#but that applies to riding carousels and indulging curiosity not like. the rent

[trans-yllz]

I can't stand an "I'm just a little baby :(" motherfucker. no you're not you're a 27 year old man

[distant-rose]

Carousels and Pretzels

Notes: @welllpthisishappening​ is an amazing person and I will never forget the day we met and started chatting and realized we know a lot of the same places. This is a dumb and purely indulgent fic that is full of Albany/Capital Region references most readers might not understand but admittedly, they’re only meant to be understood by one person and that’s Laura. She’s a phenomenal person, literally one of my favorite people and just an all around amazing human being who doesn’t get enough recognition for just how perfect and wonderful she is. Anyway, this was going to be a much longer fic but I kinda ran out of time. Also, Druthers has better pretzels than Brown’s, fight me. Summary: Emma Swan takes a job at Hoffman’s Playland with the hope of not running into anyone she knows from UAlbany. Instead, she runs into Killian Jones, a former lacrosse athlete whose tragic accident she covered as a story back in February. Word Count: 2,000+ Rating: T+

Hoffman’s Playland wasn’t Emma’s first choice of summer employment. If it were up to her, she would have been working for the Troy Record all summer, but their internships weren’t paid, and Emma had to rent to account for and she refused to hike all the way up to Lake George to work the depressing lunch shift at King Neptune’s again. 

It wasn’t the worst place in the world to work. Though she was forced to wear the ugliest combo of a polo and cargo shorts and the staff break room constantly smelled of Subway, her coworkers were pretty okay and was only a thirteen-minute commute from her apartment in Troy. Furthermore, it was monotonous enough that she could spend her days plotting how she was going to run the Inklings magazine this year and whether or not she should apply to grad school or try to apply for a job at the Times Union while she’s finishing up her last year.

Another plus was no one knew her at Hoffman’s aside from Mary-Margaret. It made everything easier, especially after her huge breakup with Neal and the amount of rumors of drug use that circled around afterward. They had broken up not longer after his dorm got raided and he tried to pin his stash of pot on her, nearly getting her expelled from the school. The last month of Spring Term was awful and she was lucky that most of her newspaper and literary magazine friends stood by her or else she wouldn’t still be in school, let alone have made it as the sports editor of the Albany Student Press and Inklings in the fall.

Still, the way things went put a bad taste in her mouth and she hoped that it would too stale for anyone to care about by the time that September rolled around. With most of the clientele of Hoffman’s being families with small children, she’s highly doubted that she would know anyone who went there.

Until she did.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true.

Emma didn’t know Killian Jones personally, but it was a name and face she’s gotten to know well over the past three years. While she had never truly met the guy, it was imperative that she knew of his existence as a staff writer for the student paper and then later on as the girlfriend of Neal Cassidy, the starting lacrosse goalie.

His name wasn’t one that was said with fondness, but usually disdain. The name Killian Jones was generally premised by the use of the word “fuck”, “screw” or any variety of obscenity. There were three reasons for this hatred: 1) he went to Siena, UAlbany’s cross-town rival, 2) he played lacrosse and 3) he was good at it.

At least he used to be.

In February, he got into a car accident in Troy, a mere three streets away from her apartment. It has been a nasty one, which ended in the loss of not only his girlfriend’s life and his hand, but also his lacrosse career. She remembers quite clearly writing up the article on it for the Albany Student Press and then later on the party that had been thrown by Neal in celebration of his fallen adversary. Neal had hated Killian with a passion and the two of them had gotten in a fight during a game last year, which ended with a picture of Killian punching Neal square in the face on the front page of the Times Union sports section. 

Emma, on the other hand, felt bad for him. Despite the fact she had attended Neal’s horrible party, she had argued that it was in poor taste. Killian might have been “the enemy” but what happened to him was horrible and alongside reading a very sympathetic article on his behalf, she had even sent a condolence card.

Since then, Emma hadn’t so much of heard or seen anything on Killian Jones until he was standing in front of her, wearing a green Siena lacrosse sweatshirt and jeans in the middle of July and holding the hand of a small blonde girl no older than six.

She was so stunned by the fact he was standing in front of her that she did little more than stare at him for a good few seconds. She completely forgot to give her greeting and safety spiel.

Luckily, she was saved by his little companion.

“Hi!”

“Um, hi.”

“You’re pretty.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty too,” she replied, laughing at her awkwardness. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Alice! What’s yours?”

“I’m Emma,” she smiled. “Would you like to go on the ride?”

“Yeah,” Alice beamed before tugging roughly on Killian Jones’s hand. “Uncle Killy, give her a ticket!”

“Right,” he mumbled, fishing through the pockets before handing her a crumbled ticket.

She deposited it in the proper container before starting up the ancient carousel. The old music croaked through the speakers as it slowly started to move, but Alice didn’t seem to mind. It’s obvious to Emma that she’s pretending that the horse she’s riding was real, and the sweetness of the scene filled her made her smile.

Still burning with curiosity, she glanced back at Killian. He was standing a few lengths away and watching his niece with his forearms practically stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie. As if sensing her glaze, his eyes shifted in her direction. Despite the urge to look away, she often him a small smile instead. He didn’t return the gesture.

When the ride stopped and Alice hopped off, he took her hand and left without a word. Only Alice turned back to give her a wave. Emma returned it tentatively, wondering if she upset him and swallowing her questions.

