#i keep staring at it and going back and forth between thinking it's awe/reluctant intrigue

[saltpepperbeard]

is this anything

[saramck]

she means it, she does [1/1]

emma just wanted to quietly enjoy tequila and loneliness on valentine’s day. killian just wanted a beer and some solitude. they most definitely didn’t want to see each other.

a (very) belated exes on valentine’s day fic with a splash of national margarita day.

cs modern au / ~3,500 words / rated T / Now on AO3

February 14th

It's really a little sickening all things considered. The chubby babies with wings and the hearts made out of lace and the flowers. The flowers that make her eyes water and her nose tickle from the pungent smell. And don't even get her started on the cheesy cards and overpriced candy and the feelings. There's a reason they also call it Single's Awareness Day.

There’s no room for love when you're drinking your second strawberry margarita a little after noon on a Tuesday.

Jesse's Bar and Grill is just grubby enough to warrant such a promotion on a holiday - buy one tequila fueled mistake, get one free. So Emma calls in sick - she would undoubtedly be sick by the end of the day, so that wasn't technically a lie - and ditches the paperwork for a more enjoyable companion.

She's playing with the condensation dripping down the side of her mug, contemplating whether or not to get a basket of onion rings, when a moment of inconsequential chance changes everything.

A man walks into the bar.

Or more specifically, her ex-boyfriend walks into the bar.

Killian motherfucking Jones.

Killian drops into seat next to Emma and says nonchalantly to the bartender, "Can I get a Guinness?"

Emma's staring at what is clearly a new leather jacket - she knows, or knew, what was in his closet after all - as he says, "Like what you see, love?"

Emma rolls her eyes and returns her attention to her watered down margarita. "I was just distracted by your incompetence."

Dimples emerge on his scruffy cheeks as he barks out a laugh. "I miss that sass, Swan.”

Emma busies herself by draining the last of her drink. Of all the places in this stupid town, he just had to pick this one.

The bartender places a glass of dark and foamy beer in front of Killian and Emma can’t help but feel nostalgia at the sight in front of her.

“I thought you hated this bar?” she asks in order to distract herself from the sight of Killian licking foam off of his lips.

Killian frowns. “I thought you hated this bar.”

“No, you’re supposed to hate this bar so it’s safe for me to come here and avoid you.”

“Tough luck, I’m afraid.”

Emma turns away, focusing her eyes on the television behind the bar rather than on him. “Yeah. It’s tough alright.”

“You know what else is tough? Not seeing my best friend anymore.”

Emma stills but doesn’t say anything in response.

She was always a little too good at keeping her mouth shut.

Killian keeps to himself, if you didn't count his ongoing conversation with the bartender, until he's halfway through his second Guinness. “Swan?"

Emma glances warily in Killian's direction, the tequila making her feel a little stupid but not that stupid. "What?"

"Wanna play a game?"

Emma hesitates but finally says,"I'm not a big fan of games - you know that."

"Do I ever," Killian mumbles as he wraps the top of bar with his fist. “Let’s play Captain Platypus.”

“What the hell is that?”

Killian looks at her like she’s suddenly sprouted horns. “You’ve never heard of Captain Platypus before?”

“No,” Emma replies slowly as she shakes her head and draws out the word. She gestures to a woman sitting a few seats down from them at the bar and challenges, “Maybe you should just play with that girl over there.”

Killian’s smile as he turns his attention back on Emma is silly and - much to her annoyance - exceedingly handsome. “Oh, don’t be jealous. The only girl I wanna play with is you.”

Heat pools in Emma’s cheeks as she quickly looks away from Killian’s grin and those stupid fucking dimples and the jaw that she really wants to rake her teeth against and -

The troublemaker in question continues, “Captain Platypus is a game of wit and intrigue. If you think too hard you’ve already lost.”     

“But -”

“Patience, Swan. So I would start by saying something like, ‘Captain Platypus is a grilled cheese sandwich full of moldy mushrooms’ and then you’d say something kinda like ‘Captain Platypus is a fungus growing on a sheep’s back.”

“You’re actually deranged, you know that right?”

“No, a correct answer would be ‘Captain Platypus is a wool hat on a brick wall.”

Emma wrinkles her nose as she says, “I think you’re just fucking with me.”

“Em-ma,” Killian drawls out as he taps the end of Emma’s nose with index finger. “It’s simple, I promise. It’s a word game. The words at the end of the first sentence dictate the beginning of the next. The rest of it is just gibberish to be funny.”

