#i bet roland sleeps sitting up w his eyes open too

[pelcrow]

Roland and Oy listening to Eddie talk about Shrinky Dinks for the 50th time

[reputationmunson]

Right Where You Left Me

Summary: During a rough patch in their relationship, reader gives Spencer one last chance to make things right

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst w/ a (somewhat) hopeful ending

Content Warning(s): Breakup, swearing, mention of food, mention of alcohol, allusion to depression (Please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is my first fic and I hope you enjoy it! I wrote this in about an hour after listening to “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift, so it’s not the best and a bit rushed but I’m excited about it! 

I sit in the dimly lit restaurant, patiently waiting for him to show up and prove me wrong. Prove to me he still wanted me as much as he did when we first met. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes and before I knew it, an hour had passed. I was still alone looking at the empty seat across from me, imagining he was sitting there looking at me with that doe-eyed look and a smile upon his face. I found myself slightly smiling at the fantasy before I was interrupted by the waitress.

 “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if you don’t order something we’re going to have to ask you to leave. Are you still waiting on someone?” I gave a small chuckle before replying “Uh- no, I’m sorry. I’ll take the check to pay for the wine.” “Don’t worry, it’s taken care of.” She gives me a pity smile. 

He left me. He actually left me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though, things had been different for almost a year. We were less intimate, he was sleeping on the couch or at the office, and whenever he looked at me he no longer had that sparkle in his eye that always reassured that he would love me forever.I never would have guessed our forever would be this short lived. I shamefully walk out of the restaurant and I’m so embarrassed that all these people witnessed me getting stood up by a man I never thought could make me feel this way. 

How am I supposed to go back to our shared home? Would he be there? Maybe he got off work too late and is waiting to surprise me with flowers? My anticipation was too much to handle and I press the gas pedal with a bit more pressure, hanging on to the last string of hope I had. Unfortunately, my instincts were a bit off as I walk into what was once our happy home that was always filled with love and laughter that I never thought would end and now there was just an empty feeling. 

It’s colder than usual and without him, it already no longer felt like home. Spencer is, was, my home. I need to be in his arms. He was the only one that could put me together and he’s the one that is fucking breaking me. I don’t remember who I was before him besides a girl who had never been loved the way he loved me. The love you read about wasn’t something I believed in until I met him and now I’m right back to square one. 

I walk back to our bedroom to change into something more comfortable, but I stop when I see a piece of paper folded on the bed. I feel the tears forming before I even open it up. This was the last thing he touched and the last piece I have of him. It feels so delicate in my hand like it’s made of glass. I dread reading this. Our story is ending with a single piece of paper that lies in my hand. I take a deep breath and work up the courage to read the inevitable. 

Y/N, I’m a coward. I couldn’t even face you tonight to give you the proper closure you deserve. You deserve someone who is able to give you that, and so much more. While I was packing, I noticed your red dress was off the hanger and I’m assuming that’s what you wore tonight. That was always my favorite dress on you. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. I need you to know that I never have stopped, and probably never will stop, loving you. Sadly, love isn’t enough sometimes and I wish it really fucking was. Don’t think for a single second any of this is your fault. I could go on and on about how you deserve more than me, but I know you and you would fight me on that statement until you were blue in the face. I could write forever, but I should get going. I left you that cardigan of mine you like so much, the one I wrapped around you our first date. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but please never forget me. -Yours, Spencer. 

-------------------------------------------------

I still think about it everyday. I think about him everyday. Five years later it still hasn’t escaped my mind. But, on the bright side, I only think about it for about half of the day instead of letting it consume my entirety. I felt pathetic. Everyone in my life was married, having kids, or getting promoted and here I was still holding onto this false dream that he would come back to me. I pretended that I moved on. I even lied about going on dates. What was the point? I already had the greatest love I could ask for. I would rather be alone right now than try to recreate what I had with Spencer with some stranger. 

I distract myself with the music on the radio, considering thinking of Spencer while driving was about as dangerous as driving while intoxicated. Moments later, I’m pulling into the grocery store. Maybe I’ll meet someone new here. The love of my life could be right under my nose, but I wouldn’t even know because I’m stuck in a delusion. 

I stroll the the cereal isle and laugh quietly at myself, realizing that the most exciting thing this week was trying a new flavor of cheerios. “This works” I whisper to myself as I throw the box in my cart and make my way down the isle. 

