#how did the museum night go? and your saturday activities as a whole? i bet you had tons of fun 😄

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

Muah

[naitiaclo960writings]

Day 14 - Fun & Games

The evening was already well advanced when Dean decided to turn off his computer and take a break from his essay. That last year at engineering degree was starting to give him a hard time and, frankly, he was looking forward to graduating and being hired somewhere. Hopefully, he would find a job in the same city and not have to look for another apartment.

It’s been 3 years since he shared a place with his best friend Castiel and things suited him perfectly like they were. Castiel had already been in the active life for two years, working as a heritage officer at the Kansas City Museum, but sharing the rent of their apartment was a relief for everyone. Moreover, they had now settled into a comfortable routine that gave rhythm to their lives in the most pleasant way. Most often, they would invite friends on Friday nights and spend an evening together over a beer. Saturday was reserved for a video game night where Castiel often ended up winning and bequeathing his dishes tour of the week to Dean. Sunday night was a mix of movies and popcorn while Tuesday was a board game night. On Wednesdays, finally, they always ordered from the Japanese caterer on the corner of the street and zapped between Netflix and YouTube until they were too tired to put away their plates and left them on the coffee table in the living room.

Dean stretched out at his desk before he got up. He quietly shut off his laptop and put down the glasses he used for work on top, massaging the back of his neck gently. When he turned off the light from his desk, his room was plunged into darkness and, as if to confirm the late hour, his belly began to grumble softly.

"Okay…" He sighed while putting a hand on his belly. It was time for him to return to the real world.

Outside, he heard Castiel moving a few pots and he smiled softly. He could always count on his friend to cook for them when he was too immersed in his own classes to care, and truly, Castiel was not such a bad cook as he claimed. Dean walked blindly to his door and opened it to a good smell of melted cheese. Growling with envy and a tenfold appetite, he approached the kitchen to find his roommate tidying up some kitchen utensils, the oven gently purring behind him. Dean leaned against the central island with a relaxed smile.

"What’s up, chief?" Dean asked, raising his voice in the hope of surprising Castiel.

The latter did not even jump, probably having heard him arrive without showing it. He put away the spatula he had in his hand before responding to Dean with a smile on his face.

"Four cheeses Mac’n’Cheese!" Castiel proudly announced, turning to him.

"Wow." Dean said, raising his eyebrows, truly surprised. "And what did I do to deserve one of my favorite comfort foods tonight?"

Castiel smiled even more and shrugged, returning to his storage. He took the time to rinse a knife before answering.

"You hardly left your room in the afternoon, I thought you might need a pick-me-up."

And it was as simple as that. It has now been 7 years since Dean and Castiel met, they had found each other at school and had not really left each other since. As a result, Castiel was obviously able to read Dean like an open book and the opposite was also true. They were confidants for each other, brothers almost, pillars on which to lean when everything went too fast around them. Dean and Castiel had actually painted the town red in high school before going to enter together into the terrifying life of a student or, for Castiel, an active worker. Above all, they had always been there for each other. Dean had been more than present during the divorce of Castiel’s parents and the ensuing family debacle, he had even taken his friend out of a very bad drug past for which Castiel would be forever grateful. Castiel, meanwhile, had supported Dean when Mary Winchester had lost her battle against a disease and John spent about most of his time at the bar, drowning his grief while his sons remained helpless at home. Dean no longer counted the number of times Castiel had welcomed him and Sam into his home simply to give them a break from everything else.

Such events bound destinies for a long time when they were lived like this. However, although Dean cherished his friendship with Castiel more than anything, he had to face reality about a year earlier. Dean was not particularly known for his long introspections, but he was obliged to admit after several months of living together that his friendship with Castiel had perhaps turned into a more concrete and disabling feeling in his situation.

Okay, maybe he had a thing for Castiel. A little bit. Okay, good time! He wasn’t even sure it was mutual, so he certainly wasn’t going to waste 7 years of friendship on a simple… feeling? For God’s sake, he had spent whole evenings struggling with this very question, thinking about it again and again until he got migraines, and he had finally come to the conclusion that if he did not have absolute confirmation of the reciprocity of his feelings, then he wouldn’t try anything. It may have been giving up without a fight, but whatever he had was too valuable to make decisions lightly. It was not even certain that Castiel liked men! Well, yes, perhaps, his friend qualified himself as"pansexual". What Dean always said to him was that it was just "being a fucking care bear, but more complicated, just to piss me off."

Anyway, after months of internal debate, Dean always found himself in the middle of that kitchen, with a best friend and roommate he loved a little more every day, but to which he had to continue pretending to maintain the ideal routine in which they had settled. Dean smiled tenderly at Castiel, who had now finished tidying up the kitchen and, realizing that he might have been staring at him for a little too long now, he sighed and went to the couch to choose their program.

They ate in a good mood in front of a horror film so lame that Dean was seized with a hysterical laugher in the middle and nearly choked on a macaroni. For dessert, Dean got up and came back with two ice creams — vanilla for him and a much more sophisticated taste for Castiel like wild mango or whatever — to finish their meal. Surprisingly, Dean was not particularly tired despite his long day of work and considering the energy that Castiel still had in front of the film, neither was his friend. When the credits began to scroll on the screen, Dean sighed.

