “I think you have a different idea of torture, but if it makes you happy to think that I am somehow making the supreme sacrifice by going with you to London, I’m all for it. I could use the guilt points.”

It would be a busy weekend for them with the two nights planned in New York, a quick flight back to Maine and another flight to London Sunday evening. Neal had promised to have Henry back to Mary Margaret and David’s who would then transport him to the airport to meet them, as well as their luggage for the week in tow. There were a million little things that could go wrong, but Emma had promised both Killian and herself that she would try not to worry about them too much.

“Perhaps I’m just concerned that all this time together will have you rethinking your decision to marry me.”

She lifted her left hand and waved it between them, the engagement ring on clear display. “I think that ship’s already sailed there, buddy. I even managed to let Ruby nail me down about a possible dress design and have quotes on the flowers. And last I checked we’ve got invitations being printed. Can’t let all that go to waste. I’m not planning this for nothing, you know?”

“You’ve been busy. Perhaps you’d like to write our vows too?” He was well aware of the plans so far, having been privy to most of the decisions, including taking on the task of Ruby and Granny’s ideas for the reception. Keeping it simple had proven to be more of a challenge than either of them realized, as Mary Margaret and Ruby had both gone into overdrive with ideas that would be better for a wedding with a guest list of 200. His fiancé was stubborn though and fought back when necessary, giving in on a few details that she was not that concerned about anyway.

“I thought we could just wing it,” she teased with a shrug. “Just say whatever came to mind?” She gestured toward the stack of luggage. “I promise to do all our travel packing in the future and you promise to…”

“Ravish you every chance I get?” He pulled her to him, earning a little gasp of surprise at the quick but welcome gesture. “I certainly plan to do that.”

She twisted her mouth to one side, pursing her lips for the effect of appearing to think hard about his suggestion. “I was going to go with you promising to always empty the dishwasher, but I could be convinced to go with the ravishing thing.” She threw her arms over his shoulders, laughing as he dipped her back dramatically to kiss her.

“Oi, if you two keep that up, you’ll be horrible travel companions for Elsa,” Liam announced, the woman in question’s rolling bag in his hand and a carry on in the other. “Just remember this isn’t the honeymoon yet, brother.”

“Aye, we will be on our best behavior,” Killian said, keeping his eyes on Emma as she shimmied her way out of his embrace and smoothed down the black shirt she was wearing. “It is a work trip after all.”

***AAA***

Elsa pulled back the curtain and held her phone up to snap a photo of the incredible view for Liam, texting it to him immediately. With the quickness of his reply he must have been holding the phone, the ring of hers mixing with the sound of the text being delivered.

“You’re all snug and safe, darling?” he asked after a few pleasantries. “Killian made sure your room was up to par?”

“Killian and Emma have both been wonderful,” Elsa assured him, dropping to one of the chairs in the sitting area and sighing. “They invited me to join them for dinner tonight, but I told them to go without me.”

“Elsa,” he said warningly. “You shouldn’t go out alone. We had a deal…”

“I won’t be totally alone. I have that burly guard to watch me and I thought I’d just explore a little. I was going to see if I could possibly score a ticket to a show. I don’t want to impose on them.” Her manicured finger tapped on the back of the phone. “Quit worrying. There are millions of people in this city. I doubt your brother would fly all this way to follow me.”

***AAA***

As much as she complained about Regina’s overbearing ways and micromanagement, Emma had to admit that the artists both on and pursued by the label were treated extremely well. Never had that been so evident to her as the rooms that had been booked for Elsa and Killian to do their interview in New York that weekend. Travel on the weekend before Thanksgiving was hellish, combined with the fact that she and Killian were due to fly out with Henry on Sunday. But there they stood in the room, throwing a tip to the bell hop and pretending not to gawk at the floor to ceiling views of the vibrant lights of Time Square.

“I may abhor the idea of these insipid interviews, love,” he said before crashing his lips against hers and making quick movements toward the king sized bed, “but this room makes up for any discomfort.”

She smiled against his mouth, batting away his hand that had already pulled the black blouse from her jeans and was fussing with the buttons blindly. “We’re having dinner out tonight,” she reminded him. “You promised. Reservations? With Elsa. I even got us all tickets to a show that is supposedly impossible to get tickets to see.”

“Love, I have no reservations about staying locked in this room with you for the entirety of this weekend. I shall never complain again about staying in with you. I was a stupid, stupid, man.”

She craned her neck back to both display her desire to move on from the interlude and head out as planned, as well as to give him better access as he assaulted the skin there. She could admit desiring both. “You promised me a date,” she said, her fingers gripping his head to pull him closer, getting lost in the thick tufts of dark hair. “Food, wine, dancing, no children’s movies or teenage angst.”

“I thought we were bringing Elsa with us?” he queried, paying closer attention to the dip in her neck and shoulder. His tongue traced over the sensitive area, relishing her shudder with his teeth flashing against her skin.

“Tonight dinner and a show. Tomorrow is date night.” She pushed back on his shoulders twice before he stepped back with a frustrated groan. “Easy there, tiger. We have all weekend. You go shower and get ready. I’ll get Elsa.”

***AAA***

“I wish you were here,” Elsa said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “I know you’d hate going to see a musical, but…”

“I would do it for you,” he interrupted. “I would do anything you requested. But we both know that I am needed here this weekend. Apparently this American holiday brings out long lost family and encourages drinking in excess leading up to the day.”

“It’s about being thankful,” she giggled. “You are so British sometimes.”

“I’m simply making an observation. After your interview, have that security guard of yours take you to the airport and we’ll be in each other’s embrace by tomorrow night.” He was still whispering some pretty dirty things to her when her reverie was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Insisting that he stay connected while she answered it – what exactly was he going to do from Storybrooke if it was trouble – he heard Emma’s familiar voice and realized what was going on about the same time as Elsa.

“Hi Liam,” Emma said into the phone. “I’m kidnapping your girlfriend. Seems Killian’s glutton enough for punishment as to take two blondes out to dinner.”

“Lucky bastard,” Liam chuckled, signing off after getting Elsa to promise to call him when she returned.

“Emma, I don’t want to be a third wheel,” she said, dropping the phone on the bed and sighing. “I’m just going to find a quiet place, people watch, and maybe go see a show or something. You and Killian should enjoy a night without your son. Get him to wine and dine you.”

Clicking her tongue on the top of her mouth, Emma shook her head. “Nope, you’re not backing out on me now. If you won’t go with me for social reasons, fine. But think about my taxes.”

