#on the other hand they dealt alright with everything robin related

[agneswarda]

just a lil thought I need to get out of my system: love how the byler shippers in general have such a good understanding of the show, its themes, in which direction it should go. but also I worry that they understand the show much better than its actual creators. i'm worried that the hype will eventually lead to a lot of disappointment. I say so as a former believer in tjlc 🤡

[immortality-becomes-you]

RUMORS•e. munson

masterlist

chapter 5

Ziggy kept her promise to Eddie and stayed up all night to keep watch. Sometimes she would peer out the window. Sometimes she would step outside to get more fresh air. It took awhile, but she relaxed slightly when she heard Eddie's light snoring. Just as she had for the last nine hours, she stood at the window and watched, but stiffened when she saw a car pull in. She let out the breath she was holding when she caught sight of who was getting out of the car but jumped in alarm when Eddie leapt from his place beneath the tarp and ran towards her place by the window.

"Eddie! It's okay! It's just Dustin!" Ziggy pressed her hands to his chest to stop his movements towards the curtain. He stopped at her touch and let her words sink in, still breathing heavily as he rested his hands on her wrists that were pressed against his chest. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door swung open, making them both jump slightly.

"Delivery service!" The group held up bags of groceries. Ziggy let her hands fall from Eddie's torso, pulling them from his grip. He turned to look at her at the loss of contact but moved to grab some of the bags to rifle through.

Soon enough, Eddie took a seat in the boat with everyone gathered around him as he shoveled cereal into his mouth.

"So, we've got some good news and we've got some bad news. How do you prefer it?"

"Bad news first; always."

"Alright, bad news; we tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro, and they're definitely looking for you. Also, they're pretty convinced you killed Chrissy." Eddie and Ziggy looked at each other at the aforementioned bad news.

"Like, a hundred percent kind of convinced."

"What's the good news?" Ziggy asked, hoping it would overpower the bad.

"His name hasn't gone public yet." Robin answered Ziggy before turning her attention to Eddie.

"But if we found out about you, it's only a matter of time before others do too and once that gets out it will only be a matter of time before everyone and their shallow minded mother is gonna be gunning for you."

"Hunt the freak, right?" Eddie stared at the ground.

"Exactly."

"So, before that happens, we need to find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence!" Dustin reassured. Eddie looked up at him incredulously.

"That's all, Dustin? Thats all?"

"Yeah, no, that's pretty much it." The boy shrugged.

"Listen, Eddie, I know that everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we've actually been through this kind of thing before." Robin waved her hand around as she spoke. Ziggy took a step closer in confusion.

"You've dealt with Dungeons and Dragons warlocks?" Her voice was laced with genuine disbelief. Robin tilted her head to the side.

"Not exactly? Well, they have a few times and I have once. Mine was more human-flesh based and theirs was more smoke related, but the bottom line is; collectively, I really feel like we've got this." Ziggy dropped her head. Eddie's eyes flickered from one person to another, hoping for more reassurance.

"Yeah, we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but those went bye-bye, so uh-"

"So we're technically in more of the-

"It's kinda-"

"Brainstorming! It's the brainstorming phase."

"There's nothing to worry about!" They all stumbled over each other, trying to find the right words to ease his mind. The look that Eddie sent them proved that he wasn't fully convinced, but the sound of approaching sirens didn't give him the chance to comment on it. Ziggy grabbed the cereal from his hands and nudged him to lay down as she covered him with the tarp. Everyone rushed to the windows and watched as the police cruisers drove right by Reefer Ricks house.

December, 1984

Ziggy rushed through the hall; her ponytail swinging from side to side as her head whipped from from left to right. As she entered the lunchroom, her eyes finally landed on what she had been looking for, or rather who.

Eddie glared at Jared when he swatted his arm, but the glare fell when he turned to see what he was pointing at. Ziggy had slowed her pace, but was still walking faster than normal as she headed towards his table. She was trying not to run, but when Eddie smiled over at her she couldn't contain herself and shuffled her feet in a little skipping motion. Eddie flinched as she got knocked into my a sophomore from the baseball team, muttering an apology before turning back to the table of boys.

"Eddie!" She squealed, doing a small jump before very slowly sitting in the seat next to him, smiling at his friends she had met a few weeks ago at their show.

"Boys." She acknowledged with a small nod in their direction. Eddie scoffed at her excitement.

"What's got you all excited?" He questioned. Ziggy's chest tightened, nearly letting out another squeal. She took a deep breath, placing her books down on the table with a bright smile.

"I have officially completed all of my community service hours for the year!" She clutched her hands to her chest and all of the boys but Eddie congratulated her. His grin fell. No more community service hours meant no more Eddie hours.

"That's-that's great! Wow." He spat out with a fake smile. Ziggy eyed him for a moment, assessing his demeanor. Her hands dropped to her lap with a pout.

"What's wrong?" Eddie shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"No more community service. I mean, that's big. Now your weeknights will be free." He played with the nuts he had dropped on the table. Ziggy tilted her head and leaned in a little bit closer. Her concentration didn't falter when the class bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Eddie rose from his seat along with the rest of his band mates. Ziggy followed after Eddie and grabbed him by his elbow to halt his stride.

"Eddie! I didn't mean it like that." She chuckled at his unsure gaze. He looked down at her in apprehension.

"The end of my community service hours doesn't mean the end of..." she trailed off, not knowing what to call it. Eddie sucked in a deep breath.

"Oh!" He nodded his head. Shock coated his features for a moment before he broke out into a smile that matched hers.

"Speaking of, I told my mom that your uncle works late and she wanted me to invite you over for dinner on Christmas Eve." Her hand went back to pulling her books to her chest as she nervously shifted her shoulders. Eddie tilted his head and took a teasing step forward.

"Oh, she wanted to invite me, did she?"

"You caught me. It was Adrian." She teased back. Eddie laughed as he looked around the room. He smiled back down at her.

"So?"

"So...?"

"Are you gonna come?" Eddie poked his cheek with his tongue, pondering the idea for a moment.

"Yeah, why not?" Ziggy scrunched her nose as she laughed. She gasped in realization.

"Don't forget to dress nice!" Eddie's smile dropped. Ziggy walked past him, heading to her next class.

"'Dress nice'? What do you mean by 'nice'?" He called out.

"I mean I don't wanna see you walking into my house in a band t-shirt. I dressed up for you, so now you've gotta dress up for me. I've been a good girl, Eddie. I expect a treat." She mocked his previous plea for her to attend his show.

When Christmas Eve arrived, Eddie found himself struggling to find a shirt that would fit into Ziggy's definition of 'nice'. Ultimately, he decided on his uncle's black, short sleeved button down. He refused to wear anything other than jeans, but opted for a pair that wasn't ripped.

The first thing he had noticed when Mrs. Zigova let him into her house was the decorations. Eddie and Wayne weren't big on festivities, so it was rare to see a house with so much life and color. Next, he noticed Ziggy standing next to the staircase. She brought a whole new meaning to the word 'nice'. Her hair was down again. Every time she blinked he could see her lashes bump into her bangs, making them flicker. Her dress was some kind of red satin. It ruffled around her biceps and hung down to her ankles. The neckline went down in a V and held a pretty black bow. The big bundle of wrapping paper in his hands grew heavy as she greeted him.

"Merry Christmas Eve." Ziggy greeted. Her eyes fluttered over Eddie's outfit. The top few buttons on his shirt were left undone. If you looked close enough, you could see a few skinny lines from his tattoo peeking out of the collar.

"Merry Christmas Eve, m'lady." He tilted his head down with a tiny bow. Ziggy's eyes struggled to stay locked onto his and not shift down to the gift he was holding. Eddie had no problem keeping his eyes on hers.

Ziggy lead him around the house, introducing him to her father and allowing him to greet her brother in the process. Once their tour had finished, she pulled him up to her bedroom so that they could hang out privately until dinner was done. Obviously, Eddie had been in her room before, but he felt too rushed to truly appreciate it. The walls were covered in a pink and orange floral paper, preventing any corner from being dull. Various bottles of perfume were lined up in an orderly fashion on her dresser next to the framed academic achievement. Her bed was covered with a thick, white quilt while her pillows sat delicately at the headboard. Eddie moved to her window and softly touched the lace curtains before turning around in search of Ziggy. She had sat down on the edge of the bed with her feet swinging back and forth as she waited for him to join her. Eddie looked down at the hem of her dress. There was a small patch of skin in between the red fabric and her white, frilly socks. He chuckled at her childlike stare and sat down next to her, making the mattress bounce beneath his weight. They sat in a comfortable silence. The only sound was coming from her radio that sat on her nightstand, playing a Christmas station.

"So, what now?" Eddie awkwardly laughed, clutching her gift in his hands as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Ziggy was snapped out of her daze, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Actually, I got you something!" She held a finger up, signaling for him to wait a moment as she rose from the bed. He watched her with a smile as she walked around the bed to her closet, standing on her tiptoes to reach for the box on the very top shelf. She hadn't heard him stand from the bed, but fell back to the heels of her feet when she felt Eddie press his hand to the small of her back. She looked up at him over her shoulder. He nudged her stomach with his gift, silently urging her to hold onto it for him.

"Which one?" He asked, looking up at the collection of beautifully wrapped gifts. He looked down at her expectantly while she stared up at him with a doe eyed look. She delicately pointed to the desired box on the tip of her toes once again, bumping into him slightly when she fell back down and he reached for the box with the hand that wasn't on her back. When he had successfully retrieved the box, she turned to face him and tried to hand him the poorly wrapped gift he had her hold onto. His hand fell from her back and pushed the gift back to her grasp.

"No need to give it to me; it's yours." He smiled. Ziggy's eyes lit up in curiosity.

"For me?"

"For you." He confirmed. She held it tightly to her stomach with a grateful smile.

"Open yours first." She pointed down to the small box in his hands. He raised his eyebrows and shook it in his hands. Ziggy snickered and grabbed him by the wrists, making him stop as he laughed. He almost felt bad opening it. It was a little bigger than his hand. There wasn't even a wrinkle in the wrapping paper and the bow was wrapped perfectly around the top. He eagerly pulled on the ribbon and tossed it on the bed. He looked up at Ziggy from beneath his brows and grinned at her eager expression. He finally tore the paper and opened the box. The D&D dice were evenly spaced out over the tissue paper she had crumpled to keep them from moving around. In the top left corner of the box there was a black and red guitar pick that seemingly matched his beloved guitar perfectly. Ziggy's finger played with her earring as her arms held her gift from Eddie to her chest in anticipation. Her shoulders relaxed at his belated smile.

"These are great, Zig!" He laughed, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Ziggy dropped her hand as he pulled the pick out and twisted it around in his fingers.

"You like 'em?"

"Like 'em? I love 'em!" He tossed the dice in his hands as if he were about to roll them out onto the table. Still smiling, he placed them back in the box and set it on the bed. He looked down at her and crossed his arms.

"Okay, your turn." He demanded. Ziggy had completely forgotten about the heavy present in her arms. The green wrapping paper had already ripped a little bit in a few places, but not enough to show what was inside. She pulled it from her chest, her dress peeling off of the exposed tape that had been haphazardly stuck to the gift. Ziggy's freshly painted red nails tore at the paper to reveal a small, leather jacket that Eddie obviously had just folded and wrapped the paper around as if it were an envelope.

"It used to be mine, but I grew out of it. I figured, if you're gonna keep going to our shows, you might as well have something to wear. It's not much-"

"No, it's perfect!" She held the jacket up with a smile and assessed its condition before holding it with one hand and pulling him in for a hug with the other. Eddie wrapped his arms around her back, mumbling a gruff 'Merry Christmas' which Ziggy returned.

"Speaking of Christmas, what the hell are we listening to?" He pulled his hands from her back to push her softly by her waist. Ziggy moved her hand down to his elbow, looking over to her radio with a frown.

"'Last Christmas'? It's by WHAM!." Eddie curled his lip at the cheerful holiday synth. Ziggy trotted over to her nightstand and turned the knob to the right, raising the volume. Eddie threw his head back.

"Oh, this doesn't even compare to The Hideout." She mocked. Eddie tilted his head with squinted eyes, glaring at her as she started to sway to the music.

"What's gotten into you? You're like a sugarplum fairy or some shit."

"Christmas makes me crazy." She grabbed Eddie's hands, trying to get him to dance despite his scowl. She stopped abruptly when he didn't join her swaying.

"You literally tore my tights and made me headbang for two hours. I don't think a little George Michael will kill you." She looked up at him with a deadpan expression. Eddie dramatically rolled his eyes before pulling one of her hands with his into the air, letting her spin under them with a smile. When she was finished, she held their intertwined hands to the side and rested her other one on his shoulder, encouraging him to place his back on her waist. He stood still while she swayed from side to side. He watched her happy face trail down to his chest. His small smirk stayed as his eyebrows pulled together slightly.

"What?" Ziggy looked back up at him frightfully, having been caught. She looked back down at his slightly exposed chest.

"What's that?" She softly asked, just barely audible over the music. Eddie looked down at his shirt in confusion.

"What's what?" He asked. Ziggy softly let her hand drift down from his shoulder to his chest. She pulled the collar to the side gently, exposing the ink on his skin. Eddie's brows softened.

"Oh, that. That's a tattoo." Her swaying slowed to a halt. The collar of his shirt was carefully held between her middle and ring finger as the side of her hand rested on his chest.

"Is it real?" He let out an airy laugh. Ziggy finally looked up at him again.

"Well, yeah."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, you can check." Ziggy looked back down at the black widow in wonder. She pulled her hand from his chest and licked her thumb. Her dry fingers pushed beneath his shirt, pulling it to the side to rub her wet thumb over the painted skin just beneath his collarbone. Eddie's smile faltered beneath his glassy eyes. Ziggy's head tilted when the ink stayed in place, not smudging at all. He squeezed her hip, bringing her attention back to his face. His eyes flickered down to her lips, coated in a barely noticeable pink gloss. He silently cleared his throat.

"That's so cool. I've never met someone with a tattoo." Her voice was soft, but not in an insecure way. Eddie felt prideful. He was never really called 'cool'. He certainly wasn't called cool by girls, let alone a girl like Ziggy. Then again, Eddie didn't think there were girls like Ziggy.

"I've got more." He choked out, wanting to continue to impress her. Her eyes heaved with parted lips.

"Can I see?" She excitedly asked. Eddie didn't give a verbal answer, he simply dropped her hand from his and pulled at his shirt. The hand that was resting on her hip moved to rest over hers that was still pressed against his chest. She watched his free hand twist at the buttons on his shirt, releasing two of them. The hand over hers moved it farther down his chest, pulling his shirt open more to show her the demon head below the spider. Ziggy's cheeks heated up. Eddies eyes never flickered away from her face, watching her swallow with a heaving chest. His hand squeezed hers, tightening her grip on his shirt. Her eyes slowly tracked their way up from the demon head to the spider, then his collarbone and Adam's apple to his mouth, finally settling on his big brown eyes.

Adrian's fist pounded on Ziggy's bedroom door.

"Dinner!"

[writer-and-artist27]

Knowing What to Say

Note: Written to process my own feelings with finishing Lostbelt 4 and my own position of being a Vietnamese-American, having been born to two Vietnamese immigrants who dealt with colonization firsthand when coming to America.

Inspired by @partialdignity and @lunarimpact. I hope you two don’t mind the tags, but I couldn’t help it considering you finished LB4 way before me and shared your own thoughts on it a while back. And well, much like you two, I don’t entirely agree with Mash’s decision in Lostbelt 4, Section 20-2, but at the same time, that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the sentiment behind it.

Even if Mash has been around a bit too much for others’ liking, considering she’s fighting old comrades of hers while still supporting us, the Lostbelts are challenging her as they are to us as people.

This is just Vy’s take on the final moments of a world that probably didn’t deserve what it received.

CW for implied emotional abuse and Lostbelt 4 spoilers. Theme for this little piece is Residual Ice from Fate/Grand Order’s own soundtrack. Please enjoy.

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“Is it alright… if we could stop by one last place before we go install Captain’s last part into the Shadow Border? There’s someone I wanted to visit, Da Vinci.”

Vy felt her heart ache when hearing Mash say those words, but in spite of the sympathy starting to flood her veins, she still gave Mash a look past her foggy glasses. “You want to see Asha, Mash?”

Robin and Ereshkigal didn’t say anything from over Vy’s shoulder — if they wanted to, they didn’t seem up for voicing it. The consecutive battles with that other version of Arjuna and the Tree of Emptiness were already enough to make Vy want to sleep for years. Who knows how the Servants felt, having to shoulder all the fighting with only one Command Spell to back them up. Still, Vy could feel their concern bleed through their shared bond, warming the back of her neck and the inside of her chest, and Vy clenched her fingers for a moment as she looked towards Mash.

Mash Kyrielight. Beloved kouhai, wonderful friend, strong Demi-Servant — and a teenager who shouldn’t have had to fight as much as she did. Vy didn’t regret bringing Mash with her through everything — Mash was a little sister in all but name now. After everything they had experienced in that crumbling Command Room, with all the flames, there was no way Vy could regret knowing Mash and growing to love her. It was hard to imagine going on any Chaldea-related mission without her. But if Vy had the right idea about what Mash wanted to do—

“I-I think we need to, Senpai,” Mash said softly, her hand clutching the handles of her Ortinax shield all the more tighter with the words being out in the open. “With Arjuna gone now, and… and with this Lostbelt fading soon, the least we can do is tell her what happened to Ajai. Asha deserves that much.”