"What time do you start tomorrow?" He asked in an innocent tone.

Castiel stretched out on the couch before falling back heavily into it.

"At 11:00, I’m closing." He said, grimacing. "But I won’t be spitting on some extra sleep, really."

Dean let out a contemplative "mmh" before turning to his friend.

"Does that mean you’re up for continuing the night a little longer? I’m starting late tomorrow too, and I admit that I’d like to enjoy the last few hours of the weekend without thinking about my damn essay." Dean pouted.

At these words, Castiel laughs softly and Dean already knew his answer by the expression of his face alone.

"What do you propose?" Castiel asked, raising a defiant eyebrow.

Dean took a short moment to think before his gaze landed on the drawer in which all their board games rested. Immediately, his brain set out to lead him towards an idea that would gradually stretch a malicious smile on his face. Of course, he had long established that he could not reveal his feelings to Castiel, but that did not mean that he could not take advantage of them here and there when the opportunity presented itself.

"A card game?" Dean suggested, turning an angelic face to Castiel again. "Do you know how to play poker?"

Castiel frowned and tilted his head slightly to the side, as was always the case when a situation confused him somehow.

"Uh… I can’t say I do, no. It always seemed rather complicated to me when I saw you playing that during parties." Castiel replied slowly, his blue and curious eyes fixed on Dean.

"It’s pretty simple once you understand the basics!" Dean assured, already bending over to open the drawer with his plan still in mind. "I can teach you if you want, it’ll save you from getting ripped off by Gabriel the next time we play."

As he hoped, these words seemed to unlock something in Castiel’s mind, for his friend straightened himself up with new interest before nodding.

"Okay, but only on one condition." He said, raising his eyebrows. "We don’t bet money. I already have to pay Charlie back because of our last night together."

Dean laughs softly at the mention of that stupid bet that Castiel had royally lost while he was reinstalling himself on the couch with the card game in hand.

"Okay, okay. That’s fine with me. But we still need to spice things up or poker is a lot less fun." He pretended to think for a moment under Castiel’s innocent gaze before resuming. "For lack of something better... we can consider a strip poker?"

As these words left his mouth, Dean felt his heart speed up in his chest. Of course, he had already seen Castiel half-naked many times before, and although he had always appreciated what he saw there, he had to admit that this context would be otherwise amusing. Nevertheless, Castiel remained forbidden and inexpressive so long before him that Dean quickly lost his smile.

"I mean, no… Of course not, I was joking. What-"

"Strip poker works for me." Castiel cut off.

His friend had answered so confidently that Dean was caught off guard for a moment before he could recover. Castiel agreed with his idea, really?

"But it’s quite uneven." Castiel replied, pouting. "You already know the rules, I’ll be naked in less than ten minutes."

That’s the idea, Dean thought. But as he still had compassion for Castiel, he looked around before he got up.

"Mix the cards, I’ll come back." He said to Castiel.

Quickly, he arrived in the kitchen and began searching in the cupboard just below the central island.

"Do we have any bottles left from Friday?" Dean asked as his eyes swept over the contents of the closet.

"I think Benny left a bottle of sherry, yes." Castiel replied from the living room.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. Sherry, seriously… Did Benny think he was a modern-day pirate or something?

"It’s an insult to call Sherry alcohol when you’re under 40, but… fine." Dean said while grabbing the said bottle before heading out in search of tumblers.

"It’s more of a set of brandy-cut wines, actually, but you did you know that-"

"Cas." Dean sighed again as he returned to the salon with his findings.

He did not need to look in the direction of Castiel to know that he had rolled his eyes heavily. Dean reinstalled himself in the sofa and placed the sherry bottle and the tumblers on the coffee table. He began his explanation while serving the first cup.

"Well, the rules are simple. If you lose a turn in poker, you take off one piece of clothing and the last one naked wins." He grabbed another tumbler. "However... Since I am an extremely nice and magnanimous teacher, we will have three jokers each." Dean pointed to the liquor bottle. "Therefore, if you lose a match, you have the right to choose to drink a shot bottom up rather than take off clothes. We’ll have three jokers each for the whole night. Is that all right, Mr. Know-it-all?"

Castiel did not pay attention to the comment and watched Dean pour the last shot with special attention. He seemed to be much more focused than he wanted to appear until then, and Dean restrained a smile. Castiel had always been a competitor.

"If the three jokers are only usable for the whole evening, then three is not enough." Castiel protested. "I really don’t know anything about it! Allow us at least five? Please?" He added with a more than pronounced pleading expression that came straight to Dean’s heart.

He rolled his eyes before taking out four new cups.

"Yeah, yeah, if you want. Five jokers each then, but don’t expect that to save you from not exposing those gorgeous leopard panties that I gave you for Thanksgiving last year." Dean replied with a mocking smile.

Castiel pushed him with his foot from the other end of the couch and kept his mouth shut on the fact that he, at least, was not knowingly buying Scooby-Doo underwear. Nevertheless, he let go of the remark and straightened himself up on the couch as Dean began to deal the cards. Judging by the smile on Dean’s face, he was more than confident.

* * *

Turns out Castiel was either a damn good liar or he had a freaking knack for poker. Dean continued to bitch in his corner while he was already in his underwear and socks on the couch, his five empty sherry glasses on the coffee table while three on Castiel’s side were still full. Not to mention the fact that Castiel was still perfectly dressed and even sprawled out among the blankets in a casual attitude that only offended Dean more.

