#listen there's a reason killian wanted to name a kid after mr. vanakald

[welllpthisishappening]

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.