#i have so much to say about him so expect tons more nolan posts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spartanguard · 5 years ago

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sick of love (2/3)

Summary: If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

A/N: Onto chapter two!! As stated before, this story was inspired by this tumblr post. Thank you again to the organizers of @cssns for putting on this awesome event and to @sherlockianwhovian for making that AMAZING art up there! I’m planning to post the last chapter a week from now but that depends on how much writing gets done while I’m teaching at band camp...so if not then, then shortly thereafter. Happy reading!

Wrong.

See, Emma had told herself that under the assumption that she’d only be seeing Killian once a week, in the controlled setting of Snow and Dave’s house, with them and Henry as buffers. That they’d be able to keep it completely chill and casual—sharing conversation over beer, maybe someday discussing their apparent shared aversion to soulmates, and who knows, getting drunk and having a makeout they don’t remember the next day. You know, keeping things safe.

Okay, maybe that last one was just something that had happened in her dreams—ones that were usually populated by whichever Marvel character was the focus of Henry’s obsession at the time, because damn did the women in their casting department know what they were doing. However, in the days following that first encounter, Killian’s face had replaced that of Thor in her fantasies, without conscious thought.

She was sure a therapist could have a field day with her, and would probably say that by fantasizing, she was keeping things in a risk-free environment where she had control. Which she was vaguely aware of. But honestly? It was a little annoying how easily he slipped in there, because the things she imagined and dreamed them doing...if she didn’t blush the next time she saw him, it’d be a miracle.

But she had until Friday to get that under control, and it was only Wednesday. That was totally doable. (Just like him...oh god, she needed to stop.)

Fate had other ideas in mind, though; it always does. Because of course, the skip got a little too aggressive while she was trying to take her down. How was Emma supposed to know the other woman carried a can of Monster in her purse? Or that it made an excellent blunt object? Despite getting whacked in the head, Emma still managed to bring her in. But the arresting officer took one look at the growing bruise on her forehead, and the blood she didn’t even realize was pouring out of it, before sending her to the ER for stitches and to check for a concussion.

Emma grumbled the whole time they drove her over, but knew it was better to be safe than sorry; she’d do the same if it was Henry in her place. And while she’d normally be worried about going to any place that involved a lot of contact, at least they had to wear gloves there.

After dealing with the typical harried nurse asking the requisite questions—any allergies, what medications was she on, was there a chance she could be pregnant (ha!), could she have lovesickness (double ha!)—she expected to see the worn-out woman again, who would inevitably fix her up, lecture her about living dangerously and/or her unseasonable attire, and then send her on her way. She was not expecting the curtain to pull back and reveal Killian, reading at her chart, wearing scrubs and a white coat.

“I see you need stitches, Miss Swan...Emma?” He looked up at her, surprised when he saw it was her—which also made her realize they’d never exchanged last names.

“Hey, Dr.…” she had to squint to read the embroidery on his coat. “Jones.”

“Bloody hell, lass; what did you do?”

Like their first meeting, he jumped into action, tossing aside the clipboard and immediately inspecting her injury. She hated the deja vu this was giving her.

Even if this gave her a better look at the light freckles and the way his ears came to an almost elfin point.

Whatever.

“Just a hazard of the job,” she said, hoping to downplay it; this certainly wasn’t the first time a skip had sent her here, and wouldn’t be the last.

“Hardly seems like a safe line of work,” he tutted, gently poking the mess on her head with his rubber-gloved hand. He hit a particularly sensitive spot, drawing a wince. “Sorry,” he said softly. “Yeah, you’re definitely going to need a few stitches. I’ll be right back.”

He returned shortly with the necessary materials and got to work. “I’ll have to numb this, but that should be the most painful part, aside from getting smacked in the face with...what hit you?”

“An energy drink.”

“Huh; that’s a new one.”

“Really? I figured they see everything in these kinds of places.”

“Oh, we do; but people are endlessly creative.”

She giggled, but it quickly went away when the numbing injection came, turning into a hiss. “Did you distract me on purpose?”

“Aye. Figured it was better than surprising you like last time.”

Her hand throbbed at the memory; it was mostly healed but she was still keeping it wrapped up. “I guess this tells me why you knew what to do right away.”

“Yeah,” he said, but she could tell he was focusing on the task at hand, and could feel the gentle tugging of the needle and sutures as he started to work—though that was all she could feel, thankfully. “And I can see why you were such a good patient; I get the impression you’re used to it,” he tossed back, smirking a bit.

“Hey, I’m not THAT clumsy; only when it comes to beverage containers, apparently.”

“I’ll be sure to keep my flask away from you, then.”

“A flask? What are you, a sailor?”

“Former Navy, yes.”

Okay, she had to stop making these sweeping generalizations about him if they were all going to be proven true. “Wow; cool.”

“For the most part, yeah; some places were rather hot, though.”

She wanted to laugh but not if it meant moving while she was pretty sure a needle was in her skin, so settled for the stillest chuckle she could manage. “Did they teach you dad jokes in the Navy?”

“No, mostly just medicine.”

“This is the British Navy, right?”

“The Royal Navy of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, yes.”

“Then how’d you end up over here?”

There was another, rougher tug on her laceration, but then Killian pulled away. “You’re all stitched up,” he said, but then he swallowed. “The Navy doesn’t have a ton of use for one-handed doctors, unfortunately, but they will give you a decent pension with your honorable discharge.”

“Well, that’s awfully ableist of them.”

“You won’t hear me disagreeing,” he concurred as he took off his gloves and cleaned up; she noticed that his false hand did have some articulation, but not a ton. “So, there wasn’t much left for me there after that happened, and I figured there must be some reason the colonists rebelled. So, here we are.”

She could tell he was mostly telling the truth, but definitely leaving parts out. “That’s a pretty flimsy reason to pack up and move across the ocean. What did your family say?”

He shrugged as he wrapped up the last of the suturing kit. “No one left to talk me out of it.”

A pit formed in her stomach and she realized they had a bit more in common. “Yeah, I know how that goes.”

He cocked his head as he returned from disposing the soiled instruments. “What about David and Snow? And your son?”

“Oh, they’re amazing; but I grew up in the foster system. I didn't end up with the Nolans until I was 15.”

“Ahh, you’re another lost one.”

The casual way he said it took her aback briefly. “I guess that’s one way of putting it. Are...are you?”

He pulled his little flashlight thing out of his coat pocket (she had no idea what it was really called) and fiddled with it a bit. “My mum died when I was young; dad left a few years later. So it was just me and my brother, but I entered the system when he joined the Navy. Then followed him in a few years later.”

His somber tone, paired with the previous revelation about no more family, was enough to let her know that wasn’t quite all of it. “Can I ask what happened to him?”

“After I check you for a concussion.”

“Ugh, do I have to?”

“Yes,” he commanded.

She rolled her eyes, but let him perform the exam; better safe than sorry, right? “You’re clear there,” he told her, after a few simple tests that included pointing that damn flashlight in her eyes. And in a quieter voice, continued, “IED in Iraq. Head injury. I tried, but...I couldn’t save him.”

Well, that explained why he was so insistent on the concussion exam. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is,” he said, in a tone that suggested he was convincing himself of that as much as her, as he pocketed his flashlight and grabbed her chart again. “At least I can still help save other people.”

“Wish you’d been there when Neal came in,” she blurted, thinking out loud. Then mortification washed over her as she realized what she said. She never talked about what happened to Neal—only with Henry, and only when he asked.

“Guess it’s my turn to extend the condolences, then,” he said softly.

She let go of the breath she’d been holding; most people were quick with empty platitudes, so it was almost refreshing to hear something sincere. And there it was again—that same intense, understanding look in his eyes from the other day; it felt like he was reading her like a book, and it was more than a little unsettling—but not in a way that scared her, oddly enough. Still, it was overwhelming enough for her to avert her gaze. “Don’t we make a pair, huh?” she scoffed.

“I wouldn’t let Snow hear you say that if I were you,” he jibed. She could hear the laughter in his voice but didn’t dare look up just yet.

“She’s probably already got the wedding invitations on order.”

He laughed for real this time, a deep, hearty chuckle. “Hope they aren’t nonrefundable.”

“Same.”

He excused himself to go write up her prescriptions—an antibiotic and some extra-strength headache medicine—and returned a few minutes later with an easy smile on his face. He went back into doctor mode as he gave her care instructions for the next few days and weeks, and then asked, “Any questions?”

“Yeah, but it’s not related to any of that.”

He tilted his head in question. “What is it?”

“How exactly do you manage to do all this and...not touch anyone?” She’d been wondering it ever since he came into the room the first time. “It seems like a job like this would put you at higher risk of skin contact.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it does, to some extent,” he explained. “But when you’re already down a hand, that cuts the odds in half. And I just double up on gloves the rest of the time.”

She I thought his glove looked kind of thick. “Gotcha. Thanks for telling me; I was just curious, is all.” A slightly awkward silence settled over them; she felt like she needed to divulge something, after everything he had, but after dropping a Neal reference, she was kind of spent in the emotional backstory department. “So...no one has tried to claw at that pretty face of yours?”

He smiled at that, arching an eyebrow in apparent amusement. “No, thankfully; I’ve gotten fairly good at evasive maneuvers, ever since my brother gave me this,” he said, pointing to a faded scar on his cheek.

“Yeah, that was something I figured out pretty quick, too. But I guess my training never covered giant soda cans.”

“Well, that’s something to work on, then. Just not until this heals, okay?”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she said with a salute

“Please, I was only a Lieutenant.”

“Eh, Captain suits you better. And thank you for this again.”

“Again, it was my pleasure, Swan.”

She casually hopped off the exam table, but apparently, her head wasn’t as ready for that as the rest of her body, and the room began to spin as soon as she was on her feet. She could feel herself swaying, but before her knees had a chance to buckle under her, a firm grip and strong arms stabilized her.

“Woah—easy there,” he cautioned. “You may not have a concussion, but that’s still a nasty bump.”

She took a deep breath as the vertigo dissipated, but the next one caught in her throat when she realized that he was the one holding her—and that she kind of liked it. Her eyes were immediately drawn to his hand and prosthesis, the way they were curled around her arms and holding her in place, but were still gentle.

He must have taken her staring for shock, because he quickly let go and stepped out of her space. “You okay now?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, shaking her head to clear the momentary fog—and to try to get rid of the sense of loss she felt as soon as he’d moved away. “I guess I better get going with these,” she said lamely, nodding toward the prescription slips she’d shoved in her pocket.

“Yeah; the pharmacy closes soon.” His voice was a bit rougher than it’d been a minute ago, and that faraway look was back in his eyes. “See you Friday?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she said, then left as quick as she could.

Shit. How was she going to be able to keep things casual if he continued to have that kind of effect on her?

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

When Friday rolled around, she almost wanted to feign sickness to get out of going. His steady hand had also found its way into her dreams, as well as what was surely a strong, warm embrace. There was no way she could face him now.

But she knew Henry would see through any excuse she tried to throw at him—he had inherited her built-in lie detector to some extent—so she just swallowed her pride, grabbed her usual bottle of wine, and they headed off.

“Whose car is that?” Henry asked as soon as they pulled up.

“Killian’s,” she answered grumpily.

“Is he why you didn’t want to come? Is he a dick?”

“Hey, language!” she scolded. “And he’s not; he’s...I dunno, the opposite, or something. You’ll see.”

Her brother had finally bowed to the summer heat and turned on his air conditioning, so everyone was seated around the living room when they got inside: Dave and Snow on their respective recliners (Emma joked they were their Carl and Ellie chairs), and Killian on one end of the sofa, leaving the rest of it open for her and Henry.

David and Snow got up and exchanged the requisite hugs, complete with Snow fussing over Emma’s stitches, but Killian hung back, understandably. Seeing him back in his leather jacket and dark wash jeans again was almost a jolt from how soft he’d looked in his scrubs, but she knew why he’d default back to his armor; heck, she’d even put on some more tonight, opting for a long-sleeve crewneck instead of the v-necked t-shirts she’d been wearing.

He gave her a simple “Swan” as a greeting, and she nodded back, before introducing Henry to him. “A pleasure to meet you, lad,” he said, offering his gloved hand. Henry studied it a minute, then cast a curious glance at Emma before taking it. Knowing Henry, he was already putting two and two together; with any luck, she’d be able to keep him out of Snow’s plotting, at least.

Emma left to the kitchen to pour wine for her and Snow, but when she got back, Henry was giving Killian the full 21 questions: where was he from, what did he do, all that jazz.

“How did you lose your hand?”

“Henry David,” she said in warning—he knew better than to ask stuff like that—but Killian didn’t seem fazed.

He leaned toward Henry conspiratorially. “Well, don’t tell anyone else, but...a crocodile took it!” His voice was full of childish humor and even his eyes sparkled with it. Henry gasped and then laughed, aware it was a joke but no less entertained.

“So does that make you Captain Hook?” he asked.

“Perhaps; my ship is named the Jolly Roger.”

As soon as that came up, Henry’s attention was completely taken by the fact that there was a potential pirate sitting next to him and all thoughts of more personal questions went out the door, thankfully. And bless Killian, he answered all of Henry’s questions seriously (excluding the first one) and didn’t seem put off the boy’s endless curiosity like a lot of adults were; this was a kid who had to transfer classes in first grade because his old-fashioned teacher couldn’t tolerate all his questions. But Killian handled it with ease.

The only thing that could take Henry off the thought of high seas adventure was food, and he made a mad dash to the table once dinner was ready. “Thanks for that,” Emma told Killian after they were left in Henry’s dust. “I know he can be a bit much.”

“Nonsense; he’s a brilliant lad,” Killian waved off. “You should be proud.”

“Oh, I am.”

It didn’t go without notice that Killian had provided the beer for this meal. She stuck to her wine while they ate, but afterwards, as she watched David and Henry throw around a football in the front yard from the double rocker on the porch, she gave his a try. And yeah, it was significantly better.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Killian was standing by the door, leaning against the brick siding and sipping from his own bottle. One long leg was crossed over the other, highlighting just how well those skinny jeans fit him. Something about it was insanely hot, both literally and figuratively.

And it only got worse when he pushed off the wall with his hips and sauntered forward. “Much better than David’s alcohol-flavoured water, no?”

“Oh, for sure,” she agreed. “Definitely what you need on a day like today.” Granted, she probably shouldn’t be drinking booze at all with how much she was sweating, but she’d long since learned how to make sure she didn’t dehydrate in the summer—and, given the fact that he wasn’t keeling over, either, so had Killian.

“Is this seat taken?” he inquired, nodding at the empty half of the rocker.

“Go ahead.”

For a few minutes, they just sat there in companionable silence, watching the continued passes in the yard, until Killian finally said, “They know that’s not real football, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna show up next week with a soccer ball, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think I don’t already have one in my car?”

“Why am I not surprised?” she chuckled. “But that’s another thing you’d have to fight David over.”

“I figured as much,” Killian sighed. “He’s as stubborn as my brother.”

“Must be a big brother thing, then.”

“Aye, probably.” He took a long pull on his beer. “David’s great with Henry, it seems.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “He was kind of born to be an uncle; he’s been there since day one. I can only imagine how great a dad he’ll be someday.”

“If you don’t mind my asking—where is Henry’s father?”

It wasn’t an uncommon question; more than one snoop-nosed PTA mom had asked that and sneered. Killian was the first to ask it in a non-judging way. “He’s gone. Neal—the guy I mentioned the other day; that's him.”

He nodded, understanding. “I probably should have guessed from your tone. What happened?”

She swallowed; it had been so long since that night.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he was quick to assure her.

“No, it’s fine. He...well, we were something of teenage delinquents,” she started to explain. “We ran away, kind of shoplifted our down the East Coast. He was older and dreamy, especially to a 16-year-old girl who’d never had much. I thought he was the one, you know? Everything just seemed...better with him.” She hadn’t known exactly what being soulmates entailed, but for a touch-starved orphan growing up in the foster system—moreso, in a society that placed so much emphasis on physical contact—once she had finally discovered that bliss, she’d given herself over to it fully. The first time he held her hand, she swore there were sparks. When she saw the love in his eyes, it filled her with a warmth that she’d never known before, deep in her soul. He filled her dreams so often, she thought they had to be shared. And making love? To be fair, he was her first, but—damn.

“Aye, I know that,” he added, and that distant look was back in his eyes.

“So, yeah, we’re in love and making plans and just need a bit of extra cash to get us to Florida, where we planned on settling down.” She snorted. “Settling down at 16; god, I was dumb. Anyways, he tried to sell some watches to make up what we needed for a plane ticket, but the deal went sour and...he got shot.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, softly. She could still clearly remember what went down in that ambulance, as they tried to revive him and couldn’t, then her being the only one available to identify the body. “And the rest, I guess, is history.”

Killian chewed on his bottom lip a bit; there was still something on his mind. “Was...was he your soulmate?”

She swallowed again; this was the really personal part. “I don’t know.” The only people she’d admitted that to were close family, and even they remained a bit skeptical—how could she not know? “I thought I was getting lovesickness a few weeks later, but then I found out I was pregnant, so I’ve never really been sure if it was or not.”

Killian’s eyes grew wide for a moment and he studied her solemnly. “So that’s why you cover up? In case he wasn’t?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. It was a little unnerving that he’d figured it out so easily.

“I...uh,” he stammered, nervously scratching at a spot behind his ear. “Um, same.”

“Same?”

“Yeah.”

She hadn’t expected that; she’d never met anyone else who shared her uncertainty. While covering up wasn’t an odd thing, it was usually only done by people who truly hated the idea of the system altogether—not those who had been potentially burned by it.

He took her silence as an invitation to continue. “Her name was Milah; she lived near the base. We met in a pub and it was...a whirlwind, honestly, but she was incredible. And it was like you said: everything felt amazing; I had no reason to believe we weren’t soulmates, save for one minor problem.”

“What was that?”

“She was married.”

“Fuck. Was he hers?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I never got a chance to find out for sure. Once he learned she was cheating on him with me, he messed with her car. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but we were in it and she lost control; hit a tree. She died on impact; I...well, this.” He held up his prosthetic.

“Oh my god, Killian—I’m so sorry.”

He gave her a sad smile. “The Navy took care of me as best they could, but I was still out of it for a long time as I healed, and dealt with infection and whatnot. I think it was three months or so? So I have no idea if I had lovesickness or not in there. And I...I wasn’t sure I wanted one if it wasn’t her. Thus...” He nodded down towards his attire.

“Yeah.” She definitely understood.

It took a bit for the weight of the conversation to settle on them; they were quiet for a few minutes, until Emma got fidgety, as if she needed to move to make her thoughts come to a rest. Seriously—what were the odds she’d literally stumble into someone who actually got her? It was simultaneously exciting and terrifying.

She shifted in her seat to relieve some of the tension building within, and that’s when she realized just how close they were sitting—she’d barely moved when her thigh brushed against his, heat radiating from it that likely had as much to do with the ambient temperature as her own heightened awareness. As casually as she could muster, she pulled it back, but couldn’t tell if he noticed or not.

“Who knew we’d be trading tragic backstories after only a week?” he finally commented, giving her a gentle smile.

She smiled back. “I’d repeat what I said the other day, but Snow is in earshot. So...cheers?” This time, she was the one to offer up her bottle.

“Cheers,” he echoed, clinking the lip of his against the neck of hers, which gave her some other thoughts she didn’t really want to entertain long at the present moment.

They were both taking long pulls from their drinks when Snow herself came out, almost as if she was summoned. “Don’t you two look cozy?” she commented, unable to hide the twinkle in her eye at the thought.

“Ew, no, it’s too hot to think about that,” Emma threw back. Between the humid air and whatever had just passed between her and Killian, she was almost thinking about taking off her jacket. Almost.

“Well, how about coming back into the AC for some pie?”

“Sounds perfect, milady,” Killian answered for both of them; Emma usually hated that but couldn’t really find it in her to complain.

Snow shouted at the other guys and headed back in; David and Henry immediately followed, pounding up the stairs to the porch and hardly giving a passing glance to its current residents.

“Shall we?” Killian asked as the screen door banged shut, a sound that was quickly followed by Snow yelling at Dave.

“Yeah; if we dawdle, Snow will get ideas.”

“I’m under the impression that anything will.”

“Also true.”

He chuckled as he stood. The motion made the chair start rocking under Emma, making her jolt—they’d kept it still while they were sitting on it.

Wordlessly, he held out his false hand to her, and just as unconsciously, she took it and stood. She didn’t even think about it until she was back on her feet, and then found herself staring at their joined hands. Even though his was fake, even though hers was gloved, she swore she felt heat.

Her eyes darted up to look at him, to see his reaction—and he too was staring at their joined hands with a bit of awe. Did he mean to do that, and expect her not to take it? Or was it as instinctive as her move was?

Either way, she quickly pulled her hand back and stuck it in her jeans pocket. “Uh, thanks,” she blurted, then turned to head in the house; his heavy footfalls followed her, as did a sense of deja vu.

The rest of the evening went without incident—unless Henry losing his mind to the sound of Killian’s ringtone (the theme to Pirates of the Caribbean) counted—until Killian got called into work and Emma decided they should head out, too (but not before he insisted on checking on her stitches).

She’d honestly never met anyone that threw her so off balance as Killian. It was so nice to finally have a friend that understood her, so maybe it was just that novelty that was throwing her for a loop. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on, and she wasn’t sure it was welcome.

Oh, well. Once a week—she only had to see him once a week, barring any more emergency room trips. She could do this. They could do this.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

And they did, for a while. The next few weeks, she only saw him at the Nolans, with his charming self and his good beer and his soccer ball, which Henry unsurprisingly took to quickly—her son had the incredible knack to learn anything with ease. Other than a jab at her usual doctor for not taking more care in the way he removed Emma’s stitches, they managed to avoid any other close calls, physically or emotionally—and he seemed just as keen to stay away from those as Emma.

They fell into a pretty casual friendship, and when they weren’t inadvertently baring their souls to one another, she genuinely enjoyed his company, as well as the buffer it gave her against Snow’s constant fairy tale romance ideals. They’d chat about music, movies, books, sports, and he was great with Henry, too—actually, he was almost better with him than she was when it came to what might be classified as Henry’s nerdier interests, like comics and role-playing games. She was dangerously close to being roped into a game of Dungeons and Dragons, with Henry as the DM and Killian as a rogue (or so she was told—she didn’t quite know what that meant).

(Although the idea of Killian as a pirate on an adventure? That was definitely an image that stuck with her, and had been ever since his Captain Hook reference...she kept that private, however.)

Everything was easy until the day she got on the train much earlier than usual, exhausted after an all-night stakeout (that thankfully landed in a nab) and desperate for a seat—and the only one open was right next to a weary-looking Killian.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, standing in front of him.

His eyes darted up warily, but his face broke into a grin when he realized it was her. “Of course, Swan; have at it. I didn’t know you rode this train.”

“Almost every day,” she said as she plopped down. “Just usually not so early.”

“You got the bail jumper that quick?”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “More like it took way too long. Overnight job.”

“Same; you must be beat. At least this one didn’t go for the face.”

She snorted. “Thank god. I almost considered starting to wear a ski mask, but it probably wouldn’t look good if I started dressing like the criminals I’m supposed to be catching.”

He laughed. “Maybe you can in the winter.”

“Maybe. God, I can’t wait for it to get cold again so I can wear scarves without anyone looking at me weird.”

“Right?”

They traded stories about adventures and misadventures they’d had with the way they covered up; his mostly had to do with patients tearing his clothes, although there was one story about a woman who tried to get admitted to the lovesick wing after claiming he’d kissed her when, in all reality, he’d treated her for the flu a week prior and she was just still sick—not an altogether uncommon phenomenon.

“I had a guy try to do that to me once, too,” she told him. “It was several years ago when I wasn’t wearing gloves yet and made the mistake of shaking hands with a furniture salesman; when I went to pick up the stuff a couple weeks later, he was clearly ill and tried to convince me we were meant to be.”

“And you felt completely fine?”

“Obviously.”

“Some people are just that desperate.”

“It’s ridiculous!”

She’d been so caught up in the conversation that she hardly noticed they were at her stop. Nor did the train conductor, apparently, because the brake came on hard. Emma had to grip the pole next to her to avoid being completely thrown into Killian’s side, but was able to lean away enough that only her hip bumped into his. His scrubs must have been terribly thin, because she could feel the heat coming off his body even more than the day they’d been on Snow and Dave’s porch.

“Well, this is me,” she said as she stood. “It was nice seeing you!”

“Wait,” he called, then stood up with her. “This might seem a bit forward, but I was wondering...could I take you and Henry out to dinner sometime?”

She was a bit stunned at the request; she hadn’t been asked out in...well, not since creepy Walsh tried to tell her they were soulmates. But she knew Killian wasn’t looking at it that way. She also knew she had to answer before the train rolled off with her still on it.

“Uh, yeah, sure—we’d love to; when’s good for you?”

“Tonight, tomorrow?”

“I really don’t feel like cooking tonight.”

“Tonight it is. You know where the Regina Pizzeria is on Cambridge?”

“Of course.”

“6:30?”

“Sounds perfect. See you then!”

She managed to get off the train right as the doors were closing, but glanced back and saw him smiling at her as the train pulled away; she couldn’t help but return it, especially with the way his hair was adorably hanging in his face. He really was cute.

And friends can be cute. Platonically cute. Yes. That’s a thing she’d been reminding herself a lot over the past few weeks.

She immediately passed out when she got home, only waking up to the sound of Henry arriving back from his sleepover at the Nolans. He obviously loved the idea of going out for pizza and seeing Killian, but apparently had some concerns.

“Are you sure he meant both of us? I don’t want to be the third wheel.”

“What the—what?” Where would he get that idea? “Yes, he specifically said your name; and you’re my kid; you’re not a third wheel.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to cockblock Killian.”

She was stunned. The only admonishment she could come up with was, “Henry David.”

“What? He totally likes you and you totally like him. I may be a kid but I still have eyes; you’re both so obvious.”

That definitely left an impact on her. Henry knew everything—what happened in the past and why she wrapped up; she assumed he’d figured out that Killian was the same. That that was exactly why they got along: there was no pretense, no double entendre—just two people being friends. (Really good friends, it was turning out to be.)

Was she sending mixed signals? Was Killian sending some that she wasn’t picking up on? Was she so far out of the game that she didn’t even know what the signals looked like anymore?

This was not the kind of thing she needed on her mind when she was supposed to be having a casual dinner with a casual friend.

“Stop overthinking it, Mom,” Henry called from his room, where he’d retreated. “Just be normal.”

Easier said than done. She walked into the pizza place ready to be a bit more reserved, but then he smiled when he saw them and any resolve she had was left at the door.

And any lingering traces of it disappeared when Henry, in his excitement over something that happened in his last game of D&D, knocked over her water glass—and Killian was the one to rush forward with napkins. For her lap. He set a few on her thigh before realizing what he’d done—and where his hand was—before backing away.

Part of her wanted to tell Henry, “See? He’s not interested.” But that would involve telling him where hands on thighs usually ended up and she wasn’t ready for that conversation anytime soon.

But from then on, Killian was a constant presence. It wasn’t really done by conscious effort; it just kind of...happened.

Like their weekly tradition with the Nolans, pizza night with Killian became a thing, too, especially with the discovery that he didn’t live all that far away from them—his apartment was just a handful of blocks from theirs. They didn’t stick to just pizza—Chinese and Mediterranean found their way into the rotation regularly, among others—and the day varied depending on work schedules, but they ended up sharing meals at least a couple times a week.

Every few days, she and Killian would find themselves on the same train, and their 20-minute chats covered everything. He shared stories of growing up in England with Liam; she talked about the revolving foster home doors of her upbringing. He described the oppressive heat and constant fear during his deployment in the Middle East, but the incredible sense of camaraderie with his crew mates; she relayed how scared she was staring at the positive pregnancy test at 17, and even more so during delivery, but the immediate relief and joy at holding Henry for the first time. They discussed their jobs, too—how watching his mother die of illness first pushed him into medicine and the challenges of being a one-handed ER doc, and how she kind of fell into bail bonds when she helped catch the guy who shot Neal after he skipped bail; how now, it helped her bring other people to justice.

And they traded the tales of their lost loves, which were almost eerily similar in their whirlwind nature and tragic end—not to mention the scars left on their hearts.