He himself was curled up and kept staring at his cards with a sullen expression, alcohol already making him spin his head to make matters worse.

"You’re sulking." Castiel unnecessarily remarked as he was knocking down other cards on their improvised playground.

"I’m not- Damn it, seriously!" Dean suddenly exclaimed in a raging gesture as Castiel won that round again." Dude, I don’t have any more clothes to take anything off!"

Castiel raised an almost cruel eyebrow.

"You still have your socks. Why didn’t you take them off first anyway?" He asked, tilting his head one more time to the side.

Dean simply groaned as an answer and placed his card game with ill-humor on the armrest of the couch. The truth was that he had always been a little chilly in their apartment, whatever the temperature indicated by the thermometer, but he preferred to stand naked in front of Castiel ten times than to admit it in person. Eventually, he began to pull on his left sock reluctantly before letting the poor piece of cloth fall to the ground. If he got sick because of that damn game he started himself, he’d never play poker again.

By attending to his friend’s obvious bad faith, Castiel had to restrain a smile. Eventually, poker was quite instinctive according to him and he even enjoyed playing it now.

"We do one last game before we go to sleep?" Castiel asked, putting the cards together and mixing them again.

Dean sighed loudly.

"What, so I can go back to my room barefoot and bare-bottomed?" Dean grumbled.

Castiel rolled his eyes and began dealing the cards in silence, ignoring Dean’s bad loser attitude and his naked and shivering body before him for a moment. He briefly thought about an alternative before biting his inner cheek with apprehension considering to the direction in which his thoughts were going. Maybe these two sherry cups finally got to his brain... Castiel had never held his liquor very well. However, he was the first to be surprised — and mortified — by the forbidden words that came out of his mouth:

"I have another idea. For the last match, I’ll give you an extra joker." Castiel began, feeling a knot in his stomach as to the turn the events would soon take.

"Mmh?" Dean replied with a questioning look, his curiosity obviously bringing him a new interest.

"If I beat you again on this game…" He handed Dean a few cards, face down. "You will have the right to refuse to take your clothes off. But in that case, you will have to trust me and let me… challenge you? 

Dean raised an eyebrow before turning completely to Castiel, sitting cross-legged on the couch. He remained silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and finally grabbing the cards that Castiel handed him.

"… Will I regret it again?" Dean asked seriously.

Castiel swallowed. He had no good answer to this question. Was he himself certain of what he was doing? Not at all. But he needed Dean to play tonight, because right now, he felt brave.

"No." He lied.

Dean seemed to gauge him for a moment before finally nodding. Thus, another game engaged in a silence filled with concentration. Both of them knew there was a real stake in this game even though Dean was advancing blindly this time. No matter the outcome of the game, he already knew that he would choose Castiel’s challenge, just because he was a player and possessed a curiosity far too strong for his own good. Moreover, this redness that he had thought had subtly appeared on Castiel’s face when he had imposed his condition did not cease to come to torture his mind. He needed to know.

Of course, as if it had been bound to happen, Dean would put his cards down on the couch just to see his chances of winning be wiped out by Castiel a few seconds later. His shoulders dropped heavily, the adrenaline of the game diminishing to give way to defeat. He did not say a word, hardly surprised though, and looked up at Castiel who offered him a compassionate smile. Dean sighed and clasped his hands before him, shrugging.

"Okay Doc Holliday, you got me cowboy…" Dean pouted. "Okay… Joker. What should I do?"

Castiel suddenly seemed nervous in front of him, which did not help Dean relax. He frowned slightly, uncertain, while Castiel laid all the cards on the table.

"I.... I need you to close your eyes. It has to be a surprise or I.... Anyway. Close your eyes please." Castiel stuttered in front of him.

Dean watched him for a moment without saying anything before finally taking a discreet breath and closing his eyes. As soon as the living room disappeared around him, Castiel’s beautiful face faded behind his eyelids as he tried to ignore his crazy heart beating in his chest. The atmosphere had suddenly become special in their apartment, and this since Castiel had brought up the challenge. Dean’s instincts were yelling at him that this was the ultimate time to trust his friend, because something important was going to happen. He could not explain it more than that, he knew it, that’s all.

Dean remained as calm as possible as he tried to listen to what was going on around him. In the first place, only Castiel’s quick breathing made itself heard while Dean remained straight in his place, gently squeezing his hands against each other to control the nerves that he felt rising in him. After a few seconds, he heard movement in front of him and felt the couch rise a little, as if his friend had just changed position. Suddenly, he felt this same rapid breath close to his face and frowned gently, confused. When he could endure it no longer, Dean opened his mouth slightly to ask the question that he was dying to ask before his lips were covered by warm, wet others. Sweet and yet trembling.

Dean opened wide, astonished eyes, in shock as his heart missed another beat. Immediately, he fell upon Castiel’s face, gently close to his own, and swallowed a surprised exclamation which had gone up his throat. The kiss was not really one while Castiel quickly stepped back with nervousness to look into Dean’s eyes, their faces still close and frozen in the moment. Dean looked at Castiel who was looking back at him and everything was crumbling around them in a silence filled with electricity and unspoken confusion. Dean felt like dying and being reborn at the same time, silently in that body that suddenly seemed so narrow to him.