“You’re gonna have to be a little more explicit, buddy.”

“Explicit, huh?” Killian hums as he shifts his body a little closer to Emma’s. “We can make this NC-17 if you want.”

Emma ignores the heat in her chest - and between her legs - as she retorts, “Captain Platypus is one wrong move away from a groin injury.”

Killian’s look of shock pleases Emma. He fires back with, “You’re interested in my groin, Emma?”

Emma clears her throat and shakes her head slowly, her eyes tracking from Killian’s v-neck shirt to his tight black jeans and back to his face again.  “Nope. Not at all. Not even a little bit.”

(Liar.)

Killian’s slow smile is agonizing. And this is how it always starts. The dance they do.

They - Emma - breaks them apart. Killian tries his best to put them back together.

The bite of tequila against Emma’s tongue is the focus she needs against Killian and his ears that blush and that sensitive spot on his neck that makes his toes curl.

Killian is trouble. He’s always been trouble.

Trouble she’s spent too much time getting into - and under and on top of.

“Love?”

“I thought we agreed no more pet names, Killian.”

“No,” Killian’s head shakes back and forth quickly in opposition, “that’s what you wanted. If you’ll remember, I never agreed to that.”

Emma swirls her straw in her half-filled glass, her mood souring quickly. “No pet names.”

“If you insist,” Killian says as he tries again. “Emma?”

“Yes?”

“It’s been two months.”

“That’s not a question,” Emma responds hesitantly. Where the hell was he going with this?

“No, it’s not,” Killian hedges as he lowers his voice, “Have you entertained anyone else in the meantime?”

“You’re so old-fashioned sometimes. No, I haven’t entertained anyone.” Emma says honestly as she shrugs. “Not that it’s any of your damn business anyway.”

Killian’s eyes grow serious as he says simply, “You’re right. Forget I asked.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments before Emma tries to change the topic of conversation. It’s an olive branch, even if she’s reluctant to extend it

“Have you seen Mary Margaret and David’s new couch?”

“The puke green one? Yeah, it’s awful.”

“I have no idea what they were thinking,” Emma agrees.

“They weren’t, that’s the problem.”

“Mary Margaret claims it was David’s decision, but I don’t believe her for a second.”

Killian nods, his smile wide. “Dave told me the same thing. He also blamed the wall color in their bedroom on Mary Margaret too.”

“That’s the same story I got from her, but only reversed! Don’t they know they can’t get away with this stuff?”

Killian pauses, his smile faltering. “Well, once upon a time they couldn’t. It’s....well, it’s different now.”

“Because we don’t talk anymore.”

“Because we don’t talk anymore,” Killian repeats, his brow furrowing. “This is nice, Swan. Talking like we used to.”

“I obviously haven’t learned my lesson,” Emma deflects as she shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly.

She misses this. The banter and the easy conversation and the way Killian reads her like the back of his hand.

“I guess I haven’t learned my lesson then either,” Killian responds, his eyes full of longing. “It’s good to see you, Emma.”

Emma scoffs, “You don’t mean that.”

Disbelief colors Killian’s expression as he counters, “I do. I enjoy your company, Swan. Besides, who else do I know who can kick a man’s ass while wearing heels?”

“David?”

Killian bursts into laughter, his hand subconsciously inching closer to Emma’s on the bar.

Because Emma is Emma, she moves her hand to her lap and safely away from Killian. If Killian notices the adjustment, he doesn’t say anything.

“Swan?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss -”

Emma, in an effort to stop whatever the hell Killian is about to say, turns to the bartender and asks, “Can I get another one? And can you make it a double?”

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Killian acknowledges, any lightness absent from his voice.

Emma mumbles, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

But of course she knows what he means. It’s her penchant for running when she should stay still. It’s her fear of commitment to those who would obviously never leave her.

It’s saying ‘no’ when she really wants to shout ‘yes!’

The two sit in silence until -

“You owe me one thing, Emma.”

She watches his shoulders tense. He’s truly upset.

She hates that she’s doing this to him.

Killian continues, “Why did you leave that night?”

For once, she’s honest with him. She can give him this much.

“I left because you ruined everything.”

Two Months Ago

“If you keep touching me like that, love,” Killian groans as his hands fist in the flannel sheets on his bed, “then my death certificate is going to say ‘death by sex.’”

