#i am impressed that the glass cupcakes are still relevant | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monabela · 3 years

Text

hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

14 notes · View notes

the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt · 8 years

Text

Rum and Cupcakes (Chapter 2)

I’m feeling extra generous since it’s Valentine’s Day, so here’s chapter 2! Lots more to come! I hope you love it, @a-city-dove !

Chapter 1: http://the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt.tumblr.com/post/157246086069/rum-and-cupcakes-chapter-1

Read it on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708698/chapters/21925364

Emma sat back as she watched her customers enjoy her cupcakes. It was the busiest day she’d had in awhile. She sent Mary Margaret a quick text thanking her for forcing her out last night, followed by another in which she apologized for embarrassing herself and anyone who knew her with what Emma called “the Killian situation.” Emma was so pleased with herself, she even attached a picture of her cupcakes to prove to Mary Margaret that she was doing better; her frosting was multi-colored and looking the best it’s looked all week. Emma ate a French toast cupcake and some microwaved pasta for lunch before making some more cupcakes for the afternoon rush. She decided she’d to get carry out from Granny’s for dinner because she was sick of eating half-warmed microwave dinners. She was finally starting to get used to Ruby’s absence, and she figured she could go back to being alone again. She just needed to find the happy medium between alone but dependent, and complete social hibernation. Ruby had texted her 26 times by the time she closed the shop for the day, so she grabbed a grilled cheese and onion rings to-go from Granny’s and called Ruby as she ate her dinner, actually at her table rather than the couch. She found herself smiling and laughing as Ruby filled Emma in on the hot movie director who gave her a job making costumes for his movie.

“You should see him, Em, he’s so hot. He’s got this sandy brown hair and bright green eyes. And his abs- Oh. My. Gosh.”

“Has he given into your Ruby charm yet?” Emma knew Ruby had probably been flirting her pretty ass off. Most guys drooled over Ruby at first sight.

“No.” Emma could hear the disbelief in Ruby’s response, but Emma knew Ruby wasn’t used to being rejected. “I’m about ready to pounce. You know, like a wolf.” Ruby growled and laughed as Emma opened her mouth to warn Ruby,

“Oh no. Don’t pounce, Rubes. Nothing good can come from that.” Emma thought back to Killian the previous night, actually physically cringing at the memory. She debated whether or not to tell her best friend.

“I don’t think I can flirt any harder.”

“Well if he hasn’t given in yet, maybe you should give it up and look for a new conquest.”

“I haven’t been gone that long.” Emma rolled her eyes even though she knew Ruby couldn’t see her. “You know I won’t give up. I’ll get him.”

“Just” - Emma sighed; she had been defeated - “be careful, okay?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Ruby, I’m serious. You don’t want to get your hopes up if he’s only going to disappoint you in the end.” She felt the impact of her words as she thought of how much of a joke she must have looked like to Killian. Not wanting Ruby to pry, she added, “Plus, he’s your boss.”

“So you’re saying I can pounce on him once the movie’s done?” Emma could practically see Ruby’s bedroom eyes through the phone.

“If you haven’t found someone else by then, I guess.” She chewed on her bottom lip and twirled an onion ring on her finger, wishing the conversation would end. The memory of Killian weighed heavily in her mind, and she knew it was just a matter of time before she blurted it out to Ruby.

“So.” Emma was snapped out of her own thoughts. “How’s your across the street neighbor?”

“Actually, no one’s moved in yet.” Emma took a bite of her sandwich.

“Really? I know someone bought the space.”

“Still empty. I checked earlier today.” Emma distinctly remembered noting that the building was as empty as it had been the past week. “Do you know the name of who bought the space?”

“Nah. Regina wouldn’t tell me. She’s always hated me.”

“That’s not true.” It was true.

“Em.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe a little. What did you ever do to her?” Emma gathered her dinner trash and threw it away, cradling the phone between her cheek and her shoulder.