Vy took a breath, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she considered her answer. “…Because we’re the ones who ended her world?” Because we’re the ones who, unintentionally or not, made it impossible for Ajai to ever come back to his daughter again? Because we’re the ones who can’t tell Dr. Roman everything anymore?

Da Vinci’s hologram took on a sad look as Holmes fell silent. Vy didn’t have to turn to know Ereshkigal had tears in her eyes and Robin was close enough to her to feel his hand start to brush hers.

Mash merely nodded and Vy studied her for a moment. Mash’s arms, although muscular and covered in the Ortinax’s armor, were shaking. Her purple eyes, even when shaded by the goggles from the Ortinax armor sitting atop her head, appeared sad, hesitant, and yet determined all at once.

She really feels…

Vy took another breath before striding over to Mash’s side (only after gently reaching back to squeeze Robin’s hand for one extra second of composure), gently brushing some dust off of Mash’s right shoulder. “What do you intend to say when we’re seeing her, Mash? Can I at least ask that before we go?”

“I—” Mash faltered, her gaze flickering back and forth between Vy’s face and her shield. “I wanted to tell her that the reincarnation cycles that she went through were wrong. That it was wrong for her to forget her father, that she didn’t deserve what happened. That…” Mash bit her lip, hanging her head, “that it’s all over now.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, kouhai, I really do,” Vy said softly, retracting her hand, “but can I say something to that?”

Mash slowly raised her head to meet Vy’s eyes past her glasses, blinking owlishly. “Wh-What is it, Senpai?”

“Thank you for letting me speak,” Vy said kindly first, a weak smile forming on her lips before it dropped in favor of the silence that surrounded them and the former ocean of milk where the Tree of Emptiness once stood. “And, as much as I understand why you want to tell Asha those things, Mash, I think we shouldn’t say everything. Just leave it at, ‘We have to go, and we’ll miss you.’”

“Wha—” Mash’s eyes widened enough to resemble dinner plates, her shoulders tensing in her armor. “What do you mean, Senpai? Are we just—” Her voice rose to an emotional high, her eyebrows furrowing on her forehead past her bangs as she said, “Are we just not letting Asha know what happened to one of her last living relatives?!”

“I didn’t say all that, Mash.” Something was starting to ache in Vy’s chest, but she pushed it aside. “But kouhai, Asha’s lived with these yuga cycles for who knows how long,” Vy continued in a softer voice, shaking her head. “The last thing we want to do is shatter her own mental world with the knowledge we have before we go, just because we feel guilty about what we’ve done. Who knows how much that’ll weigh on her before this Lostbelt disappears, knowing that she had a father that she can’t remember? How could we predict her reaction to knowing that all her prayers and her life was an utter lie that didn’t deserve to happen? What could we do about that?”

Mash lurched back at that, her breath coming out in a shaky exhale. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t, Mash,” Vy said quietly, the same small smile from before forming on her lips. “And I know taking down these Lostbelts is just as hard on you as it is for everyone else.” I can feel it, right here, right now. “But I don’t think you or me have the right to tell Asha what is right to believe when only a few days ago, losing people in the yugas was normal. When it was her daily life.”

Mash opened her mouth, then closed it. Then, she said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Did you go through the same thing at one point, Senpai?”

Did someone break you?

Vy closed her eyes and took another breath, slowly opening them to look at Mash again. She couldn’t think about the metal device still resting in her pocket, about the last phone call she had on said device before everything turned white. “Ignorance is bliss sometimes, kouhai,” Vy said, finally raising a hand to gently rest it atop Mash’s head, patting her hair softly. “Even if we don’t agree with it, we are still outsiders to this Lostbelt. And I’ve heard enough from my own family about how outsiders meddled with our home in Vietnam, telling us our beliefs were meaningless and that our lifestyles were barbaric and wrong. I don’t want you to be associated with that kind of sentiment.”

Even if I can understand where you’re coming from and feel the same way. But…

Mash stared at Vy past the hand she was using to still pat her head, a small hint of tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “Senpai…”

Vy smiled at Mash one last time, leaning over to press a weak yet sisterly kiss to the top of Mash’s hair. “I’m not telling you to stop with whatever you’re thinking. I understand where you’re coming from, Mash, I really do. I’m just saying we’re going to have to rephrase it, just so that Asha can live peacefully for as long as she can. Alright?” So that she won’t turn out like me, scarred, anxious, and wondering if she even deserves anything after being ignorant for so long.

“Senpai…” Mash whispered. “I…” A small pause, then Mash eventually choked out, “You…”

She’s hesitating. I guess…

“…I was told I wasn’t worthy of life once,” Vy whispered into Mash’s hair as she looked towards Robin and Ereshkigal still waiting back at the Shadow Border. It took only a second to pull back and turn away from Mash’s gaze. “When I was little, long before I came to Chaldea. I haven’t forgotten it.”

Vy could faintly hear Mash gasp.

“‘Stop making yourself out like a mouse to be protected,’ he said,” Vy recalled, shrugging her shoulders as she walked towards the Shadow Border. “‘Stop looking at fairy tales and start looking at reality, else you’re not worthy to be in my reality.’ It was all said and done when I was about 11 years old, by someone I thought I could trust. My world was shattered by someone I thought I could love, kouhai. And my family didn’t know. I didn’t know until just recently.” With a small sigh, Vy reached Robin’s side first, and the May King gave her a look past the fringe of his hair. “If not for a certain rogue in green, I still don’t know if I would even be here at all.”

Robin stilled, his fingers twitching before he offered one arm, and Ereshkigal immediately took Vy’s hand in hers. Without hesitation, Vy put her other hand into Robin’s outstretched one, squeezing both Servants’ fingers tightly.

If not for everyone here…

Vy glanced over her shoulder to look at her beloved kouhai and smiled, holding back the tears in her voice. “It hurt enough when I didn’t know what to believe in, Mash,” Vy said softly. “All I’m trying to say is…” A lump surfaced in Vy’s throat, her nose starting to itch as her vision blurred a little, but she still squeezed Eresh and Robin’s hands before finishing with, “let’s just try not to break the beliefs of another little girl when we go, okay?”

Vy chanced one second to glance behind her. All she caught was a single tear that proceeded to slide down Mash’s cheek before she nodded, taking the former shield of Galahad up into her arms. “O-Okay.”

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.5}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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A loud bang, followed by an orchestra of rattling jars and bottles jolted Robin awake. With a sharp intake of breath she sat up, wide eyes frantically scanning the dim room around her as her fingers curled tightly around her wand. Before she could go into full defense mode however, her startled gaze was met with the equally surprised one of her professor. Geez, he really was positively insufferable. Slowly the tension in Robin's muscles relaxed, but she kept her eyes on him nonetheless while her sleepy mind reluctantly started picking up its work again. Why did he look so surprised? It was him who had burst into the room and slammed the door like a maniac after all!

"I apologize." Snape said after a few seconds, and Robin's eyebrows rose in surprise. "I didn't consider that my behavior might startle you. My mind was elsewhere."

"It's alright, I mean… Is everything alright? Did you find out from Morgan whose spells those are? Is that why you are so… upset?" Ignoring the fact that he had actually apologised for once, for inconsiderate behavior out of all things, Robin immediately went back to the issue at hand as she jumped up to her feet to meet him at the table they had been sitting at who-knows-how-long ago.

"Upset doesn't nearly cover it, Miss Mitchell." He drawled in a grim tone and the expression to go along with it. "But indeed, I did discover who the spells originated from, and I would even go as far as to say I have unveiled the entirety of this affair."

"What?" Robin couldn't help but stare at him with an incredulous frown. "You… You know what's going on?"

"I do." He confirmed, but made no move to speak on for a moment, which in return made Robin roll her eyes against her better judgement. With a scowl in reaction to that, he finally went on. "Professor Morgan did not create the spells. However, after some… convincing, he was able to tell me who did."

"And?"

"As far as one can trust his word, a group of students. Fourth and fifth year Slytherins. He said they approached him a few days after the start of term, inquiring if and how innocent charms could be turned into dark magic."

"And, of course, Morgan told them…" Robin groaned in annoyance and dread, closing her eyes for a second to focus on not letting a row of insults slip past her lips. Not the bad ones, at least. "That man is a nightmare all in himself."

"He became an unknowing asset to them, yes." Snape phrased it more nicely, but the way he said it clearly let on very much the same disdain that had been more directly put in Robin's expression. "But he was able to give me the names of the students who made the inquiry at least."

"Who was it?" Robin asked even though she already felt like she knew the answer to that.

"Mister Thompson, Mister Campton, Miss Sparks, Miss-..."

"Sparks? As in… Melody Sparks, my roommate?" A new heatwave of discomfort ran through Robin's body in an instant, and she really hoped that she was somehow misunderstanding this. Maybe her mind was still fogged from sleeping.

"The very same. Your other three roommates were among the group as well." He confirmed Robin's suspicion, upon which she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Gods… it was so absurd, and yet so very obvious.

"Do you really think that a stupid little group of students cursed me like that?" Robin still couldn't help asking, more hoping to be proven wrong than out of an actual lack of understanding.

"I do not merely think they did, but I know it for a fact." He replied.

"You do? How so?"

"I summoned them to my office and asked them."

Now Robin's frown turned into a wide eyed stare once again, and her heartbeat grew uncomfortably fast again. "You… what? When? I… but…"

"Maybe it would help to follow a more… chronological order of events." He sighed, and started over. "After I received the names from Morgan, I was quite frankly as doubtful as you are now. Thus I took the liberty to summon the individuals in question to my office to get at least one step further in solving this issue before breakfast. Yet, I did not expect to solve it entirely, and I cannot say I am glad I did." He made a small pause, and Robin felt like he actually might not know how to phrase what was to follow appropriately.

"Just say it." She encouraged him to continue, and prepared herself for absolutely anything he might say.

"It was only a practical joke. A simple, pathetic prank that a group of cruel students decided to play on a classmate. They simply deemed it amusing to scare you." He said in that grave tone that went beyond annoyance, beyond any scowl. "None of them possesses the necessary abilities nor intelligence to realize what they have done, truly have done. Or what the spells they have created are capable of."

"No…" Robin said without thinking and shook her head to herself. "It was not a prank! It was NOT a bloody joke!!! It cannot be…"

"They have no idea that they cursed you, and neither are they aware of the extent of those curses. Nor of the toll their actions took on you. Really, Mister Thompson was quick to explain the hilarity they found in witnessing the boggart incident last term, and the entire group altogether was hoping for a… repetition of those events."

"They just wanted me to jump and pass out?!" She still couldn't believe a word of it, or rather didn't want to.

"In the end, yes. That was the aim of last night's horror theater."

"Well, I'm sure they were delighted to hear that they almost killed me instead."

"They are entirely unaware of that."

"Really?" Now Robin frowned even more now, but finally found herself able to look Snape in the eye once more. "You… didn't tell them?"

"Obviously not. I demanded the truth and they gave it to me. Then I threw them out of my office to be dealt with at a different time."

"And you are certain that they told the truth?"

"Yes. Students tend to speak the truth when I threaten them."

"I guess I wouldn't know that, would I?" Robin tried a half smile, but she couldn't quite convey it yet. "Uh, how did they do that thing tonight, with the other me?"

"Polyjuice potion."

"Ah…" Every doubt and question within her collapsed suddenly and made room for sheer and utter humiliation. "And the… dreams? How did they know how to scare me so deeply?"

"Part of your terror was solely born out of the curse, you should keep that in mind." He said at first, but then answered her question nonetheless. "It is related to the general origin of their ideas. Miss Sparks said she discovered a piece of writing of yours at the start of term, which supposedly gave her the idea to mess with you. She confided in her friends, they took the issue to Mister Thompson, and he got Mister Campton involved, who obviously still holds a grudge against you after the incident with the Whomping Willow. They each thought it a fun activity to giggle over with their friends like the bunch of lunatics they are, and thus half of the fourth and fifth year Slytherin students got involved in the execution of this scheme at last. Needless to say, their ambition got out of hand by the point it all was set into action."

"I… don't know what to say." Robin replied in a breath, and stared at a burnt spot on the table in front of her. This is not what she had imagined the solution to this mystery to be, not even close. Somehow, it seemed entirely unimaginable that such a large group of people had formed for the mere sake of letting her suffer. And it was even more unimaginable that they still had no idea just how much they had succeeded in that. It was only a prank. Only a joke. Her suffering, a joke. Her terror, a joke. The fact that she had been one hundred percent willing to die tonight, a joke.

"I know what you are thinking, and I ask you to stop. Right now." His words broke the silence after a moment, but Robin still couldn't get over this impossible ending to the worst night of her life.

"No offense, but I beg to differ." She replied quietly, but didn't look up from the table. She didn't feel scared anymore… only deeply humiliated, embarrassed of herself, and angry that she was embarrassed in the first place.

"I believe you are contemplating how you can pay them back."

"Why do you believe that I'm contemplating such a thing?"

"Because I am." He stated it so simply that Robin didn't even feel surprised anymore. Pleased, yes, but not surprised.

"That's… good to hear. I'm afraid you're wrong about me though. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind." She sighed and finally looked up at him just in time to see his eyebrows rise in surprise. "I don't care about payback or about revenge at all."

"I am rarely surprised, and somehow whenever I am, it always seems to revolve around you." He finally stated, and Robin managed another weak half smile in return. She really did like the idea of being able to surprise him. Even if, or maybe because it made him question her. "What are you thinking of then, if not about revenge?"

"Are you asking me that or do you demand to know?" Robin asked in return, and he seemed even more surprised at that.

"Does it make a difference to you?"

"Yes."

"I believe I am asking."

"In that case I would like to refrain from answering for once. I've told you everything you needed to know, everything you wanted to know… But this is something I don't think I can explain." Robin said in the sincere hope that after all the times she had been so very honest with him, he would let this one question go for once.

"I understand." He didn't sound too content with her refusal, but he respected it and that's what counted for Robin. "May I still offer a piece of… advice in return?"

"Certainly."

"Then let me assure you that they only hold power over you if you allow them to determine who you are. And if they keep you from speaking up."

"They?"

"Nightmares… Fears… Bullies…" He said in very much feigned neutrality. Really, under all those constructed layers of his facade, he seemed to be just as shaken as her. "You are better than them."

Robin let out a half humored and half annoyed huff and rested her head in her hands for a moment. "That is great advice, actually, and yet I hate that it makes me want to tell you."

"That wasn't my intention."

"I know…" Robin sighed, and she really did know it to the core of her mind. He was sneaky, yes, but this simply wasn't his kind of method at all. "I know. But you are right, I… shouldn't be embarrassed by something that wasn't in my control."

"You feel embarrassed?"

"Yes! Terribly so, actually. I feel embarrassed that I let them scare me that much, that my mind made such a big deal out of a mere stupid prank. That I seriously believed that this whole thing was something more, and that I made you believe it too. I'm truly sorry for that."

"You couldn't have known. I didn't know, and I'm supposed to know. I am responsible for keeping things like this from happening, so if anything, I failed you tonight." For a moment, he seemed as surprised by his own honesty as Robin was. For a moment indeed, they just looked at each other in silence again before he continued. "The sheer amount of coincidences involved in this incident is astonishing, and ultimately what blew it completely out of proportion. You aren't responsible for any of it, and if I may say so, you were quite right to be terrified." A small pause, and his frown turned almost into subtle sadness. "There is no difference if it was students accidentally torturing you with adulterated magic or if something else tortured you intentionally with the worst curses modern history has to offer. It was torture nonetheless."

"But it… they…" Robin couldn't keep looking him in the eye if she truly wanted to say this. She wasn't that brave. But if she didn't say it now, to him, she would never say it at all. "I'm used to it, you know… being bullied and hurt and ridiculed, especially by my own house. I have learned to stand above it, to be better than that. And honestly, I can also live with the death I have seen. I can even live with the death I thought to have caused. Those pictures are a horror film, and as any film, you can shake the memory off if you know that it isn't real. Wait, do you even know what horror films are?"

"Obviously..." Again, his tone was somewhere unfathomable between humored, annoyed and curious.

"Good… Uh, well, anyway… I think I mostly got over the nightmares when we discovered that they weren't nightmares, and I got over the real life thing that happened tonight when I realized it was polyjuice potion and fake blood. Well, I hope it was fake blood at least, it was all over my-..."

"You are rambling."

"Yes. I know. I do that when I'm nervous. Or when I dread saying what I actually want to say."

"You do not have to say anything at all if you would prefer not to." He stated pointedly but sincerely, and Robin appreciated that. The always quite so demanding Professor Snape was giving her a choice. He had been doing that for a while now, actually. It wasn't much to expect of anyone, but coming from him, it was a lot.

"I don't know if I can live with the fact that I didn't care if I lived or died." Robin heard herself say the words as if they came from someone else. "What does it say about me that I wanted to die after what they have done?"