Emma removes her hand from beneath the sheet and cuddles into Killian’s side instead, her cheeks still flushed from their earlier activities. “That’s how I wanna go.”

Killian hums in agreement as he pinches Emma’s bare ass, eliciting a yelp and a playful slap in response.

“What did I tell you about pinching?” Emma wonders feigning annoyance as she looks up at Killian’s innocent expression.

Killian meets her eyes, his smile growing wider. “That it’s only acceptable during role play?”

Emma pinches the sensitive skin above Killian’s right nipple in reply.

Killian shivers as he says bemusedly, “Got it. No pinching.”

Emma kisses the red mark in apology, the scent of sweat and Killian’s favorite body wash filling her nose. His smell was not helping the temporary ban on sexual activity.

To be fair, the two had been at it quite aggressively for most of the afternoon and well into the evening. Emma knew she was going to be pleasantly sore for days.

Emma reaches across Killian’s stomach and gently works his brace and prosthetic hand off of his left arm. He likes to wear it during sex to literally give him an extra hand if need be, but Emma’s learned on several different occasions that he’s more than capable with just the one.

She presses roughly with her fingers on Killian’s lower arm before working her way slowly towards his stump. She’s always more careful with the scar tissue that comprises the end of his arm, so she lessens the pressure of her fingers and switches to a slow moving, circular pattern. Killian groans occasionally in approval as he places sloppy kisses on the back of Emma’s head in silent thanks.

“This massage isn’t helping either,” Killian whines as he rests his forehead against the back of Emma’s neck. His breath tickles against her bare skin as he continues, “I can’t even look at what you’re doing without getting hard.”

“I can stop…” Emma teases as she momentarily stops her ministrations.

“No!” Killian yelps as he burrows further into Emma’s neck. “It helps with the pain.”

Emma resumes automatically at Killian’s words, but pulls back to look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain today?”

“It’s not so bad,” Killian shrugs as he kisses Emma’s cheek sweetly. “You help me forget.”

She nudges her nose against his, as she temporarily abandons her task and winds her arms around Killian’s neck.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?”

“I -” Killian pauses just for a moment, and then quite suddenly, “I love you.”

Emma stiffens, her stomach sinking.

With one dimple tucked into the corner of his smile -

With one hesitant, warm breath against her cheek -

With just three little words and a handful of sounds -

He’s broken her heart.

Killian balks at Emma’s response, his brow arching in confusion. “Me? I ruined everything?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now,” Emma evades as she wraps her leather jacket more firmly around herself against a chill seeping into her bones.

(It’s not the room though - it’s just her heart icing over.)

“You never want to talk about anything, ever,” Killian retorts. “At least before you run away this time, have the decency to say goodbye first.”

It’s the truth of his words that hurts the most. So she gives him this courtesy, “Goodbye.”

She’s out of her chair, through the bar, and out onto the private patio in back in less than a minute.

A voice calls, “That was very dramatic, even for you.”

Killian.

“You haven’t paid for your drinks yet,” he adds in a teasing tone. He’s not here to chastise her, but to make sure she’s okay.

She didn’t give him much a chance to come after her last time.

“Who said I was done drinking?”

His answer is immediate. “To be fair, I thought you’d hopped the fence back here.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“Oh, I know,” Killian chuckles, the sound of his voice still a safe distance away. “I thought you’d strapped me with the bill.”

Emma turns to find Killian leaning against the back wall of the bar. “I’m not that cruel.”

Killian tilts his head to the side as if he’s actually considering her statement. “No, not when it comes to stuff like that.”

“I’m not so great at other things,” Emma offers as she shifts her weight nervously. “Like I can’t sing and I hate dancing in public.”

“Don’t forget, you’re also not a fan of eating your vegetables.”

“Touche,” Emma nods. “I’m also not so great at relationship stuff.”

“Ehhh…” Killian shrugs as he pushes away from the wall and slowly inches closer to Emma. “I think you’re getting better.”

“I don’t know about that,” Emma disagrees with a shake of her head.

Killian stops his approach just out of arm's reach. “The Emma Swan I know is giving and kind. She’s thoughtful and remembers everything you say and is very talented in bed.”

Emma smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He’s being too kind to her so she tries to correct him. “She’s also selfish and rude and she hurts people.”

Killian shakes his head slowly in rebuke. “She’s scared and guarded, but she’s learning to open up.”

“How do you know?” Emma holds her breath while she waits, her lungs burning.

“Because you didn’t run away this time.”