“Do you ever wonder if you made the right choice, though?” Killian asked her one day; he’d just treated a couple brought in after an accident and it was obvious it had hit close to home. “Like...do you ever doubt yourself? With all this?”

It wasn’t hard for her to answer. “Yeah, I do.” The more time passed, the more she wondered if she’d been right in her initial assessment—if there really had been evidence that Neal was her soulmate, or if she’d been off base. “But what’s worse—knowing you had a soulmate and losing them, or never finding them at all?”

Killian nodded. “Too true, lass—too true.” He furrowed his brow in thought, though, as if working up the courage for his next statement. “But what if they were still out there?”

Her heart skipped a beat; was he talking about himself? God, she hoped not (...or did she?). Regardless, it was definitely something she’d thought about, too. “If they are, I’m still not sure. I’ve had enough of being passed over and pushed around for one lifetime; I want to be chosen by someone, not just fated to be with them. So at least I know I had that—for a little bit, anyway.”

He studied her, seeming to soak in her words. “I can’t say I’ve ever thought of it that way, but...you’re right.”

She never would’ve thought some of the most intimate conversations of her life would take place on a public train, but the way Killian gave her his undivided attention, with understanding in those bright blue eyes, somehow made it feel like they were the only people in the car.

And he was always so...close. Physically. It was almost as if in their dance around each other trying to avoid touch, they only ended up waltzing closer. There was the time she nearly slipped in Snow’s kitchen after Henry spilled water (again) and he grabbed her by the arm to keep her upright. Or the night he nearly stepped into traffic as they were leaving their favorite sushi place and she had to tug him back by the bicep. Not to mention when they nearly hugged in farewell as they left the Nolans’ one night—especially after Henry had given him a fierce one. It had just felt natural to do the same, but they caught themselves at the same moment. Awkwardly, she offered up her elbow instead, which he gamely bumped with his own, but it was a near miss on both their parts.

(Emma was still pretending she hadn’t heard Henry mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like “oh my god, just kiss already.”)

He was the one to give her a boost when a slip kept evading her. “I’ve yet to see you fail, Swan,” he assured her, and she couldn’t help but believe it.

She returned the favor when he was upset over losing a young patient. “Trust me—you’ve got more than one mark in the hero column.”

His laugh became one of her favorite sounds. His smile never failed to brighten her days. And she’d never seen someone so good with Henry other than her brother.

Without anyone really noticing, they’d become part of each other’s lives seamlessly—a fact that finally hit her when he was the first person she texted when she finally caught the elusive skip, not David or Snow like she used to.

Emma knew that should freak her out in some way. What would happen if Killian got a job out of town? Or if he actually did like her-like her, but didn’t want to deal with her emotional walls and/or possible rejection? (She had no idea how’d she’d respond to that.) Because by late summer, he’d become such a constant that she was having a hard time remembering what life was like before he was in it.

That was a lie; she knew exactly how it’d been: lonely. She knew she didn’t “need a man” or whatever, or even romance, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been severely lacking in the kind of companionship he provided—someone outside her family she could be close to.

On one of the last Saturdays of the summer, she and Henry were taking Killian on their own version of the Freedom Trail—all the parts they found coolest, at least. They started at Boston Common and had worked their way over to Faneuil Hall, giving Killian plenty of time and opportunity to curse out the statue of Sam Adams for “irresponsibly condemning this city to a lifetime of inadequate, tasteless ale”, before showing him the marketplace. Emma’s heart did a strange stutter when she saw his eyes grow wide at the spectacle ahead of him—it was too adorable.

And then Henry was shouting something about one of street performers and grabbing Killian’s prosthesis to drag him off to see them. And then Killian, in turn, took hold of her hand at the last second, nearly yanking her arm from her socket as she got pulled away.

She didn’t yelp or cry out, though—she laughed; screamed, even, in surprise and joy as she was dragged along by two of her favorite boys. Killian glanced over his shoulder, as if to make sure she was still there, and gave one of the biggest grins she’d ever seen.

The three of them nearly crashed together when Henry came to a sudden stop; she instinctively grabbed Killian’s bicep to brace herself from smacking into him. It took a minute for them to catch their breath, and at the end of it, she realized she was still gripping Killian’s hand in hers. Her palm was sweating in its leather confine, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of the way their fingers had so easily intertwined.

Killian must have taken the way she was staring as something other than awe, because as soon as he noticed, he let go and stepped away. He scratched behind his ear—what she’d come to identify as a nervous tick—as he turned his attention on the busker, so she too tried to play it cool.

That was the most physical contact she’d had with someone outside of her family in literal years—that she actually wanted, at least. And she was pretty positive the same went for him.

Despite the heat, she shivered. Was she really considering something that was vaguely romantic? She firmly believed in platonic relationships—in particular, the platonic-ness of theirs—but it wasn’t hard for her to imagine more, especially if her dreams were any indication (they almost exclusively featured him nowadays, and in far less fanatastical settings than they once had). So deep down, she knew there was a (very small) part of her that wanted it.

She attempted to ignore it; it was, after all, just another in their long line of weird clashes that sent sparks through her body, another of which happened later that day when they were eating at Regina Pizzeria (again) and their fingers brushed when she handed him a plate.

And whatever that weirdness was, it didn’t affect their friendship, or his with Henry. As they sat there at their table, enjoying the meal and listening (and laughing) to Henry’s stories about school, the only thing she could really feel was happy. And, she had to admit, happier than she’d been in a long time.

Outsiders would probably make some inferences on their familial appearance, and maybe there was a slight chance it could be like that some day, once she had more time to warm up to the idea; but what they had was perfect, and didn’t need to change.

*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*――*☆*

As has been stated in the past, however, the universe is a dick.

It was the Sunday before Labor Day, but the standard work week doesn’t mean much for people working in emergency medicine and bail bonds. At least Emma had wrapped up early for the day—nabbed her mark as he was leaving mass, ironically—and hopped on the crowded train, filled with people heading home from church.

“Swan! Over here,” came the familiar shout from the middle of the car; Killian was standing at one of the poles in the middle, his right arm holding it tight and with just enough space next to him for her to slip in. Her left hand came to rest on the pole just below his, and the train shuddered off a moment later; she had to bend her knees to keep from falling into him.

“Well, did you get your man?”

“Yup. And his priest saw the whole thing.”

“Ooh,” Killian winced. “Hope he’d already gone to confession.”

He caught her up on the craziness of his last shift, as had become habit at this point, before moving to his usual simple request for “So, dinner?”

She was ready to say yes, until she remembered. “Oh, sorry—Henry has a sleepover tonight. Last one before school starts.”

“Ahh,” Killian nodded understanding. “Well,” he started, and then his nervous tick came out again, as he scratched behind his ear with his prosthesis and stared at the floor. “My invitation still stands, if you’d like.”

She swallowed. She hadn’t been alone with Killian...well, not since the first day they met, when he cleaned her hand in the Nolans’ half bath. There’d always been someone else there as a buffer.

Not all that long ago, she would have been terrified at the idea. But now...she was kind of excited by it. Or maybe “intrigued” was the better word. She certainly didn’t hate it.

Her walls wouldn’t let her be so obvious, though. “Are you asking me out on a date or something?” she teased, smirking; she also had a bit of extra endorphins running through her system after that morning’s takedown.

“Do you want it to be one?” he tossed back, except he was serious.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a bit; despite all their conversations—despite the fact that he knew basically everything about her—this was the most exposed she’d ever felt with him. “Would it be okay if I did?” she said quietly, only loud enough for him to hear.

A slow smile took over his face, starting in the corners of his eyes and lighting up his whole face. Those butterflies in her stomach began to flutter again at the sight of it, and she could feel her face involuntarily mirroring it—until she was rudely jolted.

Looking back on the moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The train slammed on the brakes, which was nothing new, but the car wasn’t usually packed like a sardine. The man behind Emma hadn’t been holding onto anything, so he was sent reeling forward, crashing into her back and pushing her toward Killian, who instinctively put his free arm out to catch her.

She didn’t have time to grab his arm, though, before her chest was colliding with his. Logically, she knew she should be feeling a shock at the collision and no doubt have her wind knocked from her, but all she could feel—emotionally, at least—was a completely foreign rush of worry and, stranger still, love.

Fuck, she thought.

«Bloody hell,» was the echo within her mind—but that wasn’t her voice. It was Killian’s.

In her brain.

She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d been squinting them shut, only to realize her cheek was pressed up against Killian’s and he still had his arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

Holding her.

Against his skin.

Oh, no.

The train came to a stop just as she jumped away from him; people would probably say it looked like she’d been burned, and she supposed in a way she had been. This couldn’t be happening.

“Emma?” he breathed, eyes wide and incredulous.

“I—I—” she stammered. “I...can’t.”

Not wasting another moment, she turned and ran—off the train, out of the station, halfway home. He’d shouted her name as she was leaving but she didn’t stop. Her phone buzzed several times but she ignored it. She didn’t stop even to breathe until she was in her apartment, with the door locked behind her.

She’d just imagined it, right? He must have said it out loud. She only felt those things because he was hugging her. That was why he was surprised; it had to be.

There was no way that Killian Jones was her soulmate.

Right?

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

thanks for reading! Hope to see you for the last chapter!

tagging some peeps: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt@cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @fergus80@pirateherokillian@bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @killianmesmalls @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @distant-rose @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose@snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @let-it-raines @shireness-says @courtorderedcake @its-okay-killian @captainsjedi @a-faekindagirl

#cs ff #cssns 2019 #cs soulmates au #cs modern au #sick of love #my ff

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awkwardnessandbaseball · 5 years ago

Text

So, in honor of @cspupstravaganza coming up, and all the hard work so many wonderful writers and artists are putting into it, I wanted to re-post my one and only Captain Swan Little Bang story from last year.

Re-introducing: The Fox and the Hound

Summary: Years ago, Killian Jones left his youthful days of illicit romance and causing trouble behind him in favor of walking dogs for a living in Storybrooke. He’s been working for the same families for years, so discovering David Nolan’s beautiful yet closed off sister behind their apartment door is a surprise. It's not long before Killian finds himself coming down with a case of puppy love, but Emma might just send him home with his tail between his legs.

Rating: Teen+

AO3

Sometimes Killian Jones felt like he lived in some form of Pleasantville. Everyone knew everyone, and nothing ever changed. Storybrooke wasn’t a tourist town. You were born there and you died there, with very little exception. But Killian liked the life he lived, liked the predictability and the schedule and the monotony. He knew what to expect, and that made life easier.

At least that’s what he told himself.

He knew his clients – human and canine – and he loved them all. They exchanged small gifts at Christmas. He always asked about their families. Though he saw the dogs more often than their owners, he made sure he had a personal connection with every family before he took on a new pooch in his pack.

Killian knocked on the door of every client. Even though most of them weren’t home, he always tapped the door a few times before using his keys. He’d once walked in on the Widow Lucas when she’d stopped home for a nap one day and nearly given the poor woman a heart attack. Or so she claimed. The truth was that she’d reached under the couch for what Killian was fairly certain was a shotgun. He’d heard the metal barrel drag on the ground and the distinct cha-chk of something being prepared to shoot-to-kill. Her eyes had been closed the entire time, and he’d barely squeaked out that he was simply here to walk Bear. She’d actually woken up then, stared him down for a moment, and then shouted for her 110 pound Great Pyrenees, who’d come running and nearly knocked Killian right off his feet.

So now, he always knocked.

He’d been about to pull out his keys to apartment 3B when suddenly the door opened and a beautiful, but unfamiliar, face greeted him.

She wore a faded blue Storybrooke Police Department t-shirt and basketball shorts. Her blonde hair was tangled and she had faded black rings around her eyes, as though she’d slept in her makeup. Her lips were turned downward and she hadn’t moved out of the way to let him in.

But her eyes were bright and green and alive, and Killian could not stop staring at them.

“Oh, er, have I knocked on the wrong door? I’m looking for the Nolans.”

“That’s us.” The beautiful face was giving him a scowl. She still hadn’t moved, her entire body blocking him from stepping inside. “Who’s asking?”

“Um… I’m Killian, the dog walker? Is… is David here? I’m just looking to walk Wilby?”

“’Kay. I dunno where the leash is or anything. I assume you do.”

“Yeah, I’m here three times a week.”

“’Kay,” she said again. She looked him over from top to bottom – not in an appreciative way, but as though she were examining him for any danger he might present. Apparently finding none, she added, “come on in.” She promptly disappeared down the hall. Killian wasn’t sure if it was a blind show of trust, or if she didn’t care if he really was the dog walker or a horribly lazy burglar.

He grabbed the leash from its home on the coat hooks attached to the wall, whistled for Wilby, and went on his way.

He was all the way back out on the street, leash in hand, when he realized something.

“You know, I didn’t catch your name,” he mentioned as he unclipped Wilby’s harness after their walk. He looked up and she’d disappeared again. Had she not heard him or was she ignoring him? Not one to give up easily, he peered into the kitchen, where he found her, sipping coffee and staring blankly at her phone. “If you’re here, will Wilby still be requiring his walks?”

She looked up, seemingly shocked that he’d gone so far as to continue attempting to make conversation with her, despite her obvious disinterest.

“Well, yeah, how else would he do… what he needs to do?” She made a face at the idea of a dog doing its business, wrinkling her nose and waving her fingers around like she’d touched a spider web.

“Oh, I just… I thought if you were here, perhaps…”

“I don’t do dogs.” Her eyebrows raised slightly, daring him to challenge her.

And Killian considered it for a moment. After all, he never did understand how people couldn’t love dogs.

“Ah, well, good thing I’m not out of a job then.” He laughed. She didn’t. “Anyway, as I mentioned, I’m Killian Jones.” He held out his hand. She couldn’t pretend not to hear him now.

“Emma.” She took his hand reluctantly. Killian expected her hand to fall limp in his, so he was surprised when she gripped his hand tightly and shook it once before letting go. “David’s sister. I’m… staying here for a bit.” The look in her eyes told Killian not to push.

“A pleasure, Emma. David never mentioned a sister.”

“We’re not close.” She turned away, clearly finished with the conversation.

The more she tried to shut him out, the more Killian wanted to know. How had she gotten so hard, so closed off? Why had David never mentioned her before? Who was this mysterious Emma, and why was Killian so intrigued by her?

“Well, I imagine we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other now, at any rate. I’ll see you on Wednesday if you’re home.” Killian tried to ignore the piece of his brain telling him that he hoped she would be home.

Later that evening, Killian’s phone rang while he was relaxing in front of the television.

DAVID NOLAN , the screen read. Killian groaned, preparing himself for a last-minute walk request. While it was true that the Nolans were friends of his, they rarely called him just to say hello. When Killian had first moved into town, David had been one of his close friends. But as he and Mary Margaret had grown more serious, their friendship had faded. The perils of getting married , Killian mused darkly. Still, if they needed a last minute walk for some emergency or other, he was happy to oblige. He put on his best customer service smile, even though he was alone in his living room.

“Killian, I am so sorry! ” David was talking before Killian had even finished saying ‘hello’. “I should have told you Emma was staying with us. It was just so sudden and I didn’t even think about the fact that she’d be home.”

“No need for apologies, David. I assure you, it was no problem.” The smile turned genuine as Killian let his mind wander towards the stranger he’d met earlier that day. Emma was a mystery; one Killian found himself wanting to solve.

“She can be a bit… distant. I hope she didn’t put you off at all.” David’s voice snapped Killian back into the present.

“Not a bit. I was surprised she won’t be walking Wilby for you while she’s staying…”

“Yeah, she’s not a dog person.” David paused a moment. “Or a cat person.” This time, the pause was so long, Killian thought perhaps he’d lost the call. “Or a people person.” David sighed then, and he sounded almost like a tired father trying to convince his third grader to go play at recess instead of reading inside by herself. He sounded like he’d apologized for Emma’s unfavorable attitude before.

“Not a charmer like her brother then?”

“Ha ha.” Killian could imagine David’s eyes rolling at that. “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize. Wilby will still see you Wednesday?”

“Same as always.”

Killian wanted to ask why Emma was staying, what her story was, but he bit his tongue. It wasn’t his place.

He checked Facebook before he could think better of it, but it gave him nothing. There were tons of Emma Nolan s but none of them were the gorgeous-but-angry blonde he’d met that afternoon. He tried David’s friends list, but there were no Emmas there at all. How odd.

He’d just have to get to know her the old-fashioned way, then.

That Wednesday, when he showed up at apartment 3B, he knocked as always.

“Yeah?” She blocked the door again, but stepped aside when she recognized his face. “Oh. Dog walker, right?” She wore a simple black t-shirt and blue pajama shorts that fit her much better than the clothes she’d clearly been borrowing from her brother on Killian’s previous visit. There was no makeup on her face, and just a bit of toothpaste remained in the corner of her mouth, as though she’d finished up quickly to answer the door.

“Aye, that’s me.”

She didn’t say another word, just walked away, leaving the door open for him. He sighed and walked to the coat hooks. He whistled for Wilby and was on his way.

Again, after his walk, he tried to make conversation.

“So, will you be in town a while then?”

“Probably.” She was eating a sandwich at the kitchen island, not bothering to finish the bite in her mouth before she spoke.

“Well, if you need someone to show you around…”

“Then I’ll ask my brother,” she replied with an air of finality. Killian didn’t quit.

“Listen Emma, I was new around here once myself. I’m just trying to be polite. I know if my brother lived with me, I wouldn’t want to spend all my time with him.” Killian tried to ignore the pang in his heart when he thought of his brother. “So, again, if you need someone to show you around, I’m happy to be a tour guide, or a drinking buddy, or whatever.”

She looked a bit shocked that he’d said all of that, or perhaps that he’d called her on her attitude. She swallowed, slowly.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you Friday, then.”

Killian was perturbed that he couldn’t get Emma out of his head. It wasn’t like he’d never met a pretty girl before. He walked Ruby Lucas’ Alaskan Malamute once a week after all, and Ruby Lucas was an absolute knockout.

But Emma struck a chord with him somewhere deep inside. And her reluctance to talk to him only made it worse.

Friday came, and Killian knocked on the door of apartment 3B, expecting another curt greeting. Instead, when the door opened, Wilby leaped out, only to be pulled back at the last moment.

“I uh… I wasn’t sure how to put the harness on, so the leash is just hooked to his collar. I wasn’t sure if that was good enough or not.” She looked a bit embarrassed.

“Ah, I’ll teach you. It’s not so hard.” He walked into the apartment, over to the coat hooks where the harness was thrown on the floor, likely in frustration. “See how the black part makes a loop here?” Killian clipped the first part of the harness together. “That goes right over Sir Wilby’s head like so...” Wilby ducked his head through the loop, eager to get the show on the road. “Then the gray section goes under his chest like this...” Killian leaned around Wilby awkwardly, to clip the final piece of the harness without blocking Emma’s view. “Just make sure the silver clip is in the front or the harness is pretty useless.” Killian attached the leash to the clip as he pointed it out. He looked up at her, expecting to see her daydreaming or rolling her eyes, but she was watching him intently.

“Could I… could I try it?”

“Sure!” He unclipped the harness and scratched Wilby behind the ears as a reward for being so patient. He watched as Emma examined the harness, made the loop, and positioned the clip.

“On your first try! You’re a natural.” He grinned, his tongue sticking out between his teeth, and winked at her. She blushed, the tips of her ears and the apples of her cheeks turning pink. “Maybe I shouldn’t have shown you - I may be out of a job soon.”

Her face fell, and Killian was reminded of their first meeting; her closed-off attitude and unwillingness to talk at all.

“Oh Wilby doesn’t like me all that much. I doubt he’d like me walking him.” She crossed her arms and took a step backwards, distancing herself from Wilby. Or from Killian.

“Wilby?” Killian pointed at the dog beside him in disbelief. “Wilby likes everyone.” Killian scratched him behind the ears. “Leroy tricks the poor boy every day, pretending to hold treats when there are none, and he still kisses him all over his grumpy face.”

“Well, not me.” She rolled her eyes and turned away, once again ending a conversation on her own terms.

Killian was nothing if not persistent.

“I’ll be back before you know it. By the way, Wilby happens to be a fan of those cheese sticks your brother keeps a large stock of,” Killian said with a wink.

Her lips turned up at the corners, though she tried not to smile, but she didn’t say another word.

After Wilby’s walk, Emma was nowhere to be found, but her half-eaten sandwich was still on the counter, as though she’d just run out a moment before he’d arrived.

On Monday, Killian wasn’t sure what to expect. He raised his fist to knock on the door, but it opened and his knuckles hit thin air.

“The cheese thing worked,” Emma smiled proudly as she handed Wilby over, harnessed and ready to go. “He spent half the weekend in my lap.”

Killian stared at her eyes, which seemed to sparkle now, and the small crinkles that formed in the corner. At the way her bottom teeth were just the slightest bit crooked. He forced the stuttering in his heart to slow and realized he still hadn’t responded to what she’d told him.

“Told you. Wilby likes everyone.”

“I’ve just… never really been a dog person.”

“David mentioned that.”

“How do you get to be a dog person, anyway?” She leaned against the doorframe, and Killian was reminded of how her body had blocked him from entering the apartment when they’d first met. Then, she’d stared daggers at him. Now she looked at him fondly, as though she couldn’t wait for his answer.

“I grew up with dogs. My grandparents always had at least two at a time. It’s in my blood.” Killian found himself hesitant to leave - he desperately wanted to continue chatting with Emma. She’d never engaged with him like this, and he knew he had to tread lightly to make it last.

“I didn’t really grow up with anything,” she responded, and her eyebrows shot up, like she was surprised she’d said that out loud. “Anyway, have fun with Wilby.”

Killian practically heard Emma’s walls slam back into place as she shut the door in his face. Killian had even more questions now than he had before. He wasn’t surprised when the apartment was empty again when he returned from his walk.

Hey David, thinking of heading to the Rabbit Hole for a pint after dinner, perhaps you and your lady would like to join. -K

Tonight? Sure, Mary Margaret and I don’t have anything going on – it’s been a while. Would it be okay if Emma came? She doesn’t really know anyone yet, might be good for her to get out. -D

That’s exactly what Killian was hoping.

He saw Emma’s telltale blonde hair first. She was at the bar nursing a beer, while David and Mary Margaret looked like they were attempting to hold a conversation with her. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world – until she looked up and her eyes met Killian’s. Her cheeks flushed and she chugged the rest of her beer, flagging down the bartender. Killian got there as she was pulling out some bills.

“Allow me, love.” He winked at her, motioning to the bartender to bring another.

“Not your love,” she mumbled, but she put the cash back in her pocket.

“Killian! Oh, it’s so lovely to see you! It’s been ages!”

“Aye, Mary Margaret, it sure has.”

“Good to see you, Killian.” David raised his beer towards him for a ‘cheers’.

It was all small talk, and Emma looked zoned out of the whole thing. They talked about work, Mary Margaret’s students, and a case David had been working on. Killian told them about how Shirin’s Great Dane had dragged him down the street because she’d come home early and he’d seen the car. Soon, Mary Margaret grew tired and asked David to take her home.

“You ready, Emma?”

She startled at being spoken to, then glanced at her half-finished beer.

“Never fear, lass. I’ll take you home. No sense letting a perfectly good beer go to waste.” Killian resisted the urge to wink, instead looking at her seriously and nodding. “That okay with you?”

“Um, yeah. That’d be fine.” Emma looked at him and bit her lip.

Mary Margaret watched them, every bit the mother overjoyed at her six-year-old coming home from school with her first friend. David, on the other hand, glanced warily between them, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Be careful, you two. And don’t stay out too late.”

“You’re my brother, not my dad,” Emma responded sharply.

“I know that, I’m-”

“I’ll take care of her, Dave. Get her home in one piece and all that,” Killian assured him.

David nodded and the Nolans exited the bar.

“Thanks, I guess. I hate riding around with them like some weird third wheel slash quasi-daughter. They hold hands while he drives, you know that?” Emma wrinkled her nose up, equally disgusted with her brother’s PDA as she had been with the idea of dog feces.

“I’m not remotely surprised. They’ve always seemed like that kind of couple,” Killian chuckled but Emma wasn’t laughing. He cleared his throat. “Emma, can I ask you something?”

“I’m kind of at your mercy, now, aren’t I?” She met his gaze head on. The corners of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. Her barstool was still an arm’s length away, and while Killian wanted to move closer, he didn’t know if she’d allow it. “Unless I want to get a cab and somehow find my way back to that apartment alone.” She smiled at him - really smiled - and he took that as permission to continue.

“I’m just curious… what brought you to Storybrooke?” He watched her as he spoke, but her face didn’t change. He quietly added, “you don’t seem happy to have moved in with your brother.”

“I’m not… un happy. I just…” She eyed him carefully, “I ran away from something and I’m not sure it’s all set in yet.”

“Care to elaborate, Nolan?”

“That’s not my name.” She said, staring down into her drink and messing with the foam with the tip of her finger.

“I’m sorry?” Killian couldn’t be sure if she was messing with him.

“Nolan. My last name isn’t Nolan.” She took a large gulp of her beer.

“Aren’t you David’s sister? Unless you’re…” He glanced at her left hand, saw no ring there.

“I’m not married. I’m adopted.” She stared into her glass, as though she wanted to finish the rest of it in one go. “Sort of. Not officially.” She turned her gaze in the opposite direction, away from Killian.

“I’ve got more questions now than when we started.” Killian didn’t want to push her – didn’t want her to shut him out – but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He thought back to her previous comment: “I didn’t really grow up with anything”. At least that question had been answered.

“It’s a pretty long story, Jones.” She smirked at him, finishing her drink. She surprised him by waving down the bartender.

“I’ve got all night.”

It took three rounds altogether for Emma Swan – not Nolan – to share her story. The beginning was simple, if depressing – bounced around the foster system, never getting adopted.

“I never even stayed in one place long enough to choose a sports team,” she laughed, or almost laughed.

“Swan, that’s-”

She waved him off, as though it were nothing. As though every kid grew up without some type of hometown pride.

“It’s okay. I never had anyone to teach me the rules anyway - what good would rooting for a team have done if I didn’t know what I was rooting for?” Her smile was sad, and Killian was surprised when she continued. When she was fifteen, she’d met some idiot who’d convinced her to go in on some scheme with him. She was vague on the specifics – something to do with stolen watches and a large amount of betrayal and heartbreak. But Officer David Nolan, a rookie at the time, had taken pity on her. His mother, Ruth, had taken her in, making sure she completed her community service and stayed on the correct side of the law. Emma had turned eighteen before the adoption papers had been finalized, but the Nolans were still her family; the only family she had.

“So then, I guess the real question is, what brought you back to Storybrooke, Swan?” he asked as he drove her home. “Back to your family?”

“Come on, you haven’t heard enough yet?”

Killian parked the car outside of the Nolans’ apartment building, and turned to look at her.

“Never.”

She stared him down, then took a deep breath. “I was running from a guy.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, I’d been seeing him for a while and things got… bad.” She rolled her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe what she was admitting and climbed out of the car.

“Bad?” Killian’s jaw ticked. He began walking her to her door.

“He just got… mean. I don’t know how else to put it. Like, all the things he claimed he loved about me, he didn’t anymore...” Emma wasn’t looking at him, but at the ground. She rubbed her right arm with her left, and Killian wanted nothing more than to hug her. She sounded sad and Killian didn’t want to push, but he also couldn’t leave a good evening on such a sour note.

“Then he’s a fool.”

“I don’t think he is. I’m just nothing special.” The way she said it was flippant. Like she’d heard it so many times that it had simply become a fact.

He stopped walking as they reached the front door.

“You are something special, Emma. I’m sorry you’ve spent so long thinking you’re not,” he said softly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her in some way - her hand, her face, anything. He tried to get her to look at him, and after several moments of silence, she did.

Then suddenly she was kissing him.

Her hands were on the lapels of his coat, pulling him to her. He responded eagerly, hands in her hair, tongue tracing her lips.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted Emma until she was gripping his coat, his hands in her hair, pulling her closer. He’d felt a strange tension in his stomach - “butterflies”, his mother would have said - since he’d met her. But he’d thought it was an attraction, a crush. This was something entirely different. He was consumed by Emma Swan. Her taste, her smell, the feel of her mouth pressed against his.

It was over as quickly as it began.

“That was…” Killian trailed off, wanting very much to keep kissing her, to keep talking about her, learning about her—

“A one time thing,” she said with finality, nearly running up the stairs inside.

