#phira birthday extravaganza

[katie-dub]

Never Forget You

Emma Swan needs a break - and to stop crashing into a mysterious stranger who she just can’t get out of her head. Unfortunately the universe has other plans.

Happy birthday @phiralovesloki! I’m sure you have all heard of this fabulous lady, but she is the sweetest. Not only does she write awesome fics, but also she’s massively supportive - her tireless cheerleading of The Masks We Wear has kept me writing though many a bad time. And she is even amazing enough to devote her time to running the @captainswanbigbang like a champion, and to step in and help with betaing Heathens for @mahstatins when I was struggling with Life Stuff.

Basically, Phira, Mothy, my dear, have a fantastic birthday and enjoy a little *cough* nearly 9k *cough* trope mash up for your special day.

Huge thanks to @sambethe @mahstatins and @killiancygnus for beta reading this for me.

AO3

Emma Swan is many things: sheriff, orphan, loving mother, junk food aficionado and - as of two minutes ago - killer.

Well, potentially.

She leaps out of her car to see what has become of the man she just hit with her car. He’s sitting on the curb, clutching at his ribs. He looks up as she approaches and fuck, he’s gorgeous, all messy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and chiseled jaw.

“Hey beautiful,” he wheezes out, trying to throw a winning smile her way. His honeyed voice and British accent are as beautiful as he is. “You know, there are better ways to get a man’s attention than attempted murder.”

Her automatic response is to roll her eyes at the blatant flirting. She ignores the charm and drops down beside him with concern. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you OK? Do you need a doctor?”

“You just knocked the wind out of my sails, love. I’ll be fine.”

She cocks an eyebrow in disbelief at his blasé attitude. He chuckles at her and waves his prosthetic at her. “I’ve had worse, believe me. Although, should you want to kiss it better…” He trails off, licking his lips suggestively.

“Seriously? Does that sort of thing ever work for you?”

“A devilishly handsome face, exotic accent and charming personality can work wonders.”

“And so modest too.” Emma can’t quite decide if this guy is for real, enjoying his company in spite of herself.

“All part of my charm.”

“Right.” Emma checks her watch, she has to go if she’s going to have time to grab a mocha before work. She looks back at the stranger. He certainly looks fine, his flirting muscles are definitely completely functional and he did say that he’s fine. “I’ve got to go, if you’re sure you’re OK?”

He nods and waves his hand at her to leave. It doesn’t feel quite right leaving the man she just ran over sitting on the side of the road, but he did say he was OK, so with a nod of thanks she jumps back into her car.

She’s so caffeine-deprived that the first sip of her cinnamon-topped mocha tastes like ambrosia - an actual gift from the gods.

She breathes a deep sigh of relief and lets the chocolatey goodness wash away her woes. Nearly killing a man was pre-coffee Emma, practically a whole different person. Post-coffee Emma can forget all about it and look forward to a day of superior sheriffing.

It’s with this thought in mind that she strides to the door, happy and confident that today will be a good day after all.

So of course she’s startled by someone shoving hard on the door just as she gets to it. She takes a step back, jerking her drink out of range of the fast-approaching obstacle. She manages to avoid getting hit in the face, and while that’s definitely a win, her mocha ended up all over the unsuspecting stranger’s hand in the process. Her scalding hot mocha. Shit shit shit.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Emma shrieks in distress, grabs a stack of napkins she spots at a nearby table and thrusts them towards him. “You’ll need to run that under cold water so that you’ll keep some of your skin.”

“It’ll be fine, love,” a familiar voice wheezes. Emma freezes. No. It can’t be the guy she hit with her car. It just can’t. She looks up into the same blue eyes from earlier. Right, it’s going to be that kind of day.

He grins at her and takes the proffered napkins. “Throwing a drink over someone is certainly an improvement on your last flirting tactic, but next time you should try simply throwing yourself at the object of your desire.”

The sentiment is punctuated with a poorly formed wink. She smirks in spite of herself and quirks a brow at him. “If you think that you’re the object of my desire, buddy, you’re going to be seriously disappointed.”

“If what you’re telling me is that you aren’t trying to get my attention, I find that hard to believe.”

Emma shakes her head at the cockiness of a man whose hand is covered in boiling liquid yet stops to flirt. Fuck. His hand is covered in boiling liquid! “Think what you want, but you really should see to your hand.”

“It’s really alright, love. Not a whole lot of feeling in it anyway.” Emma frowns and looks down and is reminded that it’s a prosthetic.

She winces, feeling like that’s something she should’ve remembered. “I’m sorry anyway, can I buy you a drink to apologise for this and the other thing?”

“Hitting me with your car you mean?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “I knew this was all a ploy to get me on a date.”

“It’s not a date, it’s coffee. I need a new one and buying yours is the least I can do.”

She starts walking back to the counter wearily. “If I can have the pleasure of your company, we can call it whatever you want.” He’s close to her and she feels his words murmured into her ear. She shivers slightly, then curses her body’s involuntary reaction to the stranger.

“Oh no -” she turns to glare at him “- I’m just buying the coffee, then I have to get to work.”

“Whatever you say,” he says with a smirk. She ignores him and the strange attraction she has to him as she orders and pays for their coffee. She doesn’t exactly mean to be rude. She just wants to be clear that this is an apology and nothing else, so that he doesn’t get the wrong idea. It’s not that she needs reminding of that too, because his handsome face and ridiculous flirting does absolutely nothing for her. God, she couldn’t even believe her own lies.

He surprises her by following her lead: he doesn’t say a word until the barista hands her her coffee and she’s heading out the door. “Next time don’t feel you need to injure me to get my attention, love!” he calls after her. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

It’s a surprisingly busy day for Emma. Her brother and deputy, David, is busy at the hospital with his wife who’s gone into labour, and while things are usually a bit slow with him there, there’s just too much work for one person.

That’s how it gets to 3pm before she’s had any lunch. She doesn’t actually feel all that hungry, but she can hear Mary Margaret’s voice in her head tutting about “proper nutrition” and she could use a break.

She’s strolling down the main street when she notices the new florist that’s just opened. On a whim she decides to pick up some flowers for Mary Margaret and heads inside.

She’s staring at the dizzying array of choice when she’s startled by a familiar voice behind her. “Need any help, love?”

She whirls around and her mouth drops open at the sight of scruffy hair and piercing blue eyes. “You’re a stalker!” she exclaims and he quirks his brow at her in amusement.

“You came into my shop.” He steps closer. “And it’s you who molested me on our last two meetings.”

Emma blushes at the memory. “I said I was sorry! And I got you that coffee…”

“I’m only teasing. You can make attempts on my life anytime.” Emma narrows her eyes at his words, but he barrels on, suddenly all business, before she can speak. “Now I’m assuming that you aren’t here just to see my devilishly handsome face, so what are you looking for?”

“My sister-in-law is having her first baby, so I wanted to get her some flowers.”

“Do you know what she likes?”