“Your taxes?” Emma asked, not quite sure what to make of that argument. “What does my going to dinner with you have to do with your taxes?”

Emma smiled, happy to have at least gotten her friend off balance with the argument. “If Killian and I go out alone it’s a date,” she said, explaining the obvious. “But if you join us then I’m a recording company rep taking out two clients or a client and a potential client. Total right off on my taxes.”

Elsa looked at her suitcase, trying to picture the outfit she had packed in case she did decide to go out. It was a simple black dress that would highlight her creamy complexion and blonde white hair. If she unfurled her braided lochs, she would sport thick waves that would frame her face and with a little touch up of her make up would be stunning. “Taxes,” she repeated. “Fine, you win. I’ll be your tax deduction.”

“Great,” Emma said, lifting her shoulders with a mix of pride and celebration. “Be ready in 25 minutes.”

***AAA***

While Elsa was still worried about being a third wheel with Emma and Killian, the two lovebirds did all that they could to make her feel included. Emma continually referred to it as a business dinner, even making a show of keeping a copy of the receipt and toasting to the upcoming release of the song. Killian was much more casual about it, offering an arm to both women and riding in the front seat of the cab so that both ladies could have more room in the back.

When they arrived at the theater just a few minutes before time for the curtain, Killian was engrossed in a chat with Elsa about the show they were going to see. He seemed to be appreciating her knowledge of musical theater as much as she was entertained with his theories about composition. Emma groaned loudly that maybe they should switch seats so they didn’t have to talk over her.

Killian even wore his moniker of being a lucky bastard proudly, texting his brother a photo of him flanked by his fiancé and Elsa at dinner and following it up with one that included both women kissing his cheeks. Liam had a few choice words for them after that one.

Arriving back at the hotel, the trio stopped at Elsa’s door first to drop her off with the promise to meet for breakfast at the diner across the street. As he had promised Liam, Killian scanned the room with the guard who had followed them at a distance all night. Declaring it safe, he wished her a good night and rushed Emma along to the room next door, sliding the do not disturb sign on the doorknob in a swift and seamless motion.

“Tonight was fun,” Emma said, kicking off the heels she had been wearing before heading to her suitcase to dig out something more comfortable to sleep in. “Thank you.”

“You and Uncle Sam paid for dinner and the show, love. I’m not sure why you would thank me.”

She was twisting off the back of her earring, her favorite flannel pajamas over her arm. Most women would have brought some sort of sexy lingerie for a romantic weekend with their fiancé, but Emma preferred comfort and familiarity to showy tactics that felt fake. “You were a good sport with Elsa and a gentleman throughout. I’m impressed.”

“I’m always a gentleman,” he countered, yanking down on his tie to loosen it. They had almost added to their delayed departure with the act of her tying it for him earlier. “And I was promised that I would have you all to myself tomorrow night.”

“A deal’s a deal,” she said, rising onto the balls of her feet to place a chaste kiss to his lips. “And I hear that married couples do seem to get a few date nights now and then.”

“Something else to look forward to,” he smiled against her. “Perhaps we should practice that. We could go back out in the hall and I could carry you over the threshold?”

She rocked against him, appreciating the earnest yet gentle kiss he gave her in return. At first his lips touched hers like a whisper, his grin still evident. It made his lifting her into his arms bridal style all the more shocking, her squeal bouncing off the walls. “That damn guard is going to come in here and beat you down,” she chastised, dropping the flannel pajamas in a puddle on the floor. “Killian!”

“You won’t need them,” he teased, spinning them toward the bed with dramatic movements until he dropped her gently onto the plush covers. “Isn’t that better? Much more comfortable than those dreadful theater seats.”

“Those dreadful seats are going for at least a thousand dollars a piece,” she said, raising her chin defiantly to look him in the eye. He wasn’t looking all that formidable with his blue eyes sparkling and his cheeks pink as he seemed to drink her in. “But you’re right. They were like sitting on concrete.”

“I do love being right.”

She exclaimed in irritation, rolling away from him as he dropped to the mattress himself. “Great, my fiancé has a debate club fetish.” Her lips trembled in an attempt to keep the smirk at bay. She failed.

“I assure you that my fetishes are all quite mature and involve only you, my love.”

As much as she appreciated the playful banter with him, she was not ashamed to admit that she melted when he smiled at her that way or enjoyed the attention he bestowed. And without a teenager in the next room or guests nearby, she was enjoying it all the more. She snuggled against him as their legs entwined. The languid kisses and caresses hardly matching the passion they both felt but somehow stymied for a more methodical pace. Her hands busily pushed and pulled at his clothes, freeing him with the same impatience that beguiled their more measured machinations.

Soon enough bare skin came into contact with bare skin, leaving her feeling as if she was consumed half by flame and half by ice with the burn and surge of passion she felt for him. And while her impatience with the slower tempo grew, their inevitable coming together was ripe with the downpour of fiery sensations.

It wasn’t until after, contentment and peace overriding the emotions of a hectic week and even month, that she noticed the red blinking light on the phone beside the bed. Killian sauntered back into the room from the bathroom, not having bothered to dress or cover up and carrying a wash cloth for her use and smiling broadly at his beautiful fiancé.

“Something the matter?” he asked, three small lines forming as he regarded her. “You seemed happier a moment ago.”

“We’ve got a message,” she said, pointing at the phone. “Who even knows what hotel we’re at besides Liam?”

“That’s quickly remedied,” he reminded her, reaching for the phone and kissing her bare shoulder as he waited through the menu of options. He said nothing else, the flicker of anxiety bold on his face as he cradled the old fashioned phone against his ear.

“Killian?”

He shook his head slightly, his jaw clenching as his back straightening at whatever it was that he heard. Closing his eyes, he let the phone slip slightly and then replaced it back on its base.

“Killian, what is it?” Emma asked.

“My father,” he said, the title for the man sounding cold and distant. “He’s not in London. That was him. He’s in New York. Upstate a bit. He heard I was here and would like to talk.”

#cs ff #ouat fanfiction #frozen jewel fanfiction #captain swan fanfiction #cs au

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theatredirectors · 8 years ago

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Michael Alvarez

Hometown?

Monterey, California.

Where are you now?

Los Angeles, California.

What's your current project?

Gearing up for the Drama League Fellowship at the Hangar Theatre this summer; and in the fall I will be directing Chekhov’s The Seagull.