“Y/N?” I stop in my tracks. I know that voice. It’s the voice that never leaves my thoughts. I can’t turn around. Is he actually here? He can’t be. What are the odds of this happening? I bet he would actually know the statistics on that. I put on a fake smile and turn around. “Spencer! It’s been what? Five years? How are you?” I think I might be overdoing the friendliness. “Yeah five years, two months, and eight days.” He nervously laughs. “Still have that big brain, I see. And who’s this?” I was so distracted by his presence I didn’t even notice the literal child sitting in the shopping cart. 

“This is my son, Oliver, like the Charlemagne Knight from the twelfth century poem, Chanson de Roland. He’s turning two next month.” He smiles at his son in awe. “It’s my weekend with him. My ex and I are trying the whole shared parenting thing. It’s hard to be away from him” He continues. “I’m sorry to hear about your separation. I hope the note you left her was different from mine” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. “Sorry. Bad joke.” I add, causing us to laugh through the tension. “Ouch. I -uh- guess I deserve that” He looks down and shakes his head. “I should get going. It was nice to see you, Spence. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.” 

“Maybe we could grab coffee and truly catch up.I still have your number, unless you’ve changed it.” I shake my head in response to his last statement. “Um, yeah, that would be nice. Just don’t ask for your cardigan back” I joke and immediately regret letting him know I’ve held onto it all these years. “Of course not. You always looked better in my clothes than I did.” “Goodbye, Spencer.” It’s the last thing I say. I turn around and try my hardest to keep my composure. 

“Y/N, wait.” I turn back and meet his eyes once again. I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or if the sparkle in his eyes is back. “What about you? Are you happy?” There is a sincerity in his voice. “Yeah. I am.” I lie, hoping it was convincing enough for him to not question it and we went our separate ways after sharing a final smile.

My mind is having a thousand thoughts a minute. Spencer had a baby. Not only did Spencer have baby, he had another relationship. I didn’t expect him to wait around like I was, but I really didn’t expect to get hit with all this at once. All the things I wanted, needed, with him had already happened with someone else. He had moved on with his life and I was still right where he left me. 

[welllpthisishappening]

Out of the Frying Pan (9/?)

“I told you why Henry stayed with you last night,” Emma said pointedly, narrowing her eyes. David didn’t budge, one side of his mouth tilted up in a smile.

“And I believe that as much as you believe me,” he answered, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Is this about a guy?” Emma’s eyes actually hurt with how wide they got and her stomach was probably on the kitchen floor at this point – she couldn’t quite bring herself to look. “It’s totally about a guy isn’t it?” David continued, face a mix of curiosity and big brother and that did something else entirely to the state of Emma’s stomach.

“It’s not about a guy,” Emma said quickly. Her voice kept steady during the sentence though and she got a feeling it was because Killian Jones wasn’t a guy – he was, well, she wasn’t entirely sure what he was, but she was just as curious as ever to figure it out.

AN: First off, I’m sorry for missing Friday - the real world is the absolute worst. I’m still kind of ugggggh post-Sunday, but this fic is monstrous and my CSBB is monstrous and I’ve got a lot of feelings left to feel about CS, so I’m still here. As always, @laurnorder is a gift for always reading all of my writing. 

Living it up on Ao3 and tag’ed up on Tumblr. 

She woke up with a headache, but Emma wasn’t certain if that was from the rum or the conversation or the seemingly incessant pounding on her front door.

God, she needed to get out more.

And she promised she would.

Her phone was on the other side of the room – dropped haphazardly on a pile of clothes the night before – but Emma could practically feel the weight of it in her hand anyway, Killian Jones’ phone number almost screaming at her. As if phone numbers were sentient now.

Emma ignored the still-knocking front door, pushing the noise to the back of her brain as she tried to think back on the last 24 hours of her life.

He was going to kiss her. Or she was going to kiss him. She wasn’t positive. The only thing she knew, for certain, was that she wanted to and as soon as she’d realized that she’d nearly run out the door.

Nearly, of course, being the operative word.

She hadn’t run – she’d practically leapt out of her chair and the surprise on Killian’s face would have almost been funny, if not ridiculously attractive, if it weren’t for all the reasons Emma had stopped herself from kissing him in the first place.

She couldn’t.

Or shouldn’t.

Or both at the same time.

And she wanted to. Badly.

Emma hadn’t had a conversation like that in, well, not since before Henry was born and the last time she’d had a conversation like that it had led to Henry, so she panicked. As she was apt to do.

And, yet, he didn’t seem to mind. At least not a lot. He’d shot her that infuriatingly supportive smile and run his hand through his hair and tried to walk her home and Emma made him give her his phone number, the promise of bringing Henry back to his restaurant on her lips like it wasn’t the most important sentence she’d uttered in nearly thirteen years.

It was all Roland’s fault.