"More importantly, what does it say about you that you are still here after what they have done?"

The returned question put an immediate pause to Robin's mind. She hadn't looked at it in this light before, hadn't considered that while she had been in a very bad place before, she still was here now. That wasn't due to herself though. "It was Hagrid who made me get out of the water."

"Yes, remind me to thank him for that at some point."

"He's the reason I'm still here."

"Not even remotely."

"Then what is your point?"

"My point is that you would not have been terrified if you truly had wanted to die. My point is that people who truly want to die would embrace the opportunity once it arises, not try to fight it. My point is that you are still here because you chose to live despite what was done to you!" His words contradicted the glare he gave Robin, but she chose to see it as an expression of just how serious he was about what he said. The mere fact that he was this determined to help her made her heart flutter, but it also left her no option but to believe him indeed.

"Do you really think that my choice to live says more about me than my willingness to die?" She asked sincerely, rawly even, with more conscious vulnerability than she had ever allowed herself to show before. But it was too late, too far, too important for anything else.

"I do." He was entirely serious in his reply, and intent on making her believe it too. "We are not defined by what is done to us, nor by what it makes us think or feel. What matters are the choices we make because of it, or despite of it."

"Thank you…" Robin sighed in honest relief, and closed her eyes for a moment to let the truth get through even to the darkest depths of her mind. She was still here, still Robin, and finally not afraid anymore. Only dead tired. The problem was solved, all questions answered and only one thing left to do: moving on.

Robin sighed, elbows on the table, head in her hands. How exactly was she supposed to do that? Maybe she should start by coming back into the real world.

"What time is it?" She asked first of all, sitting up straight once more to look at the skeptical potions professor in front of her. "I have lost every feeling for how late or early it is long ago."

"Between eight and nine in the morning, I am not entirely certain."

"Good gods…" Robin groaned under her breath. "I have kept you up all night. I'm sorry."

"The issue required immediate solving and that took its time."

"Is it solved though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you… think they will try to do it again?" The thought made Robin more uneasy than she would've expected, but she didn't want to let it affect her any more than it already had. She could deal with those asshole students if she had to, now that she knew who was responsible.

"I cannot give you an absolute answer, obviously, but I would not expect them to. In my understanding, they had the conclusion to their efforts in the grand finale last night. Seeing as they were entertained more by the secrecy of the process than by the results, I would assume that I put an end to it. However, if you experience anything suspicious, I expect you to find me immediately."

"I definitely will, but it's good to know that it should be over now, if they're finally happy with what they've done. I know it's probably none of my business, but do you plan on punishing them for what they did, if you haven't already? What's going to happen to them now?"

"I do consider it to be your business indeed." He replied almost easily. "And while I do believe they must be punished, I haven't yet decided on appropriate means to do so. To me, their actions are unforgivable, but seeing as I am biased, I might have to consult the headmaster in that question."

His answer made Robin's skin crawl, and she wondered what exactly he meant when he said he was biased, but she didn't dare to ask. He was already being extremely open with her right now, and she didn't want to push him too far. Maybe she would find out eventually. "Well, I know you will find an appropriate way to deal with the issue, sir. You always do. Unfortunately not everyone learns from punishment."

"Indeed…" He mused, following a line of thought Robin couldn't fathom. But then again, she didn't have to.

"So, what am I to do now?" Robin asked instead, and couldn't help feeling a little lost, in the lab, in her pajamas, without a clear agenda. "I mean… it surely isn't dangerous for me to leave the lab anymore, and I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."

"I have been contemplating that for a while now, and I would prefer for you not to return to living with your roommates. It would be best if you moved to a different room."

"That would cause an awful lot of trouble for very little gain though, wouldn't it? I mean… To be honest, I doubt that the other girls would appreciate having me in their rooms either. Changing rooms might simply delay the inevitable."

"You are concerned about a repetition of these events in a different form, at a different time?"

"Obviously." Robin mimicked his favorite expression, but he merely raised an eyebrow in a very subtle (and amused) warning.

"Your worry is reasonable. I was concerned about the very same thing, seeing as it would be rather annoying to go through this entire debacle again." He stated in the worst feigned indifference possible, and Robin had to smile. Snape was being Snape again… things were returning to normal. Good. "That, among other things, is why I decided to assign you to a room with two first year students."

"I… you… really?" Robin's jaw dropped, but she couldn't yet decide if she should be amused, insulted or anything in between. First years, really? She hadn't even been able to stand them when she had been one herself! But then again, she couldn't afford to be picky about these things. Anything was better than living with the people who tortured her.

"Do not look at me like that." He warned her with a small glare that was more comforting than Robin wanted him to know. "The two girls I'm assigning you to aren't as noisy and dimwitted as the other children in their year. They could be more if they had someone to keep them on the right path."

"So you want me to be their… what exactly?"

"Foremost I want you to live with people who will not torture you. But in a second step, yes, I would like you to keep an eye on them. They both are muggle borns… There is no need for me to tell you how that affects their life in this house. And seeing as you already take up most of my time and energy, you might as well keep an eye on them for me." The last sentence was definitely more sass than serious, and Robin found herself smiling again at the small moment of much needed humor. If he wanted her to do him this favor, she would without hesitation. It was a serious responsibility, sure, but also a piece of proof that he trusted her to act appropriately in his place. Robin's heart skipped a beat, and she gave it a mental slap to shut it up already. Not the time for unwanted feelings.

"I will do my best, as long as they let me." Robin said with a smaller smile. "I promise I'll try."

"I expected nothing less of you." Snape replied in a way that somehow brought a new rush of tingles to Robin's skin rather than make it any easier to ignore the previous one. Geez, she really needed to sleep. "Your belongings will be moved to the new room shortly, so you needn't concern yourself with that. I shall speak with the two girls myself to explain the situation and see to it that they don't return to your room until after dinner. You should use that time to rest."

"Oh, I definitely will. Without a curse on me, I might actually be able to sleep soundly for once." Robin sighed and moved to pick up her backpack and wand from the floor. As much as she loved the lab, the prospect of finally getting some rest was way more tempting currently. "I really appreciate that I don't have to go back to my old room. I mean, it might earn me some scorn that I'm going to live with first years, but what's new. I don't think I could've closed my eyes in the same room with the people in my grade ever again, so this is as close to good as it gets."

"I can imagine." Snape mused in return, and watched with badly hidden amusement as Robin tried to come up with a place to store her wand, before she gave up and simply held it in her hand, resting against the inside of her forearm. With another deep breath, Robin stepped towards the door and then turned towards her professor once more. "Which room is it?"

"The very last one to the left."

"Great, as far away from everyone in my grade as possible." Robin smiled to herself, then at Snape, and finally at the ground. She'd be okay now, it would be over soon. Then they could go back to every-day business. "I literally can't wait to just sit in the classroom in the evenings again and drink coffee with you." …Oh gosh, had she really just said that? Out loud?!

For a moment the humor on his face seemed to tug his lips into a smile, but then the neutral facade of stone jumped back into place and gone was any and every expression at all. "Soon enough you will."

"Well…" Robin turned to face the door with her body, but her eyes stayed on Snape. "I better go now."

"Not so fast. I have one more question that I have been meaning to ask you all night, but now seems the only appropriate time to do so."

"Oh?" Robin's eyebrows rose in question and her poor stupid heart skipped a beat. That traitor…

"Did someone give you that t-shirt as a gift or do you actually like Queen?"

Robin's jaw dropped and her brows furrowed into a frown, but after a second of silence she finally couldn't help it anymore and just burst out laughing. Honest, pure laughter. Something that had been unimaginable a mere few hours ago. And yet here she was, laughing, and trying to cover her mouth with her free hand to stop laughing, which however was utterly impossible when she just took one look at his almost entirely serious face. Even Snape couldn't hide the hinted at expressions that clearly suggested humor as his predominant sentiment. Only after a minute, she could finally bite her bottom lip enough to keep the laughter in and come back to a place where she could actually answer that question. But honestly, what kind of a question was that in the first place?! Had he been wondering about this all this time?

"Yes, I actually do like Queen. A lot, even." She answered at last, though unable to stop smirking. "But I made the admittedly idiotic promise a few years ago not to wear the t-shirt in public, so… it's just for wear as pajamas. Which, until today, weren't a topic of public debate."

"I can assure you they still are not."

"Good… to know." Robin laughed, and shook her head to herself. "I'm going to get some much needed sleep now. Goodnight, professor."

"Good morning, actually. Not everyone can enjoy the luxury of sleeping through the day, Miss Mitchell." He gave her a look, and Robin bit the inside of her lip to not smirk again. "Expect to hear from me about the punishment issue when you wake up."

With a small nod, Robin finally opened the door and let herself out into the ever-gloomy dungeons. Quickly she made for the dorms, in the hopes that everyone was still at breakfast, and then to the very last door to the left in the girls' hallway. The room was absolutely average, just like her previous one, but it looked bigger with only four beds instead of six, and only two of them taken. Robin chose an empty bed on instinct, dropped her backpack and her wand by her nightstand and laid down beneath the covers without a second thought. She was too tired to care about anything but sleep right now, and if Snape was sure that nobody would come at her with those bloody curses again, that was enough to put her mind at ease. Enough to allow her to sleep in peace, without a single dream at all.

______________________________

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[welllpthisishappening]

The Period of the Long Change (4/15)

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: Too many, but with kissing! AN: Thanks for sticking with this vaguely angsty story, internet. It’s real nice. If I ever don’t write an Ariel whose favorite activity is mercilessly ragging on Killian Jones, assume my identity has been stolen. 

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

“Are you even supposed to be here?”

Killian arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly on the bench and he couldn’t actually roll his eyes fast enough when Robin’s widened, worry practically coming off him in waves. It was probably doing damage to the ice. “I am on IR, Locksley,” Killian said, doing his best to keep his voice even.

There were, after all, kids on that ice.

“IR,” Killian repeated when Robin kept staring him like that wasn’t an actual thing. “Not dead.”

Robin’s eyes, somehow, got even bigger and Killian rolled his whole head in response. They’d made it official two days before –after the press conference that wasn’t really a press conference because all the questions were just the same thing over and over, when are you coming back and how long have you been injured and don’t the Rangers care about head trauma and Killian wished they’d stop using that word.

He wished Emma had showed up at the press conference that absolutely was not a press conference.

It might have been a bit closer to torture.

But that felt dramatic to say out loud.

And Emma had enough to worry about without having to also worry about standing in the corner of the locker room while Killian tried to smile and not notice that every single reporter asked him the same question. She needed to worry about that roulette table and eating and he kept reminding Ruby to remind Emma to eat and Ruby might have rolled her eyes more in the last few days than Killian.

It was impressive.

It was also pretty goddamn annoying, but Killian knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on in that particular argument and mostly he was just pissed off because an indefinite IR stint felt a bit like a death sentence.

He was, probably, the most dramatic person in all five boroughs.

“I’m not suggesting you’re dead,” Robin said evenly, digging the toe of his skate into the ice. “I’m just suggesting that maybe you aren’t supposed to linger.”

Killian blinked, and he’d lost complete control of his eyebrows and his emotions and, maybe, his life, but he was hopeful that last one was getting better and he’d really wanted Emma to be in the back corner of the locker room when he answered the same question, just worded differently, forty-seven times.

Dramatic and selfish and several other vaguely horrible adjectives that mostly just focused on how much he’d been ignoring his phone in the last few days and ignoring the worry lingering in the pit of his stomach and, possibly, the spaces between his ribs and it kind of felt like he was made of the feeling at that point.

Indefinite was not part of the schedule.

Indefinite was expansive and never-ending and the season had been going well, not perfect, but enough and Matt was still laughing on the ice because Matt wanted to live on the ice and Killian had no idea when he was going to get back on it.

“Cap,” Robin hissed, making it almost too obvious it was not the first time he’d tried to get Killian’s attention.

He blinked again.

He was some kind of blinking machine – fueled solely on worry. And maybe fear. God, that was worse.

“Yeah,” Killian said brusquely, sitting up straighter like that would make him appear more interested or more enthused and they had mostly staged walk-throughs during practice, but no one seemed all that intent on getting off the ice and even Arthur kept glancing at Killian like he was some sad, broken thing who had absolutely fucked up.

He should have been writing these things down.

They were so dramatic they were almost poetic.

Robin laughed, eyes closed and shoulders shaking, and that was not at all what Killian expected.

And that seemed to be a trend too.

“What the hell is your problem right now?” Killian asked sharply, Robin’s eyes snapping open and immediately darting towards Will and Killian was sure his eyes were going to get stuck mid-roll. That wouldn’t help him beat Ruby in whatever unspoken competition they were staging.

He hoped she remembered to make Emma eat lunch.

That roulette table was driving her insane.

“Are you under the impression that I genuinely believe you’re dead?” Robin asked. Killian groaned and sighed, a mix of sounds that scratched at the inside of his throat when his whole body sagged forward, but Robin didn’t waver and Will was far too busy practicing breakaways with Matt and Roland to be worried about this conversation that made no sense at all.

“No,” Killian said.

“No?”

“Speak in actual, real sentences, Locksley, please. Why don’t you think I should be here?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“That is exactly what you said!”

“It’s not, Cap,” Will argued, flashing Matt a grin when he dusted the top of his skates with ice. “You’ve got to be faster, Dr. J. Otherwise you’re going to deal with ice-type repercussions.”

“Scarlet, he’s four. He does not understand what the word repercussions means.”

“Do you?”

Killian groaned, and it probably should have been obvious as soon as he got there.

And, really, he couldn’t blame them.

He knew he’d absolutely, positively terrified both of them equally and efficiently and that second one might not have been the right word, but Killian wasn’t really sleeping through the night and he knew Emma wasn’t either and they both kept staring at the ceiling and opposite walls and that worry in between his ribs felt like several dozen weights.

It was probably warping all of his internal organs.

That was an absolutely disgusting thought.

The first game after All-Stars wasn’t bad. It was, actually, almost kind of fun, sitting in the team box with Matt and Mary Margaret and David and there’d been yelling and cheering and Phillip had scored twice and they beat the Leafs easily.

Matt was thrilled by the whole thing, talking a mile a minute in the restaurant after and explaining to anyone who would listen how good it was that Arthur had challenged that one offsides because it was offsides, but he couldn’t really say the word challenge and there was an extra ‘w’ in there every time he shouted it that did something peculiar to Killian’s heart.

It was good.

Or, it was as good as recently sent to the IR Killian Jones could have expected it to be, but then Matt asked when he’d be back and they’d gone over this, had dealt with tears and a sound that Killian was certain would echo in between his ears for the rest of his life and he was still a little concerned that Emma needed stitches for whatever she’d done to her lower lip during that whole conversation.

They went through it again, another round of tears and confusion and that goddamn sound and Killian got, exactly, forty-two minutes of sleep somewhere in the realm of four in the morning once he was sure Emma’s breathing had evened out.

Because he didn’t have an answer and it scared his kid, but it petrified him and Killian wasn’t sure he knew what happened in a life where there wasn’t hockey.

So, two days later, he offered to pick Matt up from school because he couldn’t practice and didn’t know what else to do and Emma’s eyes widened slightly before she nodded and mumbled thanks, pressing a kiss to his cheek before dealing with roulette tables and an overworked assistant and she probably didn’t eat lunch.

They somehow ended up back at the Garden – for a slew of reasons that might have been how much Killian wanted to see Emma because he was, absolutely, a selfish asshole, but also might have been because he knew there was practice before a two-game homestand and the last five days had been the longest he’d been off the ice since he hurt his hand.

He didn’t think anyone realized that.

He should have known Robin and Will would realize that.

“That was heavy-handed,” Killian grumbled, but Will chuckled under his breath and the stick he’d given Matt was almost twice his height. “Where’d you even get that stick?”

Will shrugged. “Somewhere in the corner of the bench. It might be Arthur’s, honestly.”

“He’ll be pissed you stole it.”

“We’re borrowing it. We’ve got every intention of giving it back, don’t we, Dr. J?”

Matt nodded enthusiastically, nearly losing his balance in the process and Roland had started practicing snapshots on his own. He’d scored on Jeff twice already. “Yeah, yeah,” Matt said quickly. “Coach doesn’t mind! He thinks I’m really good! He said I could start when I play too.”

“That so?” Killian asked, but he was a little worried about those internal organs again and Will’s eyes kept flashing to Robin. Their intervention was not going as planned.

“It is painfully adorable that your kid calls Arthur coach,” Will said. “Makes my whole soul burst into rainbows.”

“Well, that’s disgusting. You should have your soul checked out.”

“That’s rude, Cap.”

“And you’re still being incredibly heavy-handed. Plus, he couldn’t really say Arthur before and then coach just stuck and—“

“—And that makes Arthur’s soul burst into several rainbows,” Robin finished. “Plus Guinevere is absolutely charmed by the whole thing. I think she tears up every time she sees Matt.”

“Is G here?” Matt called, trying to stare at Killian and Robin at the same time and they really needed to work on tighter turns when he was on skates. He was going to fall over. Sooner rather than later.

Killian wasn’t sure Emma would be able to deal with that.

Killian wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with that.