Why and how did you get into theatre?

I distinctly remember being 4 years old at my grandma’s house and sitting about a foot from her old TV watching The Wizard of Oz for the millionth and a half time. As Dorothy returned back from Oz, I turned to my mom, who was at the kitchen table talking to my aunt, and pointed to the TV and said, “ I want to do that for the rest of my life.” I wasn’t aware at the time why I wanted that or what that meant – but I knew deep down it was what I was meant to do. Through all the old films, musicals and theatrical events I devoured as a child, I was able to experience a world beyond my own. I saw parts of myself reflected in all the different characters and situations I engaged with. These various theatrical experiences were, in a way, extensions of my own self and consciousness. Of course as a kid my ideas were far less complex!

I was fortunate that where I grew up had some wonderful community theatres (a shout out to The Western Stage and Ariel Theatrical) that exposed me to the canon of theatrical work and taught me the discipline and rigor a life in the theatre would be. I was an actor, mostly, growing up – but was always far more interested in the enigmatic figure of the director and marveled in awe as to how they had created an entire production! I began directing in high school and instantly knew that this was my path. It combined my love of language, music, visual arts, psychology, philosophy, metaphysics, history, fashion, dance, and plenty more!

What is your directing dream project?

My dream project would probably be a new work/ project with music – that I have yet to encounter - that experiments with theatrical form, demands a high level of visual spectacle that is balanced by intellectual engagement, engages/activates non-traditional theatre-going audiences, bridges the world of theatre into pop culture and is emotionally engaging. Any ideas?!

What kind of theatre excites you?

Visceral theatre from the soul! You always can sense the impetus for creation in a work – its DNA is palpable. Regardless of form or style, I respond to work that is authentic to its creators and is clear and specific in its execution. I very much appreciate work that pushes the boundaries of performance and plays with form. I am always asking myself how the American Theatre is evolving and am excited to encounter work that I feel is attempting to grow the genre!

What do you want to change about theatre today?

I want theatre to break out of its “theatre bubble” and continue finding its crossover into other mediums. Film, television, fashion, music – they all work in tandem together to keep evolving themselves in popular culture, but where is live theatre in this? How do we make theatre more relevant and accessible to a wider and more diverse audience? I would also want theatre to diversify itself – what and whose stories are being told, who is telling them and how are they being told and created? American theatre needs more risk and diversification.

What is your opinion on getting a directing MFA?

Everyone learns different and requires different experiences, but I think grad school can certainly be a great option. It offers time to invest in you. Yes, you will be learning about craft and gaining professional skills – but more importantly, it’s a space for you to explore ideas, aesthetics, approaches and yourself. We are always in a constant state of learning and evolving – as a person and artist - and that is reflected in our art-making. If grad school is something you are interested in, don’t just jump in. Know why you want to go to school and what you want to get out of it – I guarantee you, this will help you to navigate your journey through it. Work in the world first though, travel, experience things outside of your comfort zone; and see what you like, what you don’t like and what you want to change. Then go to grad school and figure out how you want to conflate all your experiences/ideas and continue developing your own unique style and approach to theatre making.

Who are your theatrical heroes?

So many!!! But here are a few:

Antonin Artaud, Tadeusz Kantor, Ivo van Hove, Marianne Elliot, Emma Rice:

Artaud and Kantor both cracked open my mind about what theatre and performance is and could be; and I find their writings, and the energy of them, completely inspirational. Ivo van Hove, Marianne Elliot and Emma Rice are three contemporary directors that I find very exciting. Each creates theatrical events that convey the heart and narrative of the piece, but in a way that is unique and surprising! They play with form, style and ways of audience engagement with the material.

David La Chappell, Steven Klein, Alexander McQueen, Chanel (and their runway shows)

Though maybe non-traditional to this question, I couldn’t answer it without them. These are highly theatrical artist and their use of visual storytelling is masterful! It’s fashion, art, pop culture, theatre, histories and iconography all rolled into one! Each creates highly stylized worlds that are rooted in our reality, but viewed/ experienced through different lenses. Looking at their work is always surprising and an adventure!

Any advice for directors just starting out?

Read, read, read!

Read all the plays and books you can! Know the canon, know your theatrical history, know who trail blazed it and why! Anne Bogart, Katie Mitchell, Declan Donnellan, Antonin Artaud, Tadeusz Kantor, Peter Brook – all brilliant writers to read!

Create, create, create!

Get some friends together and make work! The best way to learn about directing, is just to direct! Don’t worry about outcome (that’ll come later!) just focus on the process of creating and keep a journal about what works and what doesn’t. Document everything and track your growth.

Experiment, experiment, experiment!

Don’t settle for existing forms or modalities of creating. Make your own. You are a part of the future of this medium – what will you contribute?

Lastly…

If you want to be a director, really get to know yourself as person – who you are, what you stand for, what you like and don’t like, what inspires you, what pisses you off, what makes you cry and so forth. The more in touch you are with what’s alive in you, the more you will be able to connect to what is alive in other people.

Plugs!

If you’re up to it, check out my website for more about my work:

www.michael-alvarez.com

And, if you haven’t already, check out the great work of the Drama League:

http://www.dramaleague.org/

#Michael Alvarez #Ask A Director #theatre director

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nellie-elizabeth · 8 years ago

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Once Upon a Time: Awake (6x17)

Hmmmm. I'm not entirely sure about this episode. I mean sure, I loved a lot and a lot and a lot about it. But there were a few twists in here that seemed a little silly. Or, sillier than usual? I don't know. Let's just talk it through and see where I land.

Cons:

We learn that at one point during the curse, Mary Margaret found a magic flower and brought it to John Doe (David). This magic flower woke David up and caused him, and then a moment later Snow, to remember their identities. David "wakes up" Rumple by saying Emma's name, and he tells them that the magic flower can also take them to their daughter. But he also tells them that they can't be with her, because it's too soon. Emma needs to be the proper age to become the Savior and wake up the whole town. Snow and David make the heartbreaking decision to drink potions that will cause them to forget again, waiting for Emma to come find them later on.

It's not that this plot thread was bad on its own, but it sort of undercuts the original curse-breaking, doesn't it? Snow and David running across the street towards each other and all that jazz? Now that we know they woke up once before, the whole thing is a little anti-climactic. Also, I don't like the idea that Rumple needed to hear Emma's name to wake up. You'd think if he had that sort of control over the curse, he'd make it so he'd be awake from the beginning. Why not? That's how I've assumed it was this whole time, anyway...