She didn’t know why she cared so much.

Much to her surprise, they return the next day. This time, he was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a leather jacket despite the fact was nearing a ninety-degrees. Again, he didn’t speak much, letting Alice do all the talking. They show again the next day and the day after that; each and every time Emma had tapped down her inner journalist to keep from asking questions that were burning in the back of her throat. What happened to you? Why do you wear long-sleeved shirts? Why do you keep coming to this ridiculous 1950s amusement park?

Following Wednesday was a cloudy and humid day and there was only a handful of people in the park and none of them seem interested in riding the carousel. Emma fought the urge to play on her phone. Despite the horrible weather, Killian and Alice showed up yet again. The little precocious girl handed her a fistful of tickets.

This time Killian stood closer to the operator stand, practically hovering over her shoulder. He and Alice had been coming every day for nearly a week and a half now, and never before he had stood so close to her. She did her best to ignore him, focusing all of her attention on the little girl on the painted horse.

“How many times do you think she can ride that thing before she throws up?”

She nearly jumped at the question, turning to face him with surprise. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes trained on Alice, but Emma could tell he was waiting for a response.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Depends on how strong her stomach is, I guess?”

He nodded. A few beats passed before he spoke again. “You look tired.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted. “I don’t have any air conditioning and my room in my apartment is kinda like a hot box.”

“That sucks. We don’t have AC either, but we’ve kinda be taking to sleeping on the porch since it’s screened in.”

“I don’t really have the option. I live in Troy.”

“Oh? Where? I’m familiar with it.”

“Let me guess? Bootleggers?” Emma asked sarcastically, without thinking. Bootleggers was a well-known college bar a few blocks away from where she lived and it was known to be frequented by obnoxious underage Siena students with fake IDs. It was constantly being shut down and reopened.

Killian laughed, a loud and boisterous sound that caught Emma by surprise once more. She had never seen him look so animated.

“Maybe, when I was a baby freshman, but I would like to think my taste level has gotten better since then. So, yeah, you located? Lansingburgh? North Central? The Hill? Sycaway? 

“Downtown. Third street.”

“By Brown Bag burger place, right?”

“That’s on Fourth street, but yeah, pretty close. More by the Ruck.”

“I love that bar. They have great wings.”

“They do and they’re less expensive than Brown’s. One of my roommates is a bartender there. David. He may or may not give us free pitchers occasionally.”

“Brown’s is expensive, but it’s good beer. I love their oatmeal stout. Their pretzels with the honey mustard are amazing.”

“They do have good pretzels but the one at Druthers are better.”

“Druthers? Isn’t that in Saratoga? It’s a bit hike, isn’t?”

“No. There’s on in Albany on Broadway,” she responded. “It’s not too far from the Pump Station and Old English.”

She was almost embarrassed about the fact that she often referenced locations by the bars in the neighborhood. In her defense, she had lived in the Albany area for nearly three years and have been involved in more Birthday tours than she could count.

“You’re a bit of a foodie, huh?”

“I used to write for the local eats section of the Albany Student Press my freshman and sophomore year before they switched me over to a different section,” Emma chuckled. “Needless to say, it was a bitch to keep off the freshman fifteen when you’re eating at every cool and exciting places across the Capital Region every week.”

“Sounds like a hardship.”

“For my scale, yes, it was,” she laughed.

When they ran out of tickets, Emma wasn’t sure who was more disappointed, Alice for no longer being able to ride the carousel or Killian for having to end their conversation. He reach forward and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“You here tomorrow?”

“Same time, every day.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

He didn’t disappoint. This time not only bringing his niece, but also a large Dunkin Donuts coffee as well. Emma stood in shock as he handed it to her.

“I figured that you would like this since you’re not sleeping lately.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“No, but I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because you treated me like a person and not some wounded animal,”

“Oh…” She didn’t know what to say to that. “We just talked about food.”

“And it was the best conversation I’ve had in a long time,” he responded, lifting up his arm, which was once more covered by a Siena lacrosse hoodie. He pulled it back to expose the scarred stump left behind by the accident. “Yesterday was the first time I talked to someone aside from my niece who didn’t mention or talk about my accident. I felt normal again.  Coffee is the least I could do.”

“You’re welcome, I guess. Seriously. Thank you. It’s the nicest,” she said, taking a sip and giving him a small smile.

Growing impatient with the conversation, Alice tugged her uncle’s sweatshirt.

“You didn’t ask her yet,” she told him impatiently, not at all impressed with her uncle. He looked amusingly chastised for someone being told off by a six-year old.

“I was just getting to it.”

“Well, ask her so she’ll let me on the ride.”

“Okay, okay, Miss Pushy,” he responded with a roll of her eyes before giving Emma an apologetic grin.

“Ask me what?” Emma prompted him with a question.

“Well, if you’re not doing anything later, would you mind going to Druthers with me and, you know, having some pretzels and comparing them to Brown’s?”

“Just pretzels?”

“Well, and a beer or two? Perhaps maybe even dinner?”

“He likes you and wants to be your boyfriend,” Alice stated, crossing her arms in front of her chest and huffing at Killian.

“Well, that’s a good thing because I like him too,” Emma laughed. “And, yeah, we can go to Druthers and depending on whether or not, he agrees Druthers has better pretzels, maybe, just maybe, I’ll be his girlfriend.”