“Not now, kid,” Killian answered, crooking a finger and laughing slightly when Matt collided softly with the boards. “You going to score on Jeff, yet?”

Matt’s eyes practically lit up, excitement on his face and possibly rainbows shooting out of Killian’s soul or something equally absurd, but he’d never seen another kid who loved the ice more than his kid.

God, he wanted to get on the ice again.

“Can I?” Matt shouted, and Will groaned dramatically behind him.

He held both hands in the air, crouched slightly as he skated backwards – so he wouldn’t land on his back when Matt inevitably slammed into his chest and he might have been four years old with a getting-better-by-the-day vocabulary and diction, but Matthew Jones was already incredibly fast, even with a stick that was almost comically large in his hand.

“Would I leave you hanging like that, Dr. J?” Will balked, sliding back until he was just on the edge of the far circle and Matt didn’t fall when he turned on the spot. Robin let out a low whistle. “C’mon, man, we don’t play the game like that. We play to win and we play to completely decimate Jeff in net.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Jeff sighed. He pushed out of his circle, moving down the ice with a hand on Roland’s shoulders and they were both kicking pucks as they moved.

“There had to be a more efficient way to do that,” Killian said. Jeff shrugged.

“Probably. But the angst-ridden teenager was already talking trash and I didn’t want to see him try and bounce all twenty bucks on his stick at once or something stupid.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Roland mumbled, but both Killian and Jeff clicked their tongues and maybe they should let him in on the eye-rolling competition too. He’d beat both Killian and Ruby easily. “I mean, you know, maybe like…ten,” he amended, and Killian’s laugh felt a little manic, but he was exhausted and stressed out and his friends were staging a shitty intervention.

So, really, whatever noise he made seemed perfectly acceptable.

He wished Robin’s vaguely judgmental stare got that memo.

“Let’s make it a round dozen, huh?” Killian asked. Roland beamed.

“That seems fair.”

“Can we stop all glorifying the kids?” Jeff muttered, but he was already in net again and Matt was standing on the blue line like he’d been born there. “They’re going to start getting ideas and then we’re all going to be out of a job.”

“You a little worried about your job?” Robin asked knowingly.

Jeff threw a water bottle at him.

“Shut up, Locksley. Your kid is eight-thousand times better than you are. Especially at faceoffs.”

“Don’t let Gina here you say that,” Will suggested, making a ridiculous noise when Matt hit him in the back of the ankles. “Ah, jeez, Dr. J. The limbs, they’ve got to be controlled.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Killian laughed. “It’s because you didn’t give him a real stick.”

“If you were going to crash practice like this, you should have been better prepared, Cap. Why didn’t you bring him a stick?”

“You think we should just be wandering around Midtown with hockey sticks in our hands?”

“Did you walk up here from school?”

Killian shrugged, but it hadn’t been that cold and the thought of answering questions from particularly curious cab drivers or even more self-important Uber drivers, was not one he was all that interested in. Will cackled. “Oh man, wait until I tell Emma on you,” he grinned.

“Walking up Broadway is not a crime, Scarlet. Neither is showing up to the practice of a team I am still very much employed by.” Will hummed, but it sounded a little patronizing and his gaze flashed Robin’s direction again. Killian sighed. “You are both absolutely horrible at this, you know that, right?”

“That’s because we thought we were going to have to do it after the back to back,” Robin explained. “You caught us by surprise and now we’re just kind of…winging it.”

“It’s not your best work, honestly.”

“That’s still not getting you out of it.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Dad,” Matt whined, and Killian snapped his head up, eyes wide and brows halfway up his forehead and that stick was absolutely ridiculous. “Can I shoot now?”

“Nothing was stopping you before,” Will mumbled, but he stopped talking as soon as both Robin and Killian glared at him and Roland might have joined the fray as well. If there was another water bottle, Jeff would have thrown that one too.

“Sure, kid,” Killian said. “You’ve got to move your hands further down the stick though. It’s going to get caught in your skates if you hold it like that.”

Matt did as instructed, which shouldn’t have been as impressive as it was, but Killian was a great, big sentimental idiot and his kid had asked if they could watch practice as soon as they walked through the players entrance to the Garden. The security guard and Matt had an not-quite secret handshake.

This couldn’t be it.

Indefinite needed an ending date.

Soon.

“That?” Matt asked, bent a bit awkwardly and a little familiarly and Killian didn’t entirely appreciate the low whistle Roland let out. That was exactly how he stood in front of the net on a power play.

Killian nodded dumbly. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed. “Just like that. Make sure you push off from the middle of your skate when you start moving and then move onto your toes.”

Matt looked at him – clearly aware of what exactly it would take to pick up speed on the ice and maybe it would be acceptable if Killian walked out of the arena, up several dozen flights of stairs and then staged some kind of absolute mental breakdown in his wife’s office.

Possibly after kissing her.

And apologizing. Again.

He was so tired.

“I know,” Matt said, dragging out the words, and drawing another pointed laugh out of Will. “You’ve gotta watch!”

“I am absolutely watching.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Where are you going to aim?”

“Hook, you can’t ask him that,” Roland groaned. “Then Jeff’ll know where to save it!”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Rol,” Will mumbled, but Roland still looked a bit scandalized and Matt had started bobbing on his skates. They kept skates for him in the New York Rangers locker room.

“Where are you going to aim?” Killian repeated. If asked, he would have said he was entirely prepared for his son’s answering smile, but that would have been a lie and he was really trying to stop doing that, particularly when it came to his family and the doctor had given him a Tylenol schedule that Emma had rewritten earlier that week.

She hung it on the refrigerator.

And made copies.

He was fairly certain there was one in her office. She was probably more aware of his over-the-counter medicinal schedule than her own eating habits.

He was going to climb several dozen flights of stairs. Soon.

“Five hole,” Matt shouted, still smiling and it was still a near-perfect mix of Killian and Emma and he was having a very difficult time breathing.

Robin clapped Killian on the shoulder. “You’ve got to let him shoot, Cap.”

“Right, right,” Killian mumbled, not sure if the words were actual words or just generic sounds of agreement. “Alright, Mattie, you ready?” Matt nodded again, twisting his grip on the stick and he didn’t notice Will’s gloved hand on his back. “You ready Jeff?”

“Ten-four, Cap. Let’s have your best shot, little Cap.”

“Go!”

Will pushed and Roland cheered and Jeff made a pretty good show of trying to make the save while opening his stance to an almost dangerous proportion and the puck sounded impossibly loud when it hit the back of the net.

Killian was only slightly sure he’d imagined that part.

Matt yelped, stick thrown in the air and knees on the ice because keeping his balance could only last for so long and the whole thing was reminiscent of several exploding rainbows. Of the soul-type variety. Or whatever.

“Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,” Matt said, rushing over the words and spinning on his hands. His pants were a lost cause. They should have changed before they crashed practiced. “Did you see that?”

Killian nodded, smile tugging at his mouth and Robin laughing softly next to him. “I did,” he promised. “You destroyed Jeff. He never even saw you coming.”

“That was like your goal before!”

Honestly, the world was a little unfair and a little mean and if Killian never saw or thought about another rainbow, he wouldn’t have argued.

He wished he could teleport to Emma’s office.

He wished his phone was on so he could call Emma’s office and make sure she was in her office before teleporting, immediately, to her office.

And Matt had no idea.

He was four. He wasn’t supposed to. He was supposed to think his dad was the greatest hockey player to ever play or ever consider playing and he was supposed to practice breakaways on a goalie that let him score every time while trying to recreate a shot Killian was only slightly certain was the one against the Pens in November.

He let out a quick huff of air, a breath of feeling and emotion and Robin had never moved his hand.

“Hey Rol,” Will said lightly, an almost obvious calm in his voice. “Why don’t you and Dr. J see if you can actually bounce twenty pucks on your stick at once.”

“Twenty?” Roland echoed.

“At least.”

“That’s impossible, Uncle Will. We just talked about this.”

“Roland,” Robin snapped, and it was a pretty good impression of Regina. Roland nearly jumped to attention.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok. I mean…” He glanced at the bench, Killian staring at an empty section in the right corner of the arena and Robin’s slightly narrowed eyes, and Jeff had started taping his stick at some point, an impatient, awkward rhythm that matched up perfectly with the way Killian’s pulse had been acting in the last five days. “Yeah,” Roland repeated. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll, uh…c’mon Mattie. We can uh—“

“—Fine,” Jeff sighed. “You guys can practice shooting some more. I’m avoiding A anyway, so this is absolutely a good use of my time.”

Matt stood back up. “Can I, Dad?”

Killian nodded, every single one of his muscles tight because Robin’s expression had turned a little pitiful and he might have been avoiding Ariel too and, like, everyone. In general. Completely.

It was probably because of his sleep deprivation.

Matt didn’t need anything more, grabbing his stick again and already passing with Roland and Killian tried not to look too frustrated when Will slung his legs over the boards. “If this is going to be another attempt at a, frankly, piece of garbage conversation about my life, then I need you guys to both work a little harder this time around,” Killian muttered.

“Wow, Cap,” Will grinned. “That was pretty harsh.”

“He’s not sleeping,” Robin explained.

Killian’s eyes were never going to recover from everything he was doing to them – rolling and widening to sizes that could not have been healthy or helpful when it came to multiple days without a concussion-induced headache. “How did you know that?”

“Aside from you looking like complete and utter shit?”

“Yeah, aside from that.”

“Well, the shitty appearance is a pretty good indicator. As are the incredibly massive bags under your eyes. It wasn’t really hard to put two and two together.”

“Also,” Will added, dropping onto the edge of the bench and, somehow, resting his skate blades on the top of the boards. “You’re you, so you’re clearly not coping well. At all.”

Killian ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the back until it almost hurt and there was probably some twisted reason for that, but it kind of woke him up. That didn’t seem good at all. “I’m coping fine,” he said. “There’s nothing to cope with.”

“And you said our conversation was a piece of garbage.”

“This is not your issue. And I really don’t think the bags under my eyes are enormous.”

“So you’re agreeing that there are bags under your eyes.”

“I am a parent to two kids under the age of five.”

“I mean, technically. Dr. J will be five later this year.”

“Tell that to my sleep schedule and a day-to-day schedule that is almost too full, at this point.”

“You’re not the one in charge of several dozen fan events in the next two months,” Will pointed out. Killian opened his mouth to argue, but whatever he was going to say seemed to die on the tip of his tongue and Emma had been far too stressed out about the roulette table.

They were going to have to buy a new one.

It was not about the roulette table.

“And you don’t get to use your kids as an excuse for this,” Robin said, but that felt decidedly heavy-handed too and this conversation was almost dripping with double meanings. Killian had a headache.

“No?” Killian asked. More double meanings. More extra emotions. More lying.

“No.”

“Why were you lurking here, Cap?” Will asked. He shook off his gloves, resting his hands on the bench and staring at him in a way that Killian was fairly positive he’d never see again.

He hadn’t appreciated it the first time.

He certainly didn’t appreciate it this time.

“There was no lurking,” Killian said. “I’m still on this team.”

“You’ve made that point several times. No one is questioning that.”

“No? They call a guy up from the WolfPack yet?”

Will nodded, and his eyes didn’t leave Killian’s face, slightly narrowed and far too understanding or all-knowing and this team spent way too much time together. “They put you on IR, Cap. Of course they called up some guy from the WolfPack.”

“Is he good?”

“No, he totally sucks. Of course he’s good. He played in the AHL, he at least has to know how to put his pads on.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel worthwhile.”

“I’m not really talking about the AHL guy,” Will said, but his voice got a bit lower and slightly more dangerous and Killian was only a little concerned he was going to challenge him to a fight. He’d already taken his gloves off, after all. “And neither were you, so let’s all drop the act and talk about you bringing one of your insanely cute kids to practice so you could loiter on the bench like a giant weirdo.”

“Except we won’t use the word weirdo again because it kind of takes away from the very adult, grown-up point we’re trying to make,” Robin muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely not,” Will said. “And, incidentally, where is your other kid?”

“They have this thing called daycare, Scarlet,” Killian muttered, appreciating the way Will’s eyebrows dropped when his voice turned a bit more menacing. “Merida’s picking her up because Emma had to go buy new Casino Night stuff and deal with something with Gotham Hall and we’ve circled right back around to that very jam-packed schedule I was talking about before. So if you two could get to your point soon, that’d be great and I can go find Emma.”

“Didn’t you just say she was at Gotham Hall?”

“Oh my God, Scarlet, I don’t know!”

The words seemed to fly out of him – like throwing knives or those little ninja star things that always looked way cooler in the movies he and Liam used to watch when they were kids – painful and emotional and probably leaving a few scars in their wake. Will looked at Robin again.

Killian yanked on his hair.

“How are you even sitting like that?” he asked, waving a hand towards Will and his twisted limbs. This was easily the worst conversation any of them had ever had.

“It’s honestly not that uncomfortable.”

“Not that uncomfortable does not sound like actually comfortable. You look like a contortionist.”

“You jealous of my clearly superior limbs?”

“Oh, my God.”

Will laughed, shaking his head slightly and exhaling softly – an apology and an understanding without actually using the words and they’d been there for the first disaster and Liam and everything that had happened in between. It was no wonder they were there for whatever the hell it was they were going to call this.

Killian really hoped it wasn’t the end.

He wished his head would stop feeling as if it were going to snap in half.

“It’s still your team, Cap,” Will muttered. “That didn’t change in five days.”

“You don’t know it won’t, though.”

“Neither do you.”

“Eh.”

“You apologize to Emma yet?”

“Probably not enough,” Killian admitted. He didn’t remember sitting down, but his legs were bent and his head fit very well in his hands when he sagged forward.

“Yeah, that’s definitely true.”

“Because what you did was exceedingly stupid,” Robin added. “Like top tier stupid.”

Killian’s laugh sounded hollow, even to his own ears, but he couldn’t get the memory of Emma in the doctor’s office out of his mind, how pale her cheeks were and the way the questions had rattled out of her, worry obvious in every letter and he wanted her to sleep more than he wanted to sleep. “Are there tiers of stupidity?” he asked. “Or am I just on some precipice on my own?”

“Would you be insulted if I said it was absolutely the second one?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Good because that’s definitely what it is.”

“Mostly we’re just pissed at you,” Will said, finally pulling his feet off the boards and tugging at the laces on his skates.

Killian hummed, understanding the feeling because he was kind of pissed at himself, but he couldn’t really come to terms with the myriad of emotions he was feeling. He kept circling back to complete, unadulterated fear and he didn’t entirely appreciate that.

“What’s the new guy’s name?” he asked, and Will didn’t try to disguise his answering groan. “That’s just general curiosity, I promise.” “God, you are an absolute shit liar,” Robin chuckled. “Does Emma know that? Is that why you didn’t bring up the headaches and the vision issues? Because you knew your voice would do that lying thing and she’d totally know?”

“There was no lying thing.” “That was worse.” “Why do you think I shouldn’t be at this practice? It’s not even a practice, really. It’s a glorified walk-through.” “And you know Arthur would never kick you out when you brought the adorable kid buffer,” Will mumbled. Loudly.

“You going down a list of insults or what, Scarlet?” Killian seethed, glancing up when Matt made a noise and wanted him to watch something and he wasn’t sure if his face looked perfectly father-esque, but he was hopeful it was, at least, close. He smiled when Matt tried to juke in front of the net. “Can you guys please get to the point? Or at least answer some of my questions? I’m not going to be picky about it.” “You’re just going to be an ass about everything else.”

It was like the anger was a fire – erupting in the middle of him and slinking through his veins and arteries and into Killian’s heart or possibly his still-slightly concussed brain and he narrowed his eyes when he glared at Will.

Will didn’t blink.

It was a miracle the ice didn’t melt.

“The opinions just keep getting more and more pointed don’t they?” Killian asked, standing up as suddenly as he’d sat down and stuffing his hands in the pockets of the jacket he’d never taken off.

“I’m not here to pick apart your life, Cap,” Will said.

“No? You might want to reexamine your approach then.”

Will stood up as well, expression unreadable except for the very obvious pinch in between his eyebrows and the slight twitch of muscle in his temple and Killian had to dig his nails into his palm to stop himself from doing something he’d regret.

Probably.

“You shouldn’t be here lurking,” Will continued. “You shouldn’t be here watching if you don’t have to be. This isn’t going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. It’s still your team and still your locker room and you can ask Arthur if you want to double check. He’ll probably defer to your unquestionable leadership qualities, anyway. Nothing is going to happen if you’re not on the ice so you brain doesn’t explode, Cap. Locksley and I won’t let it.”

“My brain’s not going to explode.” “I mean, you know, hopefully.” Killian was going to blame the distinct lack of sleep for whatever happened next.

His shoulders sagged and the muscles in his neck seemed to collectively give up at once, head falling until his chin collided with the team-branded shirt he was wearing. He didn’t really own anything that wasn’t team-branded.

He blinked, trying to get rid of whatever was happening in the corners of his eyes, but Robin and Will had seen everything and staring at both of them with slightly glossy eyes on the bench in an almost-abandoned Garden seemed to almost make sense.