A pacing issue: a lot happens in this episode. Hook and Emma are reunited (yay) and are re-engaged (yay) and Snow and David are awake (also yay). It's not that I didn't want this stuff to happen, but it's all squished in to the last eight or so minutes of the episode. This episode also featured time in Neverland, the whole backstory with Snow and David, hints about Gideon and the Black Fairy's ultimate purpose... it was just a lot. This show always seems to have so much that could be easily cut, and then all of the important stuff is crammed together way too quickly!

Pros:

I did like Snow and David's backstory, though, if only because it reminded me of the good ol' days. Season One of this show really was something special. Ginnifer Goodwin slipped back in to that Mary Margaret role perfectly, and it was a joy to see. Also, Snow and David are just so mushy and sweet, and seeing them fight for each other and say the iconic line "I will always find you" was kind of perfect.

In this moment, Snow and David give up a chance for their family to be together, knowing that Emma will eventually find them and break the curse. Now, however, in the present day, Snow and David decide to make a sacrifice for Emma, giving up the magic of the flower they found that could have woken them up from their curse. Emma is able to use this flower to find and rescue Hook. I just love the fact that even when David and Snow can't speak to each other directly, they're comfortable making joint decisions. David knows that Snow would want to find a way out of the curse, no matter the risks, for the specific purpose of being there for Emma during the final battle. And later, Snow knows that David would want them to give up their chance to break the curse so that Emma could get Hook back. Those two. True Love, I tell ya.

And speaking of True Love, the Hook and Emma stuff is exactly what the doctor ordered. Hook is so desperate to get back to Emma that he doesn't even blink at the thought of fighting through dozens of angry Lost Boys. Tiger Lily was an interesting surprise - I wonder if we'll be getting more of her character. She has some sort of connection to the Black Fairy, and she had a piece of a wand that she says will help the Savior to defeat the evil. Hook's shadow takes this wand bit to Emma, and there's a lot of the shadow caressing Emma's face and all sorts of great stuff like that.

The proposal is pretty great. It's nice to get a second chance to see that, without all of the baggage from the first time around. I love that Hook immediately proposes the second he's back in Storybrooke, after Emma's daring rescue. He says that he needs to get it out before he gets sucked in to yet another portal! It's a sweet moment, and I'm glad they took a moment during all of this chaos to reaffirm their bond.

So then we have the ending, where Regina comes up with a plan to wake up the Charmings. She gathers a bunch of people from the town, including the dwarfs, Granny, and Archie, along with Henry, Emma, and Hook of course. She explains that if they all share in the sleeping curse, it should dilute its power. Everybody drinks from the cup, and Snow and David wake up. Everybody else is asleep, but just temporarily. As they wake, Emma is hugged by her parents, and Hook and David share a moment of reconciliation. This was a great scene, because after everything Regina has done, she really should have been the one to fix the problem. Regina gave Snow the credit, saying that it was her sacrifice and the hope she had inspired in her people that made the whole town willing to take a chance on her and David. What a beautiful moment. And they're finally together again!

I'm still not all that interested in the Black Fairy and Gideon as characters, but I do enjoy the fact that Gideon is fighting against the Black Fairy's control more and more. Some level of redemption for this character would be welcome. Belle has suffered enough as it is!

I think that's all I've got. A bit of a crowded episode, coming towards the end of a weirdly crowded season. But if this does end up being the end of Once Upon a Time, I'm glad we're shining the spotlight on the two couples who deserve a happily ever after.

8/10

#review #once upon a time #once upon a time review #ouat

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teamhook · 6 years ago

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Just another CS MOVIE AU… Happy Valentine’s Day Ch 4/5.

|AO3| |FFN|

Hello! Okay, so I bring you, musician!Killian AU inspired by Forever My Girl cause I see CS everywhere! Sorry, I’m stubborn and although I was told this should be a SF fic. Maybe I’m wrong but I couldn’t stop myself.

Maybe you guys can tell me if I was wrong…

I wanna thank @searchingwardrobes and @ilovemesomekillianjones for their Beta services. They each helped me so much.

So allow me to give you all Chapter 4 of my Valentine’s Day gift to all of you, my lovely shipmates.

I didn’t tag some of you before because I didn’t want to be too presumptuous but gotta share the love:

@its-imperator-furiosa @djlbg @mayquita @andiirivera @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @ultraluckycatnd @onceuponaprincessworld @aprilqueen84 @tehgreeneyes @hookedonapirate @thesschesthair @krustybunny @alexandralyman @artistic-writer @kymbersmith-90 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @resident-of-storybrooke @flslp87 @searchingwardrobes @pocket-anon @branlovestowrite @seriouslyhooked @sherlockianwhovian @doodlelolly0910 @courtorderedcake @ilovemesomekillianjones @shireness-says @donteattheappleshook @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @thislassishooked @shipsxahoy @shady-swan-jones @tiganasummertree @cat-sophia @hollyethecurious @thejacketandthehook @dassala @allofdafandoms-blog @kday426 @winterbaby89 @snidgetsafan @delirious-late-nights @onceuponaprincessworld @let-it-raines @profdanglaisstuff @revanmeetra87 @stophookingatmeswan @kmomof4 @optomisticgirl @lenfaz @gingerchangeling @darkcolinodonorgasm @daxx04 @jennjenn615 @lizacstuff @lassluna @xemmaloveskillianx @xhookswenchx @peglegsjones @shireness-says @laschatzi @onceuponataarna

The upcoming days consisted of Killian picking up Alice Hope from school, working on the garden, and playing the guitar. Every other day there were enjoyable family dinners, much to David’s dismay, but he would just have to suck it up.

Alice Hope had begged her mom for a sleepover, and she had finally relented. That evening after yet another dinner at his and Liam’s place, Killian was tucking Alice Hope into bed as she asked, “Dad, why did you leave mom?” She looked at him with the innocence of a child, not knowing the significance of the simple question.

He hesitated for a second. "There hasn't been a day I haven't regretted that decision. I have no excuse, but I was young, confused, and dumb. I know it was wrong, but I was lost."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "But now you are home, that's all that matters." She closed her eyes and Killian stayed until she fell asleep.

Liam and Emma overheard the conversation between Killian and Alice Hope. They are both moved by Killian’s honesty and the little girl’s need to comfort him.

After witnessing the tender moment they’d made their way to the front porch. The night was fresh, with a light breeze. Enjoying some wine, they chit chatted between the two of them.