“Nothing. I’ve always been a perfect, law-abiding citizen.” Both girls laughed, but not because it was an untrue statement. Ruby had always been perfectly respectable when she needed to be. “Anyway, how have you been? Mary Margaret texted me that your cupcakes were mourning my loss.”

“She did not.”

“Well, maybe not in those exact words, but she told me you wouldn’t answer any of her calls. Or David’s. She was worried about you.” Crap. She could feel the memory of last night threatening to leave her mouth.

“I’m okay. I just needed a few days to get used to you not being around,” Emma relocated to her couch, lying down horizontally so her feet dangled over the end of it.

“You sure you’re okay, Em? I know you.”

“I’m fine. I promise. I even went out with Mary Margaret last night.” There it was.

“Where’d you go?”

“The Rabbit Hole.” Oh, what she wouldn’t give for more of that rum right at this moment.

“Did you guys have fun? You’re not replacing me in girl’s night, right?” Her words were laced with threats.

“I could never replace you, Rubes. You’re still my best friend, even if you’re on the other side of the country.” The sadness returned as Emma uttered those words. She acknowledged the distance aloud, making it sink in and reminding her of how harsh reality is.

“So, did you have fun?”

“Yeah. I guess.” Emma shrugged, not that Ruby could see.

“That doesn’t sound convincing.” Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “What happened?” Damn.

“I uh… I sorta uh…” Emma felt her cheeks grow hot as she tried to find the words to tell Ruby what happened without making her look like a total idiot.

“Em, did you sleep with someone last night?” Ruby spoke slowly, trying to hide the anticipation in her voice.

“Not exactly,” Emma coughed.

“What does that mean?” Ruby was uncharacteristically silent, forcing Emma to tell her.

“There was a new guy. And he was really hot. He sat next to me and he flirted with me, I think he did anyway. Well, I really wanted to sleep with him, you know, a one night stand and all, emotionless sex. But he rejected me when I came onto him and yeah. Oh, and I was kinda drunk, so I was all over him, which made things worse when he told me no.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut and hoped Ruby wouldn’t press the issue.

“I need details. Play-by-play. Go.” Emma groaned, but started her story anyway.

“Well Mary Margaret and I were at the bar. And I had a few glasses of rum-”

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many?”

“Is that relevant?”

“Yes. I know levels of Emma drunkenness. And I also know you’re rolling your eyes right now. So, how many?” Emma honestly didn’t know, but the conversation paused as she did the calculation in her head.

“Probably eight or so by the time he walked in.”

“Eight?!” Emma pulled the phone from her ear in response to Ruby’s screeching.

“You know Jefferson only fills the glass a quarter of the way! So it was really only two full glasses!” Emma started to defend herself, but Ruby wasn’t having any of it.

“Emma, that is way too many. I can’t believe Mary Margaret didn’t stop you. This is why you need me around.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. Continue.”

“Well, he sat next to me and he also ordered rum. He mentioned that he likes girls who like rum. Oh, wait, he used the word ‘lass.’ Who even talks like that? Oh, and he also had a British accent.”

“Ooh, a British guy. I’ve taught you well.”

“Yes, you have. Anyway, he told me his name, Killian-”

“Nice name. That’s a hot guy’s name for sure.”

“I am never going to get through this story if you keep interrupting,” Emma laughed.

“Sorry. Please finish.”

“Alright, well, I told him my first name and he started asking me for information, but I cut him off and told him the less we know about each other, the better. And he made this comment like he’d really get to know me. Mary Margaret tried to get me to leave because she could see me being an idiot, but I told her no so she went to talk to Regina while I made more of a fool of myself. Then he called me beautiful, so I tried to make myself more uhh… alluring. I was wearing that pink dress you got me for girl’s night Valentine’s Day last year.”

“I’m interrupting to tell you how hot you look in that dress. Seriously, you look smokin’ Emma. I can’t believe any man could say no to you in that thing.” Emma grinned. She’d excuse this interruption. Emma thought she looked good in that dress too; maybe Killian was the weird one.

