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the-widow-sisters · 4 years ago

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Miss American Pie

Summary: When Yelena wakes up from a horrid nightmare, Natasha is left to pick up the pieces of her heartbreakingly terrified and scarred baby sister. As Yelena grows increasingly inconsolable, Natasha soon realizes that there’s only way she can pull Yelena from this state.

Word Count: 2163

A/N: Thank you so much to @fixerupperofarrendelle for the beautiful request! 🥰💖 I was really happy to have an opportunity to use some of my way too significant knowledge of the song “American Pie,” lol. I knew it and loved it before I ever watched the movie, but the movie gave me a wonderful pair of characters to remember while listening to it 🥺💗

Natasha was snatched into the waking world by a hideously horrid scream ripping through the night. Natasha immediately recognized the sound, turning quickly to the person lying in bed next to her. Yelena was sitting straight up, gasping for breath as she stared straight ahead.

Natasha immediately sat up next to her, leaning forward toward her but not touching her just yet.

“Yelena, sweet girl, look at me, it wasn’t real. You’re here and safe,” Natasha spoke, and Yelena’s eyes immediately snapped over to her as she jerked away with the realization that someone was so close to her. Despite the fact that her heart was breaking, Natasha just held her gaze, raising her hands to communicate the fact that she was unarmed and that she was no threat.

It took Yelena just a moment to recognize her. As soon as she truly laid eyes on her and understood who was sitting before her, she launched forward at such a speed that she almost knocked Natasha off of the bed. Natasha swiftly brought one arm around Yelena as she caught herself with the other.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Natasha assured her as she moved them back a bit so that her back was close to the headboard and that she could not fall backwards if Yelena lurched forward again.

“They’re here,” Yelena whispered over and over, her entire body shaking as she cowered in Natasha’s arms, trying to hide herself as she crumpled up in as small of a ball as she could muster.

“No, no one’s here. We’re here in our little house. Just me and you.”

“They’re here, I saw them,” Yelena insisted.

“No, they’re not. That’s not real, rooskaya. It’s just us.”

“They’re going to hurt me,” Yelena choked out, sobs shuddering through her with every breath, and Natasha felt so much pain rushing through her with the words.

“No, they won’t. I’m here and I’ll keep you safe. No one’s touching you,” Natasha promised, pushing forth every inch of resolve that she had within her.

“You don’t understand, they—they’ll kill you to hurt me,” Yelena cried hysterically in a pure panic, and Natasha shook her head, shushing Yelena carefully as she stroked her hair. Natasha’s chest was hurting from the intense stabs to her chest that grew worse with every word Yelena fearfully breathed out.

“No, they’re not going to kill me. We’re home, and they’re not here. They’re nowhere around here. They’re gone, Yelena,” Natasha told her, feeling a bit of fear rising in her as Yelena remained almost completely inconsolable, still whispering things about them being there.

It broke Natasha’s heart to do it, but she carefully pried Yelena away from her so that they were looking at one another eye to eye. It was a fight to get Yelena to stay there, but Natasha knew that the girl needed to listen to her somehow and eye contact was the only thing that Natasha could think of to connect to the girl with.

“Yelena, they’re not here. There’s no one here. They’re gone. We destroyed the Red Room, remember? We did it together. Me and you. They all died. They’re never coming to bother us again,” Natasha repeated over and over, Yelena leaning into her heavily as she grabbed at Natasha’s clothes and tried to drag herself closer despite the forced distance that Natasha made between them.

However, once she seemed to be calm enough to at least comprehend the words that Natasha kept repeating, Natasha let her draw near once again. Yelena collapsed against her, grabbing on as if she was drowning and Natasha was her only lifeline. Natasha held her in return just as strongly, rocking her and whispering as many reassurances as she could possibly think of.

Yelena was shaking almost violently in her arms, and Natasha just pulled her more tightly against her.

“I’m here, sweet girl. I’m here,” Natasha murmured, but the shaking did not seem to even remotely lessen with the words. Natasha embraced her firmly, trying to keep her encased safely in her arms.

Natasha had never seen Yelena so panicked after a nightmare. It made her stomach turn over inside of her and her heart ached horribly. It made Natasha feel so helpless and it brought such a fresh and huge feeling of guilt and remorse about how she had forsaken Yelena in the Red Room’s clutches.

However, she knew she could not drown herself in such guilt right now. Yelena needed her. It was apparent in the constant shivers and tremors running through her.

She wracked her brain desperately in an attempt to think of something to calm Yelena down. After a moment, an idea quickly came to her. It was a long shot, but she figured she would give it a try. Natasha cleared her throat just barely, finding herself nervous as she prepared herself to do something she had not done in years.

“A long, long time ago… I can still remember how that music… Used to make me smile,” Natasha began carefully, reawakening the words to the song inside of her head as she sang softly. Yelena slowly stilled in her arms, the shivering still persisting but not nearly as strongly as before.

“And I knew if I had my chance… That I could make those people dance, and maybe they’d be happy… For a while,” she continued, and Yelena sniffled a bit, her head resting against Natasha’s chest as she listened quietly. Natasha rocked her gently in her arms as she searched for the lyrics.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I’d deliver… Bad news on the doorstep. I couldn’t take one more step,” Natasha tried to put effort into the notes of the song even though she was never confident about her singing. She hated to sing in front of others, but Yelena needed to calm down and focus somehow.

“I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride… But something touched me deep inside… The day… The music… died,” Natasha sang, feeling a little silly with trying to hit the notes perfectly, but deciding that she needed to go all out for this one.

“So, bye, bye, Miss American Pie,” Natasha started and she very happily noted that Yelena started to sing with her as she began the chorus.

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry,” their voices combined quietly, and Natasha was honestly just so pleased to hear Yelena contributing even if she was not putting a lot of effort into the singing.

“And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye… Singing this’ll be the day that I die… This’ll be the day that I die,” they finished together. They were quiet for a moment and Natasha mentally played the instrumental of the song in her head before beginning the next verse.

“Did you write the book of love and do you have faith in God above? If the Bible tells you so,” Natasha started the next part and was shocked yet ecstatic when Yelena chuckled a little against her.