Two Months Ago, Again

“I -” Killian pauses just for a moment, and then quite suddenly, “I love you.”

“I...you know I can’t….” Emma splutters as she shakes her head and pulls away from from the warmth of his skin. “You can’t say things like that.”

Killian’s eyes grow impossibly softer with understanding, forcing Emma to look away.

“Emma, I love you. I love that you eat like an NFL linebacker. I love that you do the crossword puzzle every week in pen, because you always get the answers right on the first try. I love that you get nervous around cats, but not around guns. I even love the way you avoid eye contact when you’re scared.”

Emma purposefully catches his gaze in defiance of his last statement. “I’m not scared.”

Killian fingers the chain around Emma’s neck. “Do you know why I gave this to you for Christmas?”

She looks down at the long silver chain resting against her pale skin. “Because you like to see me squirm while opening presents?”

The mood lightens momentarily as Killian’s fingers trail down to the miniature key hanging in between her breasts. “Because I wanted you to know that you’re the key to everything.”

Emma’s eyes fill with tears, but she stubbornly refuses to cry. She doesn’t know what to say.

Killian lightly touches Emma’s jaw, his thumb edging the corner of her lips. “Stay. Prove me wrong.”

“I always stay,” she lies.

His lips replace his hand as he kisses his way along Emma’s jaw in a move that makes her eyes slide closed.

“Stay,” he whispers, a question more than a command.

Emma means it when she says, “I’ll stay.”

She means it through another round of sex, slow and soft and close.

She means it when she tells him, “You’re my best friend.”

She means it as he falls asleep beside her.

She means it as she searches for her clothes in the dark.

She means it as she walks out the front door.

She means it, but she can’t.  

It’s cold outside on the patio even though the sun hasn’t set yet.

“Killian?” Emma asks, her own curiosity getting the better of her. “How come you never got me anything for Valentine’s Day?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just we always kind of ignored February 14th when we were...you know...together.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me right now.”

“I know I must sound crazy,” Emma admits, “but don’t you owe me an answer too?”

Killian nervously taps his hand against his thigh. “So this is what you want to know? Why I never pressured you to participate in a holiday that celebrates love?”

Emma’s eyes drift to Killian’s, his expression dumbfounded, as she confirms, “Well, yeah. I guess I do.”

“I’ll tell you,” Killian bargained as offers Emma his hand, “but can we at least go back inside? I can tell you’re freezing.”

Of course he can. She follows him inside, but doesn’t take his hand.

The pair return to their seats and order fresh drinks. Killian wastes no time in diving in.

“Well, the first time we got together it was the beginning of March three years ago. You ended it that November, and I didn’t see you again until after the holidays. That marked Emma and Killian, Round Two which, if you’ll remember, only lasted a grand total of five weeks. Still no Valentine’s Day.”

Emma interrupts, “Then I called you drunk off my ass at Mary Margaret’s birthday party a few months later and that was the beginning of round three. We lasted a year that time!”

“Right, but you were out of town for the first three weeks of February last year and had shown no signs of wanting to celebrate. In fact, I believe you said something along the lines of ‘only idiots celebrated Valentine’s Day.’”

“I vaguely remember that.”

“Uh-huh,” Killian agrees as he continues plotting the rise and fall of their relationship. “And we know how we ended up here, on this Valentine’s Day. You walked out of my apartment a few days before Christmas and disappeared.”

Emma considers her next words carefully. “I just needed some time to think about things.”

Killian reaches for Emma’s hand, his skin warm against hers. “I wish you would’ve been honest and told me. We could’ve worked through it together.”

Emma smiles tentatively. “Do you think the fifth time’s the charm?”

“Maybe,” Killian gives her hand a squeeze as he muses. “We know Rome wasn’t built in a day. Masterpieces take time.”

He’s joking, but he’s sincere and - even though they’re a long ways away from being okay - this is a start.

“I’m sorry I locked you out,” Emma says sincerely. “I’m sorry I ran.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t follow you.”

“Rome, remember?”

“Rome,” Killian echoes with a laugh. “You know where I live, Emma, you just have to knock on the door.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Emma says smugly as she reaches underneath her sweater and pulls out a familiar silver chain. “I’ve still got your key.”

Killian’s smile is ecstatic as he eyes the silver key dangling from the chain in Emma’s hand. “I think you’ve just given me the best Valentine’s Day present a man can get, Swan.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

“Hope.”