“We probably should have led with that, honestly,” Robin shrugged. “Next time we intervene, we’ll do a better job. We really weren’t expecting you to show today.” Killian let out a shaky laugh, and he was going to do permanent damage to his scalp if he kept running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, next time I reach that tier of stupid, you’ve got my explicit permission to do a better job of telling me I’m being an asshole.” “We never used that word. We could have, but we didn’t. So let the record remember that.” “I’m really not keeping track.”

Another lie. But, like, a good one – so Killian was hopeful it didn’t mess with the world’s opinion of him.

And it really wouldn’t have been a proper intervention if he didn’t hear footsteps coming down the tunnel and Killian could almost taste her frustration lingering in the air. He’d been avoiding her since the doctor’s office.

“Here,” Ariel said, thrusting a cell phone into his chest without preamble. “Take this. I’m not doing the go-between thing anymore. It’s driving me nuts.” “Hey, Red,” Killian laughed, and earning himself a deserved glare in response. “How you doing? Things going ok?” “Don’t test me, Cap. I will stab you with a skate.” “There are no loose skates around here. We run a very well organized team.” “Shut up.” “I’m just exchanging pleasantries.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re doing and it’s stupid, but I’m also assuming you’ve been here for awhile already and I know Locksley and Scarlet had a plan so--” “--Oh my God, A,” Robin groaned. “C’mon. We told you the plan in confidence.”

“And from the look on Cap’s face, it seems you’ve executed it wonderfully,” Ariel continued, undeterred by whatever expression Will was making and Matt was trying to bounce the puck on his stick. “When you want something done right, you need to go to the professionals.” “You’re a professional at interfering in other people’s personal lives, Red?” Killian asked archly, and she pushed the phone into him again. “God, stop that, you’re going to do damage to your wrist.”

“You think I don’t know how to make sure I don’t break my own wrist? Take this.” “I don’t even know what this is.” “It’s a phone,” she growled, twisting it as his shirt bunched under the plastic. “Maybe relearn the English language and then answer people’s phone calls. And e-mails. Mine included.”

“When did you send me an e-mail?”

She huffed, or possibly snarled, but Killian was too busy ignoring Will and Robin’s laugh and the sound of pucks hitting the boards to be too worried about the exact definition. “The day after the doctor’s office because there’s actually a lot of PT you can do for post-concussion syndrome--” “--Shit, is that the name for it?” Will asked sharply. He snapped his mouth closed when Ariel turned her glare on him, mumbling sorry, A under his breath.

“Yes, that’s the name for it, but that’s very much not the point,,” Ariel said. The phone in her hand lit up again. “You’ve got a schedule to follow, Cap. I e-mailed and texted it to you. I expect you on a treadmill walking as slowly as humanly possible on Monday afternoon. Because if you don’t show up, I’m going to tell Emma you’re being a dick and then you’re going to feel even more guilty than I already know you do.” “I don’t feel guilty,” Killian lied, met almost immediately with three very loud, very disbelieving groans.

“On average, how much sleep are you getting per night?” Ariel asked knowingly. Killian took the phone. She had sixteen missed calls. “Yeah, right,” she muttered. “Take that guilty feeling and try and tell me you’re not feeling it now.” “I’m not sure that even made sense, Red.” “Ask me if I care. You should really call, like, at least one of them back.” Killian sighed, but he felt as bad as he had since stumbling down the hall at Bridgestone Arena, and his thumb hit the first missed call without looking at the name.

Liam answered.

Figured.

“He lives,” Liam yelled, and Killian winced, the ache in the back of his skull increasing with every breath he took. That probably wasn’t right.

“Between you and Locksley, I’m not sure who is more convinced I’m knocking on death’s door,” Killian grumbled.

“It’s definitely your kid. So don’t insult either me or Locksley like that.” “It seems strange that I’ve had to point out that said kid is four more than once today.” “Scarlet?” “Obviously.” Liam laughed, but there was a hint of something on the edge of it that made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand up and he wondered if there was another word for guilty. Maybe there was a cliché he was missing.

Or a Norwegian curse word.

“You ever call Mr. and Mrs. Vankald?”

Killian hummed, and the audience around him did its best to look uninterested. They were god awful at that too. Their hearts, however, were, mostly, in the right place.

There was the cliché.

“After the presser,” Killian answered. “They uh...did they call you? Before?”

“Oh yeah,” Liam said, and that sound was back and it was awful and the Garden had never felt smaller. “What felt like several times while Elsa was trying to get in touch with you. Mrs. V cried.” “I figured.” “Good.”

“That was a rather strong opinion.” “Yeah, well I’ve got several of those,” Liam bristled, Killian standing up straighter out of years of experience and several years of getting checked just underneath his shoulder blades. This whole day felt a little bit like that.

He glanced at Robin, eyes wide and maybe a little imploring and it took, precisely, four seconds for him to understand. “Let’s go, Scarlet,” Robin said, swinging his legs back onto the ice with plans for some kind of competition and a hand held out expectantly for Ariel.

“If I break my leg, I’m blaming all three of you.” “That actually seems totally fair,” Will said, already halfway towards the net and he laughed loudly when Matt crashed into his thigh.

Killian waited a few moments before opening his mouth, keeping an eye on his kid and the smile on his face and dreading what his brother was about to say because it was all going to be true and maybe one of those emotions he was feeling before was just a general sense of cowardice.

That felt wrong.

His kids deserved better than that.

“Alright,” Killian started, “Go--”

“--Take Emma out,” Liam interrupted, barely missing a note as his voice drowned out Killian’s.

“What?” “Was that confusing?”

“Maybe unexpected.”

Liam laughed again. This had been a very confusing day. “Yeah, that was almost to obvious,” he said. “How many times you been to practice?” “Just today.” “The whole time?” “No, I had to pick Matt up from school.” “Oh.” “Was that unexpected?” Killian asked, and he really wished all these words stopped hurting him in some kind of metaphorical sense.

“I mean, not totally,” Liam said. He was shrugging. Killian knew he was shrugging. And probably standing in front of the window in his office. “That kid thinks you created the entire world and then invented hockey and won a Cup every year.” “I think he’s almost too aware of how we haven’t won the Cup every year, actually.” “See, this is what I’m talking about. Get out of there. He doesn’t care. Peggy cares even less.” “Peggy can’t form entire sentences, so…” “Why are you arguing with me about this?” Liam asked exasperatedly. The door opened in Colorado and some assistant asked something, a few mumbled responses about that kid from Notre Dame looking good, and Killian smiled before he realized he wasn’t quite as frustrated anymore. “Locksley and Scarlet said they were going to say something too. Is that why? Did they get there first with the speeches and now I’m just old news?” “I mean you’re definitely something if you’re using the phrase old news in normal conversation.” “Not an answer.” Killian scoffed, eyes staying in a normal position for half a moment, but there were more footsteps coming down the tunnel and he swore the lights in the arena reflected off her hair. So he was probably insane at that point.

Emma blinked when saw him, moving Peggy onto her hip, and Killian’s smile was as honest as it had been in what felt like several lifetimes. He was only a little worried about the state of his heart, expanding and contracting and that feeling in between his ribs was suddenly replaced with something that felt a hell of a lot like joy and a bit like contentment and his lungs really appreciated the oxygen he suddenly decided to provide them with.

“Ariel said you were down here,” Emma explained, like she needed a reason to show up and fix the Earth’s gravitational pull or something that didn’t sound quite so insane and just a little clingy. “So we figured we’d take a field trip. And I figured you’d end up here eventually.” “And you were talking about my mind reading abilities,” Killian said. He had to press the phone to his ear with his shoulder to free up his hands, drawing circles on Peggy’s side and making faces because he knew it usually ended with Emma smiling and that was, suddenly, the sole goal of the day and Liam was still talking.

“Ask her out on a date,” he shouted. “Get out of that arena! Teach your kid how to shoot a wrister!.” “He knows how to do that,” Killian muttered. “He scored on Jeff fifteen minutes ago.”

“Did he seriously?” Emma asked. She was smiling.

“Kind of. There were possibly some dramatics and some staged attempts at a save, but he did get some power on the shot.” She beamed – something about brighter than the entire New York City skyline. That was another good cliché.

“Did he go five hole?” Liam asked. He didn’t need an answer, far too many memories of Central Park and the Piers and practicing wrist shots against each other because there wasn’t anyone else around.

Killian wanted to get on the ice again.

He didn’t want Emma to stop smiling.

It felt like a very thin line to walk.

“Obviously,” Killian said, and Liam chuckled lightly in his ear. “You guys need to stop calling Red so often. She’s got enough to worry about.” “Yeah, you blowing off PT because you’re an idiot. I’ll save my speech, since I know Locksley and Scarlet stole all my high points and already out brother’ed me. It was a good one though.” “I’ve got no doubt.”

“We’ve started a marker of how many times you’ve ignored our calls. So maybe stop doing that because you're legitimately hurting Elsa and Anna’s feelings.”

Killian winced, guilt sliding down his spine and threatening to tug him into the ground. “Shit.” “Yeah, that’s a good response to that. Call them back. But make out with your wife first.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me. I’m not going to say it again. Tell her she’s the most important thing in the world, save maybe your cute kids and then apologize again because you haven’t done that enough, I know, and try to keep some perspective. It doesn’t have to be the end, little brother, but there’s more to everything even if it is.” He wasn’t holding his breath, was breathing almost too evenly, far too aware of Emma’s stare and the sounds Peggy was making, but Killian exhaled loudly anyway and--”That was pretty spot on older brother, honestly.” “Good to know I haven’t lost my touch. Seriously, ask your wife out. And then call mine.”

“Deal.”

Killian stuffed the phone back in his pocket, ignoring Ariel’s what the hell, that’s mine, Cap, God, sorry Matt, taking a step towards Emma and making a face at Peggy when she wrapped her hand around his finger. “What are you doing later?” he asked.

Later turned into several hours later because Matt didn’t want to get off the ice and Will was a pushover and a little surprising because he offered to keep Matt and Peggy overnight, despite the looming back-to-back and Belle will be thrilled and Killian couldn't bring himself to argue when both his kids seemed thrilled with the prospect.

So maybe he was the pushover.

And he, somehow, ended up in Emma’s office, organizing files and merch and it felt a little familiar and a lot comfortable and they ended up ordering Chinese from the place three blocks down the street.

“Didn’t really hit the mark, did we?” Emma asked, peering at him over a container of pot stickers she’d decreed were a necessary part of the order.

“What do you mean?”

The words on the page had started getting blurry though, plans for signed merch and a schedule of events that, at one point, seemed centered around him, but Emma’s handwriting was everywhere and there were far more question marks than Killian was entirely comfortable with. Emma scrunched her nose, resting her elbows on her desk and her chin on her hands and it might not have been their best date ever.

“This date is lacking a bit of the romance, isn’t it? It might be because I’m still super pissed about the roulette table.” “The roulette table will be fine. You’re getting a new one. Or the season tickets can cope with one less game to play. Just make Scarlet stay at blackjack a little while longer.” “That’s actually not a bad idea.” “It does happen from time to time,” Killian said. Emma made a noise, not quite an agreement and slightly distracted when her phone lit up again. It looked like it belonged on the Vegas strip. “You alright, love? Your phone looks like it’s getting ready to fight back or something.”

She laughed lightly, eyes closed and even her cell phone was ringing. “Are you feeling ok?”

Killian nodded, mostly on instinct, but also on honesty, the sincerity in Emma’s question unsurprising and just as nice. Nice was a terrible word for it. Everything.

Everything sounded way better.

“I’m fine, Swan,” he said.

“Yeah?” “Yeah.” “You’ve been reading paperwork forever. That can’t be good for your head. I should have read the side effects of--” “--Actual Tylenol?” Killian asked, and Emma scrunched her nose again. “I’m as fine as advertised, love. It hasn’t been forever. And I wanted to help.”

“I told you you had to help because I was so behind schedule,” she objected, one side of her mouth tugged up. He was ridiculously attracted to his wife. And there’d been a disappointing lack of making out on this date. “It’s definitely been hours. I can’t think about Casino Night anymore or I’m going to throw a pot sticker at the window.” “Please don’t attack the windows, Swan.”

“Do you think Scarlet broke into our apartment to get the kids clothes?” “I know he didn’t because he is incapable of picking locks and Belle is too nice of a person to know how to pick locks and because I gave him my key.” “You gave him your key?” Killian shrugged, but the smirk on his face almost felt like it was working and Emma eyed him with something that felt a hell of a lot like flirting. And a bit more like normal than anything else. “I had a feeling I might be going home with you.” “Sounds presumptuous.” “A hunch.” Emma’s smile settled on her face, tongue moving to the corner of her mouth and that was incredibly distracting, but Killian wasn’t all that confident in the strength of his legs at the moment and she laughed when he crooked a finger towards her.

That had absolutely been the goal.

Her chair squeaked when she moved, leaving her heels on the floor where she’d kicked them off hours before. It had definitely been hours.

Killian dropped the papers in his hand, careful not to mess up the order as Emma hummed a quiet approval. “Thanks, Cap,” she muttered, the tips of her fingers brushing over his jaw and he hadn’t shaved in days.

There were several depressing and increasingly horrible reasons for that, but Killian couldn’t remember a single one when she perched on his right thigh, slinging an arm around his shoulders and catching his lips with hers.

He might have groaned.

God, he hoped he didn’t groan.

He definitely groaned.

Emma laughed against his mouth, the smile obvious in the turn of her lips and the feel of her next to him and it only took a few moments for her to shift, straddling his hips in the middle of her office and it’d been far too long since they’d done that.

Her fingers tangled with his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist, trailing patterns up and down her spine because she was wearing a dress, a fact that wasn’t usually distressing, but now felt a little inconvenient and they were still in her office.

The door was wide open.

Neither one of them seemed particularly inclined to stop.

“This can’t be healthy,” Emma mumbled, voice strained and pupils blown wide when she leaned back slightly.

“I disagree.” “I’m serious. I’m...you’re staring at tiny letters and my handwriting--” “--Your handwriting is perfectly legible, Swan.” “I’m not really worried about my handwriting.” “I know, love," Killian said, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose and her hair was everywhere. It was on his shoulder. He didn’t understand that. “But I’m…”

He had every intention of finishing that sentence. Really. The words were there, promises and declarations and attempts at being charming that he hoped didn’t fall flat, but Emma’s eyes were wide when they met his and Killian’s hand was on her back and the only thing he was particularly interested in was making sure she realized she was at the center of everything.

Indefinitely.

So he didn’t say any of the things he should have or wanted to, just closed his eye and let his forehead rest against hers and whispered “don’t stop.”

They did, eventually, get out of Emma’s office, clothes intact and hair a bit of a giveaway, stumbling onto the block and the cab driver’s jaw dropped when he recognized Killian. There were questions, but Killian mostly ignored them, determined to focus on whatever it was Emma was doing against the side of his neck and Regina was going to kill him for several reasons, but showing up on Page Six the next morning was probably going to be the top of the list.

It was all a bit of a blur after that.

The good kind.

The less concussed, worried about his entire professional hockey future kind. The kind where Emma made that one noise and her zipper didn’t stick and none of the baseboards were dented when they kicked their shoes off.

They left a trail of clothes in their wake, landing on the bed in a mess of limbs and lips and laughter that made everything seem like a gross understatement. And all those words he’d been thinking in her office seemed to tumble out of Killian, a string of praises and guarantees and Emma’s smile looked permanently etched on her face.

“Awfully mouthy tonight, huh?” she asked, but the question went breathless as soon as he shifted and he absolutely groaned that time.

She rolled her eyes when she realized what she’d said, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck to tug him back down, but Killian kept his lips on her cheek and chin and Emma’s breath audibly caught when he rocked his hips.

“Definitely later,” he promised, and he wasn’t sure this was part of concussion protocol, but it was probably better so, really, it seemed almost medicinal. “God, shut up and kiss me.” “So aggressive.” “I’m serious.”

He couldn't argue that.

The clothes were still in the hallway later, and neither one of them was getting the sleep they could absolutely use, a bowl of rocky road ice cream in between them and two spoons and the blush in Emma’s cheeks hadn’t disappeared yet.

“This is more romantic,” she said. “If not a little unconventional. I can’t believe we had ice cream. Why did we have ice cream?” “I think Mattie wanted some before we went to Nashville because--” Killian cut himself off, biting down on his tongue and spoon in equal measure and he wasn’t sure which one hurt more. “Because he wasn’t sure there’d be ice cream in Nashville,” Emma finished, smile a hint sadder than it had been a moment before.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.” She took another spoonful of ice cream.

“For all of it,” Killian continued, and he had no idea why he kept talking. But she’d looked so pale in that doctor’s office and he couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if indefinite became it and he didn’t know what he was without a hockey stick in his hand.

It felt like several lifetimes before she answered, words quiet and measured, like she’d practiced them in front of the mirror several times.

“I know,” Emma whispered. “But I was, still am, I guess, so scared. I can’t...you’re it, you know?”