"You…?" Dean whispered, even if he never managed to finish his sentence.

Castiel feverishly licked his lower lip before shaking his head imperceptibly, the face so devastated by the fear of rejection at the moment that Dean felt like he had fallen into his worst nightmare. He could not bear such an expression on Castiel’s face, Cas who had kissed him, Cas who was afraid of his reaction, Cas who cared for him right now. Castiel who loved him.

In a surge of combativeness and surely relief, Dean filled the space between their mouths again and slipped one of his hands to the back of Castiel’s neck to keep him close, preventing him from escaping this time. Once the surprise has passed for Castiel, Dean could almost see his whole body lighten up and melt into their shared kiss. This simple contact seemed to open so many doors that they were too blind to see before that Dean almost had his head spinning. Did Cas have at least as much desire as he had for him the whole time? He tightened his grip around his roommate’s body, he needed to hold on to something so he wouldn’t fall right away.

But he fell anyway when Castiel gently pushed him onto the sofa so that he lay down under him. Later that night he fell again into this large bed in Castiel's room, his lips unable to leave the body of the other as if he desired to make every inch of him feel loved. He fell and fell and fell all night long, tumbling down into the most exquisite and liberating of the falls as a smile split their two faces in the frenzy of the moment. Dean kept falling, but he didn’t do it alone, clinging to the one thing he had never hoped for in recent years and that he could finally touch with his fingers now.

Finally, he was unable to remain angry with Castiel for having beaten him at poker, just as he was unable to detach himself from him that night. As the sun’s rays filtered through the closed shutters of Castiel’s room, Dean gently caressed his lover’s face in the hollow of the pillow with a new, fascinated tenderness. He barely waited until Castiel opened his eyes to steal another kiss before whispering against his lips.

"Hey… I have no fucking idea what happened to my remaining sock yesterday."

When Castiel let out a hoarse chuckle before drawing him closer to himself, Dean promised to do everything to hear this sound every morning now. They were going to need more games night from now on…

* * * @winchester-reload​

Yep, I’m late haha, sorry! It took me a while to write this one but no worries, I’ll post day 15 and day 16 today too. I’m really proud of this OS, don’t hesitate to come and talk about it with me in the comments!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

Tag list /!\ PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADD TO (or removed from) THE TAG LIST so you won’t miss any updates.

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @hellfire37 @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @destielhoneybee @dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove @zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight @berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @bab-spnfamily @lo-mindpalace

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (27/30)

Emma Swan loses a drunken bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush - if you can call him that - to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala for Boston’s Children Shelter. Killian Jones is that celebrity. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost all because of the ridiculousness of the situation. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

What she truly doesn’t expect is to actually like the man.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I say nothing except this one is for @resident-of-storybrooke before she leaves on her trip 😘

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 

Tag list: @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @notoriouscs @mariakov81

-/-

“Ruby is going to be here in thirty minutes,” she mumbles into Killian’s back, burrowing her face further into his sweater. It’s absurdly soft, and she wonders if he’ll ever take it back if she steals it. She’d probably have to keep it hidden away somewhere other than the closet, though. It was much easier to steal things when they didn’t live in the same place. “We have to get out of bed.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Babe, I have to be there early. You’re my date, so you have to be there early with me.”

“If I break up with you for the night, can I come later?”

“No. Then you’d have to buy me food to nourish my broken heart and still show up.”

She feels Killian’s groan more than she hears it, the sounds muffled by the sheets and pillows he’s got his face buried in. It’s three in the afternoon, far past time for them to be lounging in bed, but honestly, they’ve been exceptionally lazy today and have been sleeping on and off all day. It’s Saturday, so they can totally do it. And if it were any other Saturday, she’d be fine with them not moving or turning the lights on (Killian is usually a little more active), but they’ve got to go to this damn charity gala.

That makes it sound bad. It’s a good thing, a really good thing, for the Children’s Shelter and a few other places around town that always join in, but she’s kind of tired of it after dealing with it for weeks on end. She misses last year when Lucy at the museum took care of everything and the only thing she had to worry about was the fact that she was going on a very publicized date with a complete stranger who is now her boyfriend and the man she lives with.

Her life is really weird.

She knows that, thinks about it all of the time, but sometimes it really hits her how strange she and Killian are together. Or not necessarily how they are together but more the fact of how they got together.

It’s really a strange story.

Ruby is definitely going to brag about it all being because of her tonight. She already knows. If Ruby and Dorothy work out, though, Emma can get the same bragging rights, so things will even out.

Hoping a relationship will work out for bragging rights is obviously the height of maturity.

“So you’re telling me that breaking up with you does me no good?”

She hums in response, shifting up so that she can run her lips over the back of his neck, sprawling herself out across his back like Leo and Aiden do to her sometimes. Comparing herself to toddlers is probably not a great thing either, but she doesn’t care. His skin is warm and a bit salty from dried sweat, and even though she’s the one trying to get them out of bed, she finds herself not wanting to move from this spot. Sometimes she wonders if they could stay in bed for weeks on end, alternating between lazily moving against and within each other and sleeping or watching TV while eating junk food.