“Thank you,” Emma giggled. “I sorta leaned real close to him and whispered in his ear seductively asking if he wanted to get out of there, and he said yes, but he didn’t want to take advantage of me in my state.”

“Gentleman.” Ruby sounded impressed.

“It gets worse.”

“What did you do?”

“I couldn’t believe he said no, so I stared at him because I didn’t have a response. He had to pry me off of him. He was wearing a shirt that was only buttoned at the bottom and well, I was stroking his chest hair.”

“Emma you weren’t.” Ruby was trying really hard not to laugh, and Emma could hear it.

“I was. And if that wasn’t mortifying enough, he pried me off him and paid for his drinks and mine. He paid for me, even though I basically groped him, knowing nothing more than his name. Mary Margaret took me home after he left. Ruby, I am so embarrassed. I just hope I never see this Killian Jones ever again.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” Emma heard Ruby laughing on her end of the call, and she couldn’t help but break down into chuckles herself. She was a moron. “I almost feel like I should apologize for coming onto him like that, but that would involve me facing him and that is never going to happen.”

“I can’t believe you did that. Clearly you need me in your life.”

“Shut up.”

“I feel better about my director now. Thanks, Emma.”

“Shut up, again.”

“Alright, alright. Thanks for the story. The cast is headed to go get dinner, so I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon?”

“Absolutely. Have fun.” Emma was a bit relieved; she needed to get to sleep so she could function at work tomorrow.

“You know I will.” There was no doubt in Emma’s mind this statement was accompanied by a double eyebrow wiggle. “Love you, Em. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Bye, Ruby.” Emma hung up the phone before Ruby could say her own goodbye. Telling her story had been horrifying, but she was so glad to be talking to Ruby again. Emma plugged her phone in to charge overnight before curling up with her duckling pillow and falling asleep.

Emma continued her routine for another week. She went from her apartment, to work, to Granny’s, then to her apartment again. She texted Ruby or Mary Margaret or David, but only when they texted her first. Routines worked for her; she was productive. Her frosting didn’t turn depressing at all that week. Her routine was interrupted when she looked out the window as she was opening the curtains at the front of her store to find that whoever owned the building across the street was finally starting to move in. Rather than the dark, empty building, Emma was greeted by a moving truck and a pile of boxes right inside her neighbor’s shop. She thought it could be nice to have someone new in the neighborhood. She decided she’d come over after she closed up to welcome her new neighbor and help unpack if there were still sealed boxes; she couldn’t help but think Mary Margaret would be proud. She kept peeking outside throughout the day, hoping to see the shop’s new inhabitant, but the moving truck eventually disappeared without her getting so much as a glimpse of the shop owner. Emma checked the clock for the hundredth time that day and decided it was time to start a small batch of cupcakes to bring across the street. She made some hot chocolate flavored cupcakes with marshmallow frosting; she didn’t know what flavors the new person liked yet, and who doesn’t like hot cocoa? She cleaned the shop while the cupcakes were in the oven, timing her clean-up perfectly. She paused her sweeping and scrubbing to remove her cupcakes from the oven and let them cool before she frosted them. She put the last chair up onto its table right when her oven timer went off, letting her know the cupcakes were cool enough to frost without danger of melting the frosting. Emma carefully applied frosting to the tops of her cupcakes, wanting to make a good first impression with the person she’d be working across from indefinitely. She put her jacket on after she boxed the cupcakes and grabbed a marker to scrawl out a quick Welcome to the neighborhood! -Emma before running across the street and knocking on the shop door. She stood outside with a welcoming smile on her face, waiting for whoever was in the shop to answer. She saw a man approach the door dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Hello there. Can I help you?” Another man with blue eyes and an accent. What are the odds?

“Hi! I own the cupcake shop across the street” She held out the box of cupcakes. The man smiled as he read her note at the top of the box.

“Sweet of you, but the shop’s not actually mine.” Emma cocked her head, slightly confused. “I’m just helping unload the truck.” The man turned to face the back of the store and yelled, “Killian! There’s a lass at the door for you!” Really, “lass” again?