“Pretty ones?” Killian chuckles and Emma shrugs. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about flowers.”

“No problem, love, that’s my job. Do you know what she’s having?”

“A baby..?”

“We’ll steer clear of pinks and blues then?” Emma nods and the florist rubs his chin thoughtfully. “What’s her style? And how much do you want to pay?”

“40 bucks?” Killian nods approvingly. Emma squints, picturing the Nolans’ loft. “Her things are kind of vintage and cutesy. Although she’s kind of feisty, like if Snow White were a bad ass bandit?”

“I can work with that. Do you want me to talk you through it or do you want to trust me to work my magic?”

“Knock yourself out.” She half expects him to make a comment about earlier, but he contents himself with a meaningful look and sets to work.

She finds herself mesmerised as he twirls about gathering up flowers and leaves and all forms of decorative things to create Mary Margaret’s bouquet. She half wonders if he actually can wield magic - she’s sure that she couldn’t create anything half as beautiful with twice the time and 6 extra hands. And that’s before she considers the hypnotic effect his graceful dance has on her. She never would’ve considered flower arranging a turn on, but damn if her insides aren’t melting at the sight. It’s definitely some form of witchcraft. In no time at all, he’s completed a relaxed, stylish arrangement of white flowers and forest foliage. He carefully wrapped it into a special bag with water inside to keep it fresh and that bag is inside a cute but sturdy brown paper bag with lace handles. “What do you think, lass?” He asks, presenting it to her and watching her reaction carefully. “A nice gender-neutral bouquet for your feisty fairytale friend?” “It’s perfect -” she falters, realising that she hasn’t yet found out his name. “Killian,” he supplies, “it must be because I had such a stunning muse.” He grins at her and yep, she has totally turned to goo, like some starry-eyed teenager who doesn’t know better. Pull yourself together, she chides herself.

“Yeah, well, it’s great.” She brushes off the compliment and hands over her credit card. She makes a point of focusing on her card to avoid embarrassing herself further by looking at his pretty face.

“Thanks, Swan.” She looks up startled by his use of her name. She’s almost flustered enough to ask how he could possibly know that, when she remembers it’s printed on her card.

Deciding that she can’t trust herself to talk - or act - normally around this man, she bites her lip and keeps quiet as she signs her name and he hands her the receipt.

She mumbles her thanks and heads for the door. She thinks she’s got away without further flirting, but he calls out as she goes.

“Goodbye, Swan.” And because she’s a glutton for punishment, she turns back to him. “Feel free to stop by to make use of my services anytime.” He licks his lips and dammit if she hasn’t seen porn that’s had less of an effect on her.

She blushes hard. “I might do. You’re very good at handling flowers.” She winces at her poor word choice. She’d been aiming for breezy, but that was anything but.

“Oh I assure you, they’re not the only thing I’m good at handling.”

She’s glad he’s still behind the counter. It means she can tell herself that he is far enough away to not notice the lust in her eyes. Of course, that also means she can’t tell if their little exchange has left him feeling as hard up as she is.

Oh God, she groans internally, unable to stop herself from wondering if he’s stayed behind the counter so that she can’t see how hard to handle he’s found their encounter. She hopes he has, she wants to take a look.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” The flirtatious words are out of her mouth before she can even think. What are you doing? she shrieks at herself.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he returns and fuck she needs to get a grip. And not on him. She has a clear image in her mind’s eye of grabbing him and kissing until they’re both panting and flushed. And the way he’s looking at her, she almost thinks that he’s seeing it too.

But that’s not possible. It’s only soulmates who share dreams and fantasies, and all that fairytale bullshit isn’t for her. It’s for good people like David and Mary Margaret. (And frankly while the shared dream of being Snow White and Prince Charming was cute - if a little saccharine for Emma’s taste - the whole concept of sharing nightmares alongside dreams was downright terrifying.)

“Bye then,” she throws out, before she can do something dumb like act out her fantasy. She leaves the florist as fast as she can, ignoring his goodbye and trying not to think about why she’s so drawn to him.

She’s still trying not to think about Killian as she gets ready for her monthly night out later that day. Mary Margaret’s stepsister, Regina, had taken to Henry when he was still a baby and had kind of adopted him as her own, offering to take care of him at least one night a month so Emma could just be herself. To a young, single mother it was like a dream come true, and even now that she was 29 and Henry was 11, she cherished this time.

Normally when she was feeling keyed up like she was from meeting Killian she’d go to a bar in the next town over and find someone to help her scratch that itch. This month though, Zelena had been very insistent that they had to go to The Rabbit Hole. She couldn’t remember why, but thinks that a hot guitarist had been mentioned. As it was, she didn’t hook up with men in Storybrooke, she just couldn’t face the town gossip. It was hard to have any respect as sheriff when the folks you’re trying to arrest know that you like to wear red silk underwear when you’re out to get laid. (Or worse, they know first hand what your O face looks like.)

Still, a few shots and some girl talk with her friends would be fun. And with any luck the hot guitarist would help get Killian out of her fantasies.

The universe is laughing at me. That’s all Emma could think as Killian stepped up to the mic. If she wasn’t fuckstruck before, she definitely was now.

He uses his right hand to pick out the chords and strummed with the prosthetic on his left. His fingers are so nimble that she can’t help but imagine how they’d feel on her body, working her up. He locks eyes with her as soon as the thought crosses her mind. He bites his lip and tilts his head to study her. She’s left with the uncomfortable feeling that he knows exactly what she is thinking about. Overcome with embarrassment, she turns her attention to her friends.

“See? Isn’t he luscious?” Zelena whispers to them all, with a pointed wink at Emma.

“I’d eat him,” Ruby growls softly, dreamy-eyed.

“I’d get him to eat me,” Tink exclaims. “Look at how he uses that tongue, he definitely knows what he’s doing.”

And of course Emma pictures him between her thighs. It’s enough to make her blush deeply and study the floor, sure that he’ll somehow be able to read her dirty thoughts all over her face.

He starts playing Summer of ‘69 and as he does she has a vivid fantasy of them in the sexual position of the same name. It’s enough to make her gasp and her head snaps up to look at him. He’s looking straight at her, eyebrows raised in what looks like a challenge and he deliberately licks his lips.

What is she saying? The only way that could have been deliberate would be that he knew what she’d just seen. And the only way for him to know that would be…

“Bathroom,” she announces, abruptly leaping to her feet and running for the facilities. She thinks she hears Zelena calling something like “don’t worry, Emma, we’re all that wet!” but she can’t be sure - and really doesn’t want to be.

She hides in the bathroom for long enough to calm her impending panic attack. While going home is tempting, she decides that she couldn’t cope with all the jokes about taking care of herself she’d face if she did. Besides, a stiff drink would really help right now. In fact she may need several, she’d quite like a dreamless sleep. Just because her imagination sucks right now, she’s not at all concerned that she might be sharing wet dreams with a certain handsome, guitar-playing, British florist.