Liam decided to give his brother and Emma a little space, and called it a night once Killian joined them outside. Emma swayed towards Killian.

“Emma, I think you’re tipsy. How much wine did you drink?” Killian asked as he attempted to steady her, but instead swayed with her.

She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder, “Enough to be a little tipsy.” She smiled with her eyes closed.

He hummed, “Alright love, I’m going to give you a ride home.”

“Okay,” she mumbled. Killian guided her to his car, his hand resting gently on her lower back. Arriving at her home, always the gentleman, Killian rushes to open her door.

“Safely delivered.” He smiled happily as he walked her to her door.

“I feel better, I didn’t drink that much.” She leaned into him to whisper a secret, “I’m a lightweight. I’m not drunk, I just feel relaxed.”

Killian studied her for a second. “Relaxed is not a bad thing.”

She nodded, “I was thinking, you’re in debt with me.”

Killian looked at her quizzically, “A debt?”

She looked at him, holding his gaze, “Yes, you owe me a date. A date with Killian Jones, Grammy Award winning singer.”

“Love, do you think you can handle it?” he smirked, popping the T.

“Oh, I can handle it just fine, superstar. I think the only one that’s not gonna be able to handle it is you.” She poked his chest playfully.

“Emma, that’s not what I meant, but if you are serious, I’d love to.” Killian waited for her answer patiently.

“I am very serious,” she answered with a smile.

“Good,” he simply stated.

She finally went inside the house and before closing the door she murmured softly, “Goodnight, Killian.” The door closed before his reply is made.

“Goodnight, love.” He stood in front of the house for a second. He felt like a teenager, his heart beating profusely. Taking out his phone he dialed quickly and the phone rang once...twice… click

“Hello?” the voice answered.

“Scarlet, I need your help,” Killian blurted out.

“Killian, what’s happened now?” Will asked, afraid of the answer.

“You know how I told you about my friend’s accident? The one from my old town,” Killian said slowly. He knew he was about to drop a bomb.

“I do, what of it?” Will prodded.

“Mate, you might need to sit down, and before you panic, the news is nothing bad,” Killian reassured his manager.

“I’m sitting down now, go on. Tell me this news.” Will mumbles so bloody dramatic under his breath.

“I never told you, but eight years ago I was engaged.”

”That’s not so bad, mate,” Will interrupted him.

Killian laughed, “I never said it was bad, but it is news. My fiance, well, she was pregnant. I have a seven year old daughter.”

“I’m happy I sat down for this. Wow, Killian Jones, a father.” Will whistles into the phone. “Wait is she giving you trouble? I’m guessing that’s what you need help with? Do you need me to pay off the ex?” Will asked with concern.

“Will, that is not why I called. Mate, she had 7 years to contact me if that was what she was after. She is not a bloody gold digger. She was not some simple dalliance, I was bloody gonna marry her, you twit. What I need is your help planning a date, a special date.”

Will sighed in relief. “What do you need from me boss?”

The next day passed in a blur. Emma found herself in front of a mirror getting ready for Killian Jones once more. Maybe this was a mistake. Why did she think this was a good idea? Oh yeah, she was tipsy.

Her bed was covered with different outfits, but the soft pink dress felt right. It had a V-neck with a detailed bodice and belt. She chewed her bottom lip.

Emma’s bedroom door burst open. “I hear someone’s got a big date tonight,” the intruder says. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Shit,” Emma mutters as she winced. “Sorry? Rubes, I know you are super busy at the diner, and it’s not a big deal.”

Ruby sighed, “You are going on a date with your baby daddy, love of your life, the one that got away, and you say it’s not a big deal? If we didn’t grow up together I might believe you, but we did grow up together. Ems, don’t lie to me. You’re lucky Elsa is still out of town, and Marian is taking care of Robin. They would tell you the same thing I am. You’ve been yearning and pining for him since he left.”

Emma scoffs, “I don’t pine or yearn. It’s not like that anymore.”

“If you say so. Ems, about your wardrobe, you should totally wear that hot pink dress.” Ruby approached the bed and after a little digging she found the outfit she was looking for. “He will freak out if you wear this. This dress makes you look like a hot mama.” She wiggled her eyebrows, then moved to find shoes for the dress.

“I’m not wearing that. I decided on this one.” Emma pointed to the pastel pink dress. “I was thinking with my hair up? A high ponytail, and the makeup just natural. Nothing extreme.”

“That’s not really my style, but I think you can pull it off. Ems, can I ask you a question?”

“What do you wanna ask?” Emma asked as she put away the rejected clothes.

“Do you regret it?” Ruby asked.

Emma snorted, “Regret what, please be more specific.”

“Okay, that night,” Ruby huffed. “Karaoke night? The night that record exec discovered Killian.”

“Oh, that night.” Emma smiled, she remembered that night so vividly. “I don’t.”

“No? If we would have gone somewhere else Killian wouldn’t have been discovered. You two would be married and maybe our little Hope would have a little brother by now.” Ruby studied Emma’s reaction.

“Rubes, Killian was going to be a star no matter what. He is talented, and I don’t know what you want me to say.” Emma was getting frustrated. “Who told you about the date? Because whoever told you should have minded their own business.”

“It was Hope, she is so excited her parents are going on a date.” Ruby crossed her arms. “She thought you might need help.”

Emma relented, “Fine, let me change and you can keep me company.”

Ruby sat on the bed pouting because Emma wouldn’t let her help. “Rubes stop pouting. I just don’t want to make a big deal, okay?”

“Ems?” Ruby called out.

“Yes?” Emma smiled.

“Thank you for not falling for Graham.” Ruby sighed.

Emma rolled her eyes. “How are things going with you guys?” Emma continued getting dressed.

“We’re good. I never thought we would get together. I mean, you and Killian were obvious. I still think Elsa and Liam are keeping it secret. Robin and Marian? For sure. Graham and I? Not so much. He pined for you for so long, and then after Killian left, you guys went out on a few dates. For a second I thought you guys would make it, you know? I know David was rooting for you guys, but I hate to say it, I’m happy it didn’t work out. I’m so selfish.” Ruby huffed.

“You’re not selfish.” Emma smiled fondly at her friend. “You deserve to be happy, and I’m happy you have that with Graham. Okay?” Emma said as she was doing her hair.

“I know, you are the sweetest person ever. So where’s the little munchkin?”

“She has been spending a lot of time with Killian. I figured she was the one that told you about the date.”