“Wait, Killian?” She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe it was a different Killian? Or not. Killian isn’t exactly a common name. Still, she thought she’d confirm before she ran away, taking the cupcakes with her. “Killian Jones?” The man pivoted to face her.

“Yeah. Have you two met?” This guy was clearly friends with Killian; did he really not know what happened that night in the bar? Was it possible Killian didn’t tell him? Regardless of what Killian’s friend knew, she was desperate to escape the situation.

“Look, I…I have to go. I’ll, well just give him these for me.” She thrust the box toward him and turned around to run, but she froze when she heard unmistakable chuckling. Crap.

“Leaving so soon?” She turned and ended up face to face with the man she basically jumped. “Hello, love.”

“I’m not your love” He held his hands up to convey his innocence.

“Apologies, lass.” He extended a hand, “Killian Jones. Nice to meet you.”

“Emma.” Her eyes flickered between the two men.

“This is my mate, Robin. He was just helping me move in, but he has a date with the mayor he should probably be getting to if he wants a job.” The other man - Robin, apparently - nodded and waved to Killian as he slipped out the door and disappeared behind Emma.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Of course not.” She had no response. Why didn’t he tell his friend about the drunk chick who tried to take him home? Clearly the surprise showed on her face, as he felt the need to explain further. “You were drunk. You must have had a rough day or something that drove you to it. I figured you’d be embarrassed enough when you came to. Why would I make it worse?” Dammit. He was still just as charming when she was sober as he was when she was drunk. She was at a loss for where to go from here, but she was determined to make a better impression this time.

“Emma Swan.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Swan,” he repeated. She had to admit it sounded good coming from his mouth. She had to shake herself out of it; last time she saw him, she tried to get him to sleep with her. She came on way too hard and made a total fool of herself, and he had rejected her. He couldn’t let him win.

“I own the cupcake shop across the street.”

“Ah. The sweet scents were coming from your shop.” He popped the “p” sound at the end of his sentence. She couldn’t let him charm the anger out of her.

“I came to ask if you needed any help moving in, but turns out you already had that.” He nodded, but didn’t speak, clearly waiting on her to decide what direction to take this interaction. “Look, I built a successful business. I have regular customers. Just don’t mess with my business, got it?”

“Aye.”

“Alright then.” She moved to leave when she remembered the cupcakes. “Oh, these are for you. Welcome to the neighborhood, I guess.”

“Thanks, Swan.” He smiled as he looked inside.

“It’s Emma.” She crossed her arms.

“I like Swan,” he said, shrugging. She stared at him.

“What kind of shop are you opening anyway?”

“A bookstore. ‘The Jolly Roger.’” He swiped a finger across one of the cupcakes, licking the frosting off the digit.

“Jolly Roger? Like Captain Hook’s pirate ship?” She tried to look anywhere but at his mouth tight around his finger.

“Indeed.” He smirked as he removed his finger from his mouth to speak. “That was delicious. Is that” - he licked his lips - “marshmallow? Mmm.” She ignored the compliment.

“You know he’s the bad guy, right?”

“Clearly you haven’t read the book.”

“Well no, but-”

“Pan is the real villain. I’d explain, but I would hate to spoil the book for you; it would be bad form. Stop by when I open. I’ll give you a copy, free of charge.” Emma rolled her eyes as she turned to walk away.

“Just don’t mess with my shop.” She started moving toward her car. He called after her,

“See you soon, Swan!” She could practically hear him smiling.

“Later, Jones.” If she never saw Killian Jones again it would be too soon. Too bad she’d see him every day when she went to work. She was going to need a lot of alcohol to get through seeing him every day. Then again, maybe she should stay away from alcohol when it came to Killian Jones.