Two weeks.

It had been two full weeks since Killian Jones had seen Emma Swan. She hadn’t been home during any of Wilby’s walks and he hadn’t run into her – not that he’d expected to. He was beginning to think she’d up and left again. He wasn’t sure how to ask David without sounding like a sad child wondering where his old dog had gone.

Finally, on a Wednesday afternoon, he ran into her.

Literally.

He was about 15 minutes early for his walk with Wilby, checking his schedule on his phone. He heard a door close, but thought nothing of it until he collided head first with-

“Emma?”

“Shit, Killian, I’m sorry. I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m in a rush. Or whatever.”

She glanced at her wrist, which bore no watch, and tucked her hair behind her ear. She looked towards the apartment she’d just left.

“Emma, wait. Where are you going?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was still looking around, glancing up the stairs. A few strands of hair fell into her face and she tucked them back again.

“Emma, are you avoiding me?”

She stared at the ground.

“What, you’ve been leaving the apartment 15 minutes before I get here for Wilby’s walks? Just to avoid seeing me?” Killian was surprised by the anger in his own voice. It had, after all, been just one kiss. But dammit he’d liked it , and he’d liked her and then she’d just… disappeared. He felt his hands curl into fists. “Because of one stupid kiss?”

Emma flinched at that and Killian wished he could take it back: the kiss had been anything but stupid.

“I just didn’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Emma. I… I very much enjoyed that night, kiss or no. I’d be happy to chat again sometime. It was genuinely nice to get to know you. So if you’ve been avoiding me, I really wish you’d stop.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I um… I had a nice time, too. I don’t usually tell people… all of that. It was nice to let it out.” She looked at him, and Killian could see the tension leave her shoulders as she forced a shaky breath out.

“Would you like to come with me to walk Wilby?”

“Oh, I actually do have somewhere to be.” She checked the time on her phone. “But I’ll take a raincheck?” Her teeth met her lip, and she looked at him warily.

“Deal.”

The way her eyes lit up caused Killian’s heart to jump and it was then he realized: he was smitten.

“Money can buy you a fine dog, but only love can make him wag his tail.”

― Kinky Friedman

It was another week before Emma was home when Killian arrived.

“I got a job!” She told him as she handed Wilby off. She was grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “That’s where I had to go the other day – an interview.”

“And you got it!” Killian couldn’t help but catch her excitement. He’d never seen her this happy – a far cry from the scowl she’d worn when they’d first met.

“I did! It’s nothing fancy, just some filing and paperwork at the police station.” She bit her lip, trying to contain herself, but the smile was still there.

“Working with your brother, then.” He wanted to tell her that a job didn’t need to be fancy if it made her happy.

“Yeah.” Emma blushed, a faint smile on her lips.

“Do you have to go, then? Or would you like to take me up on that rain check?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I do have to go.” She looked disappointed as she said it; almost as disappointed as Killian felt.

“No worries, I’m here often, as you know. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.” He was hesitant to leave, despite Wilby’s small whine and hopeful look towards the hallway. “There will be other chances.” He was rambling, but her smile was growing with every word, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Until Wilby’s whine turned into a full-on groan and Killian let the dog pull him out the door.

The following evening Killian was dozing off on the couch when his phone rang. He glanced at the clock: 10:16 PM. Whoever was calling could bugger off. Probably a last minute walk needed for tomorrow. They’d leave a message and he’d check it in the morning.

The phone finally stopped ringing only to start up again a moment later. Killian grumbled as he climbed out of the nest of blankets and reached over to the coffee table. An unfamiliar number greeted him. He rolled his eyes, deciding once again not to answer.

When it rang a third time, he lost his patience.

“Yes!?” He practically growled into the phone.

“Killian?”

“Swan?”

“Yes! Killian, oh thank God. I need your help. Can you come to the apartment right away? Please?” She sounded panicky and possibly like she’d been crying.

“I’m on my way.” Pajama pants were better than nothing, he reasoned. Killian threw on his sneakers and shrugged into his leather coat, shuddering at the way the material rubbed against his bare torso. He nearly ran the entire way.

He hadn’t even had a chance to knock before the door flew open.

“Oh thank God!” she said again and yanked him inside.

“Emma, love, what’s going on?” He tried to get her to stand still, but she was dragging him towards the living room. He should find it laughable that Emma, who’d done everything in her power to avoid him for weeks, was now nearly pulling the sleeve of his jacket apart trying to get him inside. But she still wasn’t talking, and he was growing worried by her silence.

“It’s Wilby. He’s been vomiting this yellow stuff and I don’t know what to do. David and Mary Margaret went away for one night and they trusted me and they obviously shouldn’t have because-”

“Emma, breathe. Show me what’s coming up.” He gripped her shoulders and forced her to stay still.

She took a breath and showed him a pile of yellow foam.

“Did Wilby eat his dinner?”

“No! He wouldn’t eat it! I put it down hours ago but he wouldn’t touch it.” She was tucking her hair behind her ears and rambling so quickly that her sentences sounded like one word. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, staring at the foam, looking horrified.

“Do you know the last time he ate?”

“Um, there was still some food leftover when I added his dinner to the bowl, so probably breakfast, but not all of it.” She was focusing on his questions but she still had an ironclad grip on his wrist. “He could have eaten later than that, I guess, or maybe the food in the bowl was from before David and Mary Margaret even left and he didn’t eat this morning.” She was working herself back up, her grip tightening more.

“Wilby, come here, pal.” Wilby hopped off the couch and nuzzled Killian’s leg. “Are you being a stubborn one today? You don’t want to eat for your Aunt Emma?”

“Aunt?” She sounded surprised at the word.

“Well sure. If David and Mary Margaret are his parents, then that makes you his aunt.”

“I’d never thought of it like that.” Her panic must have been subsiding because she let go of Killian’s arm. He felt both relief that she’d calmed down enough to do so, but also strangely sad and almost lonely without her touch.

Killian sat next to Wilby’s bowl of food. He tried coaxing Wilby to eat, but he merely sniffed it and backed up, defiance in his eyes. Killian held out a handful to him, hoping a smaller amount would seem less daunting, but he simply sniffed it again. He checked Wilby’s eyes and nose, searching for signs of discomfort, but found none.

“You are being a stubborn one. Emma, would you grab one of those cheese sticks our boy here is so fond of?”

She returned with a plastic wrapped tube of cheese and Wilby’s eyes lit up immediately. There was a thump thump thump as his tail started whacking against the counter behind him. He sat, laid down, and rolled over in quick succession, hoping for a reward.

“Ah, ah. We’re not doing tricks for treats today, sir.” Killian opened the cheese and tore off small chunks, mixing them into Wilby’s food with his hand. This time, Wilby immediately dove in, eager to get his favorite snack, and not seeming to mind if he had to get some other food in his system to boot.

“Killian, you’re a genius!”

“We’ll still want to watch him, make sure he doesn’t gulp it all down in one go.” He gestured towards the paper towels on the counter, and Emma handed him one to wipe off the dust from the dog food.

“Why do you think he wasn’t eating?”

“Sometimes dogs are like kids. His parents are gone, so he wants to see what he can get away with. You just have to remind him who’s in charge.” Killian smiled at her, and she offered him her hand to help stand. He took it, but she didn’t let go once he was upright.

“Will you, um... stay and make sure he’s really okay? I’m going to clean up the mess from earlier. I just left it so you could see.”

“Sure, I’ll stay, Swan.” She looked relieved as she grabbed the paper towels.

In the end, he stayed an hour, talking with Emma about her new job and the nuances of living with your pseudo-brother. Then he headed home and crawled into bed, falling asleep immediately and dreaming of blonde hair and a face that used to scowl, but now only seemed to smile.

A week later, she finally took him up on his offer to walk Wilby together.

“His name was Walsh,” she blurted out.

Killian looked at her but didn’t say anything, waiting for her to work through how much she wanted to share.

“The guy I ran from. His name was Walsh.” She paused, watching Killian from the corner of her eye. “He didn’t get me, even during the good times. I think… I think he just wanted me because I’m broken. Like he thought he could be this great savior who fixed me and I’d just be eternally grateful or something.” She shook her head, lost in memories.

“You’re not broken, Emma.” He kept his voice low, and she took so long to respond that he thought perhaps she hadn’t heard him.

“You don’t know that.” She shoved her hands into the her pockets, staring straight ahead, squinting against the sun.

“You’re a person. A human. Humans aren’t broken, they’re just flawed. All of us. You certainly don’t need anyone to fix you. I happen to think you’re wonderful the way you are.” He’d stopped walking while he spoke, making sure he was looking directly into her eyes. She met them for a moment before staring at the ground, kicking the sidewalk.

“Thank you, Killian. That’s… um. Thanks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Killian cleared his throat. He forced himself to look away.

“Yeah, well, anyway, this Walsh fellow must not have been the savior he saw himself as if you left so abruptly.”

She laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “No, he certainly was not.”

“May I ask… what it was that brought you here after all of it?”

“He decided I wasn’t worth it anymore. We worked together – that was my first mistake. And he just decided I was no longer a good enough project. He told everyone I’d flown off the handle, gone crazy on him. Lies to make people feel bad for him and praise him for putting up with me for so long. I left and this was the only place I could go.”

“This guy sounds like a complete bastard,” Killian spat out.

This time when she laughed, it was a full-on belly laugh. A happy sound, one Killian hadn’t heard before, and he found himself wanting to hear it more.

“Thank you. I needed that.” She wiped a tear from her eye, still smiling.

“I’m serious, Emma. That’s awful. I’d… honestly I’d like to punch him in his face.” Killian smiled back at her, meeting her eyes.

“No need. Before I left I sent out some of the… pictures he’d sent me to the whole staff. They weren’t flattering. Trust me, I’ve gotten my revenge.”

It was Killian’s turn to laugh. He had to stop walking for a moment, doubled over in the middle of the sidewalk, Wilby staring up at him with his head tilted. Killian’s eyes were tearing up he was laughing so hard, and soon Emma joined in. They must have looked quite the pair, crying from laughter with a dog who wasn’t quite in on the joke.

They finally regained their sanity and continued down the block.

“I suppose that’s it for today,” Killian said as he unclipped Wilby’s harness and prepared to leave.

“See you Friday?” She asked.

“Will you be here?” Killian focused on keeping his tone even as he realized that she seemed to be finished with avoiding him. He didn’t let himself dwell on the hopeful look in her eyes or the way she bit her lip or the way her hands moved when they tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Yes,” she said simply, as though there were no other possible answer.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to get a drink after?” He bit his lip hopefully, unsure when he’d regressed back to being a seventeen-year-old with a crush on the girl who’d sat across from him.

“With David and Mary Margaret?”

“If you’d like,” Killian was a bit disappointed – he’d hoped for some more alone time with Emma. But he’d take any time with her he could get. Even time with her police detective pseudo-brother.

Especially if it meant that Emma kept smiling at him like she was in that very moment.

Friday night came and Killian found himself at the Rabbit Hole again.

When he walked in Emma was telling her brother a story; eyes bright and hands moving as she spoke. David was watching her, a smile on his face. Killian stood in the doorway, feeling as though he were intruding on a private family moment.

“Killian!” Mary Margaret’s soft voice came from behind him.

“Mary Margaret, great to see you.”

“Are you joining us, or are you just going to stand here all night?” She looked towards the bar, then back at Killian meaningfully.

“I just… didn’t want to interrupt,” Killian gestured towards Emma, still gesturing wildly and smiling as she narrated.

“Nonsense!” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the bar. “Look who I found!”

“Killian!” Emma jumped off her barstool and hugged him.

He took a moment to respond before wrapping his arms around her, breathing her in. He tried to savor the moment, unsure when she’d feel up to such a greeting again. She pulled away slowly, smiling at him.

“Good to see you too, Swan. Had a bit to drink, have we?” He raised an eyebrow. She didn’t look drunk, but he wasn’t sure if she’d been motivated to hug him by pure liquid courage or if perhaps...

“No! I’m DDing these two crazy kids tonight. Just water for me.” She gestured to her glass on the bar.

“We don’t need a designated driver.” David rolled his eyes.

“Um, excuse me, Officer Nolan, but I beg to differ,” Emma stuck her tongue out at him.

“I think it’s sweet that you want us to have fun, Em, but we’re not big drinkers. I haven’t even had a glass yet.” Mary Margaret took the seat next to David, leaving Killian to take the empty stool next to Emma.

“Then get one!”

Finally the Nolans conceded and ordered enough drinks to satisfy Emma. Mary Margaret again grew tired fairly early. Killian tried his best not to feel disappointment when the night was coming to a close.

“Come on, Jones, you’re riding with me.” Emma grabbed his hand, pulling him from his barstool.

“Excuse me?” He stared at their joined hands before looking at her.

“You’ve had at least three shots since we got here, on top of a few beers. I’m driving you, too.”

“I’m fine, Emma.” What had gotten into her?

“Don’t even try, Killian, she’ll never stop. Just give in. It’s easier,” David slurred slightly.

“Apparently it’s my turn to be at your mercy then, lass. Lead the way.”

Emma smiled triumphantly, dug her keys out of her bag, and led the group to quite possibly the ugliest car Killian had ever seen.

A bright yellow bug with a backseat barely large enough for a child awaited him; Emma smirked as he stared.

“That’s… quite the vessel you captain there, Swan.” He smiled and raised his eyebrow at her, eyeing the backseat carefully.

“This car has been there for me longer than any human has,” she responded, daring him to say another word. He held up his hands in defeat and thanked his lucky stars that the Nolans had climbed in first, smushing themselves together, Mary Margaret’s legs on David’s lap so Killian could move the front seat to allow himself some legroom.

They rode in silence and Killian was surprised she didn’t ask him for directions. When they parked outside of David’s apartment building, Killian realized he was walking home.

Ah, well.

“Killian! Where are you going?” Emma called.

“Erm… home, lass. Where else would I go?”

“I just meant, um… I thought maybe I’d walk with you. If that’s okay.”

Killian’s head nodded and his feet started moving once Emma was by his side, but his brain hadn’t fully caught up.

If Emma wanted to walk him home, how would she then get home? Unless she didn’t plan to go home at all? Killian was not opposed to Emma Swan spending the night in his bed, but he also knew that Emma had made it clear that she only wanted to be his friend . Hadn’t she? She’d certainly been silent enough for two entire weeks after that kiss – the one he still thought about quite often, thank you very much.

They arrived at his doorstep, neither having spoken for the entire walk, Killian lost in his own headspace.

“Could I… would it be okay if… I mean I don’t…” Suddenly Emma seemed very nervous and Killian was even more lost than when she’d asked to walk him home.

He was surprised to hear himself asking, “Would you like to come in, Swan?”

She smiled – that small, tentative smile that he couldn’t get enough of.

“Sure.”

Now there would be no more driving, Killian grabbed a bottle of rum and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table. He threw on some random Spotify station and once he’d settled onto the couch, Emma spoke.

“I want to ask you out. To dinner. Or something.” Her eyes were wide and her lip was caught by her teeth.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” Killian laughed, attempting to ease the tension.

“Should have known you’d be old-fashioned.” She laughed, small and quiet, as though she wasn’t sure what his response meant.

“I happily accept... on one condition.” He took her hands in his. “You let me plan the evening.”

She smiled again and Killian didn’t want to ruin the moment, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“I have to ask, Swan. You seemed… uninterested in pursuing anything with me. I mean, for a while there, I was fairly certain I disgusted you.”

“You never disgusted me, Killian. I just…” She took a deep breath, forced herself to look him in the eye, “I didn’t want to take a chance that I was wrong about you.”

“Wrong?” He frowned, confused. He’d been under the assumption that she thought poorly of him.

“You seem so genuine and good and just… the opposite of everything I’ve ever known. And if I was wrong, if I let you in and got hurt again, I’m not sure if I would have been able to handle it.”

“What changed?”

“You came.” She said quietly. “Like, as soon as I called the other night, you were there. Before you knew Wilby was sick. No questions asked. No one’s… ever done that for me.”

Killian took her hand in his, feeling not for the first time that it wasn’t fair someone like Emma Swan had been dealt such an awful hand in life.

“I do have one more question, actually.” Killian smirked, realizing he’d been so worried on the night in question that one detail had eluded him.

“What’s that?”

“How did you get my number?”

“Oh um… David gave it to me. You’re like, the only person in town I know besides his cop buddies, so, he wanted me to be able to call someone.”

“Smart man, David Nolan.”

“Seems so.”

They fell asleep on the couch; a tangle of arms and legs and a soreness in the morning that had both of them looking like they almost regretted it. Almost.

He cooked breakfast while Emma watched him over her coffee.

“Alright, Jones, my turn to ask a question.”

“Anything, love.” Killian expected to feel nervous under her gaze, but he realized anything she wanted to know, he’d tell her.

“Why are you here? In Storybrooke, I mean.”

“Change of pace,” Killian responded automatically. The same answer he’d given since the day he’d rolled into town.

“Mmm, sounds like a half-truth,” she raised an eyebrow. He should have been surprised she’d seen right through his standard response, but he wasn’t.

“It’s not as exciting as your story, I’m afraid.”

“Exciting? That’s… hardly the word I’d use to describe my past. Insane, maybe.”

“I simply wanted to get away from my father. That’s it.” She still eyed him carefully and he wondered if she could tell he was lying. He felt like she could read him too well. Eventually she accepted his answer, as well as the bacon and eggs he piled onto her plate.

“You mentioned a brother before.”

“Aye, Liam. He’s older. Still lives back home in England.” Killian thought back to one of their earliest conversations, when he’d vaguely mentioned his brother in passing. He was flattered she’d remembered such a detail. For the first time, he realized that she had been intrigued by him as long as he had been by her. “He and my father both wanted me to stay and work with them for the rest of my life. I saw a different future for myself.

“You sound bitter.”

“We haven’t spoken in… a long time. They didn’t – still don’t, I suppose – agree with my decision to leave.”

“Why?”

“Liam thought I was running away from my problems instead of facing them and that it would come back to get me later.” It suddenly struck him how easy it was to talk to Emma and he decided to admit the full truth rather than part of it. “There was also a woman.”

“There always is.” She smiled, but she looked briefly bitter herself.

“She was married, but I found myself falling for her anyway. We dated behind her husband’s back. She kept telling me she was going to leave him, but of course, she didn’t.”

“They never do.” Her smile was a bit more teasing now. Killian smiled despite the intensity of the conversation.

“At any rate, Liam thought I should just stay and deal with the breakup, but I needed to get out. I was going down bad paths, drinking too much. I needed a fresh start. Storybrooke was the place.”

“Seems like that’s what Storybrooke is best for.”

“It does indeed.”

“You still didn’t answer my original question, though.” Emma was grinning now.

“I didn’t?”

“Nope. That’s why you left home. But why are you here ?”

“Ah, that’s much less exciting, I’m afraid. I kept flipping a coin: heads for right, tails for left, until I found a town that seemed like it could possibly be home. And here I am.” Killian paused, considering his next question carefully. “Does your brother know you were planning to spend the night here?”

“He’s not my keeper,” she said defensively.

“I know that, Swan, I just meant… does he know we’re going on a date? Any of that? It’s just… he’s still my employer. I’d rather not make him angry.”

“He’s not going to fire you.” And the way she said it made Killian think David Nolan knew exactly where his sister was and that there had already been quite a discussion about it.

“You’ve told him then.” Killian laughed.

“I asked him. About you. He and Mary Margaret had vastly different opinions on whether I should ask you on that date.”

“David loves me!”

“Sure- but he doesn’t love you for his sister,” she admitted.

“But he agreed in the end apparently. And I didn’t sense tension at the bar last night, so you must have said something to bring him around.”

“I told him about the night with Wilby. How you came right away and stayed until I felt better. I didn’t want to tell him, just so you know. I felt like an awful… dog aunt.” The corners of her lips turned up on the last word. “But he was so adamantly against my dating you because he’s insanely overprotective of me. So I had to tell him.”

“Thank you, Swan.” He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes, hoping he was conveying the sincerity he felt.

“Sure, sure. Just make sure that date is worth it.” She winked at him. “I should go. Thanks for breakfast and for this horrible kink in my neck I’m gonna be dealing with all day,” she said putting her coat on. She paused when she realized what she’d said, and Killian resisted the urge to joke about any other kinks she may have.

“I’d have gladly had you sleep in my bed, Emma. With or without me. Just so you know for the future,” he said seriously.

“Hmm. It wasn’t so bad.” She bit her lip when she said it, looking him right in the eyes. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” And then she was gone.

“A baseball game?” She sounded almost accusatory.

“I’m not sure what that tone means.”

“I’m just… surprised. It’s not exactly romantic, is it?”

Killian froze on the concourse and stared at Emma incredulously.

“Baseball is decidedly romantic, Swan, I’ll have you know.”

She laughed a bit and put her hands up in defeat.

“Do I get to ask why?”

“Not yet.” He smiled at her.

They’d arrived at Citizens Bank Park early, nearly as soon as the gates opened.

“Batting practice,” he told her, gesturing towards the field with a proud smile on his face.

“Uh-huh,” Emma responded dully, but there was a hopefulness in her eyes that Killian was certain he wasn’t imagining.

“Hey, Freddy, it’s my friend’s first game, how ‘bout a ball?” Killian shouted to the field. Emma smacked him on the arm.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Getting you a souvenir,” he said simply, leaning his hat out past the flowerbeds and smoothly catching the ball that the shortstop had tossed his way. He shouted his thanks and handed the ball to Emma. It was stained with grass and dirt from its journey across the field, but she stared at it like a diamond ring.

“You caught it, shouldn’t you keep it?”

“No, Swan, I caught it for you.”

“Are you friends with him or something?” Emma’s eyes widened as she asked. Killian grinned at her.

“Freddy Galvis? Not quite, love. I just know how to politely get a ball from a player when only ten other people show up for BP.” As he spoke, a chorus of children – and a few grown men – shouting ‘here here give it here!’ rang out and Killian raised his eyebrow. “And it’s not like that .”

Emma laughed so Killian took a chance, grabbed her hand and went to buy some hot dogs.

“So, why the Phillies?” she asked him as they took their seats. “I know you live here now, but you’re not even from America.”

“When I first got here, I did everything by myself. But when I went to a game, I was a part of something bigger.”

She nodded.

“Just a heads up, Jones, I know nothing about baseball, so you’re gonna have to walk me through this.”

“I’d like nothing more, love.”

So Killian explained defensive positions, batting order, different statistics on the large screen across from them. He showed her the foul poles and pointed out the pitchers warming up in the bullpen. She listened intently, seemingly wanting to absorb everything she could. By the bottom of the fifth, she was screaming right alongside him, with the Phillies down one-nothing.

“Mackanin, what are you doing? Buchanan’s barely thrown 80 pitches!”

“I do believe you’re getting the hang of this, Swan!”

“He’s throwing a good game, we’re only down by one!”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, love.” He beamed, unable to take his eyes off her.

The sixth inning brought a two-run homer by Freddy Galvis.

“Freddy!” Emma screamed as he rounded the bases and when the Liberty Bell chimed behind the outfield she was mesmerized. “Does it do that every time they score?”

“Just for home runs.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I knew you’d like it. I was hoping they’d score a homerun for you tonight.”

“It was Freddy.” She was smiling. “Your not-friend.”

“It was indeed.”

By the seventh inning stretch Killian had a small collection of empty wrappers surrounding him.

“Alright, Swan, we did hot dogs, commemorative cups, popcorn, pretzels, and the ice cream in the little hats that you’re insisting we keep.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Anything else you’d like to try to make your baseball experience complete?”

“Well according to the song, I need peanuts and Cracker Jacks.”

“Cracker Jacks are disgusting.”

“Won’t know till I try.”

Killian sighed and stood to go wait in line.

“Oh, God, these are awful ,” Emma said as she spit out a mouthful.

“Told you.”

She flung one at his head.

“So is this an important game?”

“It’s the Chicago Cubs, who’ve been great the past two years, but they’re not direct competition just yet. It’s still early in the season, so you could argue every game is important or none of them are important individually. At any rate, unless you’re playing a division rival, no one’s very invested quite yet.” He gestured at the empty seats around the stadium.

“And who are the division rivals?”

“The Marlins, Braves, Mets, and Nationals,” Killian growled the last name out.

“Wow, so you really don’t like the Nationals, huh?”

“Some would argue that the Mets are our real rival, but the Nationals have been much better in recent years and more recent fans, such as myself, hate the Nats just a bit more than the Mets.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty invested, Jones.”

“It’s impossible not to be. You meet people at a game and you’re cheering and rooting for the same thing - a common goal. And it’s just a moment in time. There’s no pressure, no need to make an impression or be anything but yourself. You’re just part of a mutual experience, and then you celebrate or mourn together, and then you go your separate ways.”

She looked at him like she understood, and she watched the rest of the game with her arm looped through his, yelling and booing in unison with the rest of the crowd.

The Phillies won 2-1 and Killian bought himself a Galvis jersey on the way out. Emma paused, then grabbed one for herself, too.

“We can wear them together next time,” she said simply.

The love of a dog is a pure thing. He gives you a trust which is total. You must not betray it.

― Michel Houellebecq

One Month Later

It was eight in the morning and someone was knocking on Killian’s door. His first thought was Emma? But she was curled up next to him, seemingly able to sleep through the noise.

Who the hell was knocking on his door so early on a Saturday?

“Killian, open the damn door.”

Liam?

Carefully untangling himself from Emma, Killian walked slowly down the hall. He peeked through the peephole and sure enough, there was Liam Jones. He opened the door.

“About bloody time, little brother.”

“It’s eight in the morning and I’ve nothing to do today. I certainly wasn’t expecting any visitors, least of all you. And I’m younger, but I’m not little, Liam.”

“Same difference.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” It was far too early for this and he wished Liam would keep his voice down so as not to wake—

“What the hell is happening out here?” came a grumpy voice. When she saw Liam, her eyes widened and she moved to cover herself; a difficult task in the tanktop and shorts she had slept in.

“No wonder you were sleeping in, Killian. Who’s this, then? Where’s her husband?”

“I’m not married. I’m Emma. You must be Liam.” And Emma Swan held out her hand to shake Liam Jones’ like it was the most normal morning in the world. She raised an eyebrow, and Killian did his best not to laugh as he realized where she learned that move from…

“I am indeed. My little brother talks about me, then?” Liam had the audacity to smile proudly , as though Killian would have had anything kind to say about him.

“He said you got so pissed at him for wanting to live his own life that you stopped speaking to him instead of just, I dunno, supporting him. That’s about as far as we got though.”

Killian could kiss Emma. Right then and there in front of his asshole brother.

“I asked you once already, Liam: what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

Liam seemed shaken up by Emma’s bluntness. He remembered himself and cleared his throat.

“I came to make amends.”

“Amends?” Killian’s nose wrinkled up and his lips turned downward. He’d come here, to Storybrooke, ages ago and Liam had never once made an effort to undo the wrongs between them.

“Yes. It’s been seven years, Killian, and I’m sick of not having my little brother in my life.”

“I swear, if you say ‘little’ one more time...” It was still too early and as Killian thought about the distinct lack of coffee in his life, he heard the percolator going and for the second time in ten minutes, he desperately wanted to kiss Emma.

“I’m getting married, Killian. I’d like… I’d love for you to come. To be my best man.”

Well, that was a surprise. Much like the rest of the morning, Killian supposed.

“What fool would marry your sloppy arse?” Killian tried to ease the tension. It seemed Liam had come in peace.

“Her name is Elsa.”

“Like the Disney movie?” Killian nearly laughed, but he stopped himself.

“She was obviously born before the movie came out, Killian, but yes. She’s Norwegian. And she’s dying to meet you.”

“You flew across the ocean to invite me to your wedding?”

“Well your phone number’s changed so many times I wanted to be sure to reach you.”

“How did you even know I still lived here?”

“Took a chance.”

“Ever heard of mail?”

“Yes, Killian, but I worried you’d toss anything from me before opening it. Besides, that’s not very personal, is it? We’ve gone seven years without speaking and I just invite you to my wedding like any other guest on the list?”

“Aye, you’ve got a point,” Killian conceded as Emma shoved his coffee into his hand. Spoonful of cream, two sugars; perfect. “Thank you, love.”

“So, we’re going to England, I take it?”

“We?” Liam sounded incredulous, wrinkling his nose as though he’d smelled something rotten.