That six-year-old kid had woken up and called him Uncle Killian and, suddenly, all bets were off.

And now she was blaming a six-year-old for her emotional shortcomings. Emma had completely lost control of her life in the span of twenty-four hours.

The knocking was back, only now it was more like banging and she could hear someone yelling from the hallway. “I know you’re in there! Don’t make me knock the door down because you’ll have to explain it to your super and I know that’s something you don’t want to do!” Emma sighed, falling back on her pillows with a small humph – David.

Stupid, overprotective and concerned David. He’d probably tried to call, let her know that Henry got to school alright – which was something she’d normally have been interested in if she wasn’t too busy having an existential crisis in her bedroom – and when she hadn’t answered, decided to take it upon himself to come check on her.

She hoped the crime downtown didn’t hit an upswing because her brother couldn’t wait a few hours for Emma to call him back.

“I’m more than capable of knocking down this door, Emma!” he yelled and it sounded like his shoulder had actually collided with the wood. “And you’re being absurdly stubborn. Even for you.”

Emma sighed again, but pushed herself off the bed, glancing towards the window to try and get some idea of what time it was. She left her phone where it was, jogging towards the front door and swinging it open just as David was about to yell again. His mouth snapped shut at the sight of her and he narrowed his eyes threateningly, crossing his arms and shaking his head at her.

“You should do some meditation or something,” Emma said, leaning against the now-open door frame. “Keep your heartrate down.” “You’re a doctor now, huh?”

“I am the one with more kid experience. I’m just saying you’re going to wear yourself out before tiny-Nolan is even born. Can’t have you collapsing while on baby duty, Detective.”

David groaned, pushing on Emma’s shoulder and walking her back into the small hallway just inside her apartment. “No one is collapsing,” he said seriously, dropping his hand only long enough to recross his arms. “Except maybe you. But now I have confirmation that you’re alive and well, so I suppose I can cross that off my list of worries.” “Why would you think I was collapsing somewhere?” Emma asked, turning towards the kitchen to start the coffee maker and maybe figure out what was in her fridge. Aside from the compliment-seeking french toast, she hadn’t actually made anything in awhile and the mom/chef combo inside her was feeling particularly unproductive.  

“You have any idea what time it is?”

Emma shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to stare at David. He, on the other hand, did not seem overly amused. In fact, he was the picture of frustrated older brother , a statue just on the edge of her kitchen floor, arms crossed so tightly Emma was worried he’d do something detrimental to his circulation.

“It’s almost 12:30,” David continued, finally taking a step into the kitchen and leaning against the counter.

“What?” “12:30, Em,” he repeated. “It is almost 12:30 in the afternoon. You know what time I texted you to tell you Henry got to school? 8:30. That’s almost four hours ago. Four hours of waiting for you to respond and wondering why you pushed your kid off on me last night without so much as a reasonable explanation.” “I had a reasonable explanation,” Emma argued, but her voice sounded defeated even to her. “I told you. I was just tired. I wanted to catch up on some sleep and, you know, I did. Apparently.”

She failed to add that the reason she’d managed to sleep until 12:30 in the afternoon, or at least almost 12:30 in the afternoon, was because she hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly three in the morning – mind racing with thoughts of Killian and how easy it had been to talk to him.

Her brother didn’t want to know that.

Or need to know that.

“You’re an enormous liar,” David said simply, hopping up onto her counter. He looked like an enormous kid – legs kicking out in front of him slightly while he straightened his department-mandated tie. He shifted a few times, trying to find a comfortable way of sitting with a gun holster strapped to his waist and finally gave up, yanking the thing out of the holder and putting it down on the counter next to him.

“You did not just put a gun on my kitchen counter like it was no big deal,” Emma sighed, crossing her own arms.

“Where else would you like me to put it?” “Anywhere but my counter.”

David groaned, but did as instructed – it never too much to get him to cave to Emma – and reholstered his gun, shifting his body again on the counter. “You really going to tell me what’s going on now?” he asked. “Or you want to keep pretending like you normally sleep until the middle of the afternoon?” “Almost 12:30 is hardly the middle of the afternoon,” Emma argued, pulling out a loaf of bread she didn’t actually remember buying and four eggs. “That’s, like, early afternoon at best.” “What are you doing?” David asked, ignoring her point completely.

“I am making you food. It is your lunch break isn’t it? One you’ve given up because you’re a ridiculous, overprotective idiot who worries too much?”

“Yuh huh.” “It is your lunch break, is it not?”