“She called me, but she said Liam was gonna drop her off so she could spend time with you before the big date. Do you know where he is taking you?” Ruby asked as they finished with her makeup.

“Mama!” Alice Hope yelled.

“Ah there she is.” Emma grinned. “In my room!” she yelled back.

Emma heard little feet running, then the door flew open. “Mama, you look beautiful!” Alice Hope gushed.

“Thank you. Do you want to help me with my lipstick, the final touch?” Emma lifted the lipstick and waved at her kid.

Ruby smiled at mother and daughter as Alice Hope excitedly walked to her mom and grabbed the lipstick. Emma positioned herself so that Alice Hope could put on the lipstick.

Alice Hope sighed contently, “Perfect. Mama, do you know where he’s taking you?”

Emma pretended to think for a second. “Sorry kid, I don’t know. Did Liam drop you off?”

“Yeah, he thought I’d want to visit for a little bit. Before your date. Auntie Ruby can you give me a ride back to Uncle Liam’s?”

“That was sweet of him.” Emma smiled and leaned in to hug her.

“You betcha, Munchkin, I’ll give you a ride.” Ruby said as she joined the hug.

After an hour a stretch limo pulled in to pick up Emma. The driver promptly told her he cannot give her details or he will ruin the surprise. His job was simply to deliver her to Killian.

The drive was short, and they arrived at the school's athletic field, where Killian stood in front of a helicopter. The car parked and the driver rushed to open the door for Emma. Emma looked at the driver who only shrugged as he closed the car door.

Wow, was all Emma could think as she walked towards Killian. He wore tight, black jeans, a black, fitted shirt tucked in, and a black leather vest. She will never ever admit to anyone that she secretly stalked Killian’s social media, and anything she could find. She had seen him on dates with models, actresses, and even singers. It had hurt more than anything. It should have been her. So maybe that was the reason behind her suggestion, about the date. He looked good, he always did, and his smile wa blinding.

“Hello, love,” he leaned in to kiss her cheek, “you look beautiful.”

“Uh, thank you. So do you-” his phone rang loudly, “you should get that, it could be important.” Emma said as she took a closer look at his phone. It looked familiar.

“All right, one second.” He answered, hello, yeah, sorry about that-- thank you MM. He scratched behind his ear which she knew he did when he was nervous, just like she knew all of his quirks. “Sorry about that love, it was my publicist, Mary Margaret.”

She nodded, “I guess that means you are coming out of hiding, or was it rehab for exhaustion? I think that’s what I read, you know, about your sudden disappearance.”

“You’ve been reading up on me, I’m so touched,” Killian teased her.

“I was curious, I admit it,” Emma confessed.

Killian smiled, “Come on love, lets go.” He put his hand on her back and guided her to the helicopter. They climbed on and snapped their seatbelts securely. A small awkward silence fell between them which Emma interrupted by asking him a question. “Hey Killian, is that the same cell phone you had in high school?”

Killian’s face reddened. “No, of course not.”

“I remember it. It has an antenna, Killian,” Emma countered.

“Fine, it is, I really like the phone, okay?”

She could tell he was irritated. “Okay.”

They silence returned as they looked out at the view. “So where are you taking me Killian Jones?” Emma asked.

“It’s a surprise,” he simply answered as his hand inched towards hers.

“Killian, this date… it doesn’t mean anything is going to happen between us. I just want to make that clear.” Emma’s nerves were getting the best of her, what had she gotten herself into?

“I never said it was, but I think you’re protesting too much. See that building there?” he pointed to a tall building, trying to change the subject.

Emma gasped, “The hotel?”

“Aye, that’s where we are landing. We’re perfectly safe. The restaurant we are going to is inside, I hope you’ll like it.”

The helicopter landed and Killian ushered her out of the chopper. They’re greeted at the door by the hotel concierge. “Sir, your table is ready.” H leaned in to whisper into Killian’s elven ear, “The paparazzi are here, we’ve tried to keep your visit private, but failed.”

Killian just smiled, keeping his hand on Emma’s lower back. “There’s no need to worry, I’m sure we will enjoy ourselves nevertheless.”

As they neared the restaurant entrance, multiple cameras flashed simultaneously and voices shouted loudly as Killian came into their line of sight. Over here Killian! Questions regarding his whereabouts were being yelled out, Where have you been? Were you in rehab? How was Barbados?

Once their attention landed on Emma other questions emerged. Killian tried to shield her, but she just squeezed his hand, and she simply said, “I’m the one that wanted the superstar experience.”

A clearly curious reporter, a petite woman, smiled at them and asked, “Killian, I think we'd all love to know,

who is the beautiful woman on your arm?”

He smiled at Emma and simply answered, “She is the one.” Emma’s grip tightened on Killian’s hand at his words. As a chorus of what's her name? Erupted from the crowd, Killian waved and said, “Sorry guys, that's all I got.”

He and Emma promptly disappeared inside the restaurant where they were greeted by the owner, a kind older man, “Welcome to the Nautilus, Killian and lovely guest, please follow me.”

Emma’s whole face lit up at the beauty of the restaurant.

“Nemo, thank you for accommodating us on such short notice,” Killian said sincerely. “This is my... my,” he scratched behind his ear, “My old friend, Emma.”

Nemo stopped abruptly, sharing a kind smile with Emma. “Lovely to meet you, my dear. I have a special table for you two.” He led them into the private section of the restaurant, reserved for special occasions. They sat to enjoy the carefully selected dinner choices.

Emma had a feeling Killian requested the meal, it was her favorite, but with a gourmet twist. It was a surreal experience for Emma, nothing, in particular, stood out, just the fact that she was sitting across the table from her childhood sweetheart. Her kid's father. They had shared every experience growing up, but their paths had diverged. He lived a life of luxury, eating at places like this, staying in a different posh hotel in each big city he performed for, rubbing elbows with other celebrities, and she had the opposite. She was a mom above all. At this moment, all those differences faded and it was just them. The reconnection between them was so natural.

As they enjoyed their meal, Killian sat admiring Emma. Before seeing her again with his own eyes, the memory of her had stayed strong. But the beautiful girl he was going to marry all those years ago had evolved into an ethereal being. If she was beautiful then, she was breathtaking now. She simply glowed. How could he possibly think anyone could come close to filling the void she’d left. She was embedded in his being. He’d never stopped loving her. It was always her, she was the one.