And Killian expected Emma to be offended, or angry, or a little sad. The quiet, scowling blonde who’d opened the apartment door all those months ago certainly would have been all of those things. But, as always, she surprised him.

“Killian will want me there, I assume he gets a plus one as the best man.” She crossed her arms defiantly.

“I suppose-”

“Great, I’m going to go get dressed. Let me know when he gives you the date so I can take off of work and book a flight.” She kissed Killian and made her way back to the bedroom, where a drawer of her clothes waited for her.

“You can’t possibly expect-” Liam began as soon as Emma disappeared.

“If you’d bothered to speak to me once over the past few weeks – never mind months or years – you’d have known about Emma before you got here and you wouldn’t have that look on your face right now. Either she comes with me or I don’t come at all.” Killian sipped his coffee, surprised at how easily he was able to stand up to his older brother who’d intimidated him most of his life.

Liam finally left after Killian promised to meet him for lunch. Killian found Emma in his bedroom, her head between her knees.

“Emma, love? What’s the matter?”

“Why did I do that?”

“Do what?”

“Talk to your brother that way.” She still wasn’t looking at him.

“Emma, you were bloody brilliant. I’ve never stood up to my brother in my life until just now. Why are you sitting here looking like you’re going to be sick?”

“I invited myself to his wedding!”

“You did.”

“I didn’t even ask you!”

“You didn’t have to. Of course I want you there.” She lifted her head.

“We’ve only been on one real date.” It was true. After the baseball game, there had been plenty of nights out with the Nolans, and Emma slept at Killian’s more often than she slept at her brother’s apartment. But there had been no actual dates. It had gone unspoken: they were together. They didn’t need fancy dinners or sweeping romantic gestures. They were both much more content with a movie and a glass of wine.

“Date shmate.” Killian rolled his eyes. He understood her apprehension, but wanted her to move past it. He took her hands in his. “I love spending time with you and we already know you can handle my brother. It’s not as though this is a lifelong commitment, love. We’re just going to a wedding.”

“In England.”

“Aye, in England.”

“Where your entire family is going to be.”

“Does that bother you? You handled Liam perfectly fine- as I keep reminding you.”

“He looked at me like… I was something rotten.”

Killian sat next to her on the bed.

“Liam wasn’t seeing you . He was seeing me and all my past mistakes. I promise you; that look had nothing to do with you. It was completely due to the woman and habits I left behind in England.”

“I didn’t mean to overstep. I thought… I hoped you’d want me there-”

“Of course I do. It’s the only way I’d go. I told Liam so.”

“You did?” Her eyes widened in shock.

“If I have to go home, Emma, I’ll do it on my own terms. And you’re my terms.”

She smiled up at him.

“I’ve got to meet him for lunch in a bit. Would you like to come or should I walk you home?”

“Could I um… could I wait here? Unless you’re doing something else after?”

“I’ve no plans.” He smirked at her. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable until I get back.”

“And you’ll bring me grilled cheese from Granny’s?” Emma looked up at him and pouted.

Killian laughed, resisting the urge to climb back into bed. “How do you know we’re going to Granny’s?”

“Because Storybrooke has exactly two places to eat and I doubt you’re taking your brother to the candlelit Italian place.”

“Oh someone’s got it all figured out, eh?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Grilled cheese? Please?” She batted her eyelashes at him and the word smitten crossed his mind once more.

“As you wish.”

“I still don’t understand why you need to bring a girl you’ve only just started seeing.” Liam sipped his coffee and stared at Killian from across the booth. The cheeseburger he’d ordered remained untouched while Killian’s plate was nearly empty.

“Because I like her , Liam, and I want her by my side if I have to deal with everyone from back home.”

“You act as though they won’t be glad to see you.”

“Will they?” Killian retorted.

Liam was silent for a moment, but moved on quickly.

“I’m not paying for her airfare.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“No one’s asking you to.” Killian rolled his eyes, channeling Emma with the strength of the motion.

“Nor her hotel room.”

“She’s obviously staying in my hotel room, Liam.”

“I thought you’d stay at the house.”

“I certainly will not.” Killian set down his coffee cup with more force than was warranted.

“Killian-”

“No. You and Father made your feelings clear on my leaving when I packed my bags. Leaving England meant that your home was no longer mine. So, I’ll get a hotel room like everyone else, and Emma will stay with me.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Liam’s tone in that moment was reminiscent of the one he’d used when Killian was small.

“You don’t get to say that. You’re getting married, and I’m happy for you, and I’ll be by your side that day. But that doesn’t mean all is forgiven, and it doesn’t mean I’ll feel at home in the Jones’ house anymore. So, again. I’ll get a hotel room, and Emma will stay with me.”

“Fine, you stubborn arse.”

“And while we’re at it, brother, if you make another comment to Emma about Milah, you can consider my RSVP changed to a hard and fast no .”

“That was out of line, little brother. I apologize.”

“Younger,” Killian mumbled.

England, Four Months Later

“Killian, are you sure?” Emma asked again. Killian loved her - not that he’d said as much - but she was driving him mad.

“Yes. They’re going to love you. You’ve already flown to England, love. Can’t avoid meeting the people we’re here to see.” He raised an eyebrow at her, hoping she’d realize how silly she was being.

“I know, it’s just… what if they think I’m the reason you won’t move back?”

It was the fourteenth scenario she’d come up with. She’d spent the entire flight, the ride to the hotel, and the whole time they’d unpacked asking Killian whether his family would hate her for this reason or that.

They’d never hate her. Killian was sure of it, no matter how stubborn Liam had been. So now, as they entered the church to begin the rehearsal, Killian simply had to prove himself right.

He’d purposely bought a flight that would arrive just in time for the rehearsal. No earlier than necessary. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he knew his brother wouldn’t make a scene in front of his bride-to-be. His father was more mercurial, but Killian was simply hoping for the best.

A beautiful woman with white-blonde hair came flying out of the church to greet them.

“You must be Killian!” She hugged him. “And… Emma?” The woman seemed unsure, but hugged Emma anyway.

“Aye, that’s us. And you are…?” Killian took a step back, placing his arm around Emma’s waist. He looked down at her to gauge her reaction and was surprised to see her smiling.

“I’m Elsa! Your brother didn’t even show you a picture, huh? Just like Liam.” She rolled her eyes, as though Liam Jones was a child she couldn’t help but love. “Everyone’s already here, but you’re just on time. Come on, I’m excited to get started.” She flung open the doors of the church, stopping only briefly to make sure they were following her.

“You alright, love?” Killian asked Emma. She’d been silent since Elsa had run out and nearly barreled them over.

“I like her.” She smiled up at Killian. “She’s so... happy .”

As long as Emma was comfortable, Killian felt he had little else to worry about. If she liked Elsa, then hopefully the Jones clan wouldn’t be so much of a tribulation.

Introductions were made, and Killian was pleased to find Elsa’s sister, Anna, was just as open and friendly. Emma stayed smiling beside him, even as they both struggled to keep up with Anna’s quick talking and change of topic.

“How did you two meet? Was it romantic? Oh, have Elsa and Liam told you their story? It’s so cute, you’ll have to hear it later. My boyfriend isn’t here, but I bet you’d like him. He’s very likeable. Killian, are you going to be wearing a tie or a cummerbund? Liam said he would let you decide. Emma, have you ever been to England before?” It seemed like the girl hardly breathed, but her constant conversation made it much easier for Killian, who was still feeling a bit overwhelmed at being home. A fact he was trying to hide from Emma.

The rehearsal itself was simple: Killian stood at the front of the church beside Liam. Anna was coached on the correct speed, which she didn’t seem embarrassed of in the slightest. Finally, Elsa walked towards her husband-to-be, all heart-eyes and carefree smile. Then the priest acted his way through the vows and Killian did his best not to fall asleep standing up.

Finally Liam and Elsa, unofficially pronounced husband and wife, left through the center aisle. Killian offered his arm to Anna and she grinned up at him, grasping his elbow as they followed behind their respective siblings.

At dinner, Killian did his best to avoid his father. Brennan understood and kept his distance. Liam sat at the center of the table, Elsa to his right. Killian chose seats near the end for himself and Emma, and Anna plopped herself down across from them.

“Killian, what do you do for a living?” she asked. He waited for more questions or another story, but she simply waited for him to answer. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’m a dog walker. I know it sounds-”

“That’s so cool! I love dogs. I keep telling Kristoff we need to get a dog but he says we’re not home enough; we travel a lot. Do you have a dog of your own?”

“No, I don’t,” he said quietly. Anna’s jaw fell open.

“You don’t ? But you work with dogs, right? Why don’t you have one of your own? I’d think you’d be the best person to have a dog, because you know so much about them. I bet you know more about dogs than most people.”

Killian considered making a drinking game out of how many times Anna could say the word ‘dog’ without taking a breath. But he felt Emma watching him, and he knew he’d have to answer. And he’d have to answer honestly.

“I’ve never had something of my own to take care of. Seems easier to care for everyone else’s pets and give them back afterwards. I, uh… I don’t know how well I’d do with a dog of my own.” He smiled, trying to not let the severity of his words dampen the mood.

Anna nodded knowingly.

“I once had a succulent, and they’re supposed to be these easy plants, right? But I guess I watered it too much or it didn’t get enough sun or something and it died so quickly. I held a funeral for it, though. I think it lived a happy life.”

Killian really did like Anna. He wasn’t sure if she was breaking the tension or if she had really held a funeral for a plant, but he liked her all the same. He looked at Emma, hoping she’d be smiling with him at Anna’s innocent response. But she looked… sad. She caught him looking at her and shook it off quickly, laughing belatedly at Anna’s anecdote.

After dinner, Killian excused himself. He wasn’t remotely surprised when his older brother stopped him on the way back to the table. Killian had been right about Liam not starting an argument at the church. But he’d also known his brother would find a way to pick up where they’d left off in Storybrooke. Liam was much too stubborn to let Killian simply walk into the church today and walk back out tomorrow.

“You really brought her?” Liam’s arms were crossed and he was scowling. If Liam hadn’t been so against Emma’s presence, Killian might have mentioned how similar they looked when being stubborn.

“I’m not sure why you’re surprised.” Killian leaned against the wall, exhausted from jetlag and the argument that hadn’t even happened yet.

“I didn’t expect it to last.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. Just like Liam, to expect nothing but failure from his younger brother.

“It’s going quite well, thanks for asking,” Killian said through his teeth.

“Father wants to talk to you, but he doesn’t think you want to give him the time of day.” Liam somehow managed to look down at Killian, even though they were nearly the same height.

Killian’s head spun with the change of topic.

“He’s right,” he said after a moment.

“You know he wants you to come back. Home.”

Killian did know. He knew that deep down, his father felt like a failure. His son had left and made his own life, rather than stay under Brennan Jones’ watchful eye and constant criticism. Killian was supposed to remain home and find a good English girl to marry. He was supposed to work in the shipyard with Brennan and Liam and come home exhausted and miserable after six twelve-hour shifts a week.

But he’d left, and Killian had no doubt that Brennan wanted him home so he could fulfill some dream he had about the Jones brothers running the shipyard together and making Brennan’s friends jealous of their success.

It hadn’t taken much for Killian to leave all of it behind. And there was nothing anyone could do to make him stay.

“That won’t happen,” Killian said simply.

“Because of her?” Liam demanded.

If only Emma would have found it funny, Killian would have told her later: she was right. His family really thought she was keeping him away, keeping him in Storybrooke in the good old US of A, as though he hadn’t gone without her for his first seven years.

Fine, let them think that.

“Does it matter why?”

“Of course it does, Killian. You should be home with your family who love you .”

“I love her, Liam. I love Storybrooke and I love my dingy old apartment with the leaky kitchen sink. I love my job and I love Emma , dammit.” Killian was surprised at how freeing it felt to say it aloud. His anger dissipated slowly as he reveled in the fact that he’d finally admitted his feelings, even if it wasn’t to Emma herself. “I love her, and I brought her here for the same reason you wanted me at your wedding: I want you to like her.”

Liam softened at that.

“I did want you to like Elsa. She’s… very special to me.” He uncrossed his arms as he spoke, taking a slow step towards Killian.

“As is Emma to me.”

Liam took a deep breath, and before Killian knew what was happening, they were hugging. He couldn’t remember the last time Liam had hugged him, especially with this much emotion. They held each other close, and Killian fought back a stray tear: he’d missed his brother, had missed the closeness they’d shared as children.

“I missed you, Killian. I… I’m sorry I acted the way that I did over Milah. I know you can’t possibly believe me, but I thought I was looking out for your best interests.” Liam’s words were muffled against Killian’s shoulder.

“I missed you, too. You won’t believe me , but you were the first person I wanted to tell after I met Emma.”

“You should have.”

“So should you.” Killian took a step back, raising an eyebrow at Liam. “You’d gone so far as to plan an entire wedding before I’d even met the bride. I haven’t even told Emma I love her yet.”

Liam looked a bit taken aback at Killian’s admission.

“You haven’t?"

“I haven’t found the right time, I suppose. I’m… I’m worried I’ll scare her off.” It struck Killian how normal this conversation was. As though he and his brother spoke of their love lives regularly. Seven years, apparently, was nothing compared to two decades under the same roof, growing up together despite their differences. This Liam, the one before him, was the one who Killian had wanted when he’d fallen for Milah. He’d wanted his older brother to look at him like this, like he was proud and pleased and all the things in between.

Further proof that Milah hadn’t been ‘The One’ after all.

Deciding that they’d been away from the party long enough, Killian and Liam agreed to catch up further after the wedding. They walked back to the table and Elsa was beaming.

“You two look happier than I’ve seen you all day. Should I be insulted, since I’m the one marrying one of you tomorrow?” She teased.

“Not at all, lass. Liam’s just finally stopped being a total prat.” Killian laughed when his brother swatted at his arm. He looked towards Emma, hoping to see an equally pleased smile on her face. She had, after all, worried that she’d be further ruining his relationship with his brother when in the end, she’d inadvertently fixed it.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t even looking at him, but down at her phone, fingers speeding over the screen.

“Are you alright, Emma?” He slid into his chair beside her. She jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Fine,” she said, putting her phone on the table facedown.

Even Anna was uncharacteristically quiet and Killian found that, despite the serenity of the moment he’d had with his brother, he was feeling more curious and frustrated now that he was back with his girlfriend.

He’d expected the weekend to go much in the opposite direction.

Emma stayed quiet throughout dinner, occasionally excusing herself to use the restroom, always taking her phone. He watched her, barely touching the red velvet cake Liam bought for the table to share, and he worried.

Had bringing her to England been too much for her? He’d known it was a risk. It was early in their relationship, no matter how much time they spent together. Traveling to another country together, spending a weekend with his family… it must have been horrifying for her. He’d been selfish to want her here.

In the cab, he stared out the window, mentally scolding himself. There was less than a foot of space between himself and the woman he loved - he loved her - but it may as well have been the Atlantic Ocean.

They entered their hotel room, and Killian’s hands felt cold without hers to hold. He longed to hug her or kiss her, but he felt as though he’d already lost her.

They spoke at the same time.

“We should talk-”

“Emma, I-”

They stared at each other, unsure which should continue. Killian felt an ache in his chest at her words, and wondered if anything he could say would salvage whatever he was losing.

We should talk , echoed in his head over and over again, the words hanging in the silence and the space between them.

“I heard you talking to your brother,” she finally said quietly.

Killian stayed silent. She may have heard him saying he loved her, or she may have only heard the end. He couldn’t assume she’d heard anything specific unless she said so. She stared at him, worry creasing her brow, until it became apparent that one of them had to say something .

“I heard you say… Well, I heard him say that he wanted you to come home.”

Shit. She’d heard the worst possible part. The very beginning, when his brother had tried to guilt him into returning to England. Her worst fear upon meeting his family, and she thought it was coming true.

“Emma, he didn’t-” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I heard you say why you didn’t want to. I heard you say you loved me.” She stood just out of his reach, watching him.

“Aye,” he said simply.

“You haven’t… you haven’t said that to me.” She was speaking so quietly he could hardly hear her, so he took a chance and stepped closer to her.

“I wasn’t sure how. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to tell someone…” He trailed off.

“That you love them.” She stood still, not moving away as he moved closer. He nodded and grabbed her hands in his before he could stop himself.

“I love you, Emma.” He watched her eyes, expecting fear or maybe some telltale flash that would mean she was about to run away and never look back.

“I love you, too.” Her eyes widened when she said it, as though she was coming to a realization. As though she hadn’t known how she felt until that moment.

“You do?” Killian was grinning now, the ache in his chest a dull memory. He kissed her, picking her up and carrying her to the bed. She laughed when he collapsed on top of her, and he moved to lay beside her for a moment, reveling in the sound of it.

“Yes, I do. I didn’t realize it, I don’t think. Not until the restaurant. Maybe not even until right now.” She was tracing his face as she spoke, fingers wandering aimlessly over his chin and cheeks.

“Well, I expected this conversation to go differently. I thought you were mad at me, or upset I’d brought you. I thought… I thought you were going to leave,” Killian confessed. She sat up and stared at him incredulously.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“What? Leave?” He adjusted his position, leaning back against the pillows.

“I wouldn’t.” She stared at him seriously.

“Okay, love. I believe you. I was just concerned. You were so quiet at dinner after I came back-” Her eyes lit up suddenly.

“Shit! I’ve got to call David.” She took her phone and ran out into the hall, the romance of the moment forgotten.

They changed their flight and stayed in England an extra two days. Liam covered the bill, just glad to have his brother back in his life. The wedding had been beautiful, Elsa every bit the blushing bride. Anna sped down the aisle, despite her coaching. Emma and Killian danced, and he told her he loved her at least six times before they fell into bed that evening.

Killian spent a full day with his brother, while Emma got a tour of the town from Elsa. The Jones brothers had a lot to catch up on, and Liam was pleased to hear that Killian had told Emma how he felt.

When they left, Liam hugged Emma, to Killian’s surprise, and whispered something to her. She nodded seriously, and refused to share what he’d said, no matter how much Killian needled her.

Later, they dragged their bags up the steps to Killian’s apartment. It was good to be home, much as the time in England had been worth the initial stress of it all. Killian looked forward to his own bed, his own shower, and silence.

So being met with balloons, streamers, and two people blowing into kazoos was quite a shock to his system. The Nolans had somehow gotten into his apartment and decorated it; a hand-painted banner hanging from the kitchen cabinets welcomed them home. Killian looked to Emma, expecting to see a look of shock that mirrored his own, but instead he found her grinning at him.

“Welcome home,” she whispered and kissed him on the cheek.

“You did this?” He was in awe of the woman beside him. A few short months ago, she hadn’t even wanted to let Killian into her brother’s apartment; now, she was plotting to throw him parties. It was… quite a change.

He realized they were staring at each other when David cleared his throat from across the room.

“Emma called me and said you were feeling a bit homesick. Mary Margaret loves any excuse to hang streamers. So, here we are.” David had his arms crossed, but he was smiling despite himself.

“That’s incredibly kind. Thank you. I’m quite surprised, which I assume was the goal.” As Killian spoke, the other people in the room all looked at each other, speaking without words. “What have I missed? You’re looking like there’s an inside joke going on somewhere.”

“There’s more,” Emma said simply.

More?

“We got you something.” Mary Margaret’s entire face seemed to be taken up by her smile. She was generally a happy person but she looked downright ecstatic.

Killian looked between the three of them helplessly, until he heard a very strange noise coming from the direction of his bedroom. Emma grinned and ran toward the noise, returning with a ball of fluff.

“His name is Roger.” She handed Killian the furry bundle, and two large blue eyes looked up at him. “He was available for adoption before we left. I’d been eyeing him up, but then what you said to Anna… Killian, no one would be a better… is it dog dad? Than you. So I filled everything out online while we were away and had David pick him up this morning.”

Killian set Roger, a tan curly mess, onto the ground. They eyed each other curiously before Roger jumped right back up into Killian’s arms.

“You got me… a dog?”

“He’s some sort of poodle mix, they weren’t sure what kind.” Emma rambled. “He’s around two, they think. He did really well with other dogs, so you can probably take him with you when you walk everyone else’s dogs. He’s already house trained, thankfully, and they gave David a bunch of coupons for food.” Finally, she stopped. “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Killian Jones was a lot of things, both in general and in that moment. And perhaps he was, just a bit... But not in the way Emma meant it. She looked at him as though he could possibly be anything but incredibly and unapologetically happy and downright blissful. “I could never be mad at you. I’m simply unsure what I ever did to deserve you.”

She smiled when she realized he meant it, and she stole Roger from his arms teasingly.

“You already turned one stray into a house pet so… I guess it’s time for another.”

A dog will teach you unconditional love. If you can have that in your life, things won't be too bad.

― Robert Wagner

#hoping this formats properly because tumblr is a demon hellsite #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfic

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darknightrisese-blog · 5 years ago

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Movie Review: The Dark Knight Rises: Ends with a Shrug, Not a Bang

It’s hard to say if anything would have lived up to the expectations we had after the phenomenon of The Dark Knight, but we can’t sit here and argue about what could’ve been, we can only argue about what we got. Now that a couple weeks have passed and the fervor has died down a bit, I think it’s safer to come out and take a good hard look without fear of the overzealous reactions of the die-hards. I’m not criticizing their excitement, I am a devout believer in the greatness of Christopher Nolan and what he created before, but this new chapter left a lot to be desired and we shouldn’t feel the need to threaten people who point that out.

the dark knight rises full movie in hindi download 480p openload

So, onto the firefight… SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS (is that enough of a warning? No? SPOILERS!) This is truly one of those movies you cannot review without giving tons of plot points away, especially since the plot was one of the biggest problems. If you haven’t seen it yet, first leave me a comment with a really good excuse why not, and secondly, go see it now and come back here when you’re done. The Dark Knight Rises picks up eight years after Batman flees the city as their new fallen angel. Other than references to the hidden truth about Dent and the death of Rachel, the previous chapter could have been skipped over altogether. Nolan made a point of trying to respect Heath Ledger by not mentioning him at all in this film (for fear of being seen as using his death as an emotional whip on the audience), but by doing that he also removed the most dynamic piece of the film and created a shadow where the phenomenon used to be. Add to that the main villains for this final chapter are direct continuations from the first film, Batman Begins. This ties the whole trilogy together nicely as one coherent story, but it also makes The Dark Knight stick out like an intermission in the middle of another movie.

Before I get too far in, let’s go over some of the things that did work. Anne Hathaway surprised many, but not me, with her layered performance as Catwoman. She wasn’t given nearly the breadth and depth of character to work with as Michelle Pfeiffer got in Batman Returns, but she gave weight to it a way very few could. Her biggest downside was she didn’t get nearly enough room to make the relationship between her and Wayne believable, especially considering the ending (don’t say I didn’t warn you about spoilers). I also give Tom Hardy real credit for pushing with every ounce of his talent to bring emotional context to a character whose face is half covered the entire film. Very few characters are written well enough to pull that off and even fewer actors can play them (Hugo Weaving as V in V for Vendetta and David Prowse/James Earl Jones as Darth Vader in…actually you better already know that). Now, let’s move into what didn’t work so well. Throughout the film, it felt like nearly every scene was another allegory, another reference either to society in general or the theme of the film. That can be really awesome when striking an overall tone for a film, but we already knew the tone, we’ve had two other movies to get used to that, whereas in this final chapter it came off as heavy-handed and unnecessary. The infamous pit that Bane and Talia sprout from for instance, we can all grasp the idea of something evil scraping and clawing its way out of hell. That’s absolutely someone who should be feared. The problem lies with the jail itself. It never showed a clear reason why people who climbed all the way to that random ledge couldn’t just keep climbing. The walls looked like they were the same texture all the way to the top. Also, who the hell anchored that rope in the first place? If they could do that, why couldn’t they keep going and plant another one, so on and so forth until they got out? Lastly, no matter how strong you will is, if you’re just coming back from a broken back, a fall like that on a rope with no give at all would not only re-injure your spine, but pretty much make you a para-pelagic instantly. I’ll stop with the pit now, but there are so many other problems with that plot point, it begs huge forgiveness from the audience. Next, let’s look at the stock market attack sequence. The idea of this is cool, but it seemed to get stuck in its own way. If Bain and his minions are trying to tell the middle and lower class folks in Gotham that they are taking the city back for them, you’d imagine they would bankrupt everyone in the city, not just Bruce Wayne. Plus, the secondary motive in the crime was to help a hostile takeover of Wayne Enterprises, so it couldn’t just look like they were after him alone. Yet when the whole scene is over, you only hear about insane losses by Wayne, no one else. Then we would have to believe that the people in charge of the stock exchange and the financial authorities would take at face value any trades or data that came out of that building from the moment it got hijacked? Every transaction would be suspect, especially ones that magically bankrupted one of their most prominent citizens. So, once again, a major plot point in moving the story forward was inherently flawed. There is more to rant about, both good and bad, but I am reaching my limit for a single post, plus my fingers began hurting while my ire was growing. Will this go down as the greatest comic book trilogy in movie history? Maybe. Nolan created something no one expected and the entire genre moving forward will be better off for it. Was The Dark Knight Rises the finale we all hoped for? Not really, but it’s what we got.

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

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Let's have a little chat about: Scooter from Borderlands (Nicole's rambling)

Apology: I'm sorry I don't post and such: I have big summer holiday and I'm mostly out of the house with friends, I'm going to some parties, etc. And when I'm home, which is usually when I'm getting sobber or really late at night, I just sit down to watch a movie with parents or just play Borderlands as the thug I am. I don't have inspiration, so writing is not my thing at this time of the year, obviously. I love y'all. :')

Warning: If you haven't played Borderlands yet (I don't know in what century you're living then) and you want to, go play it beforehand. I do recommend to play it in this order:

Borderlands (It started it all; it isn't the best one and it doesn't have much story in it, but it's fucking wild, action is thrilling and it's hilarious.)

Borderlands: The Pre-sequel (Definitely not the best one, it's difficult to play as fuck. But it's still hilarious, wild and dark. So I love it. Also Handsome Jack is the hero here... Check it out at least . And Come with me now would be a seriously dope intro, asshats.)

Borderlands 2 (For me, the best one out yet. I love it, I played it more than four times and I just love coming back to it. The most hilarious are the bandits and the bullshit they're writing and saying. And the story will get you emotionally at moments... Like Bloodwing, that one fucking hurt. But still: 11/10, the best and top notch.)

Tales from the Borderlands (Okay, this is a telltale game; it is great, had a lot of laughs. Not everyone's thing - but. It has some canon bullshit in it that you need to actually proceed through the story. The openings are great as always *not you, cough, Pre-sequel, not you*, the dialogues are crazy and it deserves to be taken as a canonical Borderlands game... And Troy Baker guys, fucking Troy Baker is the voice actor of Rhys (main character) and even Nolan North is there!)

Borderlands 3 (Isn't out yet and I hope it will be crazier and bloodier than Borderlands 2.)

Because why? ❕S P O I L E R A L E R T❕

Okay. If you didn't listen to the warning, this handsome lad is mister Scooter. He likes cars, ladies and cars - exactly in this order.

He appears in Borderlands for the first time: he is a man who provides cars for Pandora (that's the planet the story takes place... Mostly.). But you don't bond with Scooter in the first game that much.

But - he becomes your friendly neighborhood Sanctuary (the main resistance city which is lead by playable characters from first Borderlands) mechanic in Borderlands 2 and his lines are everything (he wants to kill you when you see him for the first time, because he thinks that you're a robot which is about to kill him and he's a big dumb bunny). Con, you're searching some porn magazines for him and I just found it funny.

Scooter here is the perfect example of a lovely idiot, who is into women a big time and he would do everything just to know how does touching the boobs feel like.

He has a sis, fellow mechanic from The Dust (part of Pandora), Ellie, who is the complete opposite of our lovely Scooter. Living with bandits is her daily life, she is savage, brutal and she doesn't give a single shit - no offense given but a shit ton of it taken; boom and you're dead.

At the end of the game, you feel like part of the Borderlands family - there's your hoe Lilith (siren, who uses a shiny violet stones to phase through time and places) who is constantly saying she is saving your ass but secretly is a little useless shit and bitch. And there's Mordecai (super cool sniper with even super cooler birb) who says he doesn't do a shit - but saves your ass on two regions at a time. Maybe even three? You are a huge time into Moxxxi (a sex bomb who has her own bar) and then there's Claptrap (a robot which you wanna kill or blow up, maybe both, everytime he starts to speak) and you manage to stay calm and say "fine, you shitty yellow box, you won".