“How much of the song do you know?” Yelena questioned, her voice somewhat raw and hoarse but her tone very much impressed and in awe. Natasha felt her heart melt a little and a bit of embarrassment came over her as she shrugged, her arms still around the blonde.

“I don’t know. Probably a good six minutes of it,” Natasha answered, and she could feel Yelena’s gaze shift upward in her direction. Natasha tried not to smile in response to Yelena’s unashamed amazement.

“Seriously?” Yelena questioned, sounding as if she were terribly impressed and it was the greatest accomplishment in the world.

“Yeah,” Natasha replied, and she finally allowed the grin to overtake her as she gently rocked them both back and forth. She could feel the question lingering in the air, and Natasha swallowed slightly, preparing herself to explain further. She knew Yelena needed to hear it.

“I listened to it a lot after joining the Avengers. It made me think of you, and as painful as it was, it was always comforting to remember,” Natasha admitted, feeling a bit naked as she bared herself to Yelena so openly. There was a moment of silence, and Natasha was slightly worried about how Yelena was taking it.

However, she soon received an answer as Yelena clambered further up her body, slinging her arms around Natasha’s neck and shoulders as she buried her face in Natasha’s neck. She moved her legs around so that they were wrapped around Natasha’s waist firmly. Natasha quickly realized that there was moisture on her neck and that her little sister was still crying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Natasha expressed, feeling deep remorse resonating through her as she furrowed her brow and stroked Yelena’s back. Yelena shook her head swiftly, tightening her grip on Natasha.

“No, no… It’s just that… You… I can’t believe you remembered,” Yelena sobbed just a little, and Natasha felt the guilt and pain stab her heart tenfold as she pulled the younger woman closer.

“Rooskaya, I always remembered. You were always the most important thing in my whole world. How could I not remember?” Natasha told her quietly, her voice barely sounding near Yelena’s ear.

Yelena grabbed onto Natasha impossibly tighter, her fingers digging into the thin shirt Natasha was wearing. Natasha’s skin underneath was suffering just a bit from Yelena’s hold, but she kept the pain to herself, willing to suffer through anything to have Yelena close.

“It was real to you,” Yelena murmured just barely, her whisper shaky from the tears. Natasha immediately was brought back to when she had so cruelly and insensitively told the blonde that their sisterhood was not real. Natasha reciprocated Yelena’s embrace more strongly, encasing her as well as she could in her grasp as she stroked Yelena’s hair, running her fingers through it.

“It was the realest thing I ever had,” Natasha admitted, her voice breaking just a bit, and she moved her head to press her lips to Yelena’s head as she tried desperately not to cry with her baby sister. They stayed there like that for quite some time, the two of them just holding each other tightly.

Yelena hesitantly pulled away after a long moment, a sniffle resounding in the space between them. Yelena looked away for a moment, trying to pull herself together. However, her legs were still wrapped strongly around Natasha’s waist.

“Your voice is amazing,” Yelena admitted very softly, and Natasha’s eyes widened just a tiny bit. She sheepishly looked down at Yelena’s lap where she was still seated in Natasha’s. She chuckled slightly, feeling a slight swell in her chest even though she was not too sure if she believed the younger woman.

“It’s not great. But thank you,” Natasha expressed, and Yelena shook her head.

“It’s not great. It’s amazing. Didn’t you hear me?” Yelena somewhat scoldingly told her in a no-nonsense tone, despite the fact that the sarcasm was weaker than usual. Natasha laughed a little. While she didn’t believe Yelena’s words entirely, she was really happy to see that Yelena was feeling good enough to challenge her as she always did.

They were quiet for a long moment, and they both just slowly ended up meeting eyes again, the both of them just looking at each other quietly. Natasha could easily tell that Yelena had something that she wanted to say, so the redhead just quietly waited for her to speak. After a moment, Yelena sighed and looked away for a moment as she finally uttering the words that were lingering just below the surface.

“I know it was real to you… I know you’ve said how you’ve felt before, but it’s just—”

“It’s okay. I know. And I understand,” Natasha cut her off, knowing it was hard for Yelena to utter the words, and Yelena’s honey-green eyes shifted to meet her own, conveying her gratitude. Yelena slowly moved closer before touching her forehead to Natasha’s. Natasha leaned into her, bringing her hands up to cup Yelena’s face and stroke her cheeks with her thumbs.

“Ty - vse dlya menya,”1 Yelena confessed softly, her eyes searching Natasha’s carefully with that breathtaking adoration that Natasha honestly could not believe she was lucky enough to receive. Natasha nodded, feeling tears starting to sting at her eyes as she moved her head forward to kiss the tip of Yelena’s nose gently.

“Ty dlya menya vse i dazhe bol'she, sladkaya devushka,”2 Natasha replied quietly, and Yelena’s eyes almost seemed to be glowing with love. The affection in them honestly almost took Natasha’s breath away. It was so beautiful and meant so much to the redhead that it almost did not even seem real.

But it was real. It was so real that it hurt.

Yelena was her sister, and that was the realest thing that Natasha had ever known.

(1) “You’re everything to me.”

(2) “You are everything to me and more, sweet girl.”

#natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #widow sisters #black widow #marvel #angst #hurt/comfort #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #black widow 2021 #black widow fic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fic #angst with happy ending #nightmares

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welllpthisishappening · 8 years ago

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You Play Ball Like a Girl (41/?)

Killian shrugged and Emma felt her hand ghost over the ring underneath her shirt – just out of the phone-camera frame – as she did her best to smile. “Your writing is fantastic no matter what,” he said quickly. “But I like seeing your byline.” “You’re stalking me aren’t you?” she asked. He picked up on the teasing tone of her voice quickly and narrowed his eyes.

“You’ve figured me out, Swan. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. The long con, as it were, just to ensure my continued stalking.”

Living the dream on Ao3 with just, like, an obscene amount of words and tag’ed up on Tumblr from the start. This is so long

“I made the team.”

Emma almost choked on her hot chocolate and gaped at Henry – sitting calmly on the other side of the table.

“What?” “I made the team,” he repeated, a small smile creeping across his face.