She gives herself a hard look in the mirror. Stop this bullshit, you’re not the soulmate type, you’re just horny and he’s hot. Perhaps not the best pep talk, but it did the job.

She orders a round of tequila then goes back to her friends with a tray of shots.

It’s much later and she’s much drunker when she hears his voice in her ear. “Been thinking about me, Swan?” She can’t help the sudden vision she has of being on her knees before him, licking and sucking as he moans. She realises that he’s actually moaned out loud into her ear and she automatically jumps away from him.

Deciding that she really needs to regain her cool, she retorts, “in your dreams.” She tries to lean nonchalantly against the bar, but she’s lost all coordination and misses, her elbow slipping and causing her to stumble.

Killian catches her and murmurs, “oh no, Swan, in yours.”

She shoves him backwards and fixes him with her best glare. “Whatever,” she mutters.

“You’re something of an open book to me.” As he says it, he reaches up to scratch behind his ear and subconsciously she moves to push her hair behind her own ears when she sees it: His soul mark. The one right below his right ear that is a perfect match for the one she sports.

She stills her hands in shock but whimpers, “fuck no.” She half-knew already, but she really didn’t want actual proof.

“Everything OK, love?”

“You’re my fucking soulmate?” she blurts out.

“I thought that was obvious already? Let me tell you, you can get on your knees for me anytime you like…” His eyes are shining with pure sin and she’s equally aroused, humiliated, and anxious at the unavoidable truth.

“This is bullshit,” Emma declares, feeling furious at the world for this strange twist of fate. “My life isn’t some rom com and nobody chooses who I fuck but me.” Through the haze of alcohol she notices how crestfallen he looks. She ignores it. She’s not going to have sex with someone just because fate tells her to. It’s ridiculous to even entertain the thought.

She turns to leave and Killian grabs her arm. “Will you let me walk you home?” Her eyes dart down to where he’s holding her arm. He instantly drops it. “I don’t mean anything by it. You’re just quite intoxicated…”

“That’s none of your concern, Killian. Just forget about this whole -” she can’t even say the word soulmates, just gestures wildly “- thing. I don’t do relationships. Stay out of my dreams and don’t even think about playing the hero and following me.”

As she stalks off, she hears him softly reply, “as you wish.”

***

Emma wakes up to the sight of her Hot Roommate™ (as Ruby insists on calling Killian) standing over her looking guilty.

“Sorry, Swan, I didn’t mean to wake you, you looked cold so I was just…” He gestures to the blanket that’s now draped over her.

“Oh, that’s OK.” She sits up and rubs her neck. How long was she asleep for that it now hurts so much? “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the couch. But, thanks for this.”

Killian rubs behind his ear awkwardly, gives her a little nod and strides towards his bedroom.

She has a vague memory of her dream, meeting Killian over and over again, eventually learning he was her soulmate… with all that entailed. She blushes at the thought of the racier parts of the soulmate deal. She may need to get laid. And while she’s thinking about it, she makes a mental note to ban all rom coms from her next movie night with Mary Margaret. She doesn’t care how pregnant and hormonal the woman is, Emma needs to protect her subconscious from the onslaught of Hollywood meet-cutes.

She sits up, stretches lazily and reaches for her phone.

Ruby’s sent her a photo of herself dressed to kill in a little black dress to their group chat with the caption “hot af, amirite?” Zelena’s replied with the winking kiss emoji. Tink offered up heart eyes. Mary Margaret said “I’d do you… and not just because the hormones are making me horny.”

Emma laughs uneasily, trying to scrub the information from her brain. Something about jokes like that from Mary Margaret always made her feel uncomfortable - like she’d imagine it’d be to hear your mom make sex jokes.

“What’s everyone else wearing? You know I’m too pregnant for girls’ night, so I have to live vicariously through your pics.”

Oh God, girls’ night. Emma checks the time - she’s only got half an hour to get ready.

She speeds through her routine and manages to stroll back into the living room exactly 29 minutes later with only her shoes to pull on. Killian’s hovering near their front door, with his back to her. Her eyes slide over his form - his fitted jeans do such wonders for his ass that it feels rude not to check him out. (Just because she has a policy against dating, fucking, or getting romantically involved with a roommate in anyway doesn’t mean she can’t appreciate the goods. She knows Ruby calls him Hot Roommate™ for good reason.)

As if he feels her eyes on him, he turns around, looking dejected. His eyes light up as soon as he sees her.

“Swan! You are looking stunning this evening. What terrible miscreant are you sending back to jail tonight?”

“This isn’t for a perp, I am going out with friends.” She feels awkward under his appreciative gaze. “What about you, dressed up all fancy, got a hot date?”

His grin twists into a frown. He opens his mouth to speak, but sighs instead, shaking his head.

“I did, but it seems that she has reunited with her ex and has decided it would be bad form to allow another man to take her to dinner.” His hand flies to the back of his neck and Emma feels sorry for him.

“You should come out with us.” Killian looks up in surprise, with a tiny hint of delight in his eye. “Come on, you’re all ready to go out, we can find you your next hot date.”

“I don’t want to intrude -” he blusters, sounding terribly British in a way that makes Emma think of Hugh Grant. A loud knock on the door interrupts him before he can say anymore.

Emma opens it and Ruby, Tink and Zelena burst into the apartment. She slings her arms over her Ruby’s shoulders and looks at Killian mischievously. “Ladies, Killian here has been stood up, don’t you think he should join us and find himself a better date for tomorrow night?”

Their eyes fill with glee, their smiles seductive and wicked. “Oh absolutely!” says Zelena.

“You’re far too hot to stay home and sulk,” continues Ruby. “We’ll find someone to keep you warm tonight, Killian.” She winks at him and Emma feels a flash of jealousy. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

It definitely wasn’t a good idea.

There’s a brunette at the bar running her hand along Killian’s arm while he murmurs in her ear. Emma imagines forcibly removing the woman’s perfectly manicured fingers and replacing them with her own. She really needs more rum.

“You know, if you want it to be you caressing your pretty roommate, you’ll have to go stake your claim on him.” Zelena practically purrs the words into Emma’s ear.

“I don’t - I wasn’t - it’s not like that.”

“Why not, Emma? If I had a genuine Hot Roommate™, you know I would ride them like a train.” Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby but doesn’t reply.

“You should definitely ride his pretty face. That man knows how to use his tongue.”

All the girls turn to stare at Tink. Emma’s jaw drops in shock.

“Are you telling me that you have hooked up with Killian and we are only just hearing about it?” Ruby damn near shrieks.

Tink just shrugs. “It was years ago. You know we’ve been friends for a long time. He lives with Emma because I introduced them when he moved to town, remember?”

“But you didn’t say that he’s your ex!” Emma’s glad that Ruby is saying all of this. She’s been struck dumb by the conversation and if she thought seeing Killian flirt was bad, this is a million times worse.