“It is.” “Then let me pay you back by feeding you. It’s the only talent I’ve got.” David hopped off the counter and stared at her, the disbelief written on his face. “You don’t actually think that do you?” Emma hummed in the back of her throat, flicking one of the knobs on the stove and bending down to pull a pan out of the cabinet close to the floor. “Emma,” David said seriously, pulling her short and forcing her to turn around and look at him, the hand on her shoulder tightening slightly. “C’mon I’m serious. You don’t really think that do you?” “Pleading the fifth?” she asked, trying to add a bit of humor to the otherwise depressing direction this conversation had taken. David didn’t look pleased.

“You are a hell of a lot more than the food, Em. Although the food isn't anything to scoff at either.” “Yeah?” she said, cracking the eggs over the pan and stuffing a few slices of bread on the other end of the counter.

“Yeah,” David repeated, nearly barking the word at her. “For one thing, you’re the greatest mother in the history of the world.” “Don’t let M’s hear you say that,” Emma laughed, tossing a handful of cheese into the eggs and shaking some pepper on top. “She’s liable to just burst into tears at the thought. Those hormones and everything.” “Well, one of two at least,” David corrected, grinning at her. “And she can’t keep using that excuse for the next six months. I think she’s just doing it to mess with me now.” “The same way you’re worried about her exerting herself?” Emma countered, flicking a fork through the the eggs quickly, moving her wrist without even having to think about it. “Because that excuse is getting a little old too.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Sure,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “Hand me two plates from that cabinet next to your head, will you?”

David nodded, twisting his arm behind him to pull open the cabinet door and only grunting slightly at the completely unnatural position. “There was definitely an easier way to do that,” Emma laughed, holding her hand out. David handed her the plates, but something in his eye caught Emma’s and she lowered her eyebrows questioningly. “What?” “You know there’s a reason for it,” he said, as if she was supposed to understand that.

“Cryptic,” Emma answered. “A reason for what?” “The worry.”

Her eyebrows shot up, but she did her best to keep her face even, turning back towards the stove to pile scrambled eggs on David’s plate. “And that reason is?” “They’re going to open up the sergeant's exam in a couple of weeks, like right before Thanksgiving and, uh, I’m going to take it.” Emma nodded slowly – she wasn’t completely surprised by the news. David was an absurdly good police officer – his arrest record was consistently one of the best in the precinct – and he’d only gotten better once he got promoted to detective. He had an eye for things – those kind of things regularly being major crime busts – but he was good at what he did and he deserved to be a sergeant.

Even if it terrified Emma just a little bit.

“That’s good though,” she said, pushing the plate towards him. “Isn’t it?” He made a noise in the back of his throat, fork toying with the eggs in front of him and rolled his head back and forth. “It would be,” he said softly, eyes refusing to meet Emma’s. “If I told Mary Margaret.” “What?”

She was screeching. She knew it because the sound of her voice actually hurt her head. But Emma didn’t know how else to react. David told Mary Margaret everything and, most of the time, Mary Margaret told David everything right back – except, Emma thought belatedly, about Killian. She hoped Mary Margaret hadn’t told David about Killian.

“Don’t yell,” David muttered, smiling at her and, finally, glancing up at her from underneath his eyelashes.

And suddenly Emma felt like she was sixteen and freaking out because David was considering moving to New York after college. He’d told her not to yell then too.

So she didn’t yell – then or now – she just followed his lead, always.

“I”m not yelling,” Emma sighed and David’s smile got even more pronounced. “I’m just trying to understand. You tell M’s everything.”

“I’m not sure how.” “How?”

“She’ll get worried. She’s already terrified something’s going to happen now. What happens when I’m in charge of other officers and I’ve got to put them before me?”

“That’s not any different than what you’d do now,” Emma pointed out.

If nothing else, David Nolan was, possibly, the bravest man she’d ever met – always determined to do the right thing, protecting everyone else, even when they couldn’t. Especially when they couldn’t.

It was how she’d ended up in the spare bedroom of his house in the first place.

“Yeah, but in six months I’ll have a kid,” David sighed, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth with all the grace of someone who was slightly terrified at the prospect of being responsible for another human being.