“But it’s only the end of January.” “Doesn’t change the facts,” Henry continued. The smile was absolutely enormous now. “Turns out they actually need a right fielder. Like desperately. And apparently they think I can hit, so that helped my cause a bit.” Emma put her cup down, pushing it a few inches away from her so she wouldn’t inadvertently knock it over. “Of course you can hit. Any idiot coach would be able to see that. You spent enough time in the cage.”

“You’re bordering dangerously close to stage-mom territory,” Henry pointed out, raising one eyebrow at her in a move that was so Killian, Emma was certain her heart was about to explode.

“Supportive,” she said. “There’s a difference.” “Of course.”

“So, you going to actually tell me why they’re deciding the team in January?” Emma asked. She couldn’t do the eyebrow thing , but she was fairly confident in her ability to get her sarcasm across. “Or you just going to lord that information over me all day? I paid for your drink kid.” “And, you know, you’re the reason I’m on the team,” Henry added quickly, ducking his eyes.

“That’s not true and you know it.” “Ehhhhh….”

“Tell me what your coach said. And how awesome you are.”

“They had a week of workouts and they went really well. I hit great and I moved ok in the field. So they cut it down to like 20-25 guys and we’ll do winter workouts as a team until the season actually starts in March.” “See, awesome.” Henry shook his head – the smile still plastered across his face – and took a drink of his own hot chocolate. “They didn’t have the best year last season, so they’re hoping to kind of turn things around. If we make a run at a city title, I think I might be able to attract some schools. Maybe some prep stuff, get a scholarship.” “You’ve got it all figured out,” Emma said, pride practically pouring off her.

“I’ve been talking to Killian.” Her eyes widened immediately and she almost choked again. “Really?” Henry shrugged. “I mean, I know he’s not here so he can’t help with practice and stuff like that, but he said he still wanted to make sure I knew he was in my corner or something like that. There were a lot of sports metaphors.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Emma said, shaking her head, ignoring the ding of her phone. It was probably Jefferson. Wanting to film. Again.

Emma couldn’t do anymore videos. She couldn’t . The comments on the last one were bad enough.

“You want to check that?” Henry asked. “It’s been going off like non-stop.” “Not non-stop,” Emma muttered, flipping the phone over as if that would make it stop beeping.

“I really don’t mind. I don’t want you to get in trouble at work.” “I am entitled to my breaks,” Emma said, sounding a bit petulant even to herself. Henry laughed. “And also I’m avoiding my editor.” “The guy who took over for Killian?” Emma nodded. “What’s wrong with him?” Emma made a face – she wasn’t going to complain about work to an 18-year-old that she had just bought hot chocolate. She still had some standards. So, instead of going into detail about Jefferson and his video suggestions and how bad she was at playing horse on camera, Emma waved her hand dismissively and changed the subject completely.

“How’s school going?” she asked.

“What?” “School. You go to school, right?” “I go to school.” “Well, then how’s it going?” “Are you checking up on me?” Emma shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just curious as to what you’re doing other than shagging fly balls in the outfield. So, how’s school going?”

“It’s going fine.” “Fine?”

They had delved into teenage boy territory rather quickly and Henry didn't seem all that interested in talking about life in high school hallways. Emma was nothing if not persistent. She’d dealt with plenty of sources who didn’t want to answer her questions.

So she just changed her approach. “Bet it’s weird being back after last year,” she said.

“Kind of. A lot of my friends had graduated already. That’s why I wanted to make sure I got on the team. Built-in friends, you know.” Emma nodded understandingly and ignored the near-deafening sound of her heart breaking. This kid deserved so much more than what he got. “More homework than usual?” “Nah,” he said quickly. “And I don’t mind some it actually.” “Really? What do you not mind the most?” “History.”

Henry’s face brightened up immediately and Emma shook her hair off her shoulders. She had hit on the right topic. “Yeah? That was David’s major too, you know, when we were in school? He loved that kind of stuff.” “He told me that.” “What's? When?.” “A while ago,” Henry said evasively. “Did he have a favorite part?”

Emma made a face, taken aback slightly. She didn’t have an answer. Or at least not an immediate one. Because she was fairly certain Henry had just lied to her face.

Emma also was never much for history. Or giant textbooks that cost $80 to buy. She didn’t need textbooks for her classes – just a ridiculous amount of notebooks.

“That’s a really good question,” she said. “Ummm maybe the American Revolution? I don’t know, I always kind of tuned out when David would start going on his rants about battles and all of that.” “That’s my favorite too.” “Really?” “Yeah,” Henry nodded enthusiastically. “I actually signed up to take a couple of AP exams later this year – you know, so I could get some credits before college? And one of them is the U.S. history exam. I’m almost even excited to take that one.” “You’re excited to take an exam?” “It’s important Emma,” he said, dragging the words out dramatically. She made a face. “That’s the story of how we all got here.” “That so?” “Ask David,” he added, sounding incredibly sure of himself. “He’ll tell you.” “I have no doubt, but I am not going down that road, kid,” Emma laughed. “I’ve spent half my life listening to David wax poetic on history and I don’t know that I can agree to do it again. Even for you.” Henry laughed loudly, drawing a curious glance from Jerry behind the counter. There weren’t any other customers in Josie’s and the sound of his laughter seemed to ricochet off the walls.

She hadn’t been in the building in a few weeks – a combination of an absurdly busy schedule and the sheer determination to wallow just a little bit.

Emma brought Henry that in the afternoon without a second thought and the sound of him laughing in the middle of the empty coffee shop was enough to make her wonder why she had avoided the hot chocolate so strongly over the last few weeks.

Life went on.

It had to.

“You should ask David about the Revolution,” Emma said. “I bet he’d talk your ear off. Maybe even give you some flashcards he saved from school.” “Wasn’t that 20 years ago?” he asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Rough.”

“I’m mostly kidding.” “It’s the mostly that worries me,” Emma said, making a face and downing the rest of her hot chocolate. “You know Killian’s in Boston too,” she added – the words only making her chest clench slightly . “That place is like chock full of history. Get him to send you a piece of the Freedom Trail or something.” “He does.” “He does what?” “Well he hasn’t actually sent a piece of the Freedom Trail yet, because I’m fairly certain that’s illegal, but he’s sent some pictures of major stuff. You know Faneuil Hall and the state house and even like the inner-workings of Fenway and stuff. That’s the coolest part. He sent me a video of the other day from behind the scoreboard, you know like back behind the Green Monster where they put the numbers up?” “I’m familiar with the Green Monster,” Emma said, unable to hide her smile completely.