She should take some days off of work in the new year, and instead of going anywhere and getting exhausted from walking around, they’ll simply stay here and stay in bed, all of the curtains closed so that nothing from the outside world gets in.

Yeah, that sounds really good right now.

“Swan, I know that you’re trying to entice me to move, but running your lips across my neck is not going to make me get up and shower.”

“Would you rather I scream in your ear?”

“It’ll get me up and moving faster.”

“Kinky.”

Killian rolls their bodies before she can move off of him, and for the briefest of moments, he’s smothering her, her breath escaping her while his entire body weight presses down on top of her.

“Killian,” she mumbles, pushing her arms up against him while he shakes his hips to dig himself further into her, the friction so damn good that maybe they don’t have to get out of bed. “Killian, get off of me.”

“Nah, I’m good like this.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“An arsehole who you want as your arm candy tonight, so I suggest that you be nice to me.”

She knees him as hard as she can without actually hurting him, and he plays along, groaning a bit too loudly before rolling off of her and sitting up in bed, his back scrunched over as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the heels of his hands, the bed still bouncing the slightest bit after all of their movement.

“Go take your shower, love,” he encourages, twisting his head and nudging her leg. “Ruby will kill you if you’re not at least showered when she gets here.”

“I’m still going to be in the shower by the time she gets here because I have to shave.”

He raises a brow, but she doesn’t really notice because she can’t stop staring at the unruly state of his hair. It’s got to be sticking in a million different directions because of sleep and her hands, and she kind of wants to spend all day running her hands through it. The man has soft hair. That she’s only kind of obsessed with.

(Okay, really obsessed.)

“Doesn’t your dress cover your legs?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, rolling out of bed and tugging at her clothes to pull them off her, tossing her shirt on the bed. Killian is totally staring at her boobs right now, but she doesn’t care. He’s seen her naked enough times in non-sexual situations that it doesn’t even matter. Casual intimacy and confidence and all that jazz. “But you’re wearing a tux that makes you look very dapper, and, you know, you might get lucky tonight.”

“Yeah?” he laughs, his lips curling up into a smirk.

“I mean, maybe. It depends on my mood and if I get to shave.”

“Please, I’m used to your hairy legs. You’ve got to keep warm for winter.”

“So funny,” she mock laughs, pulling her pajama pants down before leaning over the bed and twisting a bit of his chest hair around her finger, “especially from the bear himself. But, no, I’m going to shave and it’s going to feel like a dolphin tonight.”

“I don’t think you realize how creepy that sounds.”

“Gross,” she whines, stepping away from him and into the bathroom so that she can turn the water on, the chill of the air reaching her skin faster than she thought it would. Her favorite thing about living here, Killian not included, is definitely how much better the water pressure is. And how fast it heats up. At her old place she’d be freezing for at least ten minutes only to have the water struggle to get her conditioner out.

She can’t believe that there are people out there who can get away with not using conditioner. Her hair would be one big knot without it.

Plus the split ends. Those would be insane.

By the time she’s out of the shower, her entire body washed and shaved (like a dolphin in a totally non weird way), she can hear Ruby in the bedroom talking to Killian. She doesn’t know what they’re talking about, but she’s sure it’s Ruby complaining about her. It has to be. She’s definitely late, and even though Ruby is always late, she seems to forget that whenever it’s Emma.

“Emma Swan,” Ruby groans, pulling the bathroom door open while she’s still drying herself off with the towel.

“Oh my God,” she shrieks, wrapping her towel around her waist to cover herself, “have you ever heard of knocking?”

“Have you ever heard of being on time?”

“I’m only a little late,” she promises, stepping away from the towel to grab her robe off the hook, quickly wrapping it around her, tugging at the string around her waist. “You look nice.”

“I went ahead and did my makeup since I knew that you’d be late.”

“I’m a punctual person.” Ruby raises her brow in a move that is so Killian that it’s weird. She’s so thankful that they get along, that they’ve always gotten along, but she’s starting to think they’ve spent a little too much time together. Or maybe she has a type in the kind of people she likes. “Okay, so I am most of the time.”

“Just not tonight, but that’s okay. I’m going to work my magic to make you pretty.”

“This is when you say that I’m already pretty,” she laughs, drying off her hair and patting down her face before she grabs her face wash and begins rubbing it into her skin.

“You’re already pretty,” Ruby drolls, sarcasm dripping off of every syllable. “I think I’m just going to do your regular makeup tonight but with a different eyeshadow and a red lip.”

“You’re going to make me look like a Christmas tree, aren’t you?” She cringes a bit as the acid of her face wash gets in her eyes before she’s rinsing that out and reaching for her moisturizer. “My dress is green, Rubes. I don’t need to go with the whole thing.”

“I’m not going to make you look like a Christmas tree, I promise. You’ve just got to trust me? Have I ever let you down before?”

“There was the time in college where you accidentally died my hair red. There was the other time where you made that homemade face mask and I had breakouts for a month. Ooh, or where you did my makeup for an interview and I didn’t know until it was over that I had orange streaks all over my face. And I definitely didn’t get that job.”

“But that was back when we had no money and no experience. Now we have no money and plenty of experience.”

“That can be taken in so many ways.”

Emma watches Ruby waggle her eyebrows through the mirror. Yep, she and Killian are going to have to spend some time apart after tonight.