They talked and laughed without knowing each other's thoughts until they shared their last dance with their inhibitions lowered. A kiss was shared; It was perfect. Their lips met in a chaste kiss which quickly morphed into one of longing. So lost in each other, they didn't notice when the music stopped playing. Their kiss halted, but they remained in each other's embrace and he started singing low in her ear.

Does your halo grow heavy

Hanging over your head

Boy you've held my heart steady

Since the first day we met

Every time I lose my way

Only you can bring me back...

Emma put her hand on Killian's chest and gently pushed him away. They’d gotten carried away.

It was Killian who spoke first, "Emma, I'm sorry. We, I fell victim to a moment. I remember what you said. I know this isn't what you want. I just want you to know one thing, you're the one for me. What we're to become is your choice. I want you to choose me, but I want it to be because you want me, not because I pushed you too hard or only because we have a child together; and if you only want to co-parent, I will accept it. He smiled at her, conveying his sincerity with just one look.

Emma blinked and smiled back. "You were always better with words than me."

They don’t talk about it again, and things go back to being about Alice Hope once they get home.

Several days after the date, Killian decided he needed to call Scarlet to let him know he had no plans to return right away.

“Hello?” a distracted voice answered.

“Scarlet, this is Killian. Mate?”

“Oi, what’s going on man?”

“I’ve decided to stick around longer. I’ve been writing. So there’s that. Maybe a couple of months. I just don’t want to leave them yet.”

“Them?” Scarlet asked.

Killian quickly covered for the slip, ”I meant Alice, my daughter. There’s also my brother.”

Scarlet laughed, “So you’re saying this has nothing to do with her mum?”

Killian growled, “I’ll keep you posted.”

A week later a big cookout was planned in celebration of Elsa being back and Robin finally being released from the hospital. It was an extended family dinner that was going to be at Emma’s house.

The guests trickled in. Marian, Robin and Roland arrived first and Roland rushed off to spend time with his best-friend, Alice Hope. Ruby and Granny arrived next, and Granny quickly made a beeline to the kitchen to help with the meal. Liam and Killian arrive right after, and Alice Hope beamed with happiness as she introduced her dad to her best-friend. Killian ignored Liam’s knowing smirk. David arrived with a scowl set on his face, and finally, Elsa arrived with a smile on her face, greeting everyone with hugs. They’d set up a large table with all the fixings. From burgers to salads, some alcoholic drinks and non-alcoholic for the kids. Everyone was enjoying themselves, good food, good drink, and good company. Killian was enjoying his time with his daughter, while Liam was distracted talking to Elsa. Killian chuckled at the obvious affection his brother has for the blonde.

Alice Hope smiled at her dad, before telling him, “Look Dad, I’m a hungry lion.” She growled as she gobbled her food.

“Oh darling, you’re doing it all wrong” he teased as he grabbed the ketchup and poured more on his hotdog. “Now it’s nice and bloody. Come on little love, let’s take a nice bite.” They growled in unison as they each took a bite, devouring their food.

“Little brother, do you want another beer?” Liam asked from the door.

Killian shook his head. “It’s younger brother and no, but I’d love a water.” His attention returned to Alice Hope only to find her choking, he froze. He no longer saw his daughter, but his mother.

They’re at her hospital room, he had snuck in to visit her, he was holding a bouquet of Middlemist flowers, her favorite. He wanted to help her feel better. The nurse is calling for the doctor, then she’s calling out to her, “Alice Jones, don’t you give up on me, not yet!” The nurse notices a young Killian frozen at the door, “Killian sweetheart, go find your brother.” But he doesn’t move, he is frozen in place as the flowers drop to the floor.

“Killian, what the hell man!” The irate voice of David brought him back to the present. “Killian, she’s choking.” David was at his niece’s side in a second. He yelled out to his sister, “Emma, Hopey is choking, call 911!”

Emma frantically rushed out to help her brother. “She’s not breathing!”

Liam was on the phone with the emergency operator and everyone was giving them space, trying not to get in the way. Roland was being held back by his parents who were trying to keep him calm.

David moved fast to perform the Heimlich, with Emma urging Alice Hope, “Hold on, baby. Stay with us, you need to breathe. Now breathe for me!” she commanded her daughter. Time slowed immeasurably until David finally got the food out of Alice’s throat. She took a gasping breath along with everyone around her.

With Alice Hope breathing okay and the EMT’s checking her, an enraged David charged toward Killian who was still frozen in his spot. David grabbed Killian by his shirt and ripped him up from his seat. “What the hell is your problem, she was choking! She was dying and you just stood there doing nothing!”

Liam rushed over to get in between the men. Killian still had a lost and haunted look, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, shaking his head to try and clear the haunting memory.

“Father of the year!” David called after him as Killian left.

Emma and Liam glared at David, and Liam stopped David from chasing Killian down. “David, that’s enough!”

“David, take it easy, she’s okay,” Emma reasoned.

Liam sighed as Emma and David continued heatedly talking. He decided to go check on Ali for himself. He approached the small group of friends and family making sure she was okay.

“Hey little one,” he smiled warmly at her where she is leaning on Elsa.

“Uncle Liam, where’s my dad?”

Elsa shared a look with Liam. Bloody hell. “He uh...” Liam is at a loss for words, what can he say?

Elsa cut in, “Sweetheart, your dad, he was so worried about you,” she paused “he is a new dad and he had to step away for a little bit.”

Alice Hope smiled, “He freaked out didn’t he?”

Elsa and Liam looked at each other and both replied, “Yes.” Liam continued, “I’m afraid so. Ali, you gave us all a good scare.’’

“I know Uncle Liam, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, little one. Just don’t do that again.” She nodded, her eyes drooping with exhaustion from the whole ordeal. The excitement had tired the crowd and soon all were saying their goodnights.

David had left after having what appeared to be a heated conversation with Emma.

Liam and Elsa left once the house was clean and Alice Hope was asleep in her bed.

After the scare with Alice Hope and the painful memory of his mother’s death, all Killian needed was to numb the pain. He arrived at the old hole in the wall, the Rabbit Hole. Going straight to the bar, he sat in the first available chair and ordered a bottle of rum. He didn’t care that the quality of the drink was not the best, all he wanted was to drown in it.

Half a bottle later, the door opened, and an unlikely person sat beside him. “Killian, hey man.”

Killian looked at the source. “Humbert,” he slurred, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Graham chuckled, “It’s been a long time, mate.” Graham bumped Killian’s shoulder with his. “It’s good to see you, but I think it’s time you call it a night.”