“It was awesome,” Henry continued, voice speeding up the way it always did when he talked about baseball. “And, and, he promised that he’d get David Ortiz to sign something for me once spring training starts.” “Didn’t you grow up in New York? What happened to the Yankees and playing right field in the Bronx?” “That’s all still happening,” Henry said quickly and Emma smiled at his maybe – maybe – inadvertent suggestion that he was ready to suit of for the Yankees. “I’m just saying, the inside of Fenway? Super cool.” “I guess it is super cool,” Emma admitted, shrugging dramatically and working a short laugh out of Henry.

“It totally is and you know it.”

Emma sighed and shook her head, unable to completely wipe the smile off her face.

It was cool.

But it was also a whole slew of other emotions that she wasn’t particularly interested in discussing with Henry. Or anyone. Ever.

“Make sure Killian gets something from Mookie Betts too,” Emma added. “Ortiz is great, but you’ve got to make sure you get your own position too. Take advantage of that while you can.”

“I don’t want to make him do too much.” “Nah, it’s spring training,” Emma argued. “And it’s not for a couple of weeks anyway. You know Killian, I’m sure he’s got a whole list of guys he’s going to get signatures from for you.” “You think?” “Absolutely,” she said, not even a note of sarcasm in her voice. She was certain, positive that Killian would do whatever he could to make sure Henry got all the positives of this brand-new job, especially if he couldn’t be there for winter workouts and shagging fly balls at Chelsea Piers.

Henry didn’t look too convinced.

“Ask him,” Emma said, nodding towards Henry jacket hanging on the back of the chair. “I’ll bet you another round of hot chocolate that he’s got an entire list.”

He pressed his lips together, disbelief written across his face and Emma nodded towards his jacket again. Henry sighed and twisted around in his seat, pulling his phone out and tapping quickly across the screen.

It took less than a minute for him to respond.

Emma smiled at that – he always had his phone.

“What’d he say?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the table.

“He’s totally got a list,” Henry said, sounding more than a little awed. “How did you even know that?” Emma shrugged. “Good guess.” He narrowed his eyes at her and Emma knew he didn’t believe her at all. “If you say so,” Henry said. “But I’m not an idiot and I’m not 10 years old either. I know what’s going on.” Emma eyed him – wondering what exactly she had gotten herself in to – and twisted her mouth slightly. “What are you getting at, kid?” “I know you’re upset, Emma.” Her eyes widened and she took a deep breath slowly through her nose, trying to maintain some sense of control in this very out-of-control situation. “We’re not talking about this,” she said quickly, hoping she didn’t sound as angry as she was.

Well, she amended, less angry and more frustrated – and genuinely surprised by how well this kid had read her.

“Why not?” “Because you’re 18 and this so has absolutely nothing to do with you at all.” Henry crossed his arms tightly throwing his phone onto the table – he hadn’t answered Killian – and stared at Emma. “I miss Killian too,” he said evenly and Emma tried to take another deep breath. She failed.

Emma sighed and shook her head slowly. “We’re not talking about this,” she repeated and Henry groaned loudly.

“You told me that I had people now,” he said quickly, voice with a distinct edge that Emma had never heard before. “Well, shouldn’t that work both ways? Shouldn’t you get some people who want to help you too?” “I appreciate that kid, I really do, but this isn’t something we can talk about. We can talk about baseball and autographs and every American Revolution fact you can throw at me, but this is just me, ok?” Henry groaned again, but Emma could see he had given up. “Fine,” he muttered.

“So,” Emma said, trying to defuse some of the tension. “Who’s on the list?”

Henry picked up his phone again and glanced down at the screen, laughing softly to himself. “Looks like the entire Red Sox roster if I’m being honest.” “Of course it is,” Emma said softly, shaking her head and ignoring that stupid thing her heart was doing. Henry grinned at her for a moment before her phone dinged again. Emma’s fingers clenched at the noise – a now almost-immediate reaction to the near-constant texts she was getting from Jefferson.

“You should really answer your text messages,” Henry mumbled and Emma rolled her eyes at him, but flipped her phone over anyway.

She had almost been right – there were eight new messages, six of them were from Jefferson, one was from Ingrid, but the most recent one was from Killian.

Emma was smiling before she even realized it and glanced up to find Henry looking at her expectantly. “I answer my text messages,” Emma said, sounding as much like an 18-year-old as the one in front of her. She didn’t even read any of the eight messages on her phone before looking back at Henry. “Or, you know, I will.” “Yuh huh.” “C’mon kid, I’ll buy you some hot chocolate so you won’t freeze on the train.” “But you were right about the list, that’s not how the bet works.” “You really going to argue your way out of hot chocolate?” Henry’s shoulders sagged, but there was a hint of a smile on the corners of his mouth. “Nah. Not when you’re buying it.” “I am.” “Then I’ll take hot chocolate for the train.

She didn’t answer any of Jefferson’s texts – it wasn’t the most professional thing to do, but it was also her day off and she just couldn’t think about being on camera again in the next few days.

The Knicks weren’t traveling that week – unless you counted two games in Brooklyn, which Emma saw as more of a public-transit nightmare than actual travel – so Jefferson was on full-on, all-video all-the-time mode.

He hadn’t written a single column yet.

Emma wasn’t entirely convinced he actually did any editing. She was fairly positive he handed most of the stories off to Will – if the enormous bags under his eyes that had formed over the last few weeks were any indication.

Gold had been noticeably absent from all of this over the last month – reportedly spending most of his time holed up with Isaac, Sydney and George about the future of The Record – although Emma had heard a few rumors that Milah was making the rounds on the floors week by week. She had spent the last few days in lifestyles and – per Will’s latest round of gossip – was supposed to descend on news come February.

As far as Emma was concerned, she hoped both of the Golds stayed as far away from her desk as possible. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do if she saw Robert Gold in person – probably something stupid like try and punch him – and she had no idea what to do if she met Milah.