“Bye, August!” Emma yelled after the man who was walking back to his truck after helping her with one of her regular ingredient deliveries. He helped her carry in industrial-sized bags of sugars and flours, and he wheeled the insane amount of egg cartons into the shop so she could refrigerate them as soon as possible. She grabbed the last four bags of flour, and August only left when she convinced him she could manage them into the shop on her own. The stack went up to her forehead and altogether probably weighed more than she did, but she was determined to handle the bags herself. She waited for the truck to pull away, shifting the bags slightly to relieve some of the pain starting in her wrists, before turning to make her way inside. She started walking toward her shop, stopping every few feet to adjust her grip on the bags. She moved forward, slowly but surely, until suddenly she toppled to the ground, crashing with a thud, a loud groan, and a very large puff of flour. “Seriously?” She opened her eyes to find she was standing in the middle of a cloud of flour that was taking its sweet time to settle. She inhaled, the flour in the air entering her nose and mouth. She coughed, moving backward to escape the flour dust. She caught her breath so she could assess the situation. She wasn’t even sure what happened. One moment she was walking, and then, she thought she hit something before she fell. She waved her hand around, trying to thin the flour cloud as she went to assess the damage. She’d have to order more flour to replace these bags soon. She heard someone else coughing and her eyes widened; she hoped she didn’t hurt anyone. She made her way through the mess to find none other than Killian Jones on the ground, books littering the street around him. Emma’s anger at Killian returned the second she saw him. “You!” Killian’s head jerked upward. “You ran into me!”

“I’m so sorry, Swan. I was carrying books into the shop and I couldn’t see over them.” He cleared his throat and looked up at her, blue eyes sincere. She shook her head, ignoring the apology.

“You couldn’t look around them?” His jaw dropped; she was actually blaming him.

“What about you? You couldn’t look around your little ingredients? You ran into me too!” Her jaw dropped this time.

“You’re kidding, right? Those bags of flour weighed more than me.”

“And carrying a stack of 14 books is easy?!” He scanned the ground to take in the state of his books.

“Your books can be cleaned. I lost all these bags of flour.”

“These books were from my own personal collection! That’s why they weren’t included in the boxes of my merchandise.” He looked genuinely sad, jaw clenching as he clutched the book closest to him.

“This is going to cost me so much to replace. You better pay for the new flour I have to order.” She crossed her arms.

“There were first editions!” He crawled around, gathering a few of his books and trying to wipe the flour from the cover with his hand. He muttered a soft “bloody hell” as he shook the pages out, watching flour drop to the ground. “These are irreplaceable!”

“Not my problem.” She made no move to help him.

“Then your flour is not my problem.” His jaw was clenched. She knew she couldn’t win; if she made him pay for the flour, he’d make her pay for the books. She gritted her teeth.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” He looked up at her with eyes not containing anger, but sadness. She frowned and leaned down to grab the bags to get them inside. She gathered what she could of the mostly-emptied bags and left him on the ground as she stormed off. It appeared she was making a habit of stomping away from Killian. After she threw out the bad flour and cleaned herself up, she peeked out the window and found Killian sitting on the steps in front of his shop. He had a large stack of books next to him as he meticulously worked a tissue over the cover of the book in his lap. She bit her lower lip, feeling only slightly guilty. He was right; she had also run into him. Still, this was going to cost her. She didn’t budget extra money for flour replacement, so she shifted her focus from the sad sight of Killian to her own issues, calling to order more flour.

She looked outside again a few hours later. Killian had cleaned as much as he could. At least the books were readable now. He had piled all the books into a stack and bent down to grab them all. When Emma looked outside, she saw Killian with a very tall stack of books in his arms. She chewed her thumbnail as she watched him put the stack down, open the door, and pick it up again to walk inside. The books ended above his head when he picked them up; that must have been how he carried them when he ran into her earlier. When she ran into him? Okay, when they ran into each other. She turned away after she watched him kick the door closed behind him. She had officially lost all hope of getting along with her new across-the-street shop neighbor.

#captain swan secret valentine #cssv #cssv 2017 #a-city-dove #rum and cupcakes #chapter 2

2 notes · View notes