“I’m not going anywhere, love.” “I’ll check you really hard if you do. Right under the shoulder blades.” “Perfect technique.” “You better believe it.” He chuckled, tugging the spoon out of her hand so he could kiss her without fear of rocky road retribution. “I love you.” “I love you too,” Emma said, grabbing the bowl and leaving it on the nightstand behind her and the ice cream had melted when they woke up the next morning.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 7 - Come Sunday

It was in the car that it hit me. It was when he took the exit for his mom’s house a few nights before Christmas that I realized I had it bad.

He leaned over and patted my thigh three times, excitement written on his face as he gave me a toothy grin. I almost felt like I had no idea who we were.

We were different than the people who talked that first night. He was different than the boy who gave me a ride home and I was different than the girl who sat in the passenger seat of his car with anger in her chest.

“This is the one,” he said, flicking his blinker on to pull off towards the ramp. The drive wasn’t terrible--it was mostly music and talking about what the rest of the boys were up to. He asked me about my family’s typical Christmas traditions and if I was sad that I’d be missing out.

I didn’t feel too sad about it, honestly. The flight back to Ohio for just a few days was a long trip--and when Harry offered to take Charlie home with him so Kyle wouldn’t have to come change his litter box, I knew staying in London would make everyone’s life easier.

“Why are you so excited?” I laughed, eyeing him from my spot beside him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me and slowed to a stop, making the right turn onto a country road.

“I like being home,” he shrugged his shoulders quickly, but his eyebrows were still furrowed in thought. “And bringing you with me is nice.”

It felt like a jolt of electricity somehow ran through me. I tore my gaze away from him, fearful that if we locked eyes it would somehow make it real. He didn’t look at me though, he kept his eyes on the road and he left his hands gripped around the wheel.

I cursed myself, silently, for letting this happen. I wished that I’d stopped myself from falling for someone who had the potential to hurt me more than I’d ever known. I wasn’t that type of person. I wasn’t the girl who fell head over heels for the cute guy at school. I’d never really had a ‘high school crush.’

The electric buzz seemed to settle in my bones when he pulled into the driveway of a house set far back from the street. There were long lines of bushes that steered us towards a white brick house--presumably the one his family now called home. He’d already told me that this wasn’t the house he grew up in--they’d long left the tiny three bedroom house behind in the city where he once lived.

Now, he spent his holidays and long weekends in a suburb of the same town, set back from the road and having afternoon tea with his mom in the kitchen.

I followed him out of the car and up to the front step, where he twisted the door knob exactly as it opened, revealing his mother behind the dark green door with a bright smile on her face.

It felt, in that moment, as if my whole world slowed. I knew, all at once, that I was in too deep and this was all too real. If once I had to commit to the idea of being friends with Harry--it seemed like now I was committing to being something more.

You don’t just bring people home for Christmas, right? You don’t just waltz into your mother’s house with a girl on your arm and pretend like everything is completely platonic.

I wasn’t even sure, now, if things between Harry and I had ever been completely platonic. I greeted his mother and his step dad, and I smiled as they showed me around their beautiful home.

But all I could think was that ,I was--under no circumstances--allowed to fall in love with someone like Harry. Someone with a big heart and a big smile. He was comfortable and familiar now--he knew my favorite cocktail, he’d seen the mess of laundry on my living room floor.

I couldn’t fall in love with him. I couldn’t admit to him, or to anyone, that there was even a thought in my mind about it.

And that was good material for a song.

**

Having Harry’s sister around seemed to break up the tension. I wasn’t sure if the tension I felt was real or just in my head, but either way, Gemma’s presence seemed to distract me enough. I sat across from her on the floor, watching as she dealt the cards in a circle.

“You’ve seriously never played Whist?” Harry asked with a smirk on his face, his brows furrowed together in disbelief.

“No,” I shook my head. “We have normal, easy card games in America.”

His mother let out a laugh as she looked at the cards in her hand. “It might just be called something different there--you’ll pick it up fine.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “She’s lived here for like five years, she should know it.” His hair was up in a bun and he was clad in athletic shorts. We’d had dinner with the three of them--Gemma, Anne, and Robin. Now, though, Robin was sat on the couch behind us watching the news, and Gemma had challenged all of us to a game.

“Relax,” She told him, finishing the deck before placing one card face up. “She’ll be fine.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that because she’s not on your team,” Harry argued. I bit at my lower lip, hoping to keep the smile from spreading on my face. He was far too competitive for his own good--which wasn’t necessarily news to me, but apparently he wasn’t above sibling rivalry.

“Don’t be rude to your guest,” his mother warned, watching as Harry placed his first card down in the middle of our makeshift circle.

“Yeah, Harry,” I said, I shot a smirk at him. “Don’t be rude to your guest.”

He rolled his eyes again, sipping at his glass of red wine, watching as Gemma rearranged her hands, set down a card, and then looked to Anne.

Anne did the same, searching through her hand for an appropriate card to play, but when it was my turn, I was out of luck.

“Don’t fuck this up,” Harry said quietly, his eyes on the wine in his glass as he swirled it in a circle. He looked up when he felt my eyes on him, only offering me a small smirk. Anne and Gemma let out a laugh.

“You did a terrible job even explaining the rules, so if I fuck this up, it’s on you,” I told him.

“Is not,” he said under his breath, his eyes on the floor, still waiting for me to reveal the card I’d chosen. It’s like he was so worried about losing he couldn’t bear to look at me.

Lucky for him, I placed down a Queen--higher than any other card played so far, successfully winning the round for Harry and I. He set his glass down quickly, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, Maggie! That’s how we win, alright!” He leaned over to slap a hand on my knee in excitement.

Gemma let out an amused laugh but rolled her eyes. “Alright, relax, it was one round.”

“Care to make it interesting?” Harry crossed his arms quickly, his gaze resting on his sister as she looked through the cards in front of her.

“How so?” She asked, not even lifting her eyes.

“If Maggie and I win more rounds than the two of you, you have to sit next to Erwin at dinner tomorrow night.”

“Who’s Erwin?” I asked, my eyes going from Harry to Gemma to Anne.

Anne looked both amused and fed up at the same time. “He’s their cousin,” she let out a long sigh, both Harry and Gemma let out a laugh. “He’s a bit--odd, but he’s sweet.”

“Sweet isn’t hitting on me--we’re related,” Gemma argued, looking up at her mother with wide eyes.

“Everyone needs to be nice tomorrow,” Anne said with a wag of her finger.

Harry’d given me a bit of a warning on the car ride up. There were two aunts and uncles we’d see, each had three children. An uncle and a great aunt, plenty more second cousins, and Harry’s grandfather. I’d be more nervous about meeting them if I felt that there was actually a chance at something between Harry and I, but I’d also be significantly less nervous if he hadn’t kissed me in my flat the other week.

“Alright, enough small talk, let’s go,” Harry prompted, motioning at Gemma to start another round.

We did as he told, playing six more rounds until it was tied. Gemma would provoke her brother here and there--apparently, getting Harry riled up was half the fun of the card game.

“This is the tie-breaker,” Anne said, holding her hand of cards up against her chest. “It’s bedtime.”

Harry let out a moan--I wasn’t sure if it was in response to the comment about bedtime or the idea of possibly losing. We’d done well as a team, successfully in the lead for the first two rounds, down in the third, back up in the fourth, and then down again.

It was my turn to start, and we went around quickly, Anne winning the round for her and Gemma.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Maggie,” Harry sighed, his words negated by the smile on his face. “Looks like you’re sitting next Erwin,” he stood from his spot on the floor quickly, downing the last sip of wine in his glass.

“I am not,” I told him-matter-of-factly, watching as Gemma cleaned up the cards and shoved them back into the sleeve.

“If you hadn’t played that six in the fifth round we would have won,” he laughed, shaking his head in disappointment as he made his way towards the kitchen. Anne and Gemma followed suit--Robin had already gone up to bed.

“You can’t make her sit next to him, Harry,” Gemma defended as Harry set our wine glasses in the dishwasher.

“I can too,” he looked at her incredulously. “There’s absolutely no way I can sit next to him and feign interest in his boring conversations about whatever museum he works at.”

“The two of you are terrible,” Anne reprimanded, a smile fighting it’s way onto her face as she handed Harry the dishwashing detergent, “I’m going to sleep.” She gave them both a kiss on the forehead, then came to give me a hug.

I took it graciously, appreciative of the fact that she let me into her home and--more importantly--into a beautiful guest bedroom with my own bathroom attached.

Gemma followed behind her after saying goodnight, leaving Harry and I alone in the kitchen as he fiddled with soap for the dishwasher. I watched as he read the box, squinting his eyes to see the tiny print in the dim light.

“Sorry we lost,” I said quietly, my arms folded over my chest. I knew--despite the permanent frown on his face--that he wasn’t as upset as he pretended.

He looked up at me, a smirk on his lips as he reached for one of the pods inside. “You’ll have a great time with Erwin--maybe he’ll tell you about the butterfly exhibit they had last year.”

I rolled my eyes. Harry leaned down, deposited the pod inside the dishwasher and pressed a few buttons that brought it to life. When he stood and looked up at me, I could have sworn his eyes flickered for a second to my lips.

“You’ll do just fine--you’re friendly, polite, you’ll get on just fine.”

Despite Harry’s teasing, I felt suddenly sentimental. I thought about what my parents were doing and what my cousins were doing and what it would have been like if I hadn’t met Harry at all.

I wondered what it would be like if he hadn’t taken his stupid hiatus in the first place. I’d have a job--that was for sure--but I didn’t know if I’d have him. Whether or not I liked to admit it, my blossoming unemployment was the only reason I standing on the cold floor of his mother’s kitchen, two nights before Christmas.

And being in the house in the country where he spent his holidays felt both comforting and strange in the same moment. Maybe he could see the thoughts racing in my mind, or maybe he just had a knack for knowing when I needed to stop thinking so much, but he moved closer and pressed his lips to mine before I could even process it.

His right hand flew to my face, cupping gently as his fingers twisted into my hair. It wasn’t too forceful, it was sweeter, softer, even, than last time. It was almost as if he didn’t want to rush it--like he didn’t want to kiss me with such passion that it lost meaning and quickly became a desperate and poor attempt at connection.

He pulled away slowly, his face lingering close to mine for a second, before I licked my lips.

“When I said I wanted you to come here because I like you, I meant--like, I have feelings for you.”

I watched as the words lay in the air between us. I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d follow it with a ‘but’ or a reason as to why I should keep a safe distance between us. The dishwasher hummed and I heard a door shut upstairs.

I let out a tiny laugh, one that was made of nervousness and excitement and a tiny bit of fear. He smiled, his hand coming to rest on my waist as he looked down at me, only inches between us as we stood in the dim kitchen. “What’s that laugh for?”

I shrugged my shoulders--going over the things I’d said to myself just yesterday. Don’t fall for him and don’t let this become more than what it’s already become.

Maybe it was too late. The crinkles next to his eyes disappeared, the smile faded from his face, and I realized that my silence was making him nervous. I didn’t quite know if I had the words to articulate everything that was swirling in my head, so instead of searching for phrases to string together (something I was normally good at), I kissed him back.

**

Harry kissed me again at the door to my guest room in the dark hallway when we said goodnight. He kissed me the next morning when I emerged from my bedroom, dressed and ready to leave for his family party.

He kissed me before we went in to his aunt’s house, but he didn’t give me a title when introducing me to his family.

It wasn’t that I wanted one. It wasn’t that I thought suddenly because he was kissing me more than just once or twice it even meant that I had a title. But the lack of a word to explain who I was to him and why I was even at this party in the first place left me with a knot of nerves in my stomach.

I hadn’t had to deal with any awkward introductions yet. Harry had seemingly taken it upon himself to explain whatever our relationship was to his immediate family before I stepped out of the car in Cheshire. Nobody seemed to question my presence and everyone seemed pleased to have me around.

Here, though, at his aunt’s house, the words stumbled out of his mouth like he hadn’t put much thought into it. What was I? His former co-worker, a friend, a girl he made out with?

Uncle Robert--the man with the red shirt and green dress tie--offered me his hand and a warm smile. Hopefully he wasn’t as confused as I was.

There was Nathaniel and Georgia and Sarah. There were Penny and Lily, the twins, Jacob and Michael and Katie. There was Aunt Mary and Uncle Robert, Uncle David and Aunt Kimberly. I couldn’t remember the names of them all, and luckily, Gemma was behind me most of the night to quickly feed a name into my ear before I had to actually engage with someone.

By the time we were all heading to take our seats at the long table that was draped in a red tablecloth and decorated with Christmas napkins, Harry had the biggest grin on his face.

I was ushered in behind him--having completely forgotten the reason for his smirk--and met face to face with Erwin, thick rimmed glasses and turtleneck sweater. He didn’t look as awkward as I’d imagined the night before. While his clothing and eyewear were a little stuck in the 90s, he had green eyes like Harry’s and short, wavy hair.

“It’s Margaret, right?” He asked, sitting down and unfolding his napkin to place it on his lap. Harry was seated on the other side of me, doing his best to keep his laughter in. Gemma--on the other side of him--elbowed him in the side.

“Yes, yeah--but you can call me Maggie,” I told him.

“Maggie it is,” he smiled, reaching for his knife and fork to hold one in each hand--the food hadn’t even been brought out yet. “So, Maggie--how do you know dear old Harry?”

Before I could open my mouth to speak, he cut me off.

“Or should I say, how did you get lucky enough to be the one he brought home for Christmas?” Erwin let out an awkward laugh, clearly finding his question funnier than I did.

I accepted the dish that Harry passed to me--potatoes of some sort--and took a scoop before handing it to Erwin. “Uh, we worked together, for a while.”

He nodded thoughtfully and smiled. “Were you the one female member of One Direction?” Another awkward laugh, I could have sworn I heard a groan from Gemma.

“No,”--another dish, roast beef--“I just wrote for them, actually. Like, their songs.”

“Maggie’s extremely talented,” Harry leaned to see past me, his hand coming to rest on my knee beneath the table.

“Huh, that’s fun. But I guess that means you’re out of work now with their vacation, right?”

Harry passed me another plate of asparagus and green beans, which I took and struggled to fork on to my plate. “Yeah,” I nodded, forcing a laugh. “Haven’t been too busy lately.”

I looked out of the corner of my eye to see if Harry had heard his comment, but by the looks of it, he was to engrossed in whatever dish Gemma had in her hands to have picked up on it.

I didn’t mind--it was clear enough to most people when I said I worked for One Direction that now, seeing as the band was no more, my career was the same.

What bothered me, though, was the thing that came out of his mouth next.

“Good thing you had Harry to make you money--yeah? Must miss that now that it’s gone.”

I blinked a few times, waiting for another laugh to leave his mouth to tell me he was kidding. It was hard to tell--with his impaired social skills, I figured maybe even he would realize how inappropriate it was, but instead of apologizing or laughing or anything, he said: “Can you pass the yorkshire pudding?”

And I did--I handed him the dish and the knife and I shook my head when he offered some, and then I ate my dinner in silence, worried that if I opened my mouth the anger would poor out of me.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t thankful for my job--it wasn’t that I was ungrateful or entitled or anything like that. But the thing that made me angry, most of all, was the fact that people continually disregarded the work that went into writing hit songs for their albums.

Sure, they had the faces that made the money, but those faces without my lyrics would just be another cute face. No one recognized the hours we stayed late to finish a song, or the days we’d rewrite lyrics just to find the right rhyme.

By the time dinner was over, Harry was aware I was annoyed and Gemma had a hankering for another glass of wine. We followed behind her to the kitchen and Harry’s lowered voice was in my ear. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

“I am upset,” I rolled my eyes. “Your dickwad of a cousin asked if I liked making money off of you.”

Gemma, who now had a wine bottle in her hand as she poured into my glass, pulled her head back in shock. “What? What did he say?”

“He literally just asked if I liked making money off of him,” I shrugged my shoulders, bringing the glass to my lips when she finished, taking a hefty swig to calm my emotions.

Harry squinted in confusion. “I don’t get it, though--what did he mean?”

“Because I was writing songs--he assumed that it was because of you that the songs were successful.”

Harry licked his lips--I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I knew this conversation had gotten us into a bit of a tiff before. I wasn’t trying to start anything--certainly not at Christmas Eve at his aunt’s house--but I couldn’t help by defend myself.

“People just assume that your hiatus fucked me over--which it did,” I reminded him. Gemma smiled a bit and watched with raised eyebrows as I continued. “But they also assume that I’d be nothing without you.”

Harry was silent, Gemma topped off her own glass.

“And don’t get me wrong, writing great songs for a great band is definitely helpful--you don’t get as far if you’re writing great songs for a shit band.”

“But either way they’re still great songs,” Harry finished for me, his tone thoughtful as if he were putting together the reason for my anger.

“Exactly,” I nodded. “I might be nothing without you, but you’re nothing without me, either.”

Gemma laughed, nodding enthusiastically as she took a sip of her Pinot Noir. “I like her,” she looked to her brother, “if you wondering.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, rolling his eyes a bit at the sentimental moment Gemma was trying to have. “I do too.”

[singingisfun]

@cat-sophia proposed last week to make every Sunday ‘Captain Swan Day.’ In honor of that, I went back to an old one-shot and edited/rewrote it a bit.  It’s the same exact premise, but when I read it recently, I felt the need to change/expound on a few things...  Anyway, here’s the updated version. 