Emma would have been content if neither one of them ever stepped on the sports floor, but she wasn’t exactly holding out hope that they wouldn’t.

She was on borrowed time and she knew it.

Her phone dinged again as she walked up the steps to the apartment and noticed it was Ingrid texting, it would seem, in all caps.

STORYBROOKE. NEWS. BIG.

Emma made a face at the lack of proper sentence structure and tapped the call button, pushing the phone against her ear with her shoulder as she leaned down to unlock the door. Ingrid answered before it finished ringing once.

“Look who’s come out of hibernation,” she said and Emma could hear the smile in her voice. “I wasn’t hibernating,” she argued. “I was busy. Like absurdly busy.” “Well, you’re missing out on some seriously breaking news.” “That so?” Emma laughed, sliding her arms out of her coat and tossing her keys on the door side table. “What’s going on?” “Are you sitting down?” “Should I be?”

“You might want to.” “I don’t know whether to be nervous or not.” “Not. Decidedly not. It’s not a bad thing, well, not for us.”

“You’re really selling it,” Emma said, sinking into the far side of the couch. “Alright, so spill, what’s breaking?”

“Cora’s leaving office.” “No!” Emma shouted, sitting up straight and nearly ramming her knee into the coffee table. “What? When? How did this happen?” “I’m glad to see that journalism degree didn’t go to waste,” Ingrid laughed. “You hit all the high-points with your questions.” “Which you didn’t answer.” “It’s very scandalous,” Ingrid continued and Emma did her best to hold in her laugh, determined not to interrupt the story. “Money stolen and insufficient funds to repair the clock tower heading into the annual clock tower repair and something about the cost of Regina’s wedding and the movement of accounts.” “No!” Emma couldn’t stop yelling. “Are you telling me that Storybrooke, like the town itself, paid for Regina’s entire wedding?” “Well, maybe not all of it,” Ingrid said, “but rumor has it a good chunk.” “How did this happen? How did they find out?” “Something about an outside source and someone being slightly jealous of the pomp and circumstance of Regina’s wedding.” “An outside source?” “Ok, are you really sitting down for this?”

Emma nodded, well aware that Ingrid couldn’t see her. “Cora has another daughter.” “Holy shit!’ “Emma!” “Sorry,” she muttered, feeling like she was 18 for the second time that afternoon. “Oh my gosh?” “Better,” Ingrid said. “So, anyway, turns out Cora has another daughter and she’s somewhere out there in the world and very, very angry and also able to start IRS investigations of small-town funds.” “This is the most insane story I have ever heard.” “Is it? Seems about par for the course for Storybrooke.”

“Who’s going to take over?” Emma asked, suddenly. “Like as mayor? Oh God, are they going to stage elections? Can I send in an absentee vote?”

“You can’t.” “Why not?” “Because they’ve already named a new mayor.” “Who?!” “Regina.” “Oh my God,” Emma groaned, sliding down the couch. “For real? How does that even happen?”

“Did you know Regina was working for the town this entire time? Apparently she’s next in line before they do normal elections in November.” “Ok, scratch that, this is the most insane part of the story. Regina was working for Storybrooke the whole time?” “Haven’t you ever wondered what she did for all these years?” “Almost always, but I just figured it was something big and fancy and important. Or her mom gave her money all the time.” “All of those things might still be true.” “What is Mr. Blanchard doing?” Emma asked, pushing her hair back. “He’s got to be a little surprised by all of this.” “You know, I don’t think he is, honestly,” Ingrid said slowly. “I think he’s trying to stay as uninvolved as possible.” “Jeez.” “Exactly that, yeah.”

“I’m glad I sat down.” “I told you you should.”

“Well, thanks for looking out for me,” Emma said. “And for not stealing money from the town of Storybrooke.” “I’ve always done my best to keep up a good example for you and Elsa.” “Job well done.” Ingrid laughed into the phone and Emma leaned against the side of the couch, almost collapsing into the sound. “Thank you for the approval, Emma,” Ingrid said, still laughing as Emma’s eyes closed softly.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You know you’re the best, right?” There was silence on the phone for a moment, but it didn’t take Ingrid long to respond. “Where’d that come from?” “Nowhere special,” Emma replied evasively. If she had been sitting up, she probably would have waved her hands slightly. “I just thought you should know.” “I appreciate that.” “And you did set a good example, by the way, about, well, everything.” Ingrid was silent again and Emma felt her nerves clench in every single one of her muscles. This had sort of come out of left field.

She was making sports puns on her own now.

“I love you, Emma,” Ingrid said, voice full of the kind of sincerity Emma had always wanted when she was a kid. “I just want you to be happy.” “That’s a work in progress.” “He’ll come back,” Ingrid added and Emma’s head jerked slightly.

“What?” “Killian. This isn’t going to last. I’m sure of it.” “It’s not just like some internship, Ingrid. It’s a job. A whole new life.” “Yuh huh.” “You don’t sound convinced.” “That’s because I’m not,” she said, the confidence in her voice shooting through Emma’s entire body like a live wire. “It’s a feeling. Intuition or something.” “Intuition?”

“Or something,” Ingrid repeated. “I just can’t believe that a guy who would come here – before you were even dating – and then drive to Storybrooke on Christmas Eve would just be willing to walk away from you.” “He’s not,” Emma argued quietly. “Not really.” “I know the semantics of it, Emma, but I’m just telling you what I think. I think he’s going to surprise you. He’s going to come back.” Emma sighed. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let herself even think that.

“I know you’re not an optimist, Emma,” Ingrid continued, “but this is different. He doesn’t even want to be doing PR.” “I know that.” “So then I’ll be optimistic for both of us.” Emma made a face and tried not to sigh again – that would have been overdramatic. “Ok,” she said.

“Deal,” Ingrid responded. “I’ll keep you posted on the latest in-town developments.” “I appreciate that,” Emma smiled, curling back into the corner of the couch.

“Call some more, too.” “I can do that.” “And the stories are fantastic. I’m proud of you, Emma.” “I know. And I appreciate that. I’ll call again later this week.” “I’ll hold you to that,” Ingrid said before hanging up the phone.