“I didn’t think you were nervous about tiny-Nolan,” Emma said, hopping up onto the counter next to him and nudging his arm. “Weren’t you the one who wanted eight hundred kids?” “Not eight hundred.” “But at least like six, right?” “Maybe a solid three.” “Does M’s know that?” David rolled his eyes, climbing back on the counter and bumping his head against her shoulder with so much drama Emma was curious if they’d suddenly time-travelled back a decade and a half. “Of course Mary Margaret knows that. She’s the one who came up with the three number.” “But not about the officer’s exam?” “Exactly.” “You still haven’t really explained why.” “I just told you,” David mumbled, sighing again dramatically. Emma tried not to laugh. That would have been inappropriate. He gave up her lunch break for this. She couldn’t laugh at him on his lunch break. “Because of the kid.” “And, what, you’re going to have a kid and suddenly this is going to get more dangerous?” “No, I’m going to have a kid and try and take this exam and have approximately a thousand things to deal with at once.” “Yeah, well, welcome to the club.” “Is that why you pushed Henry off on us last night?” David was smiling again – plate of eggs almost empty – and Emma shook her head at him, punching him softly in the side. He threw his body back dramatically and she groaned loudly at the dramatics of it all. He was ridiculous and worried and so overprotective, but he might also be Emma’s best friend and, aside from Henry, the single most important person in her life.

Not like she’d ever tell him that.

He’d probably laugh at her and then do that thing where he hugged her tightly and cupped the back of her head like she was still thirteen and made her forget everything she’d ever been worried about in the history of her entire life.

And that was, absolutely, the worst.

“I told you why Henry stayed with you last night,” Emma said pointedly, narrowing her eyes. David didn’t budge, one side of his mouth tilted up in a smile.

“And I believe that as much as you believe me,” he answered, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Is this about a guy?” Emma’s eyes actually hurt with how wide they got and her stomach was probably on the kitchen floor at this point – she couldn’t quite bring herself to look. “It’s totally about a guy isn’t it?” David continued, face a mix of curiosity and big brother and that did something else entirely to the state of Emma’s stomach.

“It’s not about a guy,” Emma said quickly. Her voice kept steady during the sentence though and she got a feeling it was because Killian Jones wasn’t a guy – he was, well, she wasn’t entirely sure what he was, but she was just as curious as ever to figure it out.

David’s mouth twisted into something that resembled disbelief and Emma jumped back off the counter, holding her hand out again for his empty plate. He gave it to, seemingly waiting for her to continue and Emma shook her head as she put the dishes in the sink. “When would I even have the time, anyway?” she continued, turning back around to stare at him.

He shrugged. “I have no idea, but maybe it’s not the worst idea in the history of the world.” “What?”

Emma was screeching again and David glared at her, sliding back onto the floor and readjusting his holster as he moved. “I don’t know,” he said, shrugging again for good measure. “But you know, if this were about a guy, it might not be the worst thing that’s ever happened. Could be good actually. If you were happy.” “I’m already happy.” “And I’m not arguing that, but you deserve something more than making me eggs on my lunch break, Em.” “You’re the one who showed up at my door.” “Because I’m worried about you. You didn’t answer your phone.” “I was asleep.” David sighed and shook his head, but he didn’t press her anymore. He knew when it was enough, knew when Emma had enough, knew when to back off. He always had.

She briefly considered apologizing and telling him about Killian and how much she wanted and how much that terrified her, but then her phone rang loudly from her bedroom and Emma held up one finger, silently asking David to wait as she sprinted down the hallway.

The phone was on its fourth ring and Emma knew she was dangerously close to voicemail territory when she grabbed the stupid thing from the pile of clothes at her feet, swiping her thumb across the screen without even looking at the ID.

“Hello?” Emma said, voice a bit breathless after her run across the apartment. “I need you to come in.”

“Ruby?” “Who else would tell you they need you to come in?” “I don’t know,” Emma brushed off. “What do you need?” “Henry left his textbook at Granny’s last night and I have it. Unless you want him to fail out of middle school, you should probably come get it.” “You can’t bring it here? It’s like my one day off for the rest of the year. I was kind of hoping I’d be able to avoid going uptown.” “I can’t bring it,” Ruby snapped back. “I have meetings all day. To deal with your show and this stupid all-star thing” “That was your idea.” “No, that was Zelena’s idea. I just told you about it.” “Fine,” Emma sighed. “Fine. I’ll come by later. Henry gets out of school at 2:30, we’ll be there by three o’clock. Does that work for you?” “I’ll be in a meeting, but you can break into my office if you’re interested.” “Leave the door unlocked.” “And risk someone just walking in there? Nope. Use those skills I know you have and break in. Trust me, you’ll earn some cool-mom bonus points with your kid when you do.”

“I’m not breaking locks in front of my kid.” “Yeah, well,” Ruby said, voice thick with sarcasm. “That’s your call, I guess. But that seems like your best option.” Emma rolled her eyes as she walked back into the living room and mouthed Ruby at her brother. He answered her face with an eye roll of his own and chuckled slightly as he swung open the refrigerator door, undoubtedly looking for something to drink.