But then: F U C K I N G Tales from the Borderlands take place. And... Oh boy. Oh my fucking lord. Save me. This is the significant moment you know that everything took the biggest shitty turn it actually could.

Even tho it isn't a first person shooter as the other entries, in which you can blow up enemies recklessly or make them fall into ashes with some fire elemented guns, it captured Borderlands spirit perfectly - and I know it sounds unbelievable, because Telltale games suck for the most of the time (*cough* Batman *Cough*).

It's silly, it will make you see Pandora from a different perspective, but it's still a brutal game with humour having the most blackest turn outs around.

You play as Rhys (not gonna spoil who this fella is, but he's Troy Baker) and Fiona and the story just somehow goes and goes...

And all of a sudden you find yourself in fucking chapter four with Fiona and Scooter outside that dumb fucking rocket and you know what's about to hit you - Scooter is going to die. He will do it. He will sacrifice for the others to succed. That pure baby boy who is so dumb at times it hurts.

And he does exactly what you expect him too - that idiot dies. And H E R E we stop. Okay? Okay.

Hear me out. Hyperion (a big baddie company who practically fucks Pandora up for that shiny violet shit stone I told you about and a vault, a mystery treasure you're searching for though out both games) has a New-U stations, right?

And everyone who played that game KNOWS how this fucking thing works. If you don't, let me explain.

New-U stations are "respawn points" for vault hunters (that's how you're called, btw). There are usually three to four stations for every region in game, sometimes even more. When you die, they will respawn you - and you pay some ridiculous money for respawning (it matters on how far from the last New-U you die from) and that lady voice is just fucking you up with lines like "Die soon again!".

Here's where my problem with believeing that Scooter is dead starts.

He's a mechanic. He owns and runs, with his sis Ellie, the only car business reachable on the whole Pandora. THE ONLY ONE YOU CAN USE. So he has to have some big cash, I think.

And New-U can respawn you no matter where you die or how dumb your death is.

I mean, some of those New-U stations, even if it was a single one, HAD to remember Scooter. It just had.

The conclusion is - I am partially sure, maybe believeing is more accurate, that Scooter appeared somewhere on Pandora again. I hope so. Because Catch-A-Riiide will not be the same if there's not gonna be a Scooter yelling it into player's ear everytime they hire a car.

Also: give Scooter a proper badass girlfriend, who will be the tough one in the relationship and who will keep their eye on Scooter no matter what bullshit he's about to do. It can be even someone like Athena (a badass gladiator from Pre-sequel who is that quiet type who doesn't take jokes too lightly). Give Scooter a proper happy fucking ending and give us, the players, the happy ending we want and expect from the game.

Otherwise I'm about to write a fanfiction with his happy ending. And it will be canonical. Don't tease me, I'm capable of it.

That's all. Have a lovely night! Xoxo.

Also, sorry for mistakes and typos, it's two am and my kitty cat wants to snuggle.

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years ago

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The Period of the Long Change (14/15)

It’s quick. One second she’s standing there and everything is fine and then Emma looks up and it’s not. It’s awful. And the lights are too bright and there are too many rooms and too many opinions and her phone won’t stop ringing because everything seems to be changing all at once. She’s never been great at coping with change. But, maybe, if she can just figure it out and stay right where she is, with Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, at her side, it’ll be alright.

It’s slow. One second he’s standing there and everything is fine and then Killian’s breath catches and it’s not. It’s terrifying. And the noises are too loud and there are too many questions and he can’t find the right answers to any of them, not sure how to cope with everything changing all at once. That’s never really been his forte. But, maybe, if he can just figure it out and stay right where he is, with Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations, at his side, it’ll be alright.

It’s another season and another challenge and Emma and Killian are both struggling to get over the boards.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 8K and change AN: If you’ve been reading and sticking along and clicking on this, I really appreciate it a lot. We’re almost done.

Also on Ao3 and FF.net and Tumblr if that’s your jam.

The ice didn’t feel any different.

He wasn’t sure what he expected it to feel like. Ice was ice. There wasn’t much give to it and it was cold and solid and it was ice. Nothing was different, but it kind of felt like everything was different and Killian’s skates felt far too tight.

That might have been his lungs, actually.

It kind of felt like his lungs were shrinking.

And expanding.

And just generically not working.

He hadn’t even skated away from the boards yet.

He wasn’t sure his legs would work either.

“Cap,” Robin called, standing at the far end of the rink with a stick in one hand and several blurs that were actually several different kids moving around him. “It’s not going to melt as soon as you touch it.”

“He’s touching it now,” Will reasoned. Killian turned to see him walking down the tunnel, a smile on his face and a bag of pucks in his hands and his skates probably didn’t feel as if they were doing permanent damage to several different toes.

Killian should have asked Kristoff about his skates. But that would probably require him to admit to several things he wasn’t sure he was ever willing to admit to and being nervous about skating was, easily, the most absurd thing that had ever happened to him.

“You going to move Cap or, like, what’s your deal?” Will continued, bumping shoulders with Killian when he tried to move over the boards.

“Can you control any part of your body? Or are you just trying to be a complete and utter asshole?” “The fact that you’re using all of those words gives me pause.” “And not your inability to get over the boards two weeks after the season ended?” Will shrugged and rolled his eyes and did something with his legs that could not have been good for his hips, but his skates didn’t skid when they landed on the ice and he stared at Killian like he’d just scored a hat trick and won another Stanley Cup.

They hadn’t.

Again.

And, really, that was the last thing Killian was worried about, but it had been a kind of strange last few months and not even making the playoffs was a strange change of pace for the New York Rangers.

That was kind of the subheadline for the entire season.

The actual headline was far less respectful.

There’d been questions and less-than-ideal Photoshops on the back page of The Post and Killian wasn’t ever searching out subReddit posts, but they was difficult to avoid when he spent so much time around recently-named Sergeant David Nolan and it seemed like every single cab driver he’d hailed in the last two and a half months had several, very vocal opinions to share on the state of the Rangers front office.

And its decision to send Husinger back to the AHL after the trade deadline.

They’d brought in a new guy and he wasn’t great, but Killian didn’t feel the innate urge to punch him every time he thought about him.

“I think you’re deflecting on things here, Cap,” Will muttered. He dropped the pucks at his feet, a sound that seemed to echo off the walls of the otherwise empty Garden and, possibly, in between Killian’s ears and this whole thing was actually pretty ridiculous.

He’d been on the ice before.

He’d stood at center ice, advised a power play that, despite the lack of a playoff berth, was actually pretty goddamn good by the end of the season, and followed a PT schedule with only a minimal amount of complaining. He and his kids had watched more film in the last two months than they had in the last four years, a jumble of limbs and thoughts on the couch and, more often than not, Emma came home to find all three of them tangled and asleep, with the tablet dead on the coffee table.

Killian could never remember to charge the tablet.

It was fine and good and as great as it could be when he wasn’t actually playing, but they’d agreed not to rush this and Ariel had done so much research about everything that sometimes Killian swore his head was spinning at even the mere thought of it.

And, naturally, Ariel had told Emma who made a schedule and made him promise not to push it and Killian had agreed to that willingly.

He knew he was coming back.

It didn’t matter when.

But when was now and now the ice didn’t feel different, but it didn’t feel quite like the home it had always been and that was an even more ridiculous thought than the rest of the absolutely insane thoughts he’d been thinking all day.

His skates were way too tight.

God, Will was totally right.

“We don’t have to do this now,” Will muttered, moving the blade of his stick under the closest puck so he could bounce it in the air. Killian arched an eyebrow. “It’s a nervous habit,” he explained. “Because you’re making me nervous. What are you thinking?” “That’s a very loaded question, actually.” “Yeah?” Killian nodded, cursing softly when Robin appeared in front of him and doused the front of his too-small skates with a fresh coat of ice. “What the hell, Locksley?” “You going to move or what are we doing?” Robin asked, but his eyes darted towards Will and Killian didn’t try to suppress his sigh.

“We’re moving. We’re just--” “--Thinking about it, apparently,” Will mumbled.

Robin made a noise, not quite an agreement and possibly a little mocking and Killian forgot he was holding a stick until he realized he was resting most of his weight against it. Kristoff would kill him if he broke a stick and complained about his skates.

And then Anna would kill him and that was just going to get messy.

He didn’t have time for that.

He had to move.

“And were we going to address those thoughts?” Robin pressed. He leaned forward to grab another puck, handling like he was moving between sixty-seven defenders and this all felt a little full-circle. Matt and Roland were yelling at Henry about getting in goal on the other side of the ice and Dylan kept shooting at the boards and they didn’t have a ton of time.

This wasn’t, technically, a practice or anything more than an optional skate that Killian knew Arthur had only scheduled so he could get on the ice. Arthur was probably lurking somewhere in one of the suites upstairs.

With Victor.

And Ariel.

And maybe Emma.

No, Emma had some season ticket thing to worry about – end of the season wrap ups and future outlooks and offseason events to prep for because they were all going to be a little busy for the next few days and Matthew Jones was graduating preschool.

That was way more exciting than events or not-quite legitimate practices.

“I guess not,” Will shrugged when Killian didn’t answer Robin’s question, and he sighed again.

“You’re the two most impatient people on the planet, you know that?” Killian asked, but his voice lacked the edge he wanted it to and Matthew Jones probably wished he could skip preschool graduation so he could stay on the ice for the foreseeable future.

They’d gotten Henry into the net.

“What are the thoughts, Cap?” Robin demanded. He flicked his wrists, a quick twist and turn and the puck didn’t quite slam into Killian’s skate, but it was awfully close.

“Are you kidding me?” “An answer to the question or I’m going to keep pelting you with pucks.” “That sounds ridiculous.” “And kind of immature too,” Will added, still bouncing his own puck and he must have taken an entire box out of equipment. They were never going to use that many pucks. There were three of them.

Robin shook his head. “You do not get to say those words, Scarlet. You were the one trying to get Matt and Rol to race before so you could win--” “--Ah, c’mon, we agreed we weren’t going to talk about that in front of Cap. He’s going to slam us into the boards.” “I made no such agreement and that’s just incredibly untrue.”

“Which part, exactly?” Killian asked, pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t quite as annoyed as he was intrigued and it sounded like his kid had just scored. That was probably the reason for whatever he was feeling.

“You’re not going to slam anyone into the boards because you can’t even get on the ice. Also because you know A is lurking somewhere, watching this and you don’t want to deal with that.” “Ok, that’s just rude, Locksley,” Ariel yelled, a disembodied voice that probably would have been impressive if it weren’t also kind of terrifying.

“Oh my God,” Killian mumbled. He ran his hand through his hair, standing up straighter and glancing around like that would summon Ariel and it kind of worked. He heard her shoes before he saw her, a squeak and a bit of a stomp and the boards got in her way when she tried to launch herself at Robin.

Will caught her around the waist.

“Where were you hiding?” Killian asked. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I wasn’t hiding. I was...” “Lurking?” Will laughed, an arm still around her and she’d somehow managed to perch on the edge of the boards, feet dangling over the ice and one shoe threatening to fall off.

“Screw you, Scarlet. I was not lurking either. I was watching and doing my job, which, incidentally Cap, it doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of.” “It’s the offseason,” Killian pointed out. “Technically speaking I don’t have a job. I am on vacation. This is voluntary skate.” “Have you ever not skated at a voluntary skate? Or an involuntary one?” “That sounds like torture skate.” “God, you’re annoying, you know that?” Killian grinned, turning a bit and the ice really didn’t feel different when he moved. His lungs were starting to feel a bit normal again. “And,” Ariel added. “Just because you’re cool to skate now does not mean you get to ignore me, you know that right?”

“I would never ignore you, Red.” “Do not lie straight to my face. Don't insult me like that.” “Is he totally cured if he can’t even skate to the circle?” Will asked, and they’d apparently moved out of the understanding portion of the conversation.

Ariel made a face. “He’s not ever totally cured. That’s not how concussions work.” “Don’t act like Scarlet should know that,” Robin muttered. Will flipped him off. And both Killian and Ariel mumbled there are kids here under their breath. He skated backwards, one hand held up in surrender and a knowing smile on his face. “Aye, aye Mom and Dad.” “Oh, shut up,” Ariel grumbled, another insult that lacked any sort of actual insult and they were all far too comfortable with each other. “I’m serious though, Cap. Walking and we’re going to do some of those balance things.” “It really does take away from the seriousness of it when you call it things, you know,” Killian said. Ariel tried to kick at him, but it only ended with her right shoe sailing across the entire goddamn rink and it was a miracle any of them stayed standing.

Killian was very thankful for the stick in his hand.

Ariel yelled a string of insults at them again, cursing them to several different hells and underworlds and none of them made a move to go get her shoe. “You guys are the worst,” Ariel shouted, trying to keep her bare foot away from the ice and Killian’s sides were starting to ache.

He was fairly certain Will had tears in his eyes.

Robin couldn’t even stand up.

“Will one of you seriously go get my shoe?” Ariel asked. “I”m not walking back to my office with one shoe.” “No one is kicking you off the ice, A,” Robin muttered, laughter clinging to the words he could barely get out.

“I’m going to tell Gina to lock you out of your apartment later.” “Nah, the kids are with me. She won’t do that. I win.” “Screw you, Locksley.” “Ariel,” Will gasped, a hand to his practice jersey and a scandalized look on his face. “The children! Your child! Think of the children!” It looked like she was trying to shoot lasers out of her eyes at them.

“Get my goddamn shoe!”

“This is why you shouldn’t resort to violence like that,” Robin grinned. He was still trying to stick handle against no one. Killian was going to tell Gina that later.

“We’re trying to better the game,” Will added. “Also, as an aside, where were you lurking?”

Ariel growled. “Stop using that word!” “Not an answer.” “I was walking here. There was no hiding. There was no lurking. I was late because, unlike you guys, I still have stuff to do in the offseason and things to get ready for later.” Killian blinked at the tone of her voice, Ariel’s eyes widening and her lips pulled back behind her teeth as soon as she realized what she’d said. Will whistled. “What does that mean, exactly?” Killian asked.

Her shoe was probably going to stick to the ice.

“Nothing.” “I thought you didn’t want to hear the lies.” “Only when it came to you and skating, which, you know, you’re still not doing.” “You’re a worse liar than Emma is.” “I’m going to tell her that,” Ariel warned, but Killian shrugged. Will whistled again. “It’s very frustrating when you won’t take my insults or threats seriously.” “It’s probably got something to do with us knowing each other for so long,” Will said. The puck on his blade fell back to the ice, another crash that sounded far too loud and this conversation was confusing. They needed to pick a lane – serious or teasing or something that didn’t affect Killian’s lungs quite so much.

He hoped Emma ate lunch. He hadn’t had to bribe Merida in weeks, had spent most of March actually eating lunch with his wife and hot chocolate dates turned into walks up Broadway and actually going to that Shake Shack a few blocks away and coming back to kiss her in her office and deserted hallways and they’d only been caught by Mary Margaret that one time, which was only kind of awkward, but Emma was right and she really should have called.

And Mary Margaret was right, Emma would have ignored her text messages anyway.

“Yeah, probably,” Ariel agreed. It sounded like the words physically pained her. “Seriously can I have my shoe back? It’s freezing in here.”

“Why aren’t you tying your shoes better, Red?” Killian asked, and he still hadn’t moved, which, honestly was only slightly troubling, but he was still kind of laughing and he hoped Arthur was in one of the suites if only he could witness all of this in person.

“Because I was trying to get down here. Obviously.” He stopped laughing almost immediately, lungs not entirely appreciating the distinct lack of oxygen he was providing them and if Dylan didn’t stop shooting at the boards, Killian was fairly certain he was going to go insane.

Matt was singing the goal song again.

He must have scored. Again.

“Yeah, got you know, don’t I?” Ariel asked, working a quiet scoff out of Killian. “You feel appropriately bad now?”

“Were you trying to make me feel bad?” “Nah, you’ve had enough of that this season, honestly.” “That was actually kind of nice.”

“We’ve circled right back around to cognitive balance. Assume that was my plan along. It makes me sound way smarter than I was planning on.” Killian grinned, digging the toe of his skate into the ice and the air was cold when he inhaled. That felt normal. That felt right. That felt the way it always had.

Because the ice hadn’t changed at all.

It was goddamn ice.

It was what it always was.

He moved.

And he’d never really been one for riding bikes – probably would have scandalized Mrs. Vankald if he’d ever suggested any of them rode a bike anywhere – but Killian assumed this whole thing was kind of similar, muscle memory and second nature and never being able to forget something that was so incredibly important.

The first time he skated on Garden ice he was fourteen and playing in some showcase and he didn’t score a single goal. Liam scored twice.

And he’d been so incredibly pissed off, he was still a little surprised he hadn’t tried to drop gloves with Liam in the middle of the visitor’s locker room.

They’d gotten dressed in the visitor’s locker room.

It was the only time he’d been in that part of the Garden.

He didn’t though. He walked out of the locker room with his skates tied together and hanging over his shoulder and his stick in his left hand, a scowl on his face that probably would have stayed there for, at least, several months if Mr. Vankald hadn’t been waiting for him at the end of the hallway.

Killian had swallowed, glancing up at the man in front of him and not arguing when he held his hand out, an unspoken command to give over the stick. “Let’s take a walk,” Mr. Vankald had said, and they probably weren’t supposed to be there, but no one was going to question them.

They’d ended up in section two hundred and eight.

They stood there for what felt like hours or days or another fourteen years of trying, desperately, to be enough and score enough and Mr. Vankald didn’t say anything at first.

He didn’t give Killian back his stick.

“You didn’t fall,” Mr. Vankald said eventually, not taking his eyes away from the ice.

Killian nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

“There’s no guessing. You didn’t.” “I didn’t score, either.” “That doesn’t matter.” Killian glanced at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open and his lips went dry from breathing so heavily. “What?” he balked. “But, that’s...scoring is…” “Not the only part of the game. And not the only part of your game.”

He wanted to argue. He had every reason to argue. Killian scored goals. He skated fast and put the puck in the back of the net and Mr. Vankald still didn’t really understand what icing was at that point.

He didn’t say any of that.

“You think?” Killian asked instead, and Mr. Vankald nodded once. “Because Liam is--” “--Not you, Killian. And that’s not a bad thing. It’s a very good thing. It means you get to play your own game and decide if you even want to play.” “Of course I want to play!”

Mr. Vankald laughed, finally turning his head and Killian didn’t remember much about his dad, just knew he existed somewhere, but, in that moment, none of that really mattered because he was fairly sure the man in front of him was everything a father was supposed to be or could be and he’d figure out what icing was eventually.

“Then you will,” Mr. Vankald said easily. “And you’ll be as good as you can be. You’ll get back on this ice and you’ll skate as fast as I know you can and you’ll probably set some kind of scoring record for whatever team you play for.” “You think?” Killian asked again, voice a little softer and a little more cautious. Mr. Vankald didn’t blink – in the years after that was always the one thing that stood out the most, the easy sense of confidence that seemed to exist around him, as if he was just constantly certain everything would work simply because he deemed it so.

And because Matias Vankald may have been the single most stubborn person on the planet.

That was probably where Killian learned it from.

“I know,” Mr. Vankald promised.

He held the stick back out, lips quirking up when Killian had to shift the skates still hanging off his shoulder to wrap his left hand around it. “I think,” Killian muttered, staring at his feet, and Mr. Vanklad didn’t interrupt him. He waited. And believed. “I think I might want to play here.” “Here?” “Yeah. I mean...the Rangers haven’t won a Cup in awhile. It’d be kind of cool to do that and I know that’s not how the draft works or if I could even get there, but--” “--Hey,” Mr. Vankald cut in sharply, and Killian’s eyes nearly fell out of his head when he met the man’s gaze. Certain. Confident. And absurdly proud of his kid. His kid. “That might not be how the draft normally works, but if anyone’s going to take center ice at the Garden, it’s going to be you. I know it.”

“Not quite center. I play on the wing.” Mr Vankald laughed loudly, head thrown back and eyes closed and Killian stumbled over his own feet when he felt an arm around his shoulders. “That’s a very good point, my boy. Of course. Killian Jones, just right of center ice.”

It wasn’t the last time he’d hug Mr. Vankald – far from it, honestly – but it always felt like something changed then and there were some who said Killian was too confident, too sure of his own talent and his own scoring ability, but he never fell on Garden ice.

And this was no different, skating on ice that was the same as it always was because the game was the same as it always was and Killian wanted as much as he had when he was fourteen.

For his kid this time.

And his family.

And the gaze he could feel on the back of his head as soon as his fingers landed on the top of Ariel’s goddamn shoe.

She cheered when he picked it up, eyes bright and distractingly green and she wasn’t sitting in the seats, but Emma clapped as soon as Killian stood back up.

“Nice move,” she yelled.

“You impressed, Swan?” “If I tell you consistently is that going to do dangerous things to your ego?” “Undoubtedly,” Killian admitted, his lungs finally functioning like normal parts of a human body and Ariel was still shouting about her footwear and how cold the ice was.

“Ah, then better not risk it, huh?” “Probably not.”

Emma’s smile widened, shaking her hair back over her shoulders and it was a testament to everything that Killian hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t alone. Anna rolled her eyes from her seat, feet propped up on the row in front of her and a Rangers t-shirt on that she’d absolutely stolen from Kristoff.

No one except team members got those developmental camp t-shirts.

She was holding Peggy again.

“You didn’t fall over, KJ,” Anna said, not quite yelling, but not quite loud either and she had her phone out as well. He had some very strong suspicions about what Ariel absolutely, positively did not know.

“Yeah, that hasn’t happened in awhile.” “Seems like a good sign.” “Doesn’t it?”

Anna laughed softly, shaking her head like she couldn’t quite believe the scene in front of her and that was fair because she probably knew about that walk several decades before and he’d been blatantly flirting with Emma.

“You might want to give Ariel back her shoe though,” Emma said, nodding back towards the boards and Ariel groaned when Killian shrugged again.

“She can wait two seconds. How come you’re up there?” “I don’t think we’re supposed to be, if I’m being honest.” “Nah, that’s not what I meant. How come you’re not here?” “Where?” “Here,” Killian repeated, and he really should have been ready for it, but the very solid body colliding with his right thigh still managed to take him by surprise. He dropped Ariel’s shoe again. “You’re going to hurt your throat if you keep sighing that dramatically, Red,” he yelled, not bothering to turn around and Will chuckled when she inevitably stuck her tongue out at him again. Matt was already talking into his leg.

And trying to get him to move.

“Dad, can we race?”

“What?” “This is a very unorganized conversation,” Emma muttered, and he wasn’t sure how he heard her over the sound of pucks and Roland and Henry arguing about goalie interference, but no one knew what that was anyway and it probably had something to do with the flirting.

“That’s why we’ve got El,” Anna reasoned. Ariel sighed again. “Ah, damn. KJ, you better act surprised or I’m never going to talk to you again.”

“I mean…” “Do not do that, KJ. I’ll come down on the ice and challenge you to a fight, I swear.” “Please don’t do that,” Emma said. She pulled Peggy away from Anna, letting her feet rest on the ground and Killian resisted the very real urge to tell Ariel his seventeen-month-old daughter managed to keep both her shoes on at all times.

It didn’t matter anyway – Will was doing it.

“She’s not nearly as much of a threat as she thinks she is, Swan,” Killian reasoned, twisting Matt in front of him so he could rest both his forearms on his kid’s shoulders. “I’m serious, though, how come you’re up there? Is there anyone else lurking up there with you?” “Lurking?” “He’s got a very limited vocabulary, Em,” Will yelled. “But if you come down here, you think you can steal some more pucks? Little Vankald, go tell your boyfriend to steal more pucks.” “He’s in charge of the pucks, Scarlet. I don’t think he can steal them.” “Ah, yeah, that’s true.” “Are you telling me you stole pucks this afternoon?” Anna asked pointedly, an eyebrow trick that the entire Vankald family should probably have gotten patented at some point. They were all missing out on a very large residual income.

Will flushed, Roland laughing under his breath when he skated by to grab another puck. “I think she’s got you, Uncle Will.” “You are not the lawyer in this family, Little Vankald,” Will said, and the clack of heels coming down the tunnel was almost too obvious. “I don’t have to answer to you.” “Is that supposed to make a difference?” Ruby asked archly. “And should you be up there, A? That doesn’t look safe at all.” “I wouldn’t be if Cap would bring me my goddamn shoe,” Ariel hissed.

“Did you say shoe?” “It’s a very long story, Lucas,” Killian explained, and Matt was starting to get frustrated they weren’t skating anymore. “I know, kid, I know. We’ll move again in a second, once Mom gets down here.” He glanced up at Emma, her mouth open slightly and he was absolutely a selfish ass because he was absolutely trying to impress her still and always and indefinitely, but she knew that and knew everything and he had some suspicions about who planned Liam and Elsa’s flight.

Again.

Or always.

Something less dramatic than that.

“I really don’t think we’re supposed to be down there,” Emma said. “Technically.” “Technically.” “You’re an incredible rule breaker.” “Yes.” “Wow,” she laughed. “Not even like a little bit of an argument, huh?”

Killian shook his head, hair moving in the process and Matt was trying to stage a passing drill with Roland while also keeping himself plastered to his side. “Seemed kind of pointless, you know? Something, something open book.” “Does that work both ways?” “This is gross,” Will announced, Robin humming in agreement as he tried to get Regina on the ice. Her heels kept slipping. “See, I’ve got the majority, that’s how it works, right, little Vankald?” “You were very quick to point out my lack of law degree, Scarlett,” Anna said. “You don’t get to backtrack on that.” “Ah, worth the effort. I was serious about those pucks though.” “Do you own dirty work.”

Will groaned, but he didn’t argue anymore, skating back towards the far blue line so he could snap his stick against Roland’s ankles. That got him to stop arguing about goalie interference.

At least for now.

“It absolutely works both ways,” Killian guaranteed, suddenly remembering he hadn’t answered Emma’s questions and her smile was drifting away from amused and a bit closer to charmed and that felt like another hat trick and another return to the ice and he hoped he didn’t ever have to do the second one again.

“Good to know. Arthur’s going to be pissed if we take over his practice.” “It’s not much of a practice to begin with. No contact. Voluntary.” “And,” Ruby added, perched next to Ariel on the boards and she’d already taken her own shoes off to avoid a repeat performance. “He’s sitting in the team box with just a questionable amount of paperwork and plans and I think several dozen whiteboards. So it’s not like he’s not aware of what’s going on.” Killian’s laugh seemed to fly out of him, body sagging forward and the kid still standing there did not appreciate it much at all. He didn’t fall over either.

Trends or history or whatever.

It absolutely did not matter.

As long as it kept happening.

Indefinite sounded a lot better in that context.

“See, Swan,” he said, moving an arm around Matt’s middle and resting his chin on top of his head. Anna took a picture. “No reason to object now.” “C’mon Mom,” Matt yelled. “You can race too!”

Killian widened his eyes, skating backwards and he didn’t let go of Matt, pulling him across the ice with laughter ringing in the air around him. Emma bit her lip. “If we all get fined for this, I’m going to make Scarlet pay for it,” she said.

“That’s totally fair.” “That’s not fair at all,” Will argued, but Emma was already moving and Anna might have been cackling, thumb hitting against her phone screen so quickly it was almost a blur in whatever section they were actually standing in.

“I think you’ve just gotten lawyer’ed, Scarlet.” “And that doesn’t make sense!” “Too late, don’t care!”

It took less than ten minutes for Emma and Anna to get to ice-level, but it felt like several lifetimes and Killian was absolutely impatient and he couldn’t stop moving. Neither could Matt, a fact both Robin and Will made sure to point out several times.

“Is this what he was like when he was a kid?” Robin asked when Anna swung her legs over the boards. “Wow, that was actually a pretty impressive move.” “Do not go all prehistoric on me, Locksley,” Anna warned. “I know how to get on the ice. And yes, to answer your question. Although Matt’s way more adorable than KJ ever was.” “That’s rude, Banana,” Killian muttered, Emma swatting his hand away when she moved onto the boards. He grinned.

“Also your kid is a way better skater at four--”

“--Four and a half,” Matt shouted. He nearly lost his balance when he tried to jump on his skates, an indignant look on his face that would have made all of them laugh if they weren’t too busy trying to make sure he didn’t fall over.