She fell asleep on the couch. Like she was 800 years old.

Emma woke up with a start and a horrible crick in her neck, jerking up at the sound of her phone blasting through the empty apartment.

She briefly wondered where Mary Margaret was before remembering that she and David were at some sort of police event uptown. No wonder she had fallen asleep on the couch. The apartment was silent except for her phone and the sound seemed even louder because of it.

Emma groaned, twisting her neck until it cracked, and grabbed the offensive machine, practically glaring at it for having the audacity to wake her up.

Killian.

She had never answered the text message – overwhelmed with Storybrooke gossip and Ingrid’s optimism and the ability to sleep just about anywhere.

He was facetiming her. Emma groaned again, but swiped her finger across the screen anyway, rubbing under her eyes with the heel of her hand as she held her phone in the other.

“Hey,” she mumbled and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of her.

“Are you in a cave, Swan?” “What?” she asked, realization dawning on her quickly. The lights were all off. “Oh, yeah, no, no, I’m not. Hold on.”

Emma stood up, dropping the phone on the couch. She heard Killian’s laughter as she jogged towards the other side of the living room and flicked on the light.

“Back,” she said, picking up her phone again and doing her best to smile at the screen. “Sorry about that.” “You were asleep,” he said – a statement not a question. Emma shrugged. He’d know if she was lying. “I can call back if you want.” “No, no, no,” Emma said quickly. “This is fine – good even. I’m glad you called.” One of his eyebrows lifted up and he smirked at her and it wasn’t even fair . She missed him a lot.

“I was worried.” “About?” “You, obviously.” “I’m sorry for not answering, I was doing my best to avoid my phone.” “Why?” he asked and Emma realized it was a different room than the one he’d been staying in. It was bigger. In fact, it was, quite clearly, more than one room.

“Where are you?” Emma asked, ignoring his own question entirely. “That doesn’t look like the hotel.” He’d been staying in a Red Sox-provided hotel room for the last three and a half weeks – overstaying his welcome by several days – as he tried to find some kind of apartment in downtown Boston.

It hadn’t been going well.

Emma told him he was being far too specific – determined to find the perfect apartment in a matter of only a few days – but nothing had been good enough. She hadn’t pointed out that nothing would be good enough because it wasn’t his apartment five blocks away from hers – mostly because she didn’t feel like arguing.

So, the team had given him an extra two weeks in the hotel with the stipulation – demand – that he find somewhere else to live by the end of the month.

It was January 25th.

“Oh,” Killian said quickly, glancing around the room. He looked guilty. “It’s, uh, it’s not the hotel room.”

“Did they kick you out?” “No.” Emma narrowed her eyes, but he didn’t say anything else. “Then where are you?” “An apartment,” he said, looking anywhere except the phone he was holding. “My apartment?” “Was that a question or a statement?” “Statement. It’s mine. Signed the lease this afternoon.” That’s what the text message was all about.

Emma raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth slightly in surprise. “Oh,” she muttered quietly, feeling her lower lip stick out slightly.

“It all happened kind of fast.” “So I can see.” “Yeah, well when you’ve got deadlines looming and all that,” he muttered, the smirk returning to his face and Emma felt some of the disappointment she had been feeling at the look of Killian’s brand-new apartment dissipate.

Some. Not all.

“You love deadlines,” she accused, making a face.

“They’re just an efficient way to get things done.”

“And, look, you did something!” she said, waving one hand in the air in mock-celebration. He laughed, running his hand through his hair.

“You want a tour?” “Sure.”

She didn’t. She wanted him to come home and come back to work and film these stupid videos with her.

Emma didn’t say anything, didn’t point out that the brand-new apartment meant one very specific thing – he was putting down roots in a city that did not include her. Ingrid’s optimistic plan now seemed more improbable than ever.

Killian stood up quickly and turned, phone in hand, towards the back of the room. “So, this is mine,” he said quickly and Emma got the distinct impression he was trying to sound enthusiastic. “Bedroom, window,” Emma laughed at the play-by-play of furniture and heard Killian click his tongue in disapproval. “Closet,” he continued, swinging open the door and Emma saw a small pile of clothes in the corner.

Her clothes.

“Are those my shirts?” she asked, hoping her laughter covered up the way her voice caught in her throat.

“Hmmm?” “My shirts,” Emma repeated, shaking the phone for evidence. “In your closet.” “Where else would they be?”

That brought her up short. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “I just wasn’t expecting them to be in your closet already.” “I’m nothing if not efficient, love.” “So I can see.”

He made some sort of noise in the back of his throat and walked down the hallway towards the living room. “It’s big,” Emma commented, taking in the small phone-provided view of the large area and enormous window that looked out on Boston Harbor.

Emma let out a low whistle and Killian chuckled softly at her reaction. “I figured if I’m going to be in Boston, I might as well do it right. I’ve always kind of wanted to live by the water.” “Your apartment looked at the East River.” “Yeah, but I’m basically living in the ocean now, Swan.” “Is that the ocean?” “Some of it.”

“Huh.”

“Anyway,” Killian continued, turning the phone towards the kitchen off the side of the living room and the enormous island in the middle. It looked a bit overwhelming without anything on it and the granite – was that granite – practically gleamed. “That’s the kitchen.” “I never would have realized.” “Swan.” “Killian.”

He flipped the camera back around and Emma stuttered slightly at the look he shot her, a mixture between amusement, disbelief and – maybe – disappointment. That was when she noticed the small stack of newspapers sitting just behind him in the corner of the kitchen.

“Are you hoarding things already, Cap?” she asked, turning the camera back on herself so he could see her sarcasm. He grimaced at her.

“Swan,” he repeated, drawing the four letters into one ridiculously long sigh. Emma’s face settled into some sort of neutral – and she hoped, innocent – look and shrugged. Killian sighed and shook his head, hand firmly back in his hair. “No, I’m not hoarding. I am buying.” “Buying…” “Newspapers, obviously.” “ Globe ? Herald ?” “ Record .” “What? Really?” Killian nodded slowly and sank onto a seat in the living room – Emma briefly wondered how he already had furniture and then remembered that the entire Red Sox organization was involved and probably made sure he’d signed on to a fully-furnished apartment.