Maybe before tonight.

They’re too similar.

“And that’s the Ruby way, my darling. Now let’s get ready because you have an event to run, and the carriage turns back into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does to me.”

Ruby’s pretty much a master when it comes to makeup. It’s one of those things where she just has the natural talent with it. She watches videos online and takes classes, is always trying out new things, and even though sometimes Emma ends up looking like a clown, usually Ruby knows exactly what she’s doing. Except when it comes to hair. Mary Margaret despite having a pixie cut for years, is definitely the best out of the three of them at doing hair. But she wasn’t about to ask her over when she, David, and the kids are coming over for lunch tomorrow anyways. She’d asked Ruby, but Ruby had laughed and said that she didn’t plan on moving away from bed all day Sunday.

No part of her blames her.

She’s kind of regretting her decision to be social tomorrow already.

“Alright, ladies,” Killian sighs, poking his head into the bathroom, his lips pressed together in a soft smile, “I know you’re still in the middle of finally doing something about the tragedy that is Emma’s face, but I need to take a shower.”

“You can take a shower while I’m in here,” Ruby whistles as she brushes some eyeshadow over Emma’s lid. “I’m not shy.” “I know you aren’t, love, but I’m afraid that I am. That blue shadow looks very vibrant.”

“I know that it’s not blue, babe,” she huffs, opening the eye that’s not getting worked on. “Get your stuff and go shower in the guest room, okay? I think we’ll still be in here awhile.”

“You’re right. It’ll likely take a long time for Ruby to really get all that blue piled up.”

“Go take your shower.”

“As you wish, Swan.”

She closes her eyes while Ruby keeps working, and she can hear the faint sounds of Killian gathering his things out of the shower before the door shuts behind him.

“I was really hoping he was going to shower in here.” “You are so gross.”

“Your lover is hot.”

She snickers at that, memories of Killian calling himself her lover when they weren’t exactly sure what they were to each other yet coming to mind. He’s so ridiculous, but listening to Ruby now, she realizes that all of her friends are absolutely and utterly ridiculous.

She likes it that way.

An hour later her makeup is done and Ruby has just helped her pin her hair back up in a high ponytail, the curls trailing down her neck and the slightest bit of her back. It’s heavy enough that she knows she’ll likely change it before the end of the night, but for now, it works, especially because it’ll keep her hair out of her face as she runs through her checklist at the venue before everyone gets there. If it wasn’t more comfortable to have her hair down, she’d wear it up nearly every day.

“This feels like we’re going to prom,” she sighs while stepping into her dress, pulling it up and zipping it as much as she can on her own.

“Except you feel ridiculous because you’re almost thirty and not sixteen?”

“Besides the fact that I’m not almost thirty, that’s exactly it.”

“Twenty-nine, thirty, same difference.”

“Mathematically that is so wrong,” she scoffs while walking out into the bedroom where Killian is buttoning up his shirt, leaving just enough buttons undone that she knows he likely won’t wear his bowtie for long if at all. “KJ, can you zip my dress?”

“In one moment, love,” he promises, stepping over to her with his bottom lip tugged between her teeth. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad. That’s what every man wants to hear.”

“You’re dashing,” she sighs, exaggerating the word as Killian takes her zipper and runs it up her back, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder so it doesn’t get caught. When he’s finished, she turns around and wraps her arms around his neck, fingers messing with his hair. It’s weird being directly eye to eye with him, but it always happens in these heels. “And, like, really damn hot too.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he sighs, turning his head and kissing her wrist. “You probably need to go in there and help Ruby zip up her dress.”

“Nope, I’m good,” Ruby protests as she stumbles out of the bathroom already zipped up into her white jumpsuit. “Aww, look at the lovebirds. We have to take a picture to send to Mom and Dad.”

“Who?” “David and Mary Margaret, obviously. Their initials even match up with being Mom and Dad. It’s very fitting. Go stand out on your balcony so I can get one.”

“Rubes.”

“Nope, no protesting. You’ll thank me later when you want to look back on your prom day.”

“Prom?” Killian asks, raising his brow in question.

“It’s nothing.” She unwraps her arms from his neck and turns to walk out of the bedroom so that she can go down the hall to get access to the balcony, Killian and Ruby right behind her. It’s freezing out here, especially with the sea breeze wafting up, so she bounces a bit waiting for Killian to come stand next to her at the railing. “It is too cold to even walk outside for five minutes.” “If you just smile for the crazy woman, we’ll be inside soon enough.”

She laughs under her breath as Killian wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her closer while she presses her hand against his chest and smiles as Ruby takes a few pictures of them, one time getting far too close. And as cold as she is, as much as she wants to go inside, she ropes Ruby into coming to stand next to her so that they can take a few pictures too.

What is adult prom if not taking awkward pictures with your friends?

Once she’s back inside she grabs her coat and her clutch, wishing goodbye to Ruby and telling her that they’ll see her later when she and Dorothy show up to the museum for the dinner. It’s not a long ride there, especially with how fast their Uber driver is moving through the roads, and before she knows it, she’s in the thick of planning and making sure that their tables for their guests have all the right name cards in all of the right places. She’s constantly amazed by how people get upset over who is sitting next to who.