I originally wrote it during the season 3 hiatus, when we knew the Wicked Witch was going to be the next villain but didn’t know who she was or how she was related...  Hope you enjoy!

Monkeys?  Seriously?  

Also on ffn

Emma had learned in the past couple of years that most of the fairy tales she heard as a child were wrong. Peter Pan was a bloody demon… the Beast was also Rumpelstiltskin… and Prince Charming was the son of a sheep farmer…

And she could deal with all of that. Well, at least, she had dealt with all of that.

But, seriously? Seriously?

- The one thing they got right was flying monkeys? Of ALL the things to get right! The Wicked Witch had flying monkeys. 

This can't be her life.

***

Emma was walking through the village with Henry and Roland when the warning bell sounded, immediately followed by Grumpy’s voice shouting, "They're coming!" from the parapet.

Quickly, she lifted her eyes to the sky and, sure enough, she could see a swarm of them heading toward the castle.  

"Henry, get inside! Roland, come here!"

Dropping the basket of apples she’d been carrying, she bent to pick up the toddler and chased after Henry, following him into the blacksmith shop and immediately searching the establishment for a good place to hide the boys.

"Over there," she motioned to Henry, heading for the back of the room. She put Roland down in the corner and ushered Henry in next to him. "Henry, you stay here with Roland. Be as quiet as possible. I'll come get you when the attack is over."

"But, Mom – " Henry began.

"No, Henry, someone has to stay with Roland," she interrupted with a stern look but followed it quickly with a soft brush to his cheek. She tried to give them a smile but she knew it was tight.

“Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine," she told them.  

Looking around, she found a sword on a table nearby and handed it to Henry. Then, with a strained grunt, she pushed a heavy cabinet in front of them to hide them.  Once she was satisfied they were hidden as best she could manage, she turned, drawing her own sword and running toward the castle.

When she arrived, the attack was already in full swing; Regina throwing fireballs… Mary Margaret and Robin shooting off arrows in rapid succession… Neal and the dwarves swinging axes and swords… Villagers running, screaming… some fighting back.

It was pandemonium.

A quick scan didn’t reveal David or Hook and her heart plummeted. She knew they had planned on scouting the surrounding area that morning and she hoped they hadn't been ambushed in the woods. Just as the thought crossed her mind, however, she saw the two of them emerge on the other side of the field, swords drawn.

She knew a moment of relief but it was short-lived when one of the monkeys dove toward her… The teeth. Oh my god, the teeth. She didn't remember teeth like that from the movie. Twisting her body, she swung her sword at the monkey, catching its wing as it approached.  The screech it let out was so shrill Emma had to cover her ears, turning to watch it crash to the ground. The monster didn't stop, though, turning on her the moment it could with its teeth bared and going for her throat.

Hook's heart was pounding, whether from fear or the all-out run he and David had just made, he wasn’t sure. But the moment he entered the clearing and his eyes landed on Emma, there was no question; fear was the winner.  She was on the ground, one of those vile creatures attacking her, its teeth snapping within inches of her throat. He could see her struggling, holding it back with all of her strength and he took off at a run, his attention fixed solely on the blonde and her attacker.

From out of nowhere, he felt a jerk and he was flying, feet dangling, as one of the monkeys picked him up by catching one taloned foot in the back of his jacket. Frantically, he swung his sword and cut off the leg that had a grip, falling so hard to the ground that the wind got knocked out of him. When he looked up, he found Emma only a few feet away, the monkey above her dead and the small knife he had given her protruding from its neck. He breathed again. Thank the gods.

Jumping to his feet, he pushed the offending animal off her and helped her up.

"You alright, Swan?"

"Yeah, I'm –" her eyes widened, "Behind you!"

He turned and swung his sword high, connecting with the beast’s wing. Then, he and Emma were taking up positions facing away from each other, both protecting the other's back as the fight raged on.

Adrenaline was pumping through Emma’s system, her muscles filled with it as she swung the heavy sword again and again.  She could feel Hook at her back, could hear his grunts of exertion as he took on one after another, but… but there were so many.

Scanning the scene, she saw David take one down, several others falling at the hands (or arrows) of Robin and Mary Margaret. Raising her eyes straight above them, she noticed several of the monkeys circling high, not involved in the actual battle. Their vests were a different color than the others, too, blue instead of orange.

They must be commanders, or something, she thought to herself.

Just as that thought entered her mind, she saw one of the orange vested monkeys fly up, seemingly requesting instructions, then turn to dive right at her. She raised her sword, ready to slice the thing in half when it got close, but instead of going for her, it went for Hook.  She cut it down before it reached its target.

It was then that a high, piercing screech sounded from above; the noise reverberating through the air and causing everyone, including the fighting monkeys to look up. Then, in complete unison, all the creatures started retreating, flying up to the commanders.

No… not retreating, regrouping, Emma realized.  That thought scared her more than the battle because it suddenly hit her that this wasn't just an attack.  There was a plan… They were after something… or someone.

Hook. They were after Hook.

“Get to the castle,” she screamed, turning to grab his arm and pulling him along with her.  She kept her eyes on the sky as she ran, barely noticing that David, Neal and Grumpy joined them. They had almost made it to the castle walls when one of the blue vested monkeys dove straight at them. As it did, several of the others took up positions on its flank.

They weren’t going to make it.

"They're after Emma!" she heard Regina shout.

But they weren't. 

The entire group stuttered to a halt and she felt Hook step in front of her as David and Neal lined up behind her.

"No! They're not after me," she yelled, grabbing for Hook's arm…

But her hand lost its grip when he charged the first monkey.

"No!" she screamed again, the sound tearing from her throat. She tried to run after him but David gripped her around the waist to pull her back. She struggled against his hold, "It's not me!" she yelled again, "They're after Hook!"

As if to prove her point, the monkeys were suddenly on him and everyone's eyes followed, all of them seemingly stunned at this turn of events.

All she could see were monkeys and the occasional flash of black leather and her heart nearly stopped.  Left with no choice, Emma elbowed her stunned father in the stomach and wrenched herself from his grip, speeding toward the creatures and swinging her sword madly. She reached Hook just as his feet left the ground, lifted by the blue vested beast while the others circled to protect their leader.

They weren't trying to kill him, she realized, they were trying to take him.

Hell fucking, no, she thought, reaching out to grab his leg and pull him back down.  The monkey was too strong, though, and her feet leave the ground, too, but before she got very far another hand closed around her ankle… Neal.

The weight of the three of them seemed to be enough to stop the ascent but her hand was slipping against the leather of Hook’s pants, so she tossed her sword and lifted her hand to get a better grip.

Arrows were flying everywhere, the screeches from the animals ringing in her ears but she barely registered it, all of her concentration centered on keeping her grip on Hook's leg. Using every bit of her strength, she pulled as hard as she could but the scream of pain she heard made her pause.

Looking up to meet his eyes, she saw them riddled with agony, the deep blue nearly black with pain.  It was then she saw a drop of blood land on her hands and she followed its path to see Hook’s hand covered in red.  Following her gaze further, she realized the monkey’s talons weren’t buried in his coat but actually ripping into his shoulder.  

A large flap of wings had Hook screaming again and Emma’s stomach plummeted to her toes.  It was like tug-of-war – but Hook was the rope.  And every tug made the animal’s razor sharp talons sink deeper.  The other monkeys were still surrounding the three of them, making it impossible for anyone else to shoot the monkey who had Hook in its clutches, and time seemed to suspend as they hung there, staring into each other’s eyes.

"I'm NOT letting you go," she told him before he could say a word and even through what must be excruciating pain, he managed a quick smile.

It was soon after that she felt another set of hands on her leg, pulling her down toward the earth.  Apparently, David had managed to get past the wall of beasts and between he and Neal, it seemed they had enough strength to overpower the flying monstrosity.

After only a few inches, though, one of the other monkeys rammed her in the stomach and she felt her grip on Hook's leg slip. There was nothing she could do to defend herself, her sword lay useless on the ground beneath her right next to Hook's, so she just gritted her teeth contracted her fingers around his ankle. After a moment's desperate struggle, she regained her grip and pulled down with all of her strength.  Hook's heart-wrenching scream made her wince but the alternative was unacceptable. They could not have him.

Suddenly, they were falling, a well-aimed arrow having made it through the throng and taking out the blue vested monkey.

Once they were on the ground, she crawled toward Hook and covered him with her body, protecting him the only way she could. It wasn’t long before she realized he wasn’t moving and her blood ran cold.  "Hook?" she gasped, taking his face in her hands.  When he didn't reply, she frantically grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, trying to get him to sit up.  His head lolled to the side and panic overtook her, the rest of the world fading to nothing.

"Hook!" she screamed. "Hook, open your eyes! Look at me!"

When he still didn’t respond, she shook him, "Hook! Come on! OPEN YOUR EYES!"

Her voice sounded desperate even to her own ears but she didn’t care as she took in the rapidly graying pallor of his features.   Her throat closed and her eyes filled, laying him back on the ground as gently as she could manage, immediately checking for a heartbeat. She let out a sigh of relief when she found it but when she pulled her hand away it was covered in blood.  Pushing his coat off his shoulder, she saw the jagged wound left behind by the monkey’s talons and she pressed her hand onto it, trying to stop the bleeding. 

He was so pale. 

There was so much blood...

Too much blood.

No, she thought, no, no, no, no! You can't do this. You can't die on me. Don't… Don't leave me. Oh, God… you've got to wake up. Let me see those beautiful eyes. PLEASE, Hook.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, its rapid beat making everything else sound very far away.  There was thumping and shouting but she didn’t even try to make out the words, a hazy fog settling around her while she watched his chest rise and fall, still pressing on the wound with all her strength.

The shouting got sharper and, suddenly, she was being pulled away from him. In her panicked state, she fought like a wild animal, trying to defend him from any threat.  She felt her elbow connect with something hard and she heard a grunt.  The yelling continued and Emma was yelling, too (although she wasn't sure what she was actually saying), all the while fighting to get back to Hook's side.  Slowly, the realization penetrated that the monkeys were gone and she drew a deep breath into her lungs, doing her best to make sense of the voices over the pounding in her ears but it was futile.  She could only stare at Hook, lying motionless on the ground. Then she couldn't see him as something… no, someone, blocked her view and she renewed her struggle, trying to get to him.

Someone smacked her across the face, hard. 

Tinkerbelle's features came into focus and, somehow, her voice broke through the din.  "Emma, stop! The attack is over. He's alive! Let Regina look at him."

Breathing deep, Emma gradually came back to her senses, Tinkerbelle's words sinking in. She tried to reply but the lump in her throat prevented it, so she just nodded woodenly and stopped the desperate struggle against the iron grip. Once she seemed to have control over herself, she was released and she rushed back to the pirate, kneeling down next to him and gingerly lifting his head onto her lap.  She watched with her heart in her throat as Regina waved her hand above his shoulder and a purple light emanated from the gaping wound.  Slowly, the skin began knitting itself back together and Emma nearly wept with relief.

After the wound was closed and the blood dissipated, Regina removed her hands and Emma looked at Hook expectantly, waiting for him to open his eyes.

"Hook?" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, "Hook? You're going to be fine. You can wake up now."

When he didn't stir, Emma looked back to Regina, her voice desperate.  "What's wrong? Why isn't he waking up?"

Regina sighed softly, "He lost a lot of blood. He needs rest.”

"He's going to be alright, though… isn't he?" Her throat closed on the last two words, making them nearly imperceptible.

Regina reached across and placed a hand on her shoulder.  "He's strong, Emma, he should be fine."

Should be?

"We'll keep a close eye on him tonight," Regina continued.

"Come on, let's get him to a bed," David said.

Emma wanted to help but she realized that her body was shaking so violently that she couldn't. In fact, she couldn't even stand. Her knees felt like water and she stumbled before someone pulled her to her feet.  Turning, she saw Neal’s face as he looped an arm around her waist to help her walk.  A bruise was already forming on his cheek and she wanted to ask if he was alright but she was still shaking so badly that she didn't trust herself to try to speak, so she just allowed him to help her follow after Hook.

They’d only managed a few steps when Robin appeared in front of her.  "Emma, where is Roland?"

Oh, God, she’d completely forgotten…

"He… and Henry… are hiding… in the blacksmith shop,” she stuttered out apologetically but Robin just patted her arm.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

***

It was more than twenty-four hours later when Hook blearily opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness in the room.  His head was swimming but at least it was still on and after several blinks, he was able to focus on his surroundings.  A survey of the room revealed Emma standing next to the window across the way, looking out at the sky, her hand rubbing the back of her neck like she was deep in thought.

He gazed at her for a moment, the events that led him to this bed playing through his mind.

The monkey attack, the terror when he’d realized they were after Emma, the determination to keep her safe and the agonizing moment when he’d thought he was going to be separated from her.  

But he hadn’t been.  Emma had made sure of it.  

I'm NOT letting you go.

Her eyes had been hard with conviction when she’d said it and, true to her word, she hadn’t let go.  She’d risked her life for him.  She’d been hanging below him, defenseless, and there’d been nothing he could do to protect her when he saw that monkey ram into her. His heart had stuttered in his chest, terror clawing at his throat…

Then they’d fallen, the memory of which made him wince as he remembered the lancing pain that had gone through him when he’d landed.  He also vaguely remembered hearing her call his name, her voice panicked and urgent as he’d passed out… or maybe he had dreamt that part.

Gingerly, he adjusted his shoulder, surprised when the action didn’t bring on the wave of pain he expected.  Encouraged, he tried to sit up but he didn’t even make it half-way before a wave of dizziness hit him and he collapsed back on the mattress.

He immediately tried again, calling out to get Emma’s attention.  

“Swan?”

Emma's head whipped around and, when her eyes met his, her relief-filled smile had him freezing in place, his heart thumping in his chest.

"Hook…" she whispered.

Crossing the room with quick strides, Emma came to a stop right next to Hook’s bed.  She wanted to run her fingers through his hair as she had several times while he slept but, with his eyes on her, she couldn't seem to do it. So, instead she balled her fist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm… still intact, I suppose," he replied.  Then, with a raise of his eyebrow, added, "I am still intact, aren't I?"

Emma grinned. "Yes," she told him, taking a seat next to his hip.

"Well, then, I've had worse days. How long was I out?"

"About twenty-four hours," Emma said, her smile fading as she stared into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes… She'd been afraid she'd never see them again…

When she realized she was staring, she took his hand in both of hers and looked down at it instead. It was warm in her grip, the rings glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window and she ran her thumb along the back of it.

She wanted to tell him how worried she'd been… She wanted to give him… something. "Hook, I…" she began but her throat threatened to close so she shook her head, raising her eyes to his and saying instead, simply, "I'm glad you're okay."

It was not the proclamation she wanted to give him but it was the best she could do. Coward, she thought to herself. But if she tried to tell him about the fear that had ripped through her body when he… when he…

God, she couldn't even think about it without tears stinging her eyes. There was no way she’d be able to tell him without breaking down.

When she lifted her eyes back to his, she saw the astonishment on his face and his fingers contracted almost painfully on hers. "Emma… it's alright, love. I'm fine. I'm-"

Just then, the door opened and Snow backed in, carrying a tray of food.

"Emma, I'm not going to try to talk you into leaving again but – Oh… Hook! You're awake."

"Yes, it would seem so," Hook said with a grin.

"Good," Snow replied, "You gave us quite a scare."

"I feel fine now. A little weak, but otherwise no worse for the wear."

"Well, it's a good thing I brought enough food for two then.  It will help get your strength up," she said, placing the tray on the table. "And you should eat something, too, Emma,” she added with a meaningful look before turning back to the door. “I'll go let everyone know you're awake."

After the door shut behind Snow, Emma tried to stand but Hook's grip tightened on her hand, preventing the movement.

"Have you been watching over me, Swan?" he asked in a low voice, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in a distracting way.  

She shrugged her shoulders, still not trusting her voice, and tried to rise again but the pirate was having none of that, so she settled back down next to him, keeping her eyes averted.

"Emma?" he coaxed softly.

God, she loved it when he said her name. 

Tears were stinging the back of her eyes and she shook her head to clear them, careful to keep her gaze away from him. After a shuddering breath, she finally managed to find her voice.

"Don't you ever do that again."

"Do what, love?"

"Don't you ever put yourself in front of me to protect me, ever again."

Her voice was shaking and she wrenched her hand from his grasp, standing and walking over to the table. Keeping her back to him, she placed both of her hands flat on the surface and took a deep breath, collecting herself. Then, she picked up a plate and put some cheese and a bowl of stew on it.

Hook was silent. He could see that Emma was on edge. He wanted to press her but knew from past experience that she would only run faster if she was being chased. So instead of speaking, he studied her as she prepared a plate for him. She was still in the same clothes she had worn the day before. Her hair was a mess and there were smudges of dirt and blood on her arms and back. Her blood? His blood? He wasn't sure but, what he did know was that she hadn’t even left his side long enough to change and clean up.