“He’s not my ex, we were more like friends with benefits back in college. We were barely even that to be honest. There was this bar, Neverland, we went to occasionally and we’d go home together after a night there. Or there was one memorable time when we just got down to it right in the bar -”

“We don’t need to hear about this,” Emma cuts Tink off. This is torture. (And not just because she’s got a bit of a thing for fucking in unconventional places and her very vivid imagination is showing her porn-worthy imagery right now.)

“Yes we do!” Ruby protests, but goes quiet at the look on Emma’s face.

Emma’s decides then and there to say screw it to  her no roommates policy and go fuck that beautiful man. It would be a crime not to.

She stalks her way to the bar, ignoring the wolf whistles from her friends and the soundtrack of fantasy moans in her head.

Halfway there, Killian notices her. He catches her eye and smiles. His smile quickly turns sinful as he sees the look in her eyes and the sway of her hips. The brunette who previously had his attention looks pissed, but as he licks his lips Emma knows that girl is forgotten.

Tonight Killian is hers.

She falters at the thought. Can they have just one night? Will that be enough? Is it too much?

And as if her insecurities aren’t enough to ruin a night of fantastic fucking on their own, that’s when she sees him. Her last roommate - and almost fiancé - Walsh. The cheating asshole has a pretty girl on his arm and Emma’s paralysed by the sight.

She’s trying to calculate the best way to escape when he spots her and saunters over. She tries to smile and prepares for the worst.

“Emma! Long time no see!” She opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, there’s an arm sliding around her waist and a rum being pressed into her hand.

“Just play along, love,” Killian murmurs quietly into her ear. His voice sends shivers down her spine. She has to force herself not to imagine him whispering nasty things into her ear while they fuck in the corridor. “Here’s your drink, love,” he continues at a normal volume. “Who’s your friend?” He looks at Walsh expectantly.

“Thanks, darling, this is Walsh, my ex roommate.” Emma deliberately stresses the “ex” so that Killian’s in no doubt as to who she means. (She silently thanks whatever God will listen for that drunken night of sharing sob stories. Sure it was embarrassing at the time - they’d only been living together a few weeks - but it means that he knows exactly how much of a prick Walsh is.)

“Walsh?” Killian tilts his head as if trying to remember why the name sounds familiar. He has a twinkle in his eye that tells her that he knows exactly who she means. “Ah yes, he’s the one you found fucking his boss in your bed, before you could tell him whether you’d accepted his marriage proposal or not.” He looks at Walsh innocently. “Right?”

Emma tries to hide how stunned she is. She never would have dared to say the same, but she is thrilled that Killian did it for her.

“He did what?” Walsh’s date gives him a look of utter contempt and storms off.

“What did you do that for?” Walsh demands.

Killian shrugs, a falsely sheepish look on his face. “Sorry?” Walsh narrows his eyes but huffs and chases after his date.

“Was that OK?” Killian asks, pulling away from her. She snuggles back into him.

“You better stay close in case he comes back. I want it to be clear that I won the break up.”

“And no better way than by letting him think you upgraded to a roguishly handsome devil like me.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Let’s just dance, OK?”

She’s forgotten all about Walsh and is just enjoying dancing with Killian when he pulls her close. “Walsh is watching,” he explains in a whisper. She bites her lip and nods. No need to tell him that he really doesn’t need an excuse.

“Swan, was he always this creepy? He won’t stop staring.”

She doesn’t want to answer, knowing that the truth is that yes, he was. She was just too in love with the whole idea of their relationship to see it then.

Killian saves her from having to answer by murmuring, “why don’t we really give him a show?” She looks at him curiously, and he waggles his eyebrows and taps his lips playfully.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” She’s not sure where the words came from, she’s been wanting to kiss him all night (since they met really), but they feel right.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” Killian shoots back. Emma never could resist a challenge, so she grabs his shirt -

And feels something cold and sticky spread across her back as someone crashes into her. She looks over her shoulder and sees the brunette that previously had Killian’s attentions giving her an evil grin. “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you there!” she says, not the least hint of remorse in her voice.

Emma wishes she could be one of those people with a perfect witty put down for every scenario. But she’s not and the moment’s passed with Killian and she feels awkward as hell.

She starts for the exit, ignoring Killian’s concerned “Swan?” and the strange green mist that swirls around her as she leaves.

***

She wakes up and struggles to shake off her strange dreams.

“Swan?” Her best friend Killian saunters into her bedroom, and stops short at the sight of her under the covers. “Aren’t you having a party, love? Not the best sign if the host can’t be bothered to get up… Unless the ‘party’ was all a trick to finally get me into bed after all these years?” His eyes wiggle suggestively and Emma rolls her eyes at him.

“Please, you couldn’t handle it.” As soon as she says that she remembers her dream. She blushes to think how she was about to pounce on Killian and kiss him. Admittedly, it’s not the first time she had a dream like that. (Although usually they got to the more enjoyable activities before she woke up, but this really it isn’t the time to think about such things.)

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Emma stares at Killian, confused. How is he quoting lines from her dream? He blushes and scratches at his ear.

“Huh. You said that to me in my dream.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you were a pirate… No wait, my roommate. Or maybe my soulmate?”

Killian smirks. “You’re dreaming that I’m your soulmate?”

“I’m having some kind of crazy inception style dreams within dreams. I think soulmates was the first level. I called bullshit on it.”

Killian throws back his head and laughs. “You called bullshit on your dream?”

“It wasn’t realistic!”

“That I might be the one for you, your soulmate, your ‘True Love’?” He looks deeply offended for all of 5 seconds before he cracks a wide grin.

“You forget that I have witnessed your Jack Sparrow impression and know it comes from a deep-seated love of all things pirate. You’ve dragged me to far-flung places in search for new additions to your collection of rare rum bottles. And I know that you speak ancient Greek.”

“You say that like you expect me to be ashamed of any of those things.”

“All I’m saying is that you can’t fool me with your leather jackets and your moves, I know that you’re a total nerd.”

“Nerds are cool, Swan.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jones.”

“I don’t have to help you get your flat ready for your party, you know?”

Emma leaps out of bed and throws an arm around his shoulder.  “Oh but you will, because I’m your very best friend and you love me.” She gives him her best puppy dog eyes and he shakes his head at her, laughing. She heads out of her room to start getting her apartment ready, not noticing the longing look Killian sends her way.

It’s much later and the party’s in full flow when Zelena announces that they should play spin the bottle. Emma’s buzzed, but not quite enough to not think that that’s a good idea.

“What are we, 12?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. Zelena’s eyes flash with fury leaving Emma wondering if she had inadvertently interrupted a scheme for the redhead to hook up with someone.

“How about truth or dare?” Killian suggests and Zelena grins wickedly. Emma’s relieved that she’s pleased, her demeanour is so deranged when she’s in a bad mood that it’s mildly terrifying. (So much so that Killian jokingly calls her the Wicked Witch.)

Emma’s not sure how it turned into some kind of excuse for all their friends to make out, but it has. And most of them seem to be intent on making out with (or rather forcing other people to make out with) Killian. It’s not that she’s jealous, but it was all just so awkward.