This may be metaphorical adult prom (it’s totally not), but she kind of thought the drama would be over. Then again, she’s obviously making up for everything that happened in high school that she missed out on by simply showing up and making the grades, only joining clubs if she really hated her foster parents and wanted to be out of the house a little more often. Or if she needed them to look good on her college application. She did a lot of that. She just didn’t do the drama. She doesn’t want to know, so she makes sure that the name cards are right, that the preordered dinners are all lined up, and that the donor tables are clear and easy for people to donate money throughout the night.

She’s the first person to sign the sheet, filling out her donor information and writing her donation in the box. She’ll have to make out her check later. Next year they should totally get those card swipe things that hook up to phones. Of course, most people don’t take this money directly out of their personal bank accounts. They have several that need wire transferring or whatever, which is absolutely insane.

That’s just something she’s not going to think about tonight.

Everything is a bit of a blur for the two hours that she’s helping set up, her legs weaving in and out between Christmas trees. They’ve gone with warmer colors this year instead of the silvers and blues of last year, and she likes this better. It feels more intimate and festive and less snow queen. But eventually some of the guests start to arrive, everyone wandering around and mingling or sitting at their seats, and she can breathe a sigh of relief as she’s officially off of the clock…except for going around and asking for donations.

Maybe she’ll send Killian around to do them in her place. That worked really well last year.

“This looks wonderful, Emma,” Dorothy compliments as she and Ruby settle down into their seats. “Have you already taken all of your pictures for work?”

“Lucy, who runs the events at the museum, is going to text me the pictures when there’s a crowd in here. So no crappy phone pictures or anything.”

“So you can actually enjoy dinner?”

She smiles. “That I can.”

For the rest of the night, all she can think about is the difference between this time last year and right now.

Last year she’d probably been sweating she was so nervous and uncomfortable. This year she’s slouching at the table with her arm stretched out over Killian’s shoulders while she plays with his hair and asks Dorothy how work is going, Killian’s hand resting heavily on her thigh.

Last year the conversation had been stilted and a little awkward. This year it flows naturally, everything coming easily even with some of her coworkers that she doesn’t often see sitting at the table with them.

Last year when Killian asked her to dance, she hadn’t really wanted to do it. This year she happily rises from her chair and lets him guide her out to the small dance floor, their feet and bodies expertly moving together instead of gently swaying back and forth.

Last year she wasn’t sure if she’d ever find someone who would love her for who she is without trying to change her or lying about who they are. This year she’s got a partner in her life who loves her without hesitation and who she loves in return.

She’s turning into a cheesy mess, but it’s a good night that has her cheeks hurting from smiling so much, and that has nothing to do with the sweet talking the donors.

“You look pensive,” Killian sighs as he pulls her a bit closer, releasing her hands so that he can wrap his arms around her waist.

“That’s just my face.”

“One of the many.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, clasping her fingers together on the nape of his neck.

He looks so handsome tonight, his hair combed back but just wild enough that it’s not too straight laced, and the bowtie he did end up wearing for a little while untied and draped around his neck with some of his shirt buttons undone. She’s feeling particularly affectionate right now, especially with the few glasses of wine she’s had and the lateness of the night, only a few people left in the museum, so when she gets the opportunity to rest her head on his shoulder, she does.

“This is so much better than last year.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he laments, his lips brushing her temple, “last year was pretty good. We had a fantastic first date. I even got to stay the night.”

“And then you left in a super rude way and stole my swan mug.”

“I’m a scoundrel, I tell you.”

“Maybe even a rascal.”

“Definitely one of those. I’m sorry I did you dirty the night after we met.”

She clicks her tongue before she presses a kiss into the side of his neck, her nose heavily pressing into his skin so that his cologne wafts over her, somehow reaching all the way down to her toes. “I think you’ve more than made up for it.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I think you could likely make me grovel a bit.”

“You know not what you offer.”

“Aye, I’m making a grave mistake.”

She chuckles into him before pulling back so that she can look in his eyes, the blue light in both color and feel. She shouldn’t be able to notice things like that, but she does. He’s happy, and she knows that because she knows him.

What a wonderful feeling that is to know someone and have them know you in return.

“As long as you don’t steal my mug again, I’ll be good.”

“Well, I tend to reserve stealing from lasses as a first date activity.”

“Do you count that as our first date?”

“Really? That’s what you got out of that? Not that I’m a dirty thief?”

“Well, I knew that. I didn’t know you considered that to be our first date since it was really more of a…business transaction.”

“Swan, if you consider that a business transaction, I’m going to get a little worried that you kiss other men like that at work.”

“Gotta make sure I don’t get fired.” Killian raises both of his brows, and she feels the redness and the heat rise in her cheeks. “That was a bad joke. Like, not funny in the slightest.”

“The worst.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“But I don’t know,” he laments, looking up at the ceiling for a moment so that she can admire his jawline, “I think that counts as our first date. We simply had a three-month courtship before I was your lover.”

The way he says the words has that metaphorical fire flickering down her body, but all she can do is laugh, that word continuously coming back tonight.

“This is true. It was, like, some really slow build up. You’re very good at being a lover, though. Ten out of ten would recommend to others if I were into that kind of stuff.”

“Good to know that you don’t want to share.”

“Never.” She quickly brushes her lips over his, tasting the slightest bit of rum, the spice stinging. “I think I might just love you too damn much.”