Roland’s hand landed on his back, just under the name between his shoulder blades and it could not have been healthy for all of them to be this emotional. Or supportive. It was definitely supportive.

That sounded better in this context too.

“Easy, Mattie,” Roland muttered, Henry a few feet away with his gloves already off like that would make it easier to catch one or both of them.

Killian glanced at Emma, her lips pressed together tightly like she was trying to avoid biting them. He skated half an inch to his right, hand back out and she took it that time, fingers lacing through his at the same time both Will and Robin groaned.

“Aw, shut up,” Emma mumbled, squeezing Killian’s hand and Ariel hadn’t ever tried to put her shoe back on.

Killian was going to bring that up later too.

“Four and a half,” Anna repeated. She had to hold onto Will when she reached forward to brush the hair out of Matt’s eyes, a move neither one of them entirely appreciated. “And still a better skater than KJ was when he was ten.” “I’d been playing for two years at that point,” Killian argued.

“Your kid is four and a half.” “You are just a fountain of support today, aren’t you, Banana?” She flashed him a grin, pushing off Will to glide across the ice and she didn’t fall over either. “Someone better have recorded that, I want to make sure I can brag to Liam and El when they get here.” “You know, you are absolutely terrible at keeping secrets,” Ruby muttered. She had her phone out. Or what Killian thought was her phone. “And Scarlet’s going to get a ton of new followers for these painfully adorable Instagram videos.” “Wait, what?” Will asked sharply.

Robin answered before Ruby could. “Your password is the easiest thing to break into in the world. Rol figured it out in two seconds.”

“Aw, Dad, c’mon,” Roland groaned, backing away from Will before he could check his ankles again. “But seriously Uncle Will, back to back and your number is just…” “Really, really easy to hack,” Henry finished.

“Yeah, exactly.” Ruby was cackling, Ariel wiping away tears and Emma hadn’t ever let go of Killian’s hand, slumping against his side a bit until he was supporting both her and Matt and he couldn't come up with a single reason to argue.

“This is a good thing, Scarlet,” Ruby continued. “I’ve got the ability to fix your sometimes questionable Instagram choices, plus record things for you when your phone is--” “--In my locker,” Will growled. “This is practice.” “Ok, but voluntary. And now we can record for posterity and you can keep bragging to Cap about your social media influence. Plus it’s great for the fans, right Em?”

Emma shrugged. “She’s kind of got a point.” “I hate both of you,” Will mumbled. “You better not delete any of my photos, Lucas.”

“How come Belle hasn’t ever told you to fix your passwords?” Henry asked. “She’s in charge of all that research and everything uptown. She knows how the internet works.” “Because my Instagram password is not the most important thing she’s got to deal with,” Will countered. “And how come your Instagram is just pictures of you and that girl from Casino Night? Who, let the record show, I know you were spotted with in several dark corners after the season ender.”

The whole lot of them exploded into laughter and shouts and both Regina and Robin were already asking questions – any worry about her heels and their ability to stay on the ice forgotten as soon as Henry blushed.

“Ok, that sentence isn’t even grammatically correct,” Henry mumbled, but the words got a bit lost when he was clearly trying to stare through the ice under his skates.

Will clicked his tongue. “You picking up corner tips from Cap and Emma?” “Jesus, Scarlet,” Killian yelled. Henry’s face, somehow, got redder.

“Yeah, yeah, you guys don’t even have to worry about corners anymore. You’re just like...stupid into each other in public at all times.” “Sneaking out of Casino Night,” Ariel coughed, bringing her hand to her mouth for emphasis and smiling when Killian glared at her. “If you even think about telling me you’re going to blow off PT once this offseason, Cap, I’ll get on this ice and kick you the shins.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, Emma’s body shaking against his and Peggy was trying to get on the ice. Or at least on the ground. The wobbling and weebling were almost consistently confident steps now and the baby locks on the lower cabinets in the kitchen didn’t know what hit them in the last few weeks.

She kept yanking on them like she was offended they wouldn’t immediately do her bidding.

“We didn’t really sneak,” Emma admitted, Ruby’s eyes widening and Robin’s knees bending when he laughed. “It wasn’t really a secret.” Ariel hummed. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true. At least your kids are super cute and social media ready.” “And your threat is empty because you won’t put your shoes back on,” Robin pointed out.

“Eh, yeah, true, I guess. But only one shoe.” “You all know this is incredibly strange, yes?” Regina asked, earning a general hum of agreement and acceptance and she rolled her eyes towards the scoreboard that was inexplicably on for voluntary skate. Killian was fairly certain Arthur had just told someone to turn it on.

“Can we skate now?” Matt asked again, standing at the red line with a stick that was actually made for him. “I want to skate.”

“Ah, well, who are we to argue that, huh?” Killian laughed. He tapped his thumb against Emma’s wrist, landing just above her laces, before pushing forward, another easy movement that felt a bit like breathing, but that metaphor lost some of its weight when his lungs had been refusing to work earlier.

“Who you going to race against, mini-Jones?” Ruby asked. She was already looking at Roland, an expression on her face that had him rolling his eyes and mumbling I know, Rubes, I know, don’t go that fast under his breath.

“Can’t I skate with you, Dad?” Matt asked, and Killian was not ready for that. At all.

He should have been, should have expected it as much as he knew his four and a half year old kid still couldn’t really stop and they’d get to that part eventually, but his heart didn’t care and his lungs didn’t care and his eyes darted back towards Emma’s as soon as the question was out of Matt’s mouth.

She smiled. Again. Or still was. And either or were both pretty goddamn fantastic options.

“Sure, Mattie,” Killian said. “Blue lines?” Matt scrunched his nose – a perfect imitation of Emma that had several members of the New York Rangers peanut gallery practically guffawing from the bench. Killian crouched down, steady on skates and breathing evenly and he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“You want to go fast, huh?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Matt said, rushing over the words until they were one enormous syllable of excitement and a complete inability to stop. “Can we?” “Absolutely.”

“Killian,” Emma muttered, at the same time both Will and Robin groaned “Cap” and he shook his head deftly.

“It’s fine, love. I’m fine.” “Cap, you couldn't get away from the bench ten minutes ago,” Will said, but Robin narrowed his eyes slightly and Killian got the distinct impression he was trying to read his mind. He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, slinging an arm around Regina’s shoulders and nodding.

“Nah, he’ll be fine,” Robin promised. Emma gaped at him. “You can check me very hard if you’re wrong. No questions asked.” “Yeah, I will not just check you,” Emma said.

“I’ll probably help,” Regina admitted.

“It’s going to be fine, Swan,” Killian said again, standing back up and pulling the stick out of Matt’s hand. “Alright, kid listen. You’ve got to hold onto the blade, ok?” Emma’s eyes widened, mouth opening to protest, but Killian shook his head again and she’d let Anna help Peggy stand on the ice at some point. “If this ends badly, I’m going to let David arrest you later on tonight,” she muttered. “In front of your whole family.” “That’s reasonable.”

She groaned, but kissed him back when he ducked his head.

“Ok, Mattie,” Killian continued, pulling the stick against his side and he wasn’t entirely sure this would work, but he was somewhere in the realm of hopeful and skating and Emma had gotten Elsa and Liam to fly to New York again. And he wanted to go fast too. “You hold onto the blade and don’t let go. Got it? We’ll go around the rink and then I will hopefully still be in shape.” “Oh my God, Cap, you are not helping your cause,” Ariel groaned, pulling Dylan closer to her.

He ignored her. “Got it, Mattie?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, let’s skate.” Killian nodded, gaze darting back towards Emma and she rolled her eyes when he winked, but he knew he didn’t imagine the hint of color in her cheeks or the way her fingers drifted towards her left wrist. He pushed off, a flush of adrenaline and experience and his lungs didn’t explode as soon as his skates moved over the ice, so he figured that was several steps in the right direction.

And it didn’t really take long to pick up speed – it never did at the Garden, moving over the emblem at center ice with practiced ease and years of doing just that and it kind of felt like his heart was beating in his ears, but he’d felt that way several decades before too.

Because it was the Garden and the taglines were there for a reason and the scoreboard was still kind of intimidating even after back to back Stanley Cups.

But it was also his and Killian had always been absurdly possessive of this team and this city and this ice and how easy it had been to find a rhythm on it. It didn’t take long to get back to that, legs moving and the stick was digging into his side, but pain was some kind of abstract concept at this point and they both kept their edge through the first turn.

It was the second one that did them in.

Killian turned, the back of his blade digging into the ice and that was not how that was supposed to work. His kid wasn’t supposed to slam into his back either and, really, they needed to pay more attention to stopping because the whole thing ended with the goddamn hockey stick digging into what might have been one of his kidneys and both he and Matt ended up in a heap next to an Enterprise car rental ad on the boards.

Killian groaned, head dropping back onto the ice and it was fucking freezing because it ice and there was a kid draped over his chest.

A laughing kid.

A very clearly happy kid.

“Killian,” Emma yelled, a note of terror in her voice that left several pounds of guilt sitting in his stomach. He couldn’t sit up, though, Matt still laughing in his ear with both arms wrapped around his middle and the stick was somewhere.

He hoped it was broken.

Emma couldn't really stop either when she slid towards them, hands flying up against the glass and body twisted above both Killian and Matt. Her shoulders heaved when she tried to take a deep breath.

“Mom, did you see that?” Matt asked, a knee in Killian’s hip when he moved. He was sitting on the ice. “We went so fast!”

Emma’s mouth dropped, more shouts coming and skates moving and Roland got there before anyone else did. “Are you ok, Hook?” he asked quickly.

Killian nodded, not able to stop the smile on his face and his eyes flickered towards Emma when she scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled, crouching down to try and make sure Matt’s limbs didn’t inflict anymore damage.

“Did we impress you, Swan?” “I hate you.” “I find that very difficult to believe.”

“You are the most stupid man I’ve ever met.” “Ask Henry about that sentence structure.”

“I’m serious about getting David to arrest you.” “Nah,” Killian argued, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and she huffed when one of her legs slipped underneath her. “I’m fine, Swan. We went very fast. Come here.”

Emma shook her head, lips a straight line and she was trying very hard to stay frustrated. Killian smiled and moved his eyebrows and Roland might have made some kind of noise of disgust. “I’m not sitting on this ice with you,” she said. “That’s not happening.” “Eh…”

She yelped when his free hand moved around her waist, pulling her onto his thighs and she wasn’t actually sitting on the ice, a fact he was more than willing to point out several dozen times if it got her to kiss him in the middle of the ice. “Lost my edge,” Killian muttered, pressing the words against the side of Emma’s jaw and she didn’t argue about the seating arrangements once. Her fingers moved into his hair instead.

Which, really, felt a little like cheating, but Killian wasn’t going to argue that and Ruby still had a phone in her hand.

“Eighty gazillion hits,” she said. “At least.”

“Is that the technical term for it, Lucas?” “You don’t get to try and charm me, Cap. I’m not married to you. You alright mini-Jones?” Matt nodded enthusiastically, already trying to get back up. “Did you see how fast Dad and I went, Ru?” “I did. And so did those eighty gazillion hits.” “Technical term,” Robin muttered. “Please don’t check me later, Emma.” She saluted, still on Killian's legs with an arm around her waist. Matt couldn’t find his balance again, feet slipping and sliding underneath him and the knees of his pants were probably beyond repair at this point.

He didn’t stop.

And that did something absolutely absurd to every single inch of Killian and every part of his soul and he felt Emma take a deep breath against him.

“One foot at a time, Mattie,” Killian said, holding his hand out and letting him use his shoulder as leverage. Roland kept hovering a few inches away. “You get back up and we’ll try skating again.” “Just maybe not that fast,” Emma mumbled.

“Mom,” Matt whined, but if Killian had some kind of pre-grounding face, then she had her own expression fine tuned and every single person in the Garden knew it.

“We’ve got to work on that one-timer anyway,” Roland said. That was enough to distract from racing for the moment. “Then you can brag to all those other kids at graduation tomorrow.” “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re trying to do,” Killian said.

“Are we not?”

“We absolutely are,” Emma answered, pushing against his chest to stand back up and he didn’t really need help getting back to his feet, but her hand felt incredibly good in his and he was definitely the most selfish person in New York.

Matt scored twice on Henry and three times on Will and only some of those were gimme goals and he absolutely bragged to the entire graduating class of Columbus Pre-School the next morning.

Or Killian assumed he did – it was difficult to hear over the cheering from the questionably loud and questionably large family in the back corner of the auditorium, all of them with phones out and Henry and Roland had made a sign and Emma might have cried, but she’d never admit to it and her hand didn’t leave Killian’s once.

“You know,” Liam said later, sitting on the kitchen counter in the brownstone with a drink in one hand and eyes that kept darting towards the door like he was waiting to be grounded. “I heard you couldn’t quite keep your edge on the ice yesterday, little brother.” Killian threw a pillow at Anna. He had no idea why there was a pillow in the kitchen. He was fairly certain it had something to do with the makeshift hockey game that was currently going on in the hallways and Mrs. Vankald might have actually been keeping score.

“It was on the internet, KJ,” Anna yelled. “You do not get to be mad about this.” “That is true,” Elsa added. She threw her legs over Anna’s outstretched ones, ignoring the cry of indignation it earned her and smiled like several metaphorical cats.

“She told you anyway, didn’t she?” Killian asked. Elsa nodded.

“Aw, c’mon, that’s not fair at all,” Anna cried.

Liam groaned. “You think you can bring it down, like, several decibels? Or is that just not part of your biological makeup?” “You’re just worried what Mom is going to say when she sees you sitting on the counter.” “That’s not true at all.” “Eh,” Elsa and Killian said at the same time. “Move over,” Killian added, kicking the refrigerator closed behind him and there wasn’t really that much room on the counter, but most of the chairs had been sacrificed to the hockey game.

They were probably all broken by now.

“You guys are all the worst,” Liam muttered. “And Killian was just trying to impress Emma yesterday, let’s not kid ourselves.” “It absolutely did not work,” Emma said, appearing in the doorway suddenly and Killian knew the tips of his ears had gone red. Elsa laughed.

“It’s wrong to just lie like that, Swan. It totally worked.” “You are way too confident for your own good.” “Nah, that’s historic KJ,” Elsa muttered as Emma moved across the room, tapping her finger on his knee so she could step between his legs.

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” Emma said. She didn’t turn around, didn’t say the rest of the words that loud, but they seemed to find their way into his very center and he needed to stop thinking about his soul so often. It was kind of morbid.

Or maybe a little romantic and that was probably more accurate where Emma was concerned.

He kissed her hair.

“Getting there though,” Emma added, and Killian refused to meet the gaze of anyone who grew up in that brownstone, far too certain of their expressions and their feelings and Anna sniffled.

“That’s absurdly emotional, Banana.” “Whatever,” she snapped. “Don’t act like you weren’t getting teary-eyed when Matt actually flipped his tassel.” “We practiced that.” “And that doesn't surprise me at all. You going to do the same thing for Pegs and all your inevitably cute kids?” “Are you aware of more?” Please,” Elsa said, waving a hand in Anna’s direction when her heel dug into her sister’s shin. “You guys are like....super parents.” “El, you’re, like, in charge of the entire state of Colorado,” Emma pointed out. Her voice shook a little though and one of her hands had moved back towards Killian’s leg, fingers gripping a bit tighter than usual. He rested his own hand on her shoulder.

“Only if she decides to actually run,” Liam mumbled. Elsa groaned.

“We were going to wait until later this week. We didn’t want to steal Matt’s thunder! This was not part of the plan, KJ.” “And what, exactly, was the plan, El?” She flushed, clicking her tongue, but she didn’t move her legs either and the footsteps in the hallway appeared to be waiting. Or eavesdropping. “To maybe run for the state house,” Elsa said quickly, and Emma didn’t screech, but Anna did and they both clapped their hands over their mouth.

“She’s definitely going to,” Liam said, a picture of certainty and support and they were all a bunch of stubborn idiots.

Elsa shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I am, but we weren’t trying to do this today. Anna and I had a whole announcement plan and...ah, damn.” “Remember this when you tell me I’m the worst secret keeper in this family, KJ,” Anna grinned.

“And that’s totally Reese’s,” Emma added.

Killian looked at her – both Anna and Elsa flushing red and tapping their fingers on the kitchen table and the floor creaked in the hallway. One of the kids shouted about offsides around the corner. “You’re staying aren’t you?” he asked, and she slumped in her chair.

“It’s no fun if you just know.” “Don’t ever play poker.” “Whatever.” “Honestly, Banana. Are you? For real?” “I mean, kind of,” Anna said. “I’m still going to be traveling, but Condé Nast is apparently defying the expectation of all magazines and actually hiring a staffer and you guys could probably use a babysitter and, so...yeah, I’m staying.”

He couldn’t move with Emma still standing in between his legs, but it didn’t really feel like that kind of moment and they all seemed to be blinking quite a bit.

Until Emma mumbled “I won the bet.”

Liam almost fell off the counter.

“How much?” Elsa asked. “And with who?” “Most of the first line. Rook got a little technical because he thought she’d stay, but wouldn’t say it until after the playoffs ended, and I thought that was stupid. Also I’d really like to take you up on those babysitting offers.” Anna beamed. “Deal.”

The floorboards creaked again, sure footsteps turning the corner and Mr. Vankald didn’t blink when he saw all of them sitting in the kitchen. “You two better get off of there before you do damage to the marble or your mother sees you.” And it wasn’t the first time that had happened – probably wouldn’t be the last, honestly, – but Emma’s hand moved back to Killian’s knee and he kissed her hair again and Liam nodded quickly, like that kind of thing happened every day.

Mr. Vankald was not the kind of guy who made mistakes.

He knew what he’d said.

And he’d meant it.

“Totally going to get grounded,” Anna mumbled, wiping under her eye.

“Also,” Mr. Vankald added, “your presence is all being demanded upstairs. The hallways a little wider up there, so we figured it was safer to start playing there.” “We weren’t worried about the stairs?” Liam asked, but his feet were already back on the ground and he was probably plotting plays and defensive schemes.

“Not if you lot make sure nothing happens.” “Sure, Mr. V.” Mr. Vankald nodded, the smile on his face feeling as natural as the pickup hockey game happening on the second floor and Emma smiled when she turned on Killian. “You want to go play?” she asked.

“Only if I can score on Liam.” Liam scoffed. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.” He did. Twice. And Matt talked about nothing else for the rest of the summer.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line change #listen there's a reason killian wanted to name a kid after mr. vanakald #and like...this is it

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umusicians · 4 years ago

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UM Interview: What If Elephants

Montreal Indie Pop band What If Elephants are making their stamp on the Canadian music industry with a sound that is very much their own. Formed in 2014, the quartet strikes a delicate balance with their elegant and rousing sound – between accessible pop and deeper, introspective lyrics that lie just below the surface. The bands success includes being a Four times semi-finalists in CBC Searchlight, winners in Canada’s Walk of Fame RBC Emerging Musician Program 2018 and featured both on Canada Destinations and Parcs Canada for promotional campaigns.

Amandah Opoku sat down with Joey Langlois of What If Elephants to talk about the band's new single “Sugar Daddy”, Canadian music influences, growth as a band and more!

Amandah Opoku: Joey, thank you for doing this interview today! Before we kick off please tell our readers about yourself and one random fact people do not know about you. Joey Langlois: Thanks for having me! People may not know that I am a huge fan of sci-fi movies. Namely the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Wars, and anything Christopher Nolan does haha.

Amandah Opoku: If you could describe What If Elephants’ music in three words, what words would you choose and why? Joey Langlois: This one is easy for me to overthink. To keep it simple, I’d say; fun, reflective and accessible. Fun because I know all of us in the band love to groove, so hopefully that’s transmitted haha. Reflective because we put a lot of thought into all the musical and lyrical decisions we make, as well as what we’re saying with a given song. Accessible because it’s fairly easy to digest the musical and lyrical ideas we put out.

Amandah Opoku: What If Elephants is a Canadian Indie Pop band, based in Montreal. Have any Canadian artists influenced you musically? If so, who? Joey Langlois: Hey Rosetta / Tim Baker as projects, have had a significant influence on us as musicians. I’ve personally loved hearing what Justin Bieber, Scott Hellman, Alessia Cara, Shawn Mendes, Valley, Walk Off The Earth, and soooo many more artists have been doing in the past couple years. I’m also influenced by a lot of friends projects; Maya Malkin/Motel Raphael, Bayla, Flara K, and many other we’ve had the pleasure of working with over the years.

Amandah Opoku: What If Elephants is a unique name. How did you come up with the name for the band? And what does the name “What If Elephants” mean to you? Joey Langlois: One night, we were chilling with friends and I brought them the problem of choosing a band name. As we tossed around ideas saying; “what about this, what if that?…. what if elephants?”, kinda just popped out. There’s something majestic about that animal. There’s also the idea that we strive to address the elephants in the room - as the expression goes - while still remaining accessible. To be honest, I was looking for a new band name earlier this year haha. For some people it seems like the stars align. For others, there just isn't a name that feels like sums up your ideas.

Amandah Opoku: What inspired you to pursue a music career and create “What If Elephants”? Joey Langlois: For me, it was wanting to create music with positive messages for following generations of youth. When I was a kid, there seemed to be a lack of depth and/or positivity in a lot of the easily accessible music. The way we access music has changed, but there is still a need for more positivity! As a person, I much prefer to collaborate than work alone, so forming a band with friends just made sense. We love spending time together, which I think is key for the long haul.

Amandah Opoku: What is one piece of advice you received since you began pursuing music, that has aided you on your path? Joey Langlois: Everyone has their own story of how things work out. Be honest with your art, work hard, and stick with it as long as you love it. That’s synthesized. It’s hard to pinpoint one piece of advice, all the advice becomes a vibe haha.

Amandah Opoku: What If Elephants is made up of 4 individuals with divergent musical experiences that contribute to your sound. What’s it like writing and working together with your different influences? And how do you incorporate everyone’s ideas into the creation process? Joey Langlois: A lot of our songs had unique processes from one another. We’ve created arrangements in a jam space. Recording session all together. I’ve sent only lyrics for someone else to write chords and melody. Sometimes I arrive with a song I wrote with another songwriter and we arrange, and the list goes on. I generally have a good idea of where I want to go sonically for the production, so often in that stage, I’ll communicate basic ideas musically or verbally and then Justin, Alanna, or Collin will interpret it with their touch and ideas. It really is never the same though - thus far.

Amandah Opoku: 2020 was quite a year for all of us. How has the pandemic affected you as a musician? What have you learned about yourself? Joey Langlois: 2020 has taught me that I need to be a lot nicer to myself with my inner voice. I can be very destructive to myself with my thoughts on my musical pursuits or just life in general. I’m not sure that this is entirely new for me, but 2020 highlighted it for sure. As a musician, I’d say that it opened up time for some collaborations that may not have happened otherwise, which is the other side of the coin which has cost the industry a lot.

Amandah Opoku: What Elephants is releasing a new single “Sugar Daddy” at the end of this month, what inspired the song? Joey Langlois: I’ve never really had that much money, but I’ve never experienced extreme poverty either. The song reflects some of my experience of what happens when you’re in the grind of reaching goals or just paying bills and how it can put stress on a relationship. The song is a reminder to evaluate my priorities when things start to fall apart.

Amandah Opoku: What was the writing and recording process like for “Sugar Daddy”? Joey Langlois: I wrote the first draft of the song in 2018, and my friend Tokyo Speirs contributed lyrics to polish the chorus. The verse underwent two re-writes, after which Mike Bilenki helped refine some of the lyrics as well. As a band we had come up with the core arrangement pretty early on, so the last stage was having our friend Lucas Liberatore co-produce it with us and give the last push on a long, long journey to deliver a polished track. Without him stepping in, we weren’t even sure about finishing it for this EP! Everything was kind-of recording across that whole time span. Some pre, and some post-COVID 19.

Joey Langlois: “Sugar Daddy” features Maya Malkin, how did the collaboration happen? Joey: Maya has been a good friend to me and the band for years. I’ve always admired her skills as an artist and songwriter. Once the verses had been written, somehow to me it just kind of felt like that verse needed a character Maya could totally capture. I won’t say I told you so, but when I hear it, I couldn’t be happier that she leant her voice to this track. Very excited about her solo project as well!

Amandah Opoku: With “Sugar Daddy” out at the end of this month, what can fans expect from What If Elephants next? Joey Langlois: ‘What can we expect next’ is one of the most difficult question to answer these days. What we plan on doing is releasing another single and finally, our new EP between now and May. Making informed decisions with the constantly changing structure of our lives these days seems impossible, but we hope to give the best experience possible as we share what we’ve created, as we adjust to varying constraints. We’re working our butts off on making some cool videos – that’s been my hobby these days. I spend hours setting up weird science experiments just to see if an idea I’ve developed for hours has a chance of working haha.

Amandah Opoku: You (What If Elephants) released your debut EP ‘Getaway’ in 2015, how would you say you’ve grown as an individual and a band? Joey Langlois: Oh my. I think we’ve grown closer to each other. We don’t get to just hang out a ton. Music takes a lot of time, and then each of us has our own life. I feel like we’ve all become more decided on what we enjoy in life, which is helpful to, you know - enjoying life haha. Recently, I’m learning to enjoy the little things that can easily seem like distractions from the important things, but might be opportunities to get insight on something inspiring. Dishes for example. I mostly have avoided dishes for as long as possible and then dreaded them. Now, they’re becoming a moment to listen and learn - be it from a podcast, music, or through talking with Alanna. It’s actually become a bit of a retreat, but not always haha. It would be great to have a dishwasher. That’s one example.

Amandah Opoku: What have you learned since the release of your debut EP, that you wish you knew when you first started this journey? Joey Langlois: Make the music you truly want to make. That first EP is something the I’m grateful for, but I know that at the time, I was very much making music that I thought suited Montreal better than the poppy sound I would otherwise naturally emit. I am still learning that. Learning how to be myself is a constant effort. Whether it’s getting over self-consciousness, or actually just trying to know what I really want. I find that I sometimes get confused between what the world says I should want, and what I actually want. Also, I wish I had started collaborating with other artists and writers so much earlier.

Amandah Opoku: If you had to choose 1 song to send to a listener to introduce them to What If Elephants, what song would you choose and why? Joey Langlois: “Elastic Band” gives a good general overview of our vibe, but I must say that I can’t wait to release new material because I do find it represents where I’m at now, much better.

Amandah Opoku: For new fans who come across your music, what would you like them to take away from your music? Joey Langlois: Hope. We go through so much hardship in life, both practically and relationally. I want people to know they’re not alone and that there are ways we can think and things we can do that can have a positive effect or our own lives and the lives of others. And I hope they also just have a good time jamming to it.

Amandah Opoku: Joey, thank you for sitting down with me! Before we close this interview, is there anything you want to say to your fans and our readers? Joey Langlois: It’s been a pleasure! Please hang in there everyone. Be kind to the people around you (including you!) - both the people who agree with you and the ones that disagree. In the end, it is the culmination of our small gestures towards one another that shape our world. We feel so lucky to be able to create this music, and so thankful that people would take the time to listen and connect with it.

Connect with What If Elephants: https://www.whatifelephants.com/ https://www.facebook.com/whatifelephants/ https://www.instagram.com/whatifelephants/ https://twitter.com/whatifelephants

#Interviews #Amandah Opoku #What If Elephants #Joey Langlois #Featured

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hookedonapirate · 7 years ago

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Wild at Heart (Chapter 10/10)

Read: Prologue Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

Graphic Art credit to the lovely and wonderful @jell-obeans Thank you so much!

Summary: Born and raised by rich parents, Emma Nolan has always done what’s expected of her, from what clothes to wear to what school to attend, what career to pursue and even who to marry. After graduating from Harvard and going back home to Storybrooke, South Carolina, she agrees to marry Oz Walsh by the wishes of her parents. With a year of engagement behind her, she goes to Boston for business and has to fly back home to get to her wedding. What happens when she has a run-in at the airport with a dashing, blue-eyed thief who is apparently bound and determined to throw a wrench in all of her plans? Will she make it back to Storybrooke on time for her wedding or will she find her home along the way?

Notes: I was going to add a couple of more scenes to this, but then I decided it was best to include those in the epilogue I will be posting later on.