She had enough of the Tink/Killian drama back when they were hooking up and who’s to say the nostalgic kiss wasn’t going to restart that train wreck? (She’ll never forget asking Killian how they could stand to be in the same room for long enough to fuck. Apparently constant fucking had replaced constant bickering as “she’s less irritating when her mouth is otherwise engaged”. She really wished she hadn’t asked and didn’t want a repeat of it all.) Ruby got overly handsy in a way that didn’t feel quite decent in a room full of people and if it made her uncomfortable, she’s sure Killian felt the same (however into it he seemed). And seeing him lock lips with David felt weirdly like watching him with her dad - it was just wrong.

Really she should have seen it coming. Of course someone would dare Killian to suck face with her. Everyone was always asking why they weren’t a couple anyway, meddling and trying to push them together. What she couldn’t have predicted is that he would forfeit the dare in favour of a truth. And of course Zelena shoots back with the obvious question: “you’ve kissed half the room already, why not Emma too?”

Emma runs out of the room before he can reply. She really doesn’t want to hear this. She’s already been humiliated enough.

“Swan! Swan! Bloody hell, stop. Emma!”

“Save it, Killian. I don’t want to know.” He gently catches her arm with the hook of his prosthetic.

“But I need to tell you. You think I wouldn’t kiss you because I don’t want you? It’s because I want you too much.” His eyes are so beautiful and desperate, searching her face for some sign of understanding. Emma feels her cheeks wet with tears, surely he can’t mean it like that? That the most secret wish of her heart has come true - he wants to be with her? “You’re worth more than some drunken kiss in front of all our friends. When I kiss you, Emma,” he steps closer, “and I will kiss you, it won’t be because of any stupid dare. It will be because you want me.”

Emma’s breathless with the sincerity of his words. She sways closer, but he steps back.

“Not today,” he says with a small smile and boops her nose. “Let’s wait until I know for sure that this isn’t just some rum-soaked spell, aye? Come, let’s get back to your party, I believe I need to wreak my revenge on the Wicked Witch. Now, what shall I dare her to do?”

He slings an arm over her shoulder and leads her back to her apartment. Neither one of them noticing the green mist that creeps down the corridor behind them.

***

“Jesus,” Zelena mutters, rolling her eyes. “What have they got against happiness? Surely it shouldn’t be so hard to get two people to kiss?” She grins as an idea comes to her. “Maybe I’ve been going wrong trying to give them romance. All I need is a setup where they have to kiss after all.”

She waves her hand and, unbeknownst to them, Emma Swan and Killian Jones’ lives change again.

***

A hammering on her front door interrupts Emma’s breakfast. She stomps to answer it, unimpressed by the distraction from her morning pancakes.

She opens the door to a pirate decked out in leather complete with a hook. She’d call him handsome, if he didn’t look so ridiculous.

“Emma Swan?”

Her eyes narrow in confusion. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Captain Hook, here to deliver a message of deepest affection from good Sir Walsh to his lady love, Swan.” Emma’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I’m a kissogram,” he explains with what Emma assumes is meant to be a wink, although it’s really a lopsided blink. His tongue runs along his lips, and he moves forward.

Emma moves on pure instinct, kneeing the man in the groin and shoving him back with one hand. He staggers backwards, doubling over in pain. Emma almost feels guilty, but he did just try to force his lips on hers. Kissogram or not, that’s assault in her books.

She shuts the door behind her and shakes her head. She really needs to have words with Walsh about acceptable displays of affection. Single roses and dinner dates, good, kissograms and oversized helium balloon bouquets, bad.

God, he’s probably the type to present her with an engagement ring in her dessert. She should probably end it before they get to that stage. She saunters back to her pancakes, forgetting all about the pirate outside her door.

***

“Oh for God’s sake, what is it going to take to get these two to kiss?!” wails Zelena. “Anyone would think that they don’t want to be happy!”

“You know, there are simpler ways to get rid of the pirate and the Saviour than playing matchmaker,” Gold mutters darkly. It’s not that he actually wants Zelena to succeed, but this is getting tiresome.

He watches her warily as a wicked smile unfurls across her lips. “I’ve had an excellent idea. Use their past against them.” She conjures up her crystal ball, and sees what she needs at once. “Ah yes, Neverland.”

***

Emma’s in a leafy grotto, skin damp from the sweat caused by the oppressive heat. Neverland. Her skin prickles. Why is she here again - and, more importantly, how?

“I thought he deserved a little credit.” She jumps, startled by the sound of her father’s voice. She watches as a scene from her memory plays out before her. Killian’s looking away from her, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes. How had she never noticed before how bashful and uncomfortable their praise had made him?

Her mother toasts Hook, Regina refuses to, and now it’s her turn and she almost forgets herself. Manages to take the flask just before she drops it.

“To Hook.” That’s what she says, right? That’s what she’s meant to say. She’ll thank him for saving David, he’ll taunt her to deflect from how he feels, and they’ll kiss and everything will change.

(God, how had she not seen it at the time? It’s so clear now. When she kisses him, he’ll realise that he’s opened his heart up to her, that he’s let go of his first love. It’s all too much pressure for a simple kiss.)

“Did you really save his life?” she hears the words coming out of her mouth, but she feels detached from it all.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly, how do you say it? Mates.” She cringes at the way she impersonates his accent. She isn’t very good at revealing her emotions, so here she is, undercutting the sentiment she’s trying to convey.

Gratitude.

Oh God, gratitude is in order… She has to change the script and fast. Dimly she’s aware that he’s stopped speaking and she should reply. It’s time for her to show her thanks. She’ll try to be sincere and Hook will feel as uncomfortable as she does. So she’ll kiss him. It’ll save them both from the awkwardness of the moment, but cause a whole lot more.

Until I met you…

She stares at him, silent, unsure what to say or do. His face morphs from sincerity to discomfort under her steely gaze, finally settling on concern.

“Is everything alright, love?”

“I don’t know, I -” There’s a gust of wind and a fine dust fills the air. It clings to her body and she inhales it, coughing as its sticky sweetness fills her nose and her lungs.

“Bloody hell.” He sighs out the words. The horror and frustration she hears in his breathy tone confuses her - so they’ve got a little dusty, it’s no big… She looks at him and it hits her. She’s never felt more aroused in her life and she needs to touch him, to kiss him, to feel his skin against hers…

“Stay away from me!” he moans, “run away, tie yourself to a bloody tree, just don’t come near me!”

“But I - I need - fuck -” She gasps and realises the truth of the words at once. I need to fuck him. The thought consumes her, overwhelms her. She tears at her clothes.

His hand and hook seize her wrists, forcing them behind her as she’s shoved against a tree. For one blessed moment his body is pressed against hers then he’s moving away, tying her to the tree.

“I should’ve known you’d like it rough, Captain.”