There wasn’t anything in there.

She was the worst at-home chef on the planet.

“I will be there at three o’clock with my kid and we will ask security to open up your office like responsible human beings,” Emma said pointedly, falling into mom tone quickly. Ruby, of course, picked up on that immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re the best and so rule-abiding and boring,” Ruby mumbled. “I’ll talk to you later.” “Bye.” Emma yanked her hair out of the ponytail it had been in while she’d sort-of-slept and met David’s gaze from the other side of the kitchen. “You’ve got to go in don’t you?” he asked.

“How’d you figure that out.” “You’ve got a look on your face.” “I do not!” “You do and you should probably shower in case you run into this guy you’re totally not worried about when you walk into the office.” “He won’t be there,” Emma mumbled before she could think better of it. David’s answering laugh was nothing short of triumphant.

“I knew there was a guy.” “Get out.” “You’re just mad because I know you.” “And after I made you eggs.” “And I appreciated the eggs, but I know you, kid, and I know when you’re nervous about something and you’re nervous about this guy.” Emma sighed and rolled her head back and forth, trying to get rid of some of the tension that had taken control of her entire spine. “How’d you know he’d be at the network?” “Emma, please,” David laughed. “You know three people outside of the network – me, Mary Margaret and Henry. And we don’t even really count. He was always going to work at the network. So what is he? Camera guy? Post-production? He’s obviously not a chef, you wouldn’t want to mix things like that.” “Mix things like what?”

She kept asking questions. She needed to stop doing that. It was just prolonging the conversation. And she really needed to take a shower.

“Someone else cooking the food,” David said, like it was obvious. “You always have to be the one cooking the food, Em. It’s a control thing.” “Get out,” she repeated, walking forward to grab hold of his sleeve and yank him towards her. He laughed again.

And then he hugged her and he cupped the back of her head like he always did and kissed the top of her hair and, God, if Emma didn’t nearly start crying in the middle of her kitchen. “Now you’re just not playing fair,” she mumbled against his tie.

She could feel his chest move when he chuckled softly underneath her and he kissed her again. “What would Henry call it? Operation: Happy-Emma?” “Nah, he’d come up with a better name.” “I’m kind of partial to this one.” “I am happy.” “There’s not a limit on happiness, Em. You don’t reach a quota. It’s unlimited and no one deserves it more than you do.” “You and your wife are the biggest saps on the entire planet.” “Lucky you’re stuck with us,” he said, leaning back and practically beaming at her. “I gotta get back to work. Go take a shower, you look like someone who slept until nearly 12:30 in the afternoon.” “Ass,” Emma muttered, punching his side again.

David hugged her again, squeezing her tightly against him before smiling at her and walking towards the door. She stayed rooted to the spot as he moved, waiting for the sound of the door slamming shut before turning back towards the bathroom and, finally, getting in the shower.

It didn’t matter, she told herself. They’d be in and out of the building in five minutes, tops. He wouldn’t be there. And even if he was, it wouldn’t matter. She didn’t need to worry about that. It’s not like anything had happened the night before.

It even sounded like a lie in her head.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asked, walking down the steps his middle school with a slightly mystified look on his face.

Emma tried to ignore the stab of guilt at the question – she rarely picked Henry up from school, usually meeting him at the apartment or at David and Mary Margaret’s or Granny’s back-corner booth.

“I figured I’d come get you instead of schlepping you back to David and M’s this afternoon. Plus, someone left a textbook at Granny’s last night and Ruby brought it with her to the office so we’ve got to go to the studio to pick it up.” “We’re going into the studio?” “I’m pretty certain you’ll need to do homework at some point, so, yeah, we’re going to get the book. But just the book, ok? No wandering around or poking in on sets. Deal?” Henry’s shoulders sagged and he made a noise that was a mix of a groan and an overly dramatic sigh – he absolutely got that from David. “I guess,” he mumbled.

“We can break into Ruby’s office if you want.” “Yeah?” His eyes lit back up at that and, suddenly, he was standing straight and Emma was silently cursing Ruby for getting in her head.

“Ruby’s in a meeting and I was going to ask security, but this seems kind of fun, right?” “Super fun.” “Alright kid, come on, let’s go commit a misdemeanor.” Emma had no intention of getting back on the train for the 10-block trip to the network – particularly when they had to go crosstown and would have actually needed to go 20 blocks out of their way to transfer – so she let Henry hail a cab and made it to 6th Avenue in nearly record time.