Thank you Lydia for helping me with this chapter. You are a wonderful beta-reader and friend.

I am sorry it took me so long to get here but I hope you've enjoyed the story and will stay tuned for the epilogue to come. Thanks for reading!

Rating: M

AO3 FFN

“Excuse me?”

Emma snapped back to reality and became fully aware that Walsh and the minister were staring at her. Her eyes left them and started sifting through the crowd; she could see all of the guests either staring at her wide-eyed or whispering to the person next to them. She would give anything to find Killian’s blue eyes in the crowd; she was hoping he would have showed up to stop the wedding - to keep her from doing something stupid - but she knew it was wishful thinking.

“Did you just say ‘Killian’?” Walsh questioned her with an accusatory tone.

Emma gulped; she didn’t know how to react. She didn’t mean to say Killian's name out loud, but perhaps it was a blessing in disguise; it gave to her the opportunity to gather the boldness she hadn’t possessed before. Maybe it was Killian - thinking about him and knowing what he would say to her if he were there - who gave her this new strength or maybe it was the fact that she almost went through with this even though everything in her heart was telling her not to. “I do not wish to marry you, Oscar Walsh,” she admitted bravely, making sure her words were firm and loud enough for everyone to discern.

To her amazement, she heard her parents breathe, “Thank the lord.”

Her head snapped around to look at them, her brow raised in shock. She could see the deep relief in their features, and couldn’t believe it. They didn’t want her to marry Walsh? How long had they felt this way? How did she not see it? She had always been so perceptive.

Emma’s gaze averted to Walsh, she straightened her posture and looked him dead in the eye. “I’m in love with the man you hired to spy on me.”

That time, she heard everyone gasp from their seats, and watched as Walsh’s eyes became filled with anger.

“You what?”

“You heard me.” Thankfully, Emma’s voice was unwavering. “I’m in love with Killian.”

She could practically see the steam emitting from Walsh’s ears as he looked around, letting out an audible sigh. “This is exactly why I hired him. I knew you were sleeping around behind my back.” His voice was quiet but at the same time, cruel and harsh, and his words made her blood boil.

She scolded him; Emma was seething with anger as she stepped up and smacked him in the face, causing a whiplash to his head and another reaction from the guests. As he raised a hand to his newly red cheek, she promptly pulled the wedding ring from her finger and threw it at him, letting it bounce off his chest and fall to the ground. “I’ve never loved you and I never will.”

Walsh’s features transformed, showing her the visible rage he felt. His eyes grew wild with insanity, and he looked downright deranged as he grabbed her arm when she tried to walk away, yanking and pulling her back to him. “I cannot believe you’re doing this to me after what you put me through the last few days – what you put your parents through?!”

“Let me go, you’re hurting me!” she cried out, struggling against him and trying to get away.

His grip only became tighter - rough enough to bruise her skin - and he grew crazy with anger, shouting absurd things in her ear. “Listen here, you fucking whore, you’re not-“

He was abruptly cut off by her father’s words, “You listen here, asshole; my daughter said she’s not marrying you!” right before David punched him in the nose, forcing him to free her arm as he fell to the ground, groaning and holding his nose.

To Emma's surprise, a few of the guests were actually cheering for the Mayor. Others were stunned and some were irritated as they whispered to the person next to them. Archie wasn't really sure what to do as he stood there awkwardly, confused and shocked as he scratched the back of his head.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her again or you’ll be worse off than just having a bloody nose!” David shouted angrily, soothing his fist with his other hand as he looked down at Walsh in utter distaste.

Emma grinned proudly at her father as she rubbed her arm, soothing the pain from where Walsh had held her. She hugged David, sighing in relief as he wrapped her up in his arms. Her mother came up and joined them, encasing Emma in her embrace. She was so happy that her parents were glad she was not marrying him; she was just surprised that this was the first time she was finding out about it.

David commanded the security to take Walsh away as the he continued shouting and cursing his displeasure, but Emma ignored him. David made an announcement to the guests, expressing his deepest apologies before excusing them. They slowly filtered out of the backyard, some of them coming up to shake the Mayor’s hand for doing the town a service. Apparently a majority of them were not too fond of Walsh; they actually despised him, and were only there for the Mayor's daughter.

“Emma, why didn’t you tell us you didn’t want to marry Oscar?” her mother asked, confusion etched into her features.

Emma shrugged as she looked between the two of them. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Her parents appeared to be appalled as they stared back at her. “Why would you think such a thing?” David asked.

Emma thought about his question. She thought about the charity gala when her mother first mentioned the idea, she thought about the dinner party when Walsh asked her to marry him in front of her parents, she thought about when she saw it as an opportunity to be with someone who could never hurt her. She also thought about how happy her parents were when she said “yes”. She thought about everything that led to this moment before giving an answer. “I just… I thought you wanted me to marry Walsh. I thought that was what you wanted and I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Emma, we want you to be happy,” her mother stated adamantly, taking Emma’s hand in both of hers, “We thought that Oscar made you happy,”

Emma furrowed her brows in confusion. “So what made you change your minds?” she asked them, interested to know what exactly happened to make them feel differently.

Mary Margaret was the one to answer after exchanging glances with her husband and breathing out a shaky sigh. “When you were gone, we saw how Walsh reacted. He became violent, tried to pick a fight with David several times and was just acting over irrational about the entire thing. His true colors really started to shine through, and we just didn’t see him being someone you would want to marry.”

Her words hit Emma like a ton of bricks. She was not aware that Walsh was capable of acting like that before today, but she believed it - the scene he had caused bared witness to it – she just didn’t know that he had acted like that towards her parents, and realizing that he tried to hurt her father made her blood boil. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

There was guilt flaring in her father’s eyes. Emma could practically feel it radiating off of him. “Because, Princess, we thought that this was what you wanted. You said that you wanted to continue on with the wedding, so we didn’t want to interfere with that. We only wanted you to be happy, and we’re sorry if we put pressure on you before.”

Emma smiled at each of them. She was so relieved that they were not displeased with her. “I just never wanted to disappoint you. I love you both.”

Her parents returned a grin. “Honestly, Emma, you could never disappoint us,” David assured her.

Emma’s stomach was coiling with nerves as her smile became uneasy. She wasn’t so sure about that. “Actually, I think what I have to say next might make you both disappointed and maybe a little angry – okay, maybe A LOT angry.”

“What is it, Sweetheart?” Her mother asked, eyeing her curiously.

Emma sucked in a long breath, gathering the courage to tell them truth. Here goes nothing. “The guy Walsh hired was the man who brought me here from Boston, and he wasn’t holding me against my will.” Bracing herself for what was to come, she observed them closely, scrutinizing their facial expressions.

Her parents were in sheer shock, their eyes darting between each other before landing on Emma. “What do you mean? You weren’t kidnapped?” her father demanded.

Emma bit her bottom lip, seeing the bewilderment in both of their eyes. “Not exactly,” she confessed warily. Her throat suddenly felt very dry. “You see, I have this diary where I keep all of my private thoughts, and Killian stole my bag at the airport and read it.”

“Wait, back up,” her father snapped angrily. “He’s the thief who took your bag and made you miss your flight?”

Emma could visibly see her parents connecting the dots; Killian was the thief, he was the ‘kidnapper’, his name was the one Emma had said aloud at the altar in front of everyone AND he was the one she said she was in love with...

She gave a nod, trying to keep her voice even as she spoke. “Yes, he is. Then he found me and gave it back, telling me that if I went along with his scheme he wouldn’t mail my diary to Walsh.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, David looked completely perplexed. “Emma, what was so important in this diary that you had to go along with this conniving bastard in the first place?”

Her father’s harsh words made her twitch, but she somehow managed to maintain the strength she needed to continue on with her daring confessions. “I cheated on Walsh,” she confessed. “I cheated on him and I didn’t want him to find out. I also had other things in the diary that I didn’t want you to know about.”

“And what would those things be?” her mother inquired, irritation laced in her words. Emma could see the exasperation they felt in both of her parents’ faces; she could tell that they were not pleased.

“I don’t want to be a lawyer,” she blurted out. “I want to go to art school.”

Her parents glanced at one another, and David emitted a soft sigh, his eyes reverting to Emma. “Why didn’t you just tell us this?”

“I was afraid to. I was afraid you would be disappointed. I was afraid you might think differently of me. I just wanted to make you both happy; make you feel proud of who I became and of everything I do-”

“Emma-“ David started to say before she cut him off.

“Wait, let me finish,” she demanded, taking her parents off guard with the firmness in her tone. “I know that you’re not happy with Killian. What he did was wrong, but being with him made me realize that I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t make me happy. He gave me the strength and encouragement to take what I want. And what I want is to be with him.”

As Emma willed herself to continue, her parents looked very confused as to why she would want to be with someone like Killian. “I know you’re both disappointed, but that’s okay. I realize now that it’s okay. I don’t need your approval. I’ve always wanted it, but I don’t need it. I’m a grown woman and I deserve to be able to make my own choices.” She choked out a laugh, recalling the enjoyable memories she had shared with Killian. “You know what? I went and got a tattoo on my ass, I made love to Killian in our hotel room and I even stole from a convenient store.”

Her parents gasped; Mary Margaret clasped a hand over her mouth and they both appeared to be offended and shocked. Their faces were pale as they stared at her in horror.

“And you know what? I had the best time of my life, so I’m okay if you don’t approve. It’s my life and I want to do with it as I see fit.”

“Emma, we never wanted to keep you from doing what you wanted, we just had hoped that you would make the right choices,” David bit out spitefully.

“Right choices for whom? You or me?” They both opened their mouths to say something before Emma beat them to it, speaking in a softer tone as she saw the distress on her parent’s faces; she never wanted to hurt them, but she needed to tell them - for the first time she needed to take what she wanted. “Look, I know you both only want what is best for me, but my trip honestly allowed me to see what exactly that is. I’ve denied myself for so long.”

“But we never wanted you to, Emma,” her father spoke. “You’re right, you are a grown woman and you have the right to do as you please, even if that means leaving your successful career to be an artist and being with a thief who manipulated and kidnapped you,” he muttered harshly. Emma’s stomach twisted as she looked at her father, detecting the hurt and disappointment in his eyes.

“David…“ Mary Margaret tried to soothe him, putting a hand on his arm, but he pulled away.

“What?” he shot back. His face was rigid, almost unrecognizable. “Emma lied to us and made us think that she was in danger, when in reality she was ‘having the time of her life’ while we suffered?! I’m sorry, but I am not okay with that.”

Emma’s heart sank after hearing those words. She watched her father turn around and storm away from them, leaving a knot of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

Her mother stayed by her side, though, and took her left hand in hers, speaking in a gentle voice. “Don’t worry about him, Sweetheart. He’ll come around.”

Emma held onto her stomach with her free hand, clenching her fingers against the fabric of her dress as she looked at her mother, unsure if he would or not. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Mary Margaret offered an encouraging smile, rubbing soothing circles over her back as they started to walk back to the house. “Hey, it’ll be okay. If you were able to find happiness, then your father and I succeeded.”

Emma arched her brows, surprised that her mother was taking her side. “You’re not mad at me?”

“You had us worried sick; of course I’m mad,” she shrieked, “but, if that’s what it took to give you some clarity and to get you to confess your feelings to Walsh and the whole town, then I can forgive you for that.”

Emma was amazed. She was not expecting her mother to come around so quickly. She smiled appreciatively as she pulled her mother in for a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Just tell me something, Emma.”

“Sure, anything.”

Mary Margaret pulled back from the hug, grinning brightly. “Where is this man you’re so in love with? I want to meet him.”

~*~

Emma wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not. She didn’t even know if he’d be here, but she had to try. She had to catch him before he left the country. She had looked up the airline schedule for the Charleston Airport and found the flight that was departing at 5:05 and arriving in Heathrow, so she wanted to be there in plenty of time before he would have to be on the plane.

“Thanks for taking me, Daddy,” Emma said graciously as he pulled into the Charleston airport; her stomach had been in knots the entire drive there.

David let out a quiet sigh. “I just… I just hope this guy is trustworthy. Your mother coaxed me into this, but it doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

“I know, but this is what I want.”

David finally gave into a half-grin as he looked over at her. “And that’s why I agreed to this. All your mother and I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and I’m sorry if we pressured you into doing the opposite. I’m sorry if we gave you a reason to think you couldn’t tell us things.”

Emma was sitting with her hands between her knees to keep her fingers from shaking as she looked over at him with apology. She was nervous but also happy and grateful that he was actually having this conversation with her. “I’m sorry for not telling you things.”

He flashed a smile of reassurance that put her nerves at ease a bit. “Why don’t we just make a promise that from now on you will be honest with us and your mother and I will be less…?”

“Overbearing?” Emma tried with a smirk.

David chuckled as he pulled up to the entrance of the gate that Killian would be leaving from. “Yes. We’ll do our best to be less overbearing.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Emma confirmed with a smile as she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you Daddy.”

David lifted his hand, caressing her cheek and brushing his thumb over her skin. “Love you too, Princess. Now go get your…”

“Thief?”

Her father blushed, his grin growing wider as he lowered his hand, placing it on the steering wheel. “I was going to say ‘Prince Charming’ because I didn’t want to be rude since my daughter seems to have feelings for him but...”

Emma’s cheeks became warm with blush. “It’s okay. He may not be a Prince and he may not be rich or perfect, but he’s perfect for me.”

“Well as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Her smile was wide and bright as she unfastened her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, excitement buzzing in her eyes.

“Now quit stalling,” her father teased playfully. “Go get him.”

Emma laughed and opened the door. “Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.”

“Good luck.”

Emma scurried out of the car, shutting the door behind before quickly making her way into the airport. She had no idea what she was going to say to him or what would happen next, but for the first time in her life, she didn’t have a plan, and she was completely okay with that.

~*~

Killian’s heart was aching as he trudged through the airport with his carry-on bag strapped to his shoulder. He couldn’t believe he had been such an idiot. It been so easy for him to accept the job - he needed the money - but now he would give anything to go back in time and turn it down. He never knew that he would meet a woman that would have such an effect on him. She brought down his walls and he was able to do the same to her. She gave him her trust and he went and threw it out the window when he didn’t tell her that Walsh had hired him.

He sighed as he got to the ticketing line; it was long and he was certainly glad he had arrived in plenty of time. Running his hand through his hair he stepped behind an older gentleman. He was nervous about seeing his brother for the first time in many years, and honestly he didn’t know if he was making a big mistake or not. Liam didn’t even know he was coming; it would be a surprise visit. Killian didn’t even know if he still lived in the same house or not. He had spoken to him a few years ago when Liam finally returned his call letting him know that was doing okay, and he had mentioned where he lived because it was in the same neighborhood where they had grown up in. Killian was just hoping he’d still be there.

Gods, he felt like such a git. If Liam did still reside there, he was only going to be pissed when his thief of a brother showed up at his doorstep; Killian was certain of it. He should just turn around and go back to the lonely hotel room. He would feel much more wanted there. Killian closed his eyes, trying to push any negative thoughts out of his mind, but it wasn’t working very well. He just wanted to throw in the towel and go back to Boston, except he didn’t have his yellow bug because he let Emma keep it. “Bloody moron,” he berated himself.

“Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t look like you’re in much of a hurry to go wherever it is you’re heading.”

Killian’s eyes snapped open when he heard the sound of the familiar, angelic voice; he felt the familiar stutter of his heartbeat and was unable to contain the big grin that took over his face. The line had moved forward but he didn’t close the gap. Instead he turned around seeing Emma standing there with a smile on her face. She looked just as stunning as the day they met. Maybe even more so; she was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. “Emma? What are you...?” he started, fumbling for words, “what are you doing here?” The last time he had seen her, she’d made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him. And that was before she had become a married woman.

Emma withdrew a long breath as she looked into his eyes. The stunning green made his breath hitch as he tried to focus on what she was saying. “I wanted to see you before you left.”

Killian’s heart sank in his chest, and his stomach tightened as it dawned on him as to why she was there.... “Ah, I see. You wanted to make sure I actually left the country and got out of your hair for good?”

To his surprise, Emma shook her head and took his hand, leading him out of the line and off to side so they weren’t in anyone’s way. “No. I wanted to say that…” she paused, biting her bottom lip. “I wanted to see if you were- I was hoping you were coming back.”

Killian’s pulse began to quicken. The words were like a wonderful melody to his ears, although, he had to wonder what made her change her mind about him; he didn’t want to get his hopes up too quickly. “I was planning on it, but I wasn’t sure you would be interested to know that. You made it pretty clear, on your porch, that you weren’t interested in seeing me ever again,” he spoke softly. He wanted to grab her and kiss her and show her everything he felt in his heart, but he knew that would be wildly inappropriate, so he had to secure his hands in his pockets to keep himself from doing so.

Guilt was flashing in Emma’s eyes as she stepped closer to him, mirroring his movements and sliding her hands in her back pockets. He had to wonder if she was thinking the same thing. “I know, I’m sorry…” she started in a gentle voice that seemed to be shattered, “I was just shocked. I wasn’t expecting it... and I may have overreacted; I shouldn’t have left you on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.”

Killian offered a small smirk. “Yeah, you’re right; you could’ve at least left me at a Wendy’s,” he joked playfully.

Emma laughed, her cheeks filling with blush. “Yeah, what was I thinking at the time? I was so inconsiderate.”

He chuckled; the nervous tension that was brewing between them dropped dramatically, but he still felt like an arse for what he had done. “It’s okay, Emma,” he expressed his reassurance by removing a hand from his pocket and gently caressing her arm, soothing the soft skin with his thumb as he looked down at his movement and made sure the regret was evident in his tone. “I deserved much worse.” His eyes came back up meet hers, gauging her reaction. He wasn’t expecting her forgiveness but Gods, he was hoping to earn it somehow. He enjoyed being in her presence, and he didn’t wish to leave for good.

“Eh,” Emma shrugged as though she were trying to decide if she agreed with him or not. “Maybe… but I lied to my parents and cheated on Walsh, so I’m just as guilty.”

“How are they anyway?” he asked, hoping that he had not caused damage to the relationship between them and their daughter.

“They’re fine… especially considering that I left Walsh at the altar.”

Killian literally stopped breathing. Did he just hear her correctly? “You did?”

Emma nodded. “I did, and my parents were actually thrilled about it,” she said with a laugh.

Killian’s face lit up and his heart was actually soaring with the joy he felt from hearing those amazing words. He had never been so relieved to hear anything in his entire life.

“Although, Walsh wasn’t; he threw a tantrum and my dad punched him in the face, so overall it was a fantastic wedding.”

He felt a wave of satisfaction ripple through him. He only wished he could've been there to see just what a fucking douchebag this bloke actually was, and witness Emma’s father punching Walsh in front of all of the people who respected him; hell they probably respected him even more so afterwards. “It sounds like it. I’m sorry I missed it, love.”

She peered down at the floor and bit her bottom lip as though she were contemplating something. “I don’t doubt that... especially considering that you were the reason why I didn’t go through with it.” She looked insecure for a moment, maybe unsure of how he might react, but then glanced up at him again, the emerald gems causing his breath to catch.

Killian was dumbfounded; he couldn’t believe that it was actually a possibility that Emma had left Walsh at the altar because of him. He was certain that she had entered the airport a newly married woman. “I am?”

“You are,” Emma assured, and he knew she was speaking the truth because her cheeks were tainted with a light shade of pink, she was smiling shyly and fluttering her eyelashes; it was honestly the most adorable thing he had ever seen. “I told you, Killian; I’m in love with you, and even though I was angry with you, my feelings never changed. I couldn’t marry someone I didn’t feel the same way about.”

Even though, she confirmed her reason for not being married to that scumbag, he was still in shock to think that he was the reason why she had called off the wedding. He’d been hoping that he’d gotten through that thick skull of hers, but knowing that he was able to do so felt unreal, as though he had actually gotten on the plane and fell asleep, dreaming this whole thing up.

“So… I came here to see if… maybe you wanted to go on a date when you got back from England?”

Killian immediately threw his bag on the floor and closed the distance between them, titling his head and flashing a flirty smirk. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking you out?”

Emma answered his question with a devilish grin as she lifted her hands, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Her lips were so close to his, he could feel her breath hovering over his skin, making him tingle. “We both know I can plan a hell of an evening out,” she murmured seductively.

He blushed, remembering very vividly of the night they went Salsa dancing. It was a hell of a night indeed. “This is true, love,” he agreed, his words laced with mischief. He came closer to her until there wasn't much space between them left; it felt like heaven when he clasped his hands around her face and pulled her into a wild, breathless kiss. She immediately responded, parting her lips for him and allowing his tongue to slip into her warmth. He groaned tasting hot chocolate and cinnamon as she carded her fingers through his hair, angling her head to the side as he claimed her mouth. Lowering his hands to her waist, he wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her closer as their tongues moved like rapid fire, dueling against one another, their chests touching while they were feeling each other’s heat. He was so glad she wasn’t married, he was so glad he was still able to kiss her and be in her presence. He couldn’t even bear the thought of leaving the country now; at least not yet anyway and not for very long.

Emma was the one to break the kiss, leaving them both breathless and dizzy as they held onto one other for balance. Resting his forehead on Emma’s, he tried to gather his wits; both of them were panting and neither of them paying attention to their surroundings, only each other. “So, is that a yes?” she asked hopefully, her words shattered and her breathing staggered as she licked her lips.

“Not quite,” he answered in a shattered whisper.

She pulled away, arching a brow in confusion, disappointment flashing in her eyes, “But I thought...”

Killian gave her a reassuring smile as he brushed his thumb over her cheek, explaining himself. “I'd be delighted to go on a date with you, but it won’t be after I get back from England.”

She looked even more perplexed. Or perhaps, she couldn’t believe he would stay there for her, even after she had left her fiancé at the altar for him. “What do you mean? Your plane leaves at five.”

He nodded. “Aye, it does… but I won’t be getting on this one.”

“You won’t?” she asked him, a dash of hope twinkling in her eyes.

“No, I’ve waited this long to see my brother, I figure what’s a few more days? Besides, you did leave Walsh to be with me, so I figured it’s the least I could do.”

“So, you’re not leaving yet?” Her voice was cracked as she looked at him in astonishment.

He shook his head. “No, not yet. I just got you back, so it would be foolish of me to leave now.” He stood there in front of this beautiful woman with his heart on his sleeve, ready to give her everything he had. He just hoped it would be enough.

She breathed a sigh of relief, a broad smile taking over her lips as she rested her palms on his chest. "Well then, as my parents would say: thank the lord."

His heart fluttered seeing how happy she was, but then realization settled in as he thought about said parents and how they would react if they found out who she was going on a date with. Killian curled his hands around both of her hips, gracing her with a small grin. “Now, if I can only live long enough for there to be a date after your father finds out that I was the one who-“

“I already told him,” Emma said, cutting him off. ”I told both of my parents about you and I told them that I was in love with you.”

Killian gulped; he wasn’t sure how to process this information. He supposed she would've had to tell them eventually, but he didn’t think she would've told them right away. “Does this mean I have a headstone with my name on it, love?”

Emma shook her head, amusement in her tone as she gave a reply. “No. They were furious at first, but they’re both coming around. In fact... my father is the one who drove me to the airport.”

“He did?” Killian wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing, but he was willing to find out. He was willing to take whatever he had coming to him.

“Yes, but don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Her words were soothing, but he was somehow unconvinced.

“How can you be sure?”

“I can’t.” She shrugged and laughed at how content she seemed to be with that notion. “I honestly have no idea how things will turn out, but I have you, so I’m okay with that.”

A wide smile took over his face. He had to admit, he loved her new, carefree attitude. He loved that she was able to look at things differently and is somehow not the same woman he met at the airport only days ago. “Then I am too, love. I'm looking forward to anything that comes our way... even if I have to show up to our second date in a body cast.”

“You mean, first date,” she corrected with a smirk.

Killian opened his mouth to offer a retort but Emma interrupted by planting her hands on either side of his face and drawing him into a deep kiss. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, tasting her lips on his and pulling her close, never wanting to let her go again. He certainly didn't intend to.

@iejimi @kmomof4 @katie-dub @resident-of-storybrooke@ijenny16 @onceuponaprincessworld@lovepurplepumpkins@jennjenn615 @piratesbooty63fan @galadriel26 @ladyciaramiggles @andiirivera @queen-of-dancing-stars @galadriel26 @juliakaze @nfbagelperson @hey-it-is-jess @mcakers @kobe116 @phoenixsxul @winterbaby89 @allie-jimenez123-blog @lindseythompsonxoxo @ultraluckycatnd @its-about-bloody-time-cs @acaptainswaneternity @fleurreads @love-with-you-i-have-everything

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs fanfics #captain swan #wild at heart

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olbis · 8 years ago

Text

HS Quotidien Interview

Hi folks! Here is a transcript of Harry’s interview with Yann Barthès. I didn’t want to spend too much time on it, so I apologize if there are a few typos. However, I moonlight as a lyrics transcriber so it should be pretty accurate... This includes a bit that was cut in the replay version, so don’t be surprised.

YB: Welcome to Paris.

HS: Thank you.

YB: How are you?

HS: Um, good. I'm good.

YB: Can you answer in French? Comment ça va? (= how are you?)

HS: Umm, I have… a little bit…a tiny bit… Très bien. Et toi? (= very well and you?)

YB: Well, very well, thank you. Thank you very much for being here. We always start interviews with international stars with this question: can you give us your five favourite words in French? Or a sentence that you know in French? I was told you know some.

HS: “Comment vous-faîtes un café si délicieux?” (=how do you make such a good coffee?)

YB: Ah, ah, ok.

HS: (mumbles something I can’t understand) It’s all I have.

YB: Do you often use that sentence?

HS: … no. Yes! Yeah…

YB: Who or what comes to mind when you think of France?

HS: …. um… best people I’ve known… I think *her* (points to a fan). And then I guess…Fabien Barthez.

YB: (slightly surprised) Fabien Barthez, yes. (note: he is a French footballer who played in the 90s) So Harry, you are 23 and you are one of the biggest pop stars in the world. You know that everyone is watching you very carefully (note: the French expression YB uses, which is not mean, kind of implies: waiting for you to trip or fail) with your new album, Sign of the Times. Why did you choose this song? Why Sign of the Times? It's very far from what we expected from you.

HS: Yeah, I think I, uh, I wanted to… I always liked music that makes me feel something and I, you know I think…writing it, I kind of felt something and wanted to put that out. I think it is a good indicator, um, for me of what the album means to me. So that’s why I wanted to go with that first. I think.

YB : Billboard Magazine wrote that this single is, I quote, “one of the most ambitious song in pop music of the past decade”. Not bad… do you have friends at Billboard?

HS: (cute little laugh) I don't know anyone at the Billboard.

YB : Upon listening to it, we think of David Bowie, of Queens… Who else inspired you?

HS: Um, I mean…. I think, I think, everyone, anything, any song you’ve ever listened to growing up or throughout your life that you’ve enjoyed (…he then says something I can’t catch) so I think a lot of different things but I think, uh, I wanted to… I wanted to just write, and see what came out …. and see, you know I didn’t know what I sounded like, to make an album, so the process was as interesting for me as I think it will be for people listening to the album for the first time.

YB: Do you know any French singer? This is a trick question… and don’t say Serge Gainsbourg!

HS: I know Woodkid.

YB: Woodkid?

HS: Woodkid, yeah. He directed my music video so, uh…

YB: Why did you choose him?

HS: Um, I just think, I think his videos are amazing. I think he is a really, really talented guy. And I love French people. So I wanted to work with ‘em.

YB : (makes faces at Harry) When you are in Spain, you say that you love Spanish people…

HS: No? Great tie, by the way. Good tie.

YB : Really? (looks for the label for half a second) Uh, it’s French.

HS: I’m sure. Wouldn’t be a Spanish tie, would it?

YB: Can I see your loafers? I was told you have great loafers. (zoom in on Harry’s Gucci rainbow shoes). Wow, yeah. What is it? It’s not French, it’s Italian. (a fan in the audience then says it is Gucci).

HS: It’s not, no.

YB: It’s from the European Union.

HS: (laughs) Probably, yeah.

YB: It seems like everything is very easy for you. Has everything really been easy for you?

HS: Um, was what simple?

YB: Well, your life. You have a dream life. With 1D.

HS: Oh, I mean, I feel very lucky to be able to be making music, I feel very lucky to able to make this (points to his album) and I feel very lucky today being in France (… says something I don’t understand…) singing this song. And uh, yeah, I can’t complain.