He stares at her then, half crazed with lust. He looks so delicious, she just needs a taste -

She leans closer to him and he must have mimicked her actions, because his lips are so close. “Not like this,” he pants and runs from her.

“Fuck.” She hears Zelena’s voice crying out through the trees as a swirl of green mist surrounds them.

***

Emma blinks around her in confusion. Her lust fades as she realises that she is back outside the Wicked Witch’s house with Killian by her side.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, biting her lip in embarrassment at the memory of what she had just said and done. His stance is defiant, but she can see the traces of a blush on his cheeks that let her know that he feels it too.

“I was being nice to you,” Zelena huffs, “offering you a world where you could just kiss your pirate all day long. Considering how desperate you are to leave Storybrooke, I thought that would make you happy, but you seem to want this miserable existence as the Saviour.”

“All of that was you?” Emma doesn’t understand Zelena. Of all the crazy schemes she’s come up against since coming to Storybrooke, this has got to be the strangest.

“Well, you two are so adorable, I assumed that you just needed a little romance to get you to kiss him, but you are so very stubborn. What’s the matter?” Zelena tilts her head to the side with an expression of mock concern. “Is he not very good at it?”

She remembers Neverland and how good it felt to kiss him. She stamps down the thought as soon as it occurs to her, focussing instead on the rage she feels over the whole situation.

“The next time you want to take my powers, why don’t you try cursing the lips of someone I’ll actually kiss?” Emma side eyes Killian, trying to ignore the lingering throbbing between her legs that proves her words a lie. He is studying his feet and whether it’s the shame of his curse or hurt at Emma’s words, she can’t be sure.

“I did try doing this the easy way, Emma, but I guess we’re stuck with the hard way. So Emma, you’ve got a choice: you can keep your magic that makes you oh-so-sad. Or you can save the man that you can’t wait to run away from.”

Gold flicks his wrist and Killian flies through the air. He lands face down in a watering trough, which of course is full.

Emma has whiplash from all the conflicting thoughts in her head. Anger at Zelena. Confusion as to how someone goes from inventing fantasy rom com lives for their enemies to straight up drowning them. Wondering what all the feelings she had in all those fantasies meant. And above it all absolute terror that she might be about to lose Killian.

She runs to his side and tries to pull him free from the water. Zelena’s monologuing at her but she tunes her out; she’s got a pirate to save.

He thrashes wildly, but she can’t free him until he goes limp. It’s then, after he’s already stopped breathing, that she yanks him out. His face is pale and she curses herself for not just kissing him before, when it would have been perfect. Even if it wasn’t real, she wouldn’t have to live with the memory of him looking like this, so close to death.

She shakes him, shouts at him. “Hook! Hook! Hook, wake up! Killian. Come back to me, Killian.” She doesn’t want to let everyone down by losing her power to save him, but what will her life be without him?

“Oh God, son of a bitch!” she yells out, swearing that she will find a way to hurt Zelena for what she’s done.

She leans down to breathe life back into him. She feels her magic drain out of her, and she hopes that it is enough. She’d give almost anything to save him.

“Hook, come back to me,” she whispers, stroking his face. He coughs, spitting out water and gasps for breath.

“Swan?” He raises his hand to his lips and looks at her in horror. “What did you do? What did you do?!”

It’s tempting to taunt him, point out that a little gratitude is in order, but she’s so relieved that he’s OK that she’ll let it slide just this once. She stares at him, feeling awkward now that she knows he’s safe. She gets to her feet and offers her hand to help him up. She manages to resist the urge to pull him in for a hug, but she squeezes his hand tight for just a moment before dropping it.

“Come on, let’s get back to the hospital,” she mutters, staring at the ground and trying not to think about everything that just happened.

***

Emma’s lying on her pillows, gloriously sated. She’s finally had sex with Captain Hook after they time travelled because the Wicked Witch opened a portal and they almost stopped her parents Snow White and Prince Charming from meeting. Some days she wants to claw her own eyes out about how ridiculous her life is, but today? Today, she just got laid and all she can do is giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Killian asks her sleepily.

“I just fucked Captain Hook.”

“Aye.”

She turns to him, and props her head up on her arm so she can look at him properly. “And it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He grins and kisses her deeply. “It may have been the greatest moment of my long existence.”

He says it sincerely, but she can’t help but giggle again: she’s just so happy. “In all my fantasies, I never thought to account for your centuries of experience. How did the woman you slept with ever let you out of bed?”

“There was this one woman who tied me up. I thought it was all just kinky fun, but then she didn’t want to release me afterwards.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma arches her brow. She isn’t exactly jealous, she’s reaping the benefit of all his precious encounters and she is the one who brought it up. But still, it’s kind of odd to think of this man who is now - maybe, hopefully - hers with someone else. She’s just not quite ready to hear the intimate details.

“Luckily for you, I’m a hard man to keep tied down.” He seems to sense that it’s not wise to dwell on the subject so he turns to her with a devilish grin. “So tell me more about these fantasies of yours.”

“You already know some of them.”

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “I do?”

“Remember when Zelena went all rom com happy on us?” She stops short of mentioning why; it’s still something of a sore point. “Well when we were soulmates, I gathered that you got some of the highlights?”

“Oh yes.” He slowly and deliberately licks his lips. “You thought a lot about my oral skills as I recall. Were they everything you hoped for?”

“I don’t think you need the ego boost.”

“Oh I see, they were better, weren’t they?” Emma just smiles, honestly she didn’t know oral sex could feel that good, but she wasn’t kidding when she said he didn’t need the ego boost.

“It was kind of nice though wasn’t it?”

Killian looks offended and exclaims, “nice? I clearly did something wrong if all you can say is nice. Should I try again?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to say no to more oral, but I actually meant the whole soulmates thing. Being so connected? It felt good to be a part of something.”

“Oh, Swan.” He gently reaches out and pulls her towards him. She settles her head against his chest, and it feels perfect. “I preferred being your best friend.”

“Hmm?” She’d been lost in running her fingers through his chest hair and had temporarily lost track of their conversation.

“I liked the version of us where we’d been friends for years more.”

Emma thinks for a moment, oh right, the party with truth or dare.. She pushes up to glare at him. “Is that because you got to kiss everyone?” She tries to forget the memory of Hook and her dad passionately making out. She really, really does not want to think about it.

“I can remember vividly that I only had eyes for one person that night and if I had my way, my lips would have touched none other.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Emma says awkwardly, brushing off the compliment, even though she loves it. She drops her head back to his chest. “So if it wasn’t all the making out, why did you like that best?”

She feels him shrug. “It just felt more like us. We just understood and accepted each other, it was lovely.”

She considers that, it really was nice to already know each other inside out, but the closeness? That was all them. She looks up at him. “They were all us though, weren’t they? I always felt like me and we kept doing the same things over and over?”

“Aye. I can’t say that I appreciated all of that. I could’ve done without a repeat of you kicking me in the crown jewels because I tried to kiss you.”