“Really,” he said.

“Why?” “Can’t seem to bring myself not to,” he said softly, like he was admitting to something heinous. “And I’ve been reading your stuff.” “You can do that on the internet.” “It’s better in print.” “My writing is better in print?” Killian shrugged and Emma felt her hand ghost over the ring underneath her shirt – just out of the phone-camera frame – as she did her best to smile. “Your writing is fantastic no matter what,” he said quickly. “But I like seeing your byline.” “You’re stalking me aren’t you?” she asked. He picked up on the teasing tone of her voice quickly and narrowed his eyes.

“You’ve figured me out, Swan. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. The long con, as it were, just to ensure my continued stalking.” “That’s devious.”

“Dastardly.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I can’t come up with anymore adjectives that start with ‘d.’”

“Capped out at two, huh?” “It’s been a long day. And you did wake me up.” “I’m sorry about that Swan, although I am glad you got at least some sleep.” “It’s been getting kind of better.” “Yeah?”

“Kind of.” Emma’s hand was now gripping the ring, pulling the chain out from under her shirt and holding the metal band tightly in her hand. “You been ok?” “Of course, love,” he said quickly. Lie. “I’m always fine.” “Good.” “So,” he said pointedly, turning the conversation from the wallowing Emma was certain it was headed to. She appreciated that. “I’ve noticed something. In my stalking, as it were.” “And what is that?” “The New York Knickerbockers play the Boston Celtics in two weeks.” Emma felt the smile creep across her face and tugged on the chain again. “That’s true,” she confirmed. “Rumor has it they’re actually playing in Boston.” “I’d picked up on that as well.” “Practically an investigative journalist.” Killian made a face and Emma kept smiling. “PR specialist,” he corrected.

“Specialist? Is that a new addition to the title?” “You’re distracting me, Swan. And yes.” Emma twisted her face into something that resembled impressed and raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“It would make my stalking just a bit easier if we were in the same city, love,” he said, eyes flashing up at her. God , she had missed the banter and the flirting. And him . Mostly him. “It would open up my whole schedule.” “Should I be trying to make things easier for my stalker?” “Fair,” he agreed. “But maybe a bit easier for your boyfriend and a guy who loves you a bordering on ridiculous amount?” “That so?”

Emma’s entire body was on fire. Or melting. Or both. It didn’t matter.

“Absolutely,” Killian answered. “I have an apartment now, you see, and you wouldn’t need a hotel. I’m sure Jefferson the new sports editor would love to know he didn’t have to pay for a hotel.” “You want me to tell Jefferson the new sports editor that I’m staying with you instead?” “Why not?” he shrugged. “We’re not breaking any rules now. Not even coming close.” “The office will implode.” “I’m just disappointed I won’t be there to see it.” “No,” Emma objected. “You’ll be in Boston.” “With you. In two weeks.” “So confident,” she muttered, shaking her head. “In you, love, always,” Killian responded easily. “Tell Jefferson whatever you want, Swan, I honestly don’t care. But you’ll be here and I’ll be here and you could spend an extra day here if you wanted.” “You’ve got a plan,” Emma accused.

“I’ve been thinking about this a bit. Stalking rules and whatnot. I’ve got to pine over you non-stop and try to woo you with date ideas in a city you hate.” “I will have to work at least a little bit, you know.” “I don’t doubt that, Swan. But you’d at least be here. I promise to feed you at least once, make sure you get some sleep and kiss you until you can’t see straight.” “That a promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll tell Jefferson not to book the hotel,” she said quietly and it seemed like his entire body relaxed on that tiny phone screen. He looked back up at her, blue eyes meeting hers and smiled so wide that Emma’s breath hitched.

“Good.” “Kathryn’s going to lose her mind.” “I expect a direct play-by-play of the conversation as it happens.” “More like an ambush.”

“I know, love,” Killian laughed softly. “And I’m sorry you’ll have to face that on your own. But if there’s anyone who can deal with Kathryn, it’s you.” “So much misplaced confidence.”

“Someday you’re going to believe me.” “We’ll see.” “Get some sleep, Swan. It’s almost late.” “I’ve been busy,” she argued, trying to maintain some of her pride after falling asleep on the couch.

“I know, love. I know. I’m the one buying all the newspapers after all.” “Stalker,” she said once more, smiling through through the insult. “Oh, hey, tomorrow, remind me to tell you about all the Storybrooke gossip Ingrid updated me on today.” “Granny poison someone?” “Of course not, but it’s just as dramatic.” “You’re a gossip tease, Swan.” “I’m just trying to make sure you come back for tomorrow’s conversation.” He stared at her for a moment, eyes going serious for a second and Emma wondered what she’d said to warrant that kind of look. “You don’t have to ply me with smalltown gossip, Swan. I’d come back no matter what.” Emma felt some kind of rush of something move down from her heart to the pit of her stomach and she bit her lip tightly – mind wandering to Ingrid’s intuition from hours before.

Maybe he would come back.

Or maybe she’d go to Boston in two weeks and have a few days of actual sleep and that would be enough. For now.

“I love you,” she said, whole body practically pulsing with emotion.

“I love you too, Swan. Get some rest.” “I’ve got to film again tomorrow, but I should be done around five-ish.” He nodded once. “I shouldn't be done too much later than that. I’m a proper 9-to-5’iver now, so I’ll call you later.” “Good.”

Emma woke up the next morning with a blanket wrapped over her – courtesy of Mary Margaret, post-date – and Killian’s ring in her hand.

It spread like wildfire.

Emma had taken no less than two steps out of Jefferson’s office – a week after her conversation with Killian – telling him that she didn’t need a room in Boston because she had a friend to stay with, before she felt six different pairs of eyes stare at her in the middle of the sports office.

God .

Will raised his eyebrows as Emma walked back towards her desk and smiled.

“What?” she spat.

“Nothing,” he replied evenly, shrugging slightly. “Nothing at all.” “Yuh huh.” “I haven’t said a single word at all, Emma,” Will continued.

Emma eyed him, one side of her mouth pulled up. “Sure,” she said, walking back to her desk to find Kathryn already standing there. Emma groaned and rolled her head between her shoulders, steeling herself slightly.