He looks down at her then, eyes brimming with affection and smile so wide that his eyes crinkle and his teeth are on full display. She loves the soft smiles, the intimate touches, but sometimes she loves the full on joyful, gleeful even, smiles that make his entire face light up.

“And I you, my love.” He kisses her again, this one slow and lingering, before he whispers, “do you think we should go find Ruby to make sure she’s not donating everything I’m worth to charity? I love a good cause, but my girlfriend is rather fond of eating.”

“I can pay my own bills.”

“This is true. Okay, so I am rather fond of eating and having running water in my home.”

She laughs before she unwraps her arms and pats his chest. “There you go, KJ.”

They find Ruby and Dorothy at the bar, the two of them in a giggling fit, and after closing out their tabs, she and Killian make sure to put them in a car while they wait for their own. The temperature has continued to dip the longer the night has gone on, and right as they get into their car, she swears that she sees the tiniest bit of snow. It’s likely a figment of her imagination, but it wouldn’t surprise her if winter has decided to fully come into effect now that it’s the second week of December.

“Don’t forget to post those photos on the shelter’s Instagram.”

“Thanks,” she tells Killian, pulling her phone out of her bag and logging out of her personal account so that she can upload the pictures with the caption she had worked up before tonight, making sure to tag all of the right people. It almost feels wrong promoting a fancy event where people get dressed up in gowns to help children who have been abandoned and abused, but unfortunately, it’s what works to get attention from everyone.

Or maybe fortunately. At least something works. She wants to help, no matter the weird methods that it takes.

And social media isn’t really that weird. She’s only twenty-nine, so she’s definitely not old enough to be one of those people who say “back in my day.” She could, but it would be ridiculous.

“I’ll put up something tomorrow,” Killian yawns, flexing his hand out until it lands on her thigh, thumb running back and forth, and even though it’s over her dress, she can still feel the heat of it. “I’d do it tonight, but I need to do all of the links and I’m – ”

When he’s struck by another yawn, she answers for him, “ – tired. You’re tired.”

“Aye, love, that I am.”

“And here I was shaving my legs so that you wouldn’t have to deal with my winter coat since I know my dolphin legs are much nicer.”

“Nah, like I said, I’m a fan of every part of you, hairy legs and all.”

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“If I recall, the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you was buying your toothbrush replacements heads, and now the most romantic thing anyone has ever said is saying they like you even when you grow your fur coat. No offense, sweetheart, but I feel like I’m doing better than that in the romance department.”

“Ah, I don’t know,” she sighs, placing her hand over his and interlocking their fingers, making sure to rest her wrist on top even if it should be the other way around for how they’re sitting, “I’m a simple girl. I like dental hygiene but not personal hygiene, so you being accepting of that is really like a dream come true for me.”

“You know, I’ve been told that I was dreamy, but a dream come true, that’s a new one.”

She digs her nail into his flesh before she brings their hands to her lips, slanting her lips over Killian’s knuckles to soothe the ache.

“Alright, Cassanova, let’s dial it down a bit. Don’t want to use up all of your romance tonight. You might want to save some for the morning.”

She has every intention of getting back to their apartment and stripping Killian out of his clothes so that she can slowly ride him into momentary oblivion, but once they get into their bedroom, the exhaustion hits her. So she says maybe in the morning as she strips out of her dress, leaving it on the floor while she pulls pajamas back on. They’re plaid and very Christmas-y, and she’s pretty sure the matching set makes her look like a little kid in a movie in the forties, but with the warmth they provide, she doesn’t care. It’s nearly painful to take all of her makeup and take her hair down as well as brushing her teeth, but she and Killian slowly get through it, grumbling side by side as they run through their routines.

They’re in a rhythm, the two of them, even when it’s slightly off course, and only a few minutes after their heads hit their pillows, they’re both out, Killian’s steady breathing matching up with the slow, calm beat of her heart.

When she wakes the next morning it’s to the softest of lips brushing against the skin of her face. She doesn’t bother opening her eyes to look. She knows the feel of Killian’s mouth and his beard almost like she’s known it for her entire life, but after she feels him kiss her nose, she decides to face the world and let the light filter in.

Only there is no light. It’s still dark outside, the moon shining through the window the slightest bit, but she can easily see Killian’s face as he smiles down at her, his lips pressed together in affection while his eyes crinkle. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, all different forms, but this one is different.

“Why are you hovering over me like that? Are you going to murder me?”

“If I wanted to murder you, love, I would have done it while you were asleep.”

“Yeah, so I’ll be sleeping in the guest room with the door locked now.”

He laughs, something deep and low, before his thumb swipes against her cheek, the soft smile turning into something a little brighter. Mostly, though, she’s focusing on the crinkles around his eyes. She loves those a lot. She can’t think it enough. “So last night you told me to save some of my romance for this morning.”

“I recall, but I’m not sure I’m ready for sex quite yet. The sun isn’t even up.”

“Darling, I really and truly appreciate all of these wonderful words that you’re spewing because they make what I’m about to say next even better.”

And somehow, without any clue other than the way that Killian is looking at her, she knows exactly what he’s about to ask her while she’s got bedhead, morning breath, and is in these matching flannel pajamas.

(They’re actually really cute pajamas.)

“Emma, my love, will you marry me?”