YB: And what was less pleasant?

HS: (pauses) Um… I don’t know.

YB: One thing…

HS: Um, I think, I think when you care so much about something it’s hard to get to a point where you feel like you’re finished. I think you always feel like your adding, like you wanna add something to make it better. So I think the hardest part was getting to that part and be like, ok, it’s finished. Um, yeah.

YB: You said in the May issue of Rolling Stones that a big part of your album was inspired by a women. (Leans forward and asks sarcastically) Really?

HS: No, I think, I think, honestly, I think the album is much more about me than it is about anyone else. I think if I said the album is about a woman, it kind of feels like… and I…uh, I don’t know, I put a lot of work into it so I don’t feel, I don’t feel like it revolves around a woman. I feel like, it is a lot about me and things like (??) Yeah, I feel like it’s more about me than about anyone else. (makes a cute sassy little face)

YB: How do you navigate going from a group adventure, being in a boyband, to a solo career as an adult?

HS: Um, I mean, it’s been a lot of fun, I think. You know, we were very lucky to get to do some amazing things. And at the moment in our lives, we’re at a time when everyone is trying their own thing and having a good time. It’s been amazing to see everyone do so well. So if I can, kind of, do as well as the other boys, that would be amazing.

YB: Do you talk or text them everyday? Whatsapp?

HS: I don’t have that. But yeah, we talk, yeah. Yeah, absolutely, yeah. It’s uh, and everyone’s been bringing stuff out and it’s been, it’s been a lot going on, so it’s been… it’s been a good time.

YB: Here is the album cover. Can you describe it? Why this photo?

HS: Yeah… Um, so… (cute little sound) I worked with, um, I worked with a photographer, Harley Weir. I’m a massive, massive fan of her, of her work. And uh, it was an amazing opportunity to get to work with her and I think she’s incredible. And I felt like, this was what I wanted…

YB: Why is it pink? Why the water, why the back? Why…why?

HS: (shrugs)

YB : It’s beautiful! But why pink for example?

HS: I dunno man.

YB: (fakes surprise) Really? That, you don’t know?

HS: I don’t know. Um, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever want to…

YB: (interrupts Harry) Some say it is the colour of rock’n roll?

HS: (pauses). Apparently so. I dunno. I think, I think, it means something to me and I think if it means anything to anyone else. I wouldn’t want to take away from that by explaining it. I think the cool thing about stuff like photos and art is you can just leave it, you don’t have to explain it.

YB: So everyone can see whatever they want, is that it?

HS: Yes, exactly.

YB : Have you seen that? (shows a video of fans reacting to Sign of the Times). Your fans film themselves listening to your song for the first time… So there are some very relevant analysis… (the video continues to play out) Do you read what people say about you on social media, here on YouTube, or Twitter, or Instagram. You use Instagram, right?

HS: Yes, I use it a little bit. (To the crowd that sounds sceptical) Yeah, I use it a little bit! I mean I wish everyone was having as good a time as the girl that was (makes vague arm movements). That, that’s what I do when I listen to it. So…

YB: Do you do your own Insta posts, with your own fingers, or is it someone else?

HS: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I do mine.

YB: Do you still vote in Redditch?

HS: …in?

YB: Redditch.

HS: Where I was born? I don’t live in Redditch anymore.

YB: So you don’t vote there. When was the last time you voted?

HS: No, London, yeah.

YB: Do you have an opinion on Brexit?

HS: Um…

YB: Welcome to Europe by the way!

HS: Thank you very much, thanks for having me. Um, I mean I don’t… I don’t really comment on politics. Um, to me I think anything that brings people together is better than something that keeps people apart. Uh, that’s, yeah…

YB: And yet, you do support legal equality. Man, woman, heterosexual, homosexual. It is politics, isn’t it?

HS: Um, I don’t know, that doesn’t feel like politics to me, I think. Stuff like equality feels much more like fundamentals. I feel like everyone really is equal. That doesn’t feel like politics to me.

YB: Do you know that your fans are very fetishist. They know every tattoo, every piece of jewellery you have, they have a heart attack when you cut your hair. So clearly, here, you are playing on their nerves. Today, you are playing on their nerves.

HS: (a bit coy) Ok. Is it?

YB: Yes, of course. (shows pictures of Harry’s tattoos) Yes, clearly. What is your favourite tattoo?

HS: Um, I think uh… probably, I don’t know actually.

YB: What is the last one?

HS: The latest is this one, there (points to the Arlo tattoo). And this guy (point to Jackson). And this guy (points back to Arlo).

YB: Jackson?

HS: This guy (point to the bottom of the bee? I’m not sure). This guy (points to another tattoo on his right arm, off camera, and then to the rose).

YB: (laughs) All at the same time?

HS: Yes, it is close. (it is what I hear but the French interpreter translated it by “there is a lot”)

YB: And your hair? What’s the deal with your hair? How many tons of hair products have you used when you were in 1D (note: in French, there was no connotation of the 1D era being over or not)

HS: (sigh) Yeah, like a lot. I think a lot, yeah.

YB: You are in the next Christopher Nolan movie. It’s called Dunkirk.

HS: Yeah.

YB: How did you end up there?

HS: Um, I auditioned.

YB: There, there we see you (as images of Harry in Dunkirk are shown on screen)

HS: There I am. Yeah, it’s me. Um, yeah, I auditioned. Um, yeah, it was great, it was an amazing experience. It’s gonna be a really cool movie.

(COMMERCIAL BREAK)

YB: Harry, it feels like we've known you since you were just a kid. The world discovered you in 2010 on the seventh season of X Factor. (shows a clip of Harry’s audition) So in this video you are alone but Simon Cowell, member of the jury, has an idea. He puts you together with Zayn, Louis, Liam and Niall and you become One Direction. You are the one who came up with the name One Direction and the five of you sell millions of albums. One Direction is quickly considered as the new Beatles, you fill the biggest avenues in the world, the whole planet talks about you. When you travel, we feel for your eardrums… you become the pride of the UK. Prime Minister David Cameron even makes a cameo in one of your videos… you sing in front of the Queen… but in 2015, bang!… Zane leaves the band. The fans can’t get over it… but they can rest easy now, one of their favourites is on the cover of Rolling Stones, he will be in the next Christopher Nolan movie, plays Mick Jagger on SNL… but what you don't know is that we already met in 2012 (shows a clip of Harry talking in French)… you were doing promo in France… and now I have questions for you.

First, when you are in the car (Harry is shown on screen surrounded by a crowd of fans, trying to get to his car) and fans are coming at you from everywhere, do you see that? (shows a photo of faces squashed against a window).

HS: Uh, I think I actually lost my shoes that day. And then I got in the car… I got in the car and I was like, I don’t have any shoes (… note: I can’t make out what he says next.)

YB: I have a second question. Do you always do that before going on stage (shows a clip of Harry and Zayn having their teeth and nostrils checked out). Do you still do that? Shall we do it?

HS: No.

YB: Really? You won’t do it?

HS: (shields himself with his hand and shows YB his teeth and nostrils) Thank you.

YB: What is the weirdest question you've been asked in an interview?

HS: Um… Mm… um, I think it actually was a French interview. I got asked if I would uh, if I would pee in a sink.

YB: Why, indeed, that is weird!

HS: It was the first question!

YB: Well, it sets the mood!

HS: Yeah

YB: And what question do you never want to hear again? Did I ask it?

HS: (turns to where the audience is giving suggestions) Which one? Oh, crush.

YB: What?

HS: Crush.

YB: Oh, that… (makes a heart of his hands) Ok, good. I haven't asked that. Phew. Do you know that at a young French writer has just published a novel about you? It's called « Styles », it's published by Jean-Claude Lattès. It is a novel about the writer’s obsession with you. It's in French so well…

HS: Aaah?

YB : You can translate it. I'm giving it to you

HS: Is this true?

YB: It is true. He dedicated it to you. Jean-Claude Lattès is a very serious publishing house. It is called “Styles”. So read it.

HS: Thank you

YB: Thank you very much Harry styles for coming on our show. His first self-titled album comes out on May 12th. Thank you very much, have a good trip back

I really loved that interview. I thought Harry was very relaxed and it was lovely to see him having a good time, laughing and interacting with the audience. I liked that YB addressed Harry as an equal, joked and was interested in what Harry thought as a musician and as a person. All in all, it was very respectful and set the record straight on many RS controversial points.

Also, there a was segment later in the show called #fakenews and one of the joke was someone saying “Harry Styles doesn’t make real music” and then getting slapped across the face and a big #FAKENEWS coming on screen!

#transcript #quotidien #harry styles #pink album

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coffey-to-go · 6 years ago

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Taiwan 2016

30 Sept 2016 Hong Kong

Lindsay Culkin meet up with us the night before and we all took an afternoon train to from GZ to HK. We ate dinner at an amazing hotpot restaurant and called it a night since we had an early morning the next day to catch our flight to XXXXX, where the Polidor’s lived.

1 Oct 2016 Kaohsiung and the Polidor’s

In the morning we took a cab to the airport in HK and revived pretty early for our flight. There were a ton of people traveling for the Holiday week so we played it safe by arriving extra early. We didn't experience any significant issues getting through security so we killed time in the one of the lounges. Our flight boarded on time but we delayed for about 45 minutes mainly to wait on connecting passengers. It was a completely full flight.

We landed in Kaohsiung at 1130 with only carry-on luggage but we experienced some delay because I left a bag on the plane. Luckily, Kira was able to retrieve it in a somewhat timely manner. Our next delay was meeting up with Mike Polidor and Colin Culkin. Colin landed about 30 minutes before us and meet up with Mike who was waiting to pick us all up. Apparently we walked right pass them after customs and they simply did not see us. After we settled into Mike’s minivan we were off to Cosco to pick up Nolan’s birthday cake that the Polidor’s graciously ordered for us. I have to say that we were all happy to see a Cosco so we decided to do a little shopping ourselves. After we loaded up on a few things plus lunch we loaded up and headed out. Next stop was the Polidor Inn.

By 1400 we made it to the Polidor’s apartment. Mike, Nicky, Isla and Paxton live in a pretty luxurious penthouse suit that reminded me a lot of Somerset in GZ. It was quite the spread. After we got settled and got Nolan down for a proper nap, the guys loaded up to go downtown and get on the 2 hour wait list for the Michelin star dim sum restaurant, Din Tai Feng. The girls and the kiddos were going to meet up with us when it was close to seating time. Mike, Colin and I decided to stroll over to the nearby night market after we made the wait list. It is a relatively small market but we were able to grab a beer and check out some local market food. There was a lot of seafood being cooked up and the local favorites, oyster omelettes and beef noodles were everywhere.

After an hour we headed back to the restaurant which is located inside of a shopping mall and is directly across from another Michelin star restaurant, Tim Ho Wan. We were close to being seated so they asked to go ahead and order. We put in on our order and made sure to place a huge order of the xiaolongbao (soup dumpling) since it is their specialty. The girls met us shortly after we were seated and we feasted! It was a great meal and we ordered way too much food so we had plenty to take home. It was delicious! When we made it back to the apartment, we got the kids to sleep then hung out and had a few drinks and exchanged Olmsted stories. Around midnight we decided to call it a night.

2 Oct 2016 Nolan’s 1st Birthday

Sunday morning we woke around 0800 and munched on some Cosco bagels and muffins for breakfast. The Culkin’s and us had planned to walk over to Lotus lake in the morning and spend some time checking it out. At the lake there is a wake board park where the wake boarders are pulled by rotating wires. Also, there are shops, Buddhist and Daoist temples, pagodas and a few restaurants. We moseyed around the lake taking photos and watching the wake boarders do their thing. We made are way around the lake and completely missed the Daoist temple that we had intended to go into. It was lunch time so we were okay with skipping it and decided to check out a lakeside restaurant that Mike had recommended. I think it is the same place that runs the wake board course because the dock where the wake boarders enter is connected to restaurant’s dock. They served up a variety of western food which included burgers, burritos, sandwiches and so on. The food was actually pretty descent and the fries were the best I’ve had in Asia so far.

After lunch we headed back to the the Polidor’s to rest, cool off and get the boy down for a nap. We had made plans to cook up a huge meal in expectation of OSC 14 scholar, Dan Wynn, and his wife, Rachel, and their four kids, Benson, Cardon, Macey, and Linden, and also to celebrate Nolan’s first birthday. I know Nolan’s Birthday is actually on the 10th of October and my Birthday is on the 2nd but since we were going to be around friends and a lot of kids we decided to swap Bdays this year so my boy could have a good one. The Wynn’s weren't going to land until 1815 so chances were they wouldn't make it to the Polidor’s until 2000.

After we rested up the Polidor’s took us in town to grab some shave ice sundaes and then head up to Martars Shrine to see a great view of the harbor. The strip that we went to for sundaes was pretty lively and full of shaved ice shops. Mike and Nicky took us to one of the most popular with the locals and it was packed. The traditional Taiwan shaved ice is topped with mango but they ran out before we could order so we ate on some mixed fruit ones instead. They were pretty good and refreshing. After we got our fill of shaved ice we loaded up and drove up to Martars Shrine to check out the view. Seeing the harbor from up there is a spectacular view and we were able to snap a Olmsted pic of the group.

Mike, Colin, me and a pissed off Paxton booked it back to the apartment so Mike could drop us off and go pick up the Wynn’s. The girls and Nolan pulled in right behind us and Lindsay and I got started on dinner. Spaghetti Bolognese, garlic bread and a huge salad were on the menu followed by Birthday cake for dessert. Lindsay and I made a ton of food for a ton of people…it was a dinner impossible at it’s finest.

After dinner it was getting late so we cleared the tables and brought out the Birthday cake for the our main man. The Polidor’s picked out a huge cake that was baseball themed and it read ‘Happy 1st Birthday Nolan!’ It was perfect! Benson started things off by singing Happy Birthday in Chinese while Nicky put a Birthday hat on Nolan which he graciously wore without issue. After Benson finished his rendition the rest of us started in with the English version of Happy Birthday. Nolan was excited about the singing and that he was the center of attention. We finished up and Mom cut the cake for everyone and made sure to give Nolan the best priece. We were all excited to see him smash it but he wanted to examine it a little at first. After a while and some encouragement from Mom and Dad he finally “burrowed” into it and took in a mouth full. He loved it! The kids…especially the Wynn’s really enjoyed how much fun Nolan was having and they kept on encouraging him to dig in. Everyone had presents for the boy too, but we decided not to give them to him until the 10th.

A special thanks to the Polidor's and the rest of the OSC China crew for making my boy’s 1st birthday extra special. It meant a lot to us and we will never forget it. Happy Birthday, son!

3 Oct 2016 Kenting National Park

On Monday morning we said our goodbyes to the Polidor’s. We had a great stay and now it was time for us along with the Culkin’s and Wynn’s to make our way to the east coast. Kira booked a rental car in advance and or the man-made bricked path. The park is very clean and there is some wildlife to see too. We saw a couple of monkeys hanging out high above us at one point but they were not interested in getting their picture taken so the scrammed. There were fresh deer prints on the ground and a lot of bugs including huge spiders that Lindsay didn't like. It is a cool place to just roam around and the kids loved it. After a couple hours we drove over to the lighthouse which is the exact southern most tip in Taiwan. The area is pretty with a lot of cool looking trees and a simple lighthouse but it wasn't anything to spend much time at. Fifteen minutes is all you need.

From there we loaded up in cars and split ways with the Wynn clan. They were headed back to the Polidor’s for the night and we were on our way to Taitung for the night. Along the way we stopped in at a part of the park which has natural gas that comes out of the ground and it has been lite so you can see the small fire coming out of the ground. The small area is roped off with a ‘no trespassing’ sign posted but that doesn't stop the mainland Chinese visitors from hoping right over the ropes and digging in the ground and popping popcorn. Yeah, popping popcorn apparently is a “cool” thing to do for the mainlanders here…Hell! You can buy popcorn and fireworks, yeah…I said fireworks form the vendors in the parking lot. There is a huge sign posted saying ‘no smoking, no trespassing, and no fireworks’ yet the only place I saw fireworks for sale was in the parking lot of this place. After a couple of minutes of shaking our heads at these idiots we loaded up and got the hell out of there. If you have time to stop and see this spot…don't.

We loaded up and we're off for a 2.5 hour drive up the east coast to a B&B in Taitung. We checked in at 2000 and went to a noodle and beef shop that the owner recommended. It wasn't bad but nothing to write home about.

Around 1800 we walked to the night market and sampled some more street food. Kira snacked on some rice cakeit arrived early in the morning. Colin and Lindsay loaded up with us while the Wynn’s borrowed the Polidor’s minivan. We set sail for Kenting National Park which is the southern most tip in Taiwan. It is about an hour and a half drive from Kaohsing.

Around noon we made a stop in a little surfer/tourist town to chi some fan since it was around lunch time anyway. We stopped in at Smokey Joe’s which promoted BBQ and steak. Kira had a Cuban sandwich which was pretty tasty but I had the ribs which were pretty darn good. Smokey Joes could set up shop stateside and still do pretty good business. If you are in Taiwan and need a “rib fix” then Smokey Joes is the place. They also had a solid beer selection including Goldun Draak and Erdinger Kristalweissen. Good stuff!

After we all stuffed ourselves we shoved off to the park which is less than 10 minutes from the town we were at. We hiked around and took in the view of the beautiful ocean and the nature that was all around us except f noodles (like the ones in Korea) while I chowed down on a local favorite, blood on a stick, which is rice and chicken blood mixed together. It was actually pretty good. Unfortunately we witnessed a scooter wreck that resulted in a young girl hurting her arm. She was the passenger and her dad was driving when he lost control (in a huge crowd of people where there should be no vehicle traffic but there is) causing the scooter to fall over on its side. The young girl took the blunt of it so Kira and I raced over to make sure she was okay. She was crying but the main concern was if her arm was broken. We don’t think it was but there was the possibility of a fracture. The dad blamed it on one of the local vendors for having a foreign object laying in the road and he was demanding money from them instead of tending to his daughter….sad.

After snacking on a few appetizers we stopped in at a place called Cow Boss for some dinner. They specialized in beef noodles which is a popular Taiwanese dish. It is simply a cut of steak placed over a bed of noodles covered in a sauce. Mine was really tough, chewy and unseasoned. It wasn't the best. Kira ordered a better cut of meat and her’s came out very undercooked. She had to send it back to cook a little longer. Her meat was better but still nothing to write home about. After the meal the girls went to get massages while the boys returned to the hotel. Colin worked on some school work while I put the boy down and hung out.

4 Oct 2016 Hualien

In the morning we ate free breakfast at the place we were staying and hit the road. We planned to stop at a museum of sorts located in the mountains. It was a museum of an indigenous tribe of Taiwan known as the Bunun. Unfortunately we missed the morning tour which was the only tour for the day since the rest of the day was devoted to cleaning and repairs from the previous typhoon that hit. They did agree to let us walk around and do a self guided tour. It was interesting seeing some of the wood and stone works and to see how they use bamboo charcoal for just about everything, but there wasn't much description so we differently missed out on the tour.

After a while we headed to a local tea farming area that was near by. There is supposedly a place called Teani where you can do a tea tour and tasting. The place is on TripAdvisor but we couldn't find it and when we asked locals they said they had never heard of it. Oh well…instead we stopped in at a local tea shop and had a tasting there of some of the local teas and bought some to take home. After that we we loaded up and began our drive to Hualien city. We drove in the valley and stopped a few times for some scenic photos then after a while we decided to detour east and hit the road that runs along the coast. We continued north and encountered a lot of rain but it was worth it because the view was great, the road was better and the Tropic of Cancer marker was along the route. We pulled over and snapped a quick group photo in the rain. We had no idea that that marker was there so it was a nice surprise.

We made it to Toong Mao Resort at 1800. We unloaded a few things then went in search of dinner. Since we only snacked in the car for lunch we were starving. We drove into town and found another BBQ/steak place called Salt Lick which is American owned and ran. They have a huge summer out front that looks like a train engine. They pride themselves on American BBQ and I have to say that they are doing a good job. We started with some decent poutine to start and for entrees I got ribs, Colin went with pulled pork and the girls did burgers. Everything was good except for the mashed potatoes that I had, they were very bland…stick to the fries and onion rings. After we stuffed ourselves we went back to the hotel and just took it easy and called it a night.

5 Oct 2016 Yilan

In the morning I went down to the breakfast buffet while Kira stayed with Nolan so he could sleep a little longer. I had to battle two huge Chinese tour groups for food. There is no civil way to go about a buffet with a bunch of mainlanders so you basically got to get in there a throw a few “bows.” After breakfast we loaded up and set course for Yilan. We didn't waste much time getting to Yilan. We checked into the ant infested Sun Sweet around noon and walked to the local market and grabbed a few things for lunch. We took easy so we could all catch up on things while we let the Taiwan.

6 October 2016 Whiskey and Jiufen Village

In the morning we met for the included breakfast in the hotel. We loaded up the car and hit the road. We were off to a whiskey distillery which was about 30 minutes away. There was suppose to be a guided tour that starts at noon. We had a few issues finding the place but we eventually made it right at noon. Colin rushed in a head of us only to find out that the tour is self-guided and you can go when ever you want. We did our own thing and toured the facility and later noticed a guided tour with a small group going through…whatever.

After checking out the facility we went to the shop where they have samples that you can smell. They do a tasting as well but only at certain times. We made the 1300 tasting and Colin and I expected to sample a few of the whiskey but they only gave out one which was there “house” batch. It is a lighter tasting liquor with a bit of a sweet finish. After the tasting the heard everyone into the gift shop. We bought a small bottle for Olin and a bottle for us to consume later. We bought some sandwiches for the road and soon after we were off for Taipei.

After driving for an hour and a half we stopped in on the outskirts of Taipei at Jiufen Village. Jiufen village is basically a giant market that is similar to Mont Saint Michelle in France, with very different food obviously. It is a market on top of a hill with narrow streets winding through shops and restaurants. We snacked on some of the street food and took our time strolling through. We stopped in at a team house that was over a hundred years old. They had some very old tea pots and display and of course tea for sale which was pretty expensive. After a while we made our way back to the car and to drive into Taipei city center and find Olin’s apartment. The first thing you notice when driving into Taipei is the massive Taipei 101 building. It’s shaped like a giant pagoda and stands proud in the heart of the city. Olin lives very close to it so it was sort of a beacon for us. After a little confusion on trying to find Olin’s place we finally found him and the car rental lady just outside of his building just after 1800.

Olin Johnson is an OSC17 scholar who is doing in-country language training. He was still in transition of getting settled and waiting for his unaccompanied baggage. He only had one bed which he gave to Kira and I while the Culkin's took the spare bedroom and used the blowup mattress they bought from Costco. Olin was going to take the couch. Olin is a bachelor so he had no food, only a fridge full of beer. We made the best of it and ate out for every meal.

After we got settled, Olin took us to a hotpot restaurant for dinner. It was pretty good and instead of one big hotpot it did individual hotpots for everyone. After we ate, drank and visited for a while we headed to a mall and stopped in at a Zara so the Culkin’s could buy sheets and pillows for the mattress. After that we headed back to the apartment and put Nolan down for the night. We stayed up and drank on some whisky and beer and around 2300 the building began to lightly shake. The chandelier began shaking so I took some video of it. It was Nolan’s and Mom’s first ever earthquake. Pretty exciting! It lasted about 20 seconds then stopped. Nothing news worthy came of it.

7 Oct 2016 Taipei, Museums, and a Ton of Rain

We left Olin’s apartment at 0830 in search of Dan Pi, a Taiwanese breakfast burrito shop that Olin recommended to us. They had a huge line out the door even for the to- go customers. Colin and Kira ordered a few burritos for us all. It was pouring down rain so we had our hands full with trying to keep everything dry, including ourselves. Eventually we made it to the National Palace Musuem and went in out of the rain. We toured the museum for about an hour.

After that we walked in the rain over to the National Taiwan Museum. It was free to enter but honestly, it was kind of lame so we didn't stay to long. We ended up walking around and taking the metro over to a western restaurant called the Corner Place. We all had burgers, wings and some three layer dip and of course a few beers. They had a pretty wide variety of beers including American, German, and Belgium. The food wasn’t bad but the service was a little “too cool for school” type attitude. It reminded Kira and me of Philly waiters. After lunch we went back to Olin’s to rest up and get Nolan down for a nap.

Around 1800 we all left with Olin to meet up with his Taiwanese girlfriend, Yolanda, at a Taiwanese restaurant on the other side of the city. The area was a bar/restaurant strip and it was very busy. Yolanda ordered food for the whole table and we all shared, tapas style. Everything was good but nothing was amazing. Nolan was having a tough evening so that didn't help much. Being off of his normal schedule wasn't helping so he was due for a cranky day.

8 October 2016 Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial

In the morning we set out to see Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. We were expecting rainy weather but the sun was out and it turned out to be a beautiful morning. The memorial is huge and stunning and it was definitely the highlight of Taipei. Every hour on the hour they have a changing of the guards which we highly recommend seeing. Get there about 10 mins before the hour to reserve a good spot for pics. Hint…go to either one of the sides, just behind one of the guards and get right up to the fence. Most people flock to the center but they clear everyone out and push everyone to the side. I accidentally figured this out by luck…right place at the right time.

The memorial where the changing of the guards happens is very similar to the Lincoln or Jefferson memorial in DC. There is a huge statue of former President, General Chiang Kai-Shek sitting in the back of the memorial. The guards are directly in front of him. The guard changing is a skilled display not to be missed. After we witnessed the changing of the guards we took the elevator down underneath the grounds where there is a huge and very impressive museum. The museum contains a lot of Chiang Kai-Shek and Dr. Sun Yat-Sen artifacts worth seeing.

We spent around two hours at the memorial and then we decided to go in search of lunch. We grabbed some quick and easy sandwiches from a little shop and walked around a bit. Kira decided to take Nolan back to the apartment so he could get a nap in. The Culkin’s and I strolled around looking for a couple of craft bars so we could kill some time before we rendezvoused with everyone else including the Wynn family at Taipei 101. We stopped in at ON Tap and had a beer but honestly didn't get a great vibe there. The people were nice it just didn't seem to be a happening place so we left after on drink and found Craft Beer and Co. We liked this place much better and the bartender was from Oregon so he knew a thing or two about craft beer. Colin and I could have easily “pushed it up” a bit there but we need to meet everyone across town at 1600 and it was already 10 till. We finished our beers and hailed a cab. We arrived at Taipei 101 at 1610 and met up with everyone except for Olin who decided not to come for some reason.

Taipei 101 is basically a large mall. It is full of restaurants and department store and you can also take the super fast moving elevator to the top and check out the view of all of Taipei. We chose to take the ride up even though it had become super hazy and overcast. We couldn't see much but checking out the giant damper was pretty cool. The tuned mass damper is basically a steel pendulum that acts as a counter weight when typhoon winds and earthquakes rock the building. It keeps it from swaying and breaking. The damper is huge as it stretches from the 92nd floor to the 87th and weighs 728 short-tons. On one of the floors you can see old videos of the damper swaying to one side during an earthquake. It is quite a site o see and it was our highlight of 101 due to poor visibility outside.

After that we decided to head back down and do dinner at Din Tai Fung which is where we ate at with the Polidor’s in Kaohsiung. Unfortunately the weight time was two hours since we had such a large party of 11 people. We opted to hit up Ningxia Night Market and snack our way through. We did our best to se everything but since it was raining we opted for the inside section of the market where there are a ton of restaurant stalls. Amazingly we were all able to sit together. We pigged out on some jiaozi and and XLBs and stayed dry in doing so. After that we decided to walk around a little more before calling it a night. The Culkin’s and us had early flight back to the mainland the next morning. We consulted with Olin’s door man about a taxi for 0600 and he said he would arrange it for us. He was very nice and helpful.

9 October 2016 Home

We woke around 0500 and packed up. The taxi was right on time and we had zero issue getting to the airport. We said our see ya laters to Colin and Lindsay and made our way to our terminal. Everything went smoothly and we made it back to GZ without issues.

It was a fun trip but I would like to spend more time in the center of the island of Taiwan….perhaps more time on the coast as well. Taipei seems to be a cool place to live but not necessarily a great place to visit. It is kind of a boring city. Everyone speaks English and it is very westernized.

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