Her hand tugged on the chain quickly and she pushed the ring back under her shirt quickly – that was a conversation she certainly didn’t want to have with anyone on The New York Record payroll.

“How did you get down here so fast?” Emma asked, ignoring Kathryn’s wide-eyed stare and sliding into her chair.

“James sent several people messages. He can hear just about everything that goes on in that office since his desk is only a few feet away.” Emma shut her eyes softly and shook her head. Of course. Her phone made a nose and Emma glanced down at the screen, reading the teased message there.

Deep breaths, Swan. Tell Kathryn to stick her nose….

She smiled again – Will must have texted him. Figured.

“So,” Emma continued, sighing over the two letters. “You’re getting your information from James now? No more Walsh updates?” Kathryn stared at her – something flashing in her eyes and Emma actually thought it was frustration – before answering. “I’m just talking to my friends, Emma.” “Of course.” “And I hear you’re going to be staying with one of your friends when you go to Boston next week.”

“You’re going to have to explain how that is any of your business.”

“I knew it!” Kathryn yelled, making Emma jump slightly. “I knew it! I knew you were dating him! This whole time.” “Congratulations,” Emma spit out, venom in her voice. She could feel the anger pulsing in all four of her limbs and wouldn’t have been surprised if there had actually been sparks shooting out of her fingers.

“How long?” “Going to need a few more words.” “How long have you been dating?” Emma groaned, but didn’t tell Kathryn to shut up. She didn’t disagree or argue or do anything except shake her head slowly. This was going to end now, absurd gossip be damned.

“A couple of months,” Emma said.

“So you were together at the party then? When I asked you?” Emma nodded and Kathryn screamed again, hands clapped dramatically over her face. “What is your deal?” Emma hissed. “This is not that exciting, I promise. It doesn’t even involve you. I don’t understand everyone’s fascination.” “It is a big deal, Emma! Killian was a big deal.” Emma tried not to roll her eyes again and Kathryn continued, hands moving quickly in front of her. “You’re going to stay with him in Boston?”

“Isn’t that obvious? I mean, that’s why you’re down here right?” “I’d really love to hear it straight from you.”

“Yes,” Emma said suddenly, surprising herself a bit. “I am. I am staying at Killian’s apartment and we’ve been dating for months and everyone at this entire stupid newspaper can talk about it now. I honestly don’t care anymore.” Kathryn made a face, stunned silent by Emma’s rather emotional declaration. “Emma,” she said slowly. “I can’t believe you.”

“Why?” “After all those months of asking and knowing – you two weren’t exactly doing a very good job hiding anything, long stares across the sports floor and disappearing to God knows where for that one weekend.” “Maine,” Emma interjected quickly.

Kathryn shook her head dismissively. “You kept telling me nothing was going on! And everything was going on!” “I’m going to repeat myself one more time here,” Emma said slowly. “That wasn’t any of your business. It’s barely any of your business now, but things are different now. Talk about it, don’t talk about it. Like I said, I don’t care what the rest of this paper does. I’m happy. Killian’s happy. That’s all there is to it.”

Emma huffed and stared at Kathryn, waiting for some kind of witty retort. It never came. Instead, Kathryn just looked a little stunned.

“Look at you,” she muttered.

“Look at me what?” “All defensive about your relationship.” “I’m not defensive,” Emma groaned. “You’ve finally got your story now Kathryn. Go tell everyone who’ll listen, I’m sure you’re dying to.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m dying . I don’t know, it’s not quite as interesting now that there’s no scandal involved. It’s not like he’s your boss anymore.”

Emma laughed sardonically, shaking her head in disbelief. Of course. They weren’t news anymore.

At least not to Kathryn.

Apparently living in two different cities and dealing with new owners and ex-love interests and all those pesky emotions wasn’t interesting enough.

Everyone knew now and not many people cared.

“Are you done now, Kathryn?” Emma asked, not even caring what she sounded like. “Because I’ve actually got some work to do and media availabilities to get to. So if we’re finished talking about my relationship, I’d like to get back to that.” “Sure,” Kathryn said quickly, glancing around the office floor – likely looking for the next gossip tidbit to pick up – before she walked away from Emma’s desk without another word.

Emma rolled her eyes again and leaned forward to grab her phone, swiping open the message and reading the rest of it.

Deep breaths, Swan. Tell Kathryn to stick her nose where it actually belongs. And find something more interesting to talk about than us .

She smiled at her phone and started typing back quickly.

Turns out we’re not all that interesting anymore . Her phone dinged back almost immediately.

That so , he wrote, What changed? You’re not my boss anymore. There’s no scandal. No scandal means no gossip.

I have to admit I’m a little disappointed.

Of course you are. Because you didn’t have to deal with it.

Her phone rang two seconds later. “Hey,” Emma muttered.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with it, Swan.” “I told you, I didn’t really. They don’t seem to care much, honestly. I think everyone knew already. Even Jefferson didn’t seem particularly surprised when I told him that I didn’t need a hotel.” “What did you tell him exactly?” Killian laughed.

“That I was staying with a friend.”

He laughed again, the sound of it making Emma smile before she could think about it. She leaned back against her chair and pulled her hair over her shoulder, making sure it didn’t get caught in the chain around her neck.

“I was trying to make sure I didn’t start some sort of gossip hailstorm,” she said quickly. “I didn’t realize no one would care.”

“I care,” he answered, still laughing slightly. “For whatever that’s worth.” “Eh...it’s enough,” Emma teased and – not for the first time – she wished he was back there, leaning on her desk and smirking at her.

“At least tell me that you told Jefferson you were staying with an important friend.” Emma groaned. “I’d even settle for one of your best friends, Swan, if we’re going to go with titles like that.” “First of all, you’ll have to fight M’s for that title. And, second of all, we both know that I only said that to make things less awkward. Jefferson one hundred percent knew that I was talking about you.”

“I appreciate the effort to make things as not-awkward as possible, love. But we both know that Mary Margaret would win that duel every single time.” “True,” Emma admitted. “Although I think you’d make a valiant effort.” “Good to know.” “So you’