The same security guard was sitting behind the desk in the lobby and he nearly dropped the magazine he was reading when Emma and Henry walked in. “Ms. Swan,” he yelled and Henry nearly choked on the air he was breathing. “It’s so nice to see you again!” “I thought we decided on Emma before, Doc,” she said, flashing her ID badge.

He nodded quickly, spinning in his chair as Emma directed Henry towards the bank of elevators at the back of the room. “Yeah, yeah, we did,” he agreed. “It’s nice to see you. Are you filming again today?” “Nah, just here to pick something up. We’ll probably be back down in five minutes.” “And who do you have with you today?”

Emma tried not to sigh loudly and felt her hand clench around Henry’s shoulder out of instinct. He tried to brush her off, but he was still 12 and Emma still had the distinct strength advantage in this relationship. “I’m Henry,” he said, throwing her a vaguely defiant look. “I’m her son.” “Son?” Doc repeated. “I didn’t know you had a son.” “Yeah, I tend to keep my personal life personal,” Emma said shortly, words falling out of her mouth with a hint of frustration. “We’ll be back down in a few minutes.” Henry was skulking in the corner of the elevator lobby when Emma walked in and he refused to meet her eyes as they moved up towards Ruby’s office. And she felt guilty all over again. Killian had asked her about it the night before, the very specific line between her on TV and her in the rest of her life and why she was so determined to make sure that line stayed in tact – no matter what.

She hadn’t really been able to answer him before – certain the truth was liable to scare him off.

Henry was hers and only hers, had been since the day he’d been born and, deep down, Emma was nothing short of selfish and possessive and she didn’t really want to share. She didn’t want to use Henry as some sort of prop to up her ratings, but she especially didn’t want people to start pitying her for what they were – a single mom with a rap sheet and a 12-year-old kid who didn’t really know anything about his dad.

So Emma kept her life in compartments and made sure that her defenses were strongest around Henry. In the end, he was the only thing that mattered.

The elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open and Henry was practically half way down the hallway by the time Emma had even started moving. “Hey,” she shouted at his back. “Wait two seconds kid. The door’s going to be locked anyway.” Henry groaned and Emma jogged down the hallway, pulling a bobby pin out of her hair as she moved. She caught up with him a few seconds later, wrapping an arm around him like he hadn’t just been moping for an entire elevator ride and tugged him towards Ruby’s door.

“You ready to learn how to pick a lock?” Emma asked.

“What? You’re actually going to show me how to do it?” He’d been begging for years – ever since David had mentioned that Emma was pretty good at sneaking into the ice cream shop in Storybrooke when they were growing up – but she’d always put it off, trying to tread that good mom road. Now, she just wanted to share something with her kid.

And she really was good at this.

Emma nodded, crouching in front of the door handle and holding up the bobby pin pinched between her fingers. “You don’t need a ton,” she said, sticking the device into the lock and straining her ears to hear the tell-tale click. “You just need to work the lines. So you push this in and try and get the lines to move up like it’s an actual key. It usually takes some finagling because it’s, obviously, not an actual key, but if you get it just right…”

She twisted her wrist quickly and the lock clicked open. Henry looked overjoyed. “That was awesome!” He sprinted into the office, pushing the door open quickly and Emma’s grin was starting to hurt the muscles in her face.

“Are you breaking and entering, Swan?” Emma nearly fell over. She put her hand down on the floor, trying to steady herself – still crouching in front of the doorframe – and looked up to find a very amused Killian Jones staring at her. He held his hand out, nodding towards it and it only took half a second for Emma to take it – the warmth of him radiating into her almost immediately. Killian tugged her up and Emma was only a few inches away from him, that now-familiar smirk on his face doing something very specific to her thought process.

Henry.

Henry was in the office.

“Killian?” he asked, walking back out with his textbook balanced in the crook of his elbow.

“Hey Henry,” Killian answered, not missing a beat and Emma wondered when she’d stop standing like an open-mouthed fool in the middle of the hallway. “What are you guys doing here?”

“He forgot a book at Granny’s last night,” Emma answered. Killian’s head snapped back towards hers and he raised his eyebrows at her, some sort of unspoken question Emma wasn’t positive she had an answer to – at least not with her son standing a few feet away.

“History,” Henry mumbled, drawing a laugh out of Killian.

“I take it that’s not your favorite?” “The worst.” “Getting him to do history homework is like pulling teeth,” Emma sighed. “He won’t even do it when M’s tells him to and she’s teaches at his school.” Killian and Henry stared at her for a moment, surprised at the information she’d just offered up without any sort of question or prompt. If Emma were being honest, she was just as surprised. But then Killian smiled at her and Henry moved closer to her side and it all almost felt normal .