When she returned to him with his food and placed it on his lap, he ignored it, instead meeting her gaze steadily.  "I'm sorry, love."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

Taking her hand, he tugged just enough to have her sitting at his hip again. "I'm sorry I scared you…” he linked their fingers together, “And, as you know, I will always endeavor to do whatever you ask of me, but I cannot in this case. Do you think there is any way that I could stand idly by while you’re in danger?  I don't mean to imply that you are anything less than capable but – the next time you’re in danger, hell, every time you’re in danger, I will step in front of you. I will not let anyone or anything hurt you – not as long as I draw breath."

Emma stared, speechless, into those intense blue eyes. But what could she say? Did he know what the sound of his voice did to her? She wished she was as clever with words as he was. She wished she could tell him how she felt but… but she just couldn’t. So, instead, she moved her gaze moved to his lips, gripping his hand tighter as she leaned forward slowly.

Holding his breath, Hook kept his gaze on her mouth, mesmerized by the way her tongue ran across her lower lip and wetting his own in anticipation. But before their mouths could meet, the door opened again and David and Mary Margaret entered along with Regina, Robin, Neal and Belle.

Emma sprang to her feet, turning away from him and it was a miracle he didn’t outright groan in frustration.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as Regina walked straight to the bed and took the place Emma had just vacated, looking him over with an assessing gleam in her eye.  After a beat, she waved her hand over his head, purple light emanating softly from it and, as the light sunk into him, he felt some of his strength return.

"You'll be fine," she said in a no-nonsense tone but she managed to give him a small smile before she backed away.

He nodded his thanks.

"How are you feeling, mate?" David asked.

"I've felt worse," he told them with a shrug and averting his eyes, a little uncomfortable with all the attention.

"What I want to know," Robin said, "is why those vile creatures were after him."

"What do you mean?" Hook asked.

"The monkeys, they targeted you," Neal told him.

"Me? No, surely you're mistaken. They have no reason to… They must have been after Emma."

"No," Regina said, "they weren't. They wanted you – and only you."

Hook was astounded by this news.

"Speaking of which… Emma, how did you know they were going to go for Hook?" Mary Margaret asked.

Emma, who had still not left his side turned slightly to address the crowd. "I don't know for sure. Before they all regrouped, one was coming at the two of us but it skipped over me and tried to get him, so I just… put two and two together, I guess."

"Why would they want Hook?" Belle asked.

Regina rolled her eyes, "Well, obviously, the pirate holds some key to defeating the witch. The question is… What is it?"

Everyone except Emma turned to Hook for the answer. "Don't look at me," he said after taking a moment to swallow the bite of stew in his mouth, "I have nothing. Frankly, I would have thought that Regina would have been their target. The witch seems to have a particular aversion to her."

"She's trying to separate us," Emma said almost to herself, causing all their eyes to turn to her.

"Sorry?" Regina asked.

"She's trying to separate us," Emma said a little louder, "Think about it…" she looked to Regina, speaking directly to her, "Last week, Robin was ambushed… He barely got away. Now Hook… Either that crazy bitch is trying to build a harem or she's trying to separate us from…" Emma let the sentence linger.

Regina's quick intake of breath drew everyone's attention but she remained silent.

"From what?" Mary Margaret prompted.

Emma and Regina continued to stare at each other, neither offering up an answer; a look of understanding dawning on Regina's face.

Emma knew from a conversation she and Regina had the day before what the lion tattoo meant but Emma also knew that Regina hadn't told anyone else. Tink knew, of course, but that was it.

As they continued to stare at each other, Regina's eyes softened a bit, "So he's your – " she began.

"Does it matter?" Emma interrupted, effectively cutting her off, "But the witch must think so."

"The witch thinks what?" Mary Margaret asked.

They both ignored her again, Regina stepping closer to Emma, shaking her head as she said, "But how would she know about Robin?"

Tinkerbelle who had entered the room without being noticed answered, "She was a fairy once, you know?"

Emma and Regina both spun to look at her, startled, then looked back at each other, alarm lighting both of their faces.

"What's going on?" Snow asked, starting to sound a little irritated over this cryptic exchange. "Who is she trying to separate you from?"

Without taking her eyes off Emma, Regina answered flatly, "From our True Loves."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

Before all hell broke loose.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Things like "What?!" "Wait a minute." "I knew it." "I don't understand." "Robin? Why Robin?" "Now it makes perfect sense."

Emma didn’t move a muscle, acutely aware that Hook hadn't voiced a single question, keeping her body angled away from him and toward Regina as they both closed their eyes for a moment.

"Enough!" Tinkerbelle's voice rang out above the chaos, holding her hands up as if to silence them. “I know you all have a lot of questions, but let's just calm down.  If what we're thinking is correct, then the answer to defeating her is in some way connected to True Love. And, since she has now attempted to abduct two of you, it's a safe bet that she’ll try again."

A moment of silence followed while everyone considered that before Snow turned to Regina.  

"Regina, can you bottle true love? Gold once bottled it using a hair from David and I."

"I… I don't know how. There must have been an incantation or something that went along with it."

"I've got some of Rumple's spell books in my room," Belle said, "Perhaps the answer will be in one of them."

"Excellent," Tinkerbelle replied, "Let's go get them. Neal, would you mind helping?"

Neal nodded and the three of them left, an eerie silence settling in their wake.

Charming, taking in both Regina's and Emma's stiff stances, turned to Snow. "We should, uh…"

"Yeah," Snow agreed, picking up on his cue, "We should go… check on… something."

With that, the two of them exited with haste, leaving Regina and Emma to stand stiffly while Robin and Hook stared, both silent, both waiting.  It seemed the silence would go on forever and Regina cracked first, turning on her heel and heading toward the door, careful to give Robin a wide berth.  But she was stopped in her tracks by Robin’s voice, his words ringing out loudly in the dense silence.

"How long have you known?"

Regina inhaled a sharp breath but didn't respond.

Emma felt sympathy for the queen. She knew Regina hadn't wanted Robin to find out like this. Robin still looked at her like the Evil Queen at times… not quite trusting… even though they had been fighting side by side for the last few months.

"How long, Regina?" Robin asked again, his voice rising slightly.

Regina took a deep breath and raised her chin, still facing away from him, and replied, "Since the day we met."

Robin crossed the room to stand in front of her and, if possible, Regina’s shoulders tensed even more. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"I wasn't," Regina said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. If she had one thing to cling to, it was her pride.

Robin watched her closely, trying to read her expression. "You could have told me. I may be a simple bandit but I know that True Love is not something to be trifled with."

"When should I have told you?" Regina asked, taking a step back. "When we met and you had an arrow pointed at my head?" her voice began to rise, "When you saw me talking to Roland and swooped in to save him from the Evil Queen's nefarious clutches? When you…" she sounded nearly hysterical now and paused to take a deep breath. Refusing to look at him, she tried to make her way around him and out of the room but Robin caught her arm.

"How about when we you gave me the potion to save Little John? Or when I escorted you back to the castle after I found you in the woods collecting your herbs?" he asked her softly.

Regina slowly lifted her gaze to his and Robin's breath caught in his throat at the vulnerability he saw in her expression.

"You can't hold my first reactions toward you against me. I didn't know you then. I didn't know how you'd changed," he lifted a hand to her cheek, "Surely you know… You must know by now that I trust you with Roland. I trust you to fight beside me. Look at me, Regina… I trust you."

And with that, he captured her lips in a sweet but searing kiss.

Hook watched the scene unfold before him, holding his breath while Emma and Regina had their cryptic exchange. Though no one seemed to know it, he was very perceptive and he had noticed Regina's odd behavior around Robin. And, while he didn't know that Robin was her True Love, he had sensed that something was going on, so when it was revealed, he hadn’t been in the least surprised.

His attention, though, was focused on Emma, the stubborn woman wouldn't look at him. She had turned toward the window again, obviously trying to give the couple a bit of privacy but her shoulders were stiff and her arms crossed over her chest which could mean several things… annoyance, fear, or embarrassment (just to name a few). If she would just bloody look at him, he’d be able to tell. Then he’d know what to say. He knew that saying the wrong thing right now could be disastrous. So, he waited, he watched, practically begging her to look at him with his thoughts…Until she did, he wasn't going to speak.

Belle entered the room again, carrying a book and talking excitedly. "I think I found - oh!"

She cut off and Regina and Robin broke apart almost guiltily before Regina mumbled something about taking the book to her room. Before she left, she turned to look at Emma but Emma was still looking out the window. Hook saw the queen start to say something but quickly change her mind, leaving without a word and followed closely by Robin and Belle.

Finally alone, Hook lifted the tray of food off his lap and set it on the table next to the bed. Emma still didn't move. Carefully, he swung his legs off the bed and stood, only now noticing that he was wearing some of David's clothes. He expected to feel weakness in his legs but was glad when he found that they were steady.

Slowly, he crossed the room to stand behind Emma.

His nerves were uncontrollable. He wanted to touch her but instead he waited again. This could very well be the most important moment of his life and if he said or did the wrong thing, it could send her running.

He watched as Emma drew a deep breath and started to turn, keeping her eyes trained on the floor and toeing at the ground with her foot. When her eyes finally raised to his, he saw nerves were plaguing her as well.

Good, he thought. Nerves he could handle.

"Before you say anything," the blonde said, "just remember that this True Love thing is only a theory."

Unfazed, Hook stepped forward and took her hand, "Perhaps it is - but it's your theory."

Emma smiled briefly, looking at their joined hands, "Yeah, it is."

Using his hook, he reached up and lifted her chin until their eyes met. "I think it's an excellent theory," he said with a grin.

Smiling, she bit her lower lip. "Yeah, it is," she repeated.

If possible, Hook's grin got wider and, using his hooked arm, he gently pulled her into an embrace, leaning his forehead against hers. For a moment they simply enjoyed the feeling of being in each other's arms, breathing in each other's scents.

"I'll never leave you, Emma."

Emma was a little surprised by his words. She had expected him to tell her he loved her. But, then again, she knew she shouldn't be surprised. He knew her better than anyone. She should have known he’d say the perfect thing. "I know," she whispered, and she wasn't surprised that she actually believed it.

Then he pressed his lips to hers, his hand tangled softly in her hair.

[legitimateusername]

So I’m a bit far behind, but in order to capitalize on this meme, I decided to write a full support conversation for one of the pairings that people have gotten from the Fire Emblem Heroes popularity polls. I’ve never really written stuff like this before but there’s no time like the present to start learning how.  So without further mountain dew, here’s my Robin x Azura support conversation! Please note that this contains MAJOR spoilers for Fire Emblem Awakening and probably some notable spoilers for Fire Emblem Fates, so keep that in mind if you don’t want to be spoiled on spoilery spoilers. 

This presumably takes place in Fire Emblem Heroes canon, and after the plot of Awakening and Revelation for both characters. 

C Support

Azura: Hello, Robin. Still reading those books?

Robin: Yeah, I’m just studying some more tactical guides. You can never be too prepared.

Azura: I have to say, I really admire your dedication to that. I don’t think I could ever be capable of having to lead an army’s decisions in the heat of battle.

Robin: It definitely has its challenges. Having the lives of all your allies in your hands is a lot of pressure to handle. No one ever wants to lose one of their comrades.  

Azura: I see what you mean. Some of my siblings were very involved in military strategy too, and I’ve heard many similar sentiments from them.  

Robin: It’s always been a goal of mine to end battles without any casualties. Maybe it’s a bit of an idealistic viewpoint, but I still couldn’t bear to lose someone because my strategies couldn’t protect them.

Azura: Your perspective is admirable nonetheless. If you don’t mind, I’d love to hear more about your time spent as Chrom’s tactician. I’m sure you have some interesting stories to share.

Robin: Sure, if you want to. While we’re at it, please tell me more about Hoshido and Nohr, and how your group managed to unite the two kingdoms.

Azura: Alright then, let’s share stories of our adventures. You can go first, if you like.

Robin: Well, it all started when I had a vision of Chrom and I fighting a dark sorcerer…

B Support

Azura: Sing with me a song of silence and blood… ♪

Robin: That really is a beautiful song. It’s still so surreal to imagine the kind of power that it holds.

Azura: It’s always been a burden to hold that kind of responsibility. There were many times where I was forced to suffer greatly at the hands of that curse, but it was always necessary for the greater good.

Robin: I can relate to that. The feeling that unless you make the hard sacrifices, you won’t be able to secure a better future for everyone.

Azura: I’m glad to know that you understand, though admittedly it’s a bit odd to hear that coming from you.

Robin: Huh? Why’s that?

Azura: We just had a conversation the other day about how as a tactician, you loathed having to put the life of even a single one of your soldiers at serious risk. Yet in your battle against Grima, you were all too willing to give away your own life in order to destroy him completely, even though Chrom could have sealed him away without the need for you to sacrifice yourself.

Robin: …That was a different situation entirely. But if you don’t mind me asking, I am interested to know: if you could rid the world of an evil power at the cost of your own life, would you take that opportunity?

Azura: Honestly, I’ve had to consider that question many times myself. I’ve always known that my songs had the power to prevent evil and destruction, in a sense. But because this power came at a great cost to myself, I knew that I could be putting my life at risk every time I used it.

Robin: It definitely isn’t an easy choice to make.

Azura: I understand. I did decide long ago that if it were absolutely necessary, I’d use my song’s power to prevent disaster no matter what the cost to myself would be. But I’m glad that it never ended up coming to that.

Robin: I guess you’re pretty lucky that it never reached that point for you. Although it feels strange to call anything about this kind of situation “lucky”.

Azura: I do know how you feel, and perhaps I’m a bit guilty of feeling the same way as you. But since you hate the idea of losing one of your friends in battle, don’t you think that they’d feel the same way about you?

Robin: It’s...it’s more complicated than that. I felt like that was the only way to end Grima for good, like there was no other way…I’d have been doing them all a disservice to choose anything else.

Azura: Robin…

Robin: I’m sorry, could you excuse me? I’m not feeling great.

Azura: I hope he’s okay. It sounds like that hasn’t been an easy burden for him to carry.  

A Support

Azura: Robin, can we talk?  

Robin: Azura, I’m sorry for cutting our conversation off like that the other day. I really appreciate getting to talk to you about this, since our situations were so similar. It’s nice getting a chance to have that discussion.  

Azura: It’s okay, really. What you went through wasn’t easy. But it sounds to me like there are more things that were bothering you.

Robin: Azura…I was the Fell Dragon. In an alternate future, I betrayed all of my friends and brought the world to an apocalypse. Everything that went wrong in our world, every struggle we had to face, it was all my fault.

Azura: …

Robin: It’s just, how could I live with myself knowing all of that? It only seemed right at the time, that if sacrificing myself were the only way to stop Grima for good, then I had an obligation to do so.

Azura: Robin! How can you say that? None of those terrible things were your fault, and you have no reason to feel guilty about it.

Robin: I know, you’re right. I’ve been trying to move on from it, but it hasn’t been easy.

Azura: Still though, you weren’t the one who caused the end of the world; you helped to prevent it. You aren’t Grima, you’re nobody but yourself. If your ties to Grima really were so close, you wouldn’t still be with us now, you’d be dead alongside him. Isn’t the fact that you’re still here proof enough that the path you chose matters more than your supposed destiny?

Robin: Heh, that’s a good point. It’s funny, I’ve always said a lot of similar things to all of my friends, that the bonds between us mattered more than the fates that we were scripted to. I always tried to act confident so that everyone in the army could have faith in their tactician to guide them forward, but I guess I could stand to have a little more faith in my own words.

Azura: Well, in any case, I hope the best for you, and I’m glad if I was able to help.

Robin: Yeah, I still don’t know why I got so hung up over all of that. The war has been long over, I should probably have moved on already.

Azura: You’ve dealt with a lot of hard emotions, and nothing’s going to make them go away easily. But I’ll be happy to talk and help you out if you ever need me to.

Robin: Thanks, Azura, I’d be glad to.

S Support

Robin: Hey Azura, I’ve been thinking more about our talk about sacrifices.

Azura: Oh? What about it?

Robin: You said that you had already decided long ago that you would have given your life to save the world if you had to.

Azura: Yes, if it were absolutely necessary, though I certainly don’t want to.

Robin: Yeah, I’m aware that those kinds of risks are no longer relevant given that the wars that you fought in are long over. But still, just the thought of losing you doing something like that is something that I don’t know if I could take.

Azura: That’s very kind of you to say, though I don’t think that you have anything to really worry about.

Robin: I know I talked about how as a tactician, I never wanted to let any of my comrades die. But with you, it’s different. You were also willing to sacrifice yourself for the greater good and…I’m not sure if I’d have been able to handle that, if you ever did.

Azura: Well, I’m sure that’s how your friends felt when you gave your life to destroy Grima. We’re lucky that you’re still with us.

Robin: Yeah, you’re right. Realizing that helped me out a lot. But that isn’t the only thing. I couldn’t bear to lose you because, well, you’re such a kind and understanding person and you helped me out so much…Azura, I think I’ve fallen in love with you.

Azura: Oh Robin…I feel the same way. You’ve been so wonderful, and I couldn’t bear to lose you either. I love you!

Robin: Azura, it makes me so happy to hear you say that.

Azura: Promise me that we’ll live the rest of our lives together. I want you to be a part of my life forever.

Robin: I promise! We still have so much to live through together, and I never want it to end.

I wish this pairing had fanart. Like, literally any at all.