“Zelena really was insane, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t understand why she didn’t just dose us with sex pollen from the start.”

“Sex pollen?”

“The dust that coated us in Neverland? I had to tie you to a tree and run away.”

Even the memory of that feeling is intense. Emma wonders how Killian managed to resist. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Fight that lust?”

“It wasn’t my first experience. I knew that it would fade with time and I couldn’t bear to take you like that. I may be a pirate, but I believe in good form, and that is not how one treats any lady, let alone the woman you love.”

Emma’s heart melts a little at this and she reaches up to kiss him softly. The kiss soon deepens, becomes wilder and more passionate. She pulls back from him, breathless. “Perhaps sometime we could try it together?”

“Sex pollen?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

She nods, biting her lip. “If that’s OK?”

He grins. “As you wish.”

She kisses him again hard, happy to be here, with him and thinking of all the thousands of ways their love story could have played out. One thing she’s sure of - whoever they are, whatever they’re doing, and however long they take to get there - they will always find each other.

[spartanguard]

a classic spring break fling

This is a tad bit late, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY @phiralovesloki!!!!!!!! Hope you had the amazing, wonderful day you so deserve! This is just a bit of romantic Captain Charming silliness to hopefully continue your celebrations :) (thank you, @optomisticgirl, for looking it over!) | 2.6 k, rated T

David didn't know why he let Victor push him into these things. He barely even liked Victor; he had only agreed to go on this trip because August was going, too, and Spring Break alone in their apartment sounded lame, even if he could have used the time to catch up on school; fourth-year pre-vet courses were no joke.

But in some odd effort to show that he was cooler than Victor, or another similar dick-measuring contest, he'd agreed to join them in Daytona, and it had actually been a lot of fun. The sunny, balmy weather was a far cry from UMaine this time of year, and the beach provided plenty of eye candy. As much as he'd stared at the shirtless bods across the sand, he knew he'd garnered similar attention—and his friends had noticed that, too, which led to the current predicament.

“Come on, Dave, it's just a wet t-shirt contest; there's no way you don't win and then we get free beer.” Of course, it sounded so simple when Victor put it that way.

Normally, David was against any kind of objectification like that, of women or men. But...fucking Victor. This was going to be the third time this week he'd let the pre-med douchebag talk him into this shit.

And a glance across the crowd—in which he caught a flash of blue eyes and bedhead—told him that Killian was here.

And he wasn't sure if that made him excited or even more embarrassed.

See, the first “come on, Dave” had led them to a cornhole contest on the beach, sponsored by some restaurant with the promise of free wings to the winner. “There's no way you don't win; you played ball in high school.”

David’s argument of “That’s not the same thing” fell on deaf ears as Victor practically dragged him to the sign up and then over to the boards; a pleading look at August had only been met with his laughter. Some roommate he was.

“Look, dude, we’ll totally win, he’s only got one hand,” Victor said—not as quietly as he thought—after assessing their opponents.

“Victor, what the fuck? Do you ever shut your mouth?” David chastised, both annoyed and embarrassed by the outburst, and shoved Victor in the direction of the other board. Because yeah, one of their opponents was missing a hand—but that wasn’t the first thing he’d noticed about the guy.

It was pretty easy to miss when you were too busy staring at the bare chest, with its well-formed muscles and dark hair spread across his pecs that trailed down into low-slung swim trunks. Or at the strong biceps and forearms he could easily imagine in more intimate settings. Or at the far-too-attractive face, ridiculous blue eyes, thick dark hair and brows, and chiseled jaw that nearly put his own to shame, which was currently ticking in annoyance at Victor’s comment.

The guy next to him—a blond who was nearly as attractive—looked like he was trying to talk him down, but he shrugged the other man off, took a sip from his flask, and stepped up to the board David was standing by. As his friend jogged down to where Victor stood, David said quietly, “Sorry about that. He’s an ass.”

“It’s fine,” the guy replied, voice low and hard indicating that it clearly wasn’t. The way his first beanbag completely overshot the hole also said plenty about his current mental state, and it didn't seem to help when David’s slid right into the hole. They passed a tense first round in a similar manner, and the second saw the guy brooding with his flask again. David wasn’t much a fan of tense, awkward situations—and he loathed the idea of someone so attractive hating him—so he tried to diffuse this one when they started the third.

“I’m David.”

“Killian.”

“Where are you guys from?”

“England; we’re on break from uni.”

“Same.”

They continued to make small talk—about their schools, studies, and where they were staying—and Killian seemed to calm down, only sulking a tiny bit when David and Victor easily won.

“Good match,” Killian said, offering David his hand; he had a firm grip that made David’s mind wander to other things that probably shouldn’t be done on a public beach. “Um, I don’t suppose you might want to meet up again sometime? Maybe without your friend over there?” Victor was presently crowing about the win to whatever girl would listen, but David was hardly paying attention because he was basically floored by Killian’s request.

“Uh, yeah! I’d love to! Same spot, tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. Until then,” he nodded, finally let go of David’s hand, and walked off with his mates.

The wings were good, but not as good as the feel of Killian’s hand in his.

The second “come on, Dave,” was, unfortunately, the next day, because David hadn’t quite been able to shake free of Victor and August. But it seemed that Killian had the same luck with his friends. They’d hardly greeted each other when Victor was already badgering him into a beer pong tourney (how many stereotypical college games could one place host during Spring Break?) in hopes of free pizza.

But then Killian joined him. “I’m in if you are. Ready for a challenge, mate?” he said with a smirk—an amazing thing that cut a dimple into the well-manicured, gingery scruff on his face (that David was realizing he wanted to feel against his palm, and his lips, and probably more places).

“Ugh, fine,” David sighed. “August, we’re doing this.” No way was he teaming up with Victor again.

It was them against Killian and his friend Will, who was already unsteady on his feet and seemed slightly tipsy; David wasn’t sure if that boded well for him and August or not—it was always hard to say when it came to pong.

“Think you can handle this?” Killian was grinning at him from the other end of the table and it was hard not to smile back when he looked so happy and carefree—a far cry from yesterday’s sulking (not that he could be blamed).

“Are you sure you can?” David threw back with a wink. Killian glanced down and...blushed? Did he actually blush? Which nearly made David blush at the idea of making Killian blush. He’d only known the guy for about 4 hours and his schoolyard crush—because had to admit that’s what this was—was beginning to spiral out of control.

He was still staring at Killian when, out of nowhere, Will sunk the first ping pong ball, right in the middle. “Holy shit,” August whispered, and they both took their drinks (per the rules of this tournament), realizing what they were about to be in for.

The American were no slouches, either, and did take an early lead. But the alcohol seemed to have little effect on their opponents, so it wasn’t long until he and August were uselessly shooting at two cups that suddenly seemed very far away, while Killian and Will were catching up and sinking every shot. David was on his third beer and he was seriously wondering what was in Killian’s flask that he seemed so unaffected.