“You know I majored in history,” Killian said, glancing back at Henry’s textbook.

“What?” He nodded, hand reaching back to tug on that piece of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t think they had majors at the Academy. Just taught you how to tie knots or something like that.” “Your understanding of the inner-workings of this nation’s military are sorely lacking, Swan.” “Wait, wait,” Henry cut in. “You were in the military too? Do you know how to shoot a gun?” “Henry!” Emma hissed.

“No, it’s alright, love,” Killian muttered and Henry’s eyes got wider at that . He looked back down at the 12-year-old next to him and smiled. “I do, but, more importantly, I also know just about every date in that book of yours. I could probably help you study – if that’s cool with your mom.”

God damnit.

God fucking damnit.

This was not fair.

He wasn’t supposed to be this – smart and talented and so god damn attractive Emma wasn’t certain how he could possibly be real. But there he was, smiling at her kid and offering up time she was fairly positive he didn’t have and Emma’s phone suddenly felt very heavy again, the weight of his number practically dragging her back down to the floor.

“Can he mom? I’ve got this huge test next week.” Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “These are the kinds of things you’re supposed to tell me,” she sighed.

“You’re busy.” “Not too busy to know about big tests next week.” “But maybe Killian could help.”

She wasn’t going to win – Emma knew it and the smile on Killian’s face proved he knew it too. This was supposed to be a five-minute trip. In and out of the office without any complications. And now her kid was setting up study dates with a guy she maybe went on a date with the night before.

Emma needed to cook something.

“I’d be happy to, Swan,” Killian said softly, eyes meeting hers quickly.

“What about the new fall menu?” “Finished this morning, actually.” “Yeah?”

“With sweet potato skins as our brand-new featured appetizer.” Emma laughed, the sound of it shaking her body and pushing away any of the lingering nerves she had about this cocky, sure-of-himself Iron Chef.

“You are impossible,” she said softly.

Killian shrugged. “What do you say, Henry?” he asked. “Next week? We’ll get you an A, I promise.” “Is that cool, mom?” Henry asked, spinning to stare at her. Emma glanced at Killian over the top of Henry’s head, heart stuttering just a bit at the way he looked at her.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” she said. “We could maybe come by the restaurant?” She’d asked the question into the ground mostly, but pulled her head up once her lips had stopped moving to find Killian beaming at her. “That sounds good,” he said softly and Emma was positive the sound of his voice would play on loop in her head for the rest of the night. “When’s your test, Henry?” “Thursday.” “Tuesday work?” “Sure.” “You good with Tuesday, Swan?” Emma nodded. She had to do a promotional spot for the show – a brand-new fall themed commercial that she wasn’t entirely certain was necessary – but she’d be done by 5:30. Or she’d run out of the studio.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” she said. “Come on kid, we should get going. Make sure you relock Ruby’s door, ok?” Henry nodded, sprinting back towards the office to shut off the lights and lock the door – leaving Emma alone with Killian for all of five seconds.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For?” “For offering to help him like that. You didn’t have to do that.” “I wanted to.” “You don’t even know him.” “I almost know you though,” Killian argued. “And, technically speaking, he’s kind of like some biological extension of you, right?” Emma nodded, nervous laughter bubbling out of her mouth. “So then, it’s really not a big deal.” “Won’t you have to cook? I mean it’s a restaurant right, you have to make the food?” “I’ve got a fairly intelligent staff, Swan. I think they can handle one night. I’ll make your food though.” Emma bit her lip – heartbeat betraying her completely at the statement. “Cheeseburgers?”

“Rol will be thrilled.”

“You never said what you were doing here,” Emma said, realization dawning on her quickly. “I thought you hated being here.” “I never said I hated it, just that I tried not to be here if I didn’t have to. And I had to. We were filming IC today.” “Yeah? What was your secret ingredient?” “Apples,” he groaned. “Some stupid fall theme that I think was probably Regina’s idea.”

“Did you win?”

His eyes flashed up towards her, a slice of blue that was full of confidence and talent and something that Emma couldn’t quite place – almost like he wanted to impress her. “Always, Swan.” She bit her lip again.

“Ready, mom?” Henry asked and Emma got the impression he spent a few extra moments in Ruby’s office on purpose. She loved that kid a ridiculous amount.

“Yeah,” she answered, wrapping her arm around Henry’s shoulder and tugging him against her side as she looked back up towards Killian. “We’ll see you later.” “Tuesday.” “And Friday too,” Henry added. “On TV at least.” “That too.”

He was grinning at her again when she walked by and Emma couldn’t stop biting her lip. David had been absolutely right – this was totally about a guy.