Killian laughed as he noticed the sheriff uniform. “Who called?”

“Killian, I’m sure everyone is worried about you. After what happened tonight do you really want to add to their worries? We lucked out with Robin, and from what I hear, we lucked out tonight with Alice Hope. I don’t think we should test our luck. Let me give you a ride to Liam’s.”

“Who called?” Killian asked again.

Graham sighed, “Does it matter? Let me give you a ride home.”

As Killian was about to answer he was cut off by another voice. “Graham, I’ll take it from here.

“Hey Dave, are you sure?” Graham questioned. “I know you’ve had a long week at the animal shelter, too. Sorry I haven’t been able to volunteer.”

“It’s okay, go home. I can handle this.” David waved him off and nudged him.

Graham cautiously stood up and told David, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” “It’s nice to see you,” Graham said to Killian then he left the bar.

Killian smirked at David, “So you’re my new babysitter?”

David stared at Killian icily. “Don’t mistake my offer to ensure you get home safely as a sign of concern for you. I’m here for my sister and niece. Somehow you have fooled them into believing you’re here for them, but I’m not fooled as easily. You honestly think that you're ready to be a dad just because you spent a couple of weeks playing house? Really?” David shook his head. “Alice Hope was choking and you just stood there, Killian. We are lucky she’s alive, and I hate to think of what could’ve happened if she’d been alone with you. Do you honestly think you're equipped to keep that little girl alive every day? Cause from what I saw tonight, I doubt it.”

Killian listened to what the other man was saying. His guilt blinded him.

David continued ranting, “The memories are still fresh in my mind of all the bad years that my sister had because of your abandonment. I was the one there for her. I’m the one that got her through it. Emma finally made a life for her and for Alice Hope. You and I, we both know that you never deserved her, and you will find some way to mess it up all over again, and it'll destroy them. You know what the worst thing is? This time it’s not just Emma that will suffer at your selfishness, it will be your daughter too. Just do what you will inevitably do and leave.” David got up and stormed out, the door slamming closed.

Killian brooded for a second while David’s words whirled in his head. He stood up and staggered to the restroom. “Hey,” a gruff voice stopped him, “I’m going to call the pastor. Stay put.”

“Mate,” Killian slurs.

The man stopped and turned around, irritation on his face. “I’m not your mate, the name is Leroy.” “Bigshot,” he muttered.

“Leroy, I need to use to loo for a second,” Killian explained.

“Okay, go ahead, I’ll let Pastor Jones know,” Leroy grumbled as he walked away.

Killian entered the restroom and stared at his reflection. With a clenched jaw and anger coursing through him, he smashed the mirror. He was staring at his bloodied fist as Liam and Leroy walked into the restroom.

Leroy groaned, “Damn drunks! Who’s gonna pay for that?”

Liam sighed, “Don’t worry, he will pay for the damage. I’m sorry.” The elder Jones looked at his brother with disappointment as he grabbed him. “Come on brother, let’s get you home.” They leave a disgruntled Leroy to clean up the mess.

Once they arrived home, Liam hurried to clean up the wound. “Little brother, what were you thinking? I cannot believe you smashed your hand through that mirror. Stop moving, I’m almost done.”

Killian winced but kept quiet. Liam could see the wheels turning so he added, “You’ll be able to play with Ali soon.” Liam smiled at his brother.

Killian sighed, “I never want to play again.”

That confused Liam. “Why not? It’s a God given talent to be able to play and sing the way you do. For goodness sakes, even Alice Hope inherited that same gift.”

Killian stared at his hand. “I don't deserve it, none of it. Just be honest brother, I’m the worst human around.”

Liam gripped Killian’s shoulders and stared him down, “Killian, we've all forgiven you, brother.”

Killian pushed him away, “You shouldn't have. I'm sorry that I left you all. I'm sorry that I didn't stay in touch. I still don’t know why I did it.”

Liam stared at him as he continued, “The further away I went... the longer I was gone... the more pain I was in, brother.” He sniffed, “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are, little brother.” Liam tried to comfort him. “Brother, when mum died I was so stuck in my own grief I failed you, I overlooked yours. I have comforting words

for everyone in this town during their time of need, but I didn’t know how to talk to my own brother during his. I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing mum the way you did at such a young age. I think being famous just fed that pain, knocked down everything in its path. I'm the one who's sorry, Killian. I'm so, so sorry brother. You deserve a future, a happy one.” Liam tried to encourage his brother with a soft smile. “Now you must rest.”

Killian nodded in agreement as he headed to bed.

The next morning Liam woke up to find a note on top of the kitchen counter simply saying, “They’re better off without me. Say goodbye for me.”

Once Liam delivers the message the heartbreak unleashes a wave of pain and blame thrown between the adults.

Liam confronts David, “What did you tell my brother? I know you talked to him. Leroy told me that he called Graham and that later you arrived.”

“I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t know himself.” David shrugs.

“You self-righteous prick,” Liam seethes.

“Liam!” Elsa and Emma call out.

“Such language, Pastor.”

“Right now I’m acting as an older brother, not a pastor. The last time I saw my brother he was heartbroken. He hated himself and now I know why.”

“Oh, and what of my niece? She almost died and that good for nothing brother of yours just stood there doing nothing!”

“She’s my niece too!” Liam shouts, standing toe to toe with David.

“STOP IT! BOTH OF YOU, NOW!” Emma yells as she slowly backs away. She then turns her full attention to her brother. “David, whatever you did,” Emma started, shaking her head, “you had no right!”

“No? I had no right? If I hadn’t reacted, who knows what would have happened to Hopey.” David glares at his sister.

“Well, maybe you should explain to your niece why her father left town. Tell her that Killian is gone because you never liked him.”

Elsa approaches Liam as the siblings argue. “Liam, I’m sorry. I know Killian will come back.”

Liam leans to her touch, “I just hope it won’t take eight years again.”

The siblings argument gets louder. “I know you never truly gave Graham a chance, he was always a better choice than Killian, but you couldn’t let him go.”

“Is this about your obsession with Graham being the right guy for me? David, we both realized we saw each other as brother and sister. He fell in love with Ruby and they’re gonna get married. I think you’ve focused too much attention on my life, David. You need to find someone to love.”

In the end Alice Hope cries for her father, and Emma not only mourns her for her broken heart once more, but also for her daughter’s.

#Captain Swan #CS Crew #CS Mafia #cs ff #csromcom19

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