“You’ve gotta be cheating. No way you’re this good drunk,�� he blurted out.

Will answered, “‘E’s a pirate! And all good pirates can hold their rum.” Killian just smirked, and David kind of wanted to kiss it off of him. He settled for attempting to sink another ball and instead hitting Killian’s (perfect) chest.

Not even two turns later, it was all over: the pizza belonged to the Brits and David vowed to never again have August as a partner.

Again, they all shook hands after, and then Will and the other guy—Robin—ran off to collect their prize. But Killian lingered, just like last time.

“You nearly had us there; I was a bit worried,” he said brightly. “You Yanks do know your stuff.”

“Pretty sure it started over here,” David replied, though his heart wasn’t really into a teasing match. But he did need to know: “Is that really rum in your flask?”

Killian replied by popping the cap of it and offering it up. “Inspect me, Officer.” His tone was nearly filthy and he ran his tongue over his lips and winked. Hot damn.

Unfortunately, David could smell it and it nearly made his stomach turn—he learned the hard way freshman year not to mix beer and rum. He saved face as much as he could, just barely not gagging. “Yeah, I believe you.”

The hungry gaze in Killian’s blue gaze faded a bit, but he didn’t seem deterred. “Shall we meet again tomorrow? This seems to be our thing now.”

David took a glance over at his friends, who were continuing to work on the 24-pack they’d bought that morning, before giving Killian an answer. “Yeah, we should; but I’ve also got another idea.”

So here they were, night three of three with one of Victor’s crazy ideas for getting free shit. And Killian was going to be subjected to it yet again. Just because he’d been game last night didn’t mean he would today; for all his come-ons and chest baring, he was surprisingly a bit modest.

(Thankfully, this wasn’t the first time they were seeing each other today. David had taken advantage of his roommates’ hangover and met up with Killian for brunch, where they actually got to talk—really talk—about their lives: their brothers, who were both gone but still dear to them; school, and how Killian’s desire to put his planned-on law degree to use was similar to David’s vet aspirations; and their thoughts on love, having both been burned in the past but very much still open to it.

That last part might have been paired with some very longing glances on both sides.)

“Seriously, Victor? This is the third fucking time you’ve pushed me into one of these things. Why don’t you do it?”

“Because even I know I’d lose to you. And we’re almost out of beer.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“All of ours. Now go!” David nearly stumbled with how hard Victor pushed him in the direction of the stage next to the beachfront bar, and he grumbled all the way up to the registration table.

He was putting on the just-too-tight shirt they gave him when a familiar accent spoke behind him. “Well, this should settle the score. We’re tied, right?”

Killian was slipping his equally form-fitting top on, and there was that smirk again when his head popped through.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he answered slowly, suddenly much happier to be in this. At least he wasn’t going through this subjugation on his own.

(And, despite his thoughts on the matter, he knew he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing Killian in a wet shirt.)

“May the best man win,” Killian said, extending his hand. David clapped it and nodded, and probably held on just a bit too long but he really, really enjoyed the feel of Killian’s hand in his. And based on the warm blue gaze that was holding his own, Killian felt the same.

The host on stage announced that the contest was beginning, pulling them from their trance and making them jump apart (and making Killian blush again). Ever the gentleman, he gestured for David to head up first, which he did while staring at the steps lest he trip on one.

They lined up on stage with a few other guys, though David didn’t really spare them a glance, too hyper aware of the fact that Killian was on his right. His only other thought was that he hoped the water was warm.

Which, he found out seconds later, it wasn’t. Cold buckets dumped on them from above and all the contestants yelped in surprise, hopping up and down in an attempt to regain body heat from the just-barely-not-ice bucket challenge. Four times that happened, each one worse than the other.

When he was finally able to stand upright and breathe, he didn’t even bother looking at the competition—his eyes immediately traveled to Killian, who he was pleased to see had done the same (but was doing a decidedly better job of checking out everyone else and not just David, but...he could tell). The now-see-through top had done little to hide his chest hair before, and now it stood out bold through the fabric. But so did his abs, which looked even more defined in the constricting cotton, and his pecs were heaving as he tried to catch his breath, too. The shirt had already clung to his biceps but now it was like a second skin.

David could guess that he was putting on just as good a show, save for his depressing lack of body hair, but he’d always been pretty well-built and the way the shirt was clinging to him surely showed it off. But he honestly didn’t think he stood a chance against Killian, and he really hoped his shorts weren’t clinging to him too much, either.

They were all made to turn and flex and preen a bit, to the audience’s thrill, before the judges made their decisions.

“I think it’ll be you, mate,” Killian whispered during the brief break. “No one else compares.”

“No way, man; it has to be you,” David murmured back. “I’d be shocked if it wasn’t.”

Killian didn’t get a chance to respond when the host came back, announcing the winner and the runner up...who weren’t either of them. The winner could have passed for Bucky Barnes and the runner up looked like he walked right off the set of Fifty Shades. Out of the corner of his eye, David saw Victor kicking the sand in disappointment and Will also shaking his head.

However, David didn’t much mind. Because no sooner had they hopped off the stage than Killian had turned around, grabbed a fist of wet t-shirt, and hauled David toward him, finding his lips with his in a perfect kiss that they’d honestly been building to the past few days. David’s cool skin quickly flushed when he made contact with Killian’s still-warm chest, and he finally reached up to feel Killian’s rough beard on his palm. It was just as amazing as he imagined, but not as incredible as the gentle scratch of it against his lips as they continued to kiss passionately in front of who-knew-how-many strangers that they were no longer aware of. His free arm pulled Killian tight to him and it felt so right to be next to him like that, and he wasn’t sure how he’d gone this long without it.

“Fuckin’ finally.”

Will’s exclamation had them jumping apart, only to see all of their friends lined up in front of them.

“Bloody hell, Scarlett! I don't interrupt you when you're having a snog,” Killian admonished, but still stayed close to David’s side.

Robin jumped in. “You should’ve snogged him ages ago; what took you so long?”

“Well, it's not his fault that David’s a little slow in things,” August added, taking David aback.

“Wait—were you all in on this?”

“Why do you think I made you do all these games?” Victor answered with a shrug. “I knew Robin as a kid and we reconnected. Thought you two needed some lovin’, and here we are.”

David’s jaw dropped and he looked at Killian, who appeared equally stricken. But, in the end, he guessed it didn't matter.

Because as he gave his friends the middle finger and went back to making out with Killian, he knew it was worth all the embarrassment in the world.

tagging some others who might enjoy it (I’m not sure who all is in the CC trashcan anymore but I think it might be growing to a dumpster): @kat2609 @nfbagelperson @gusenitsaa @annytecture @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @fergus80 @its-like-a-story-of-love @cocohook38 @hencethebravery @mahstatins @the-reason-to-sail-home @abbadons-little-witch @yayimallamaagain @ladyciaramiggles @stubble-sandwich @queen-mabs-revenge @katie-dub @walkerfairytales @dassala (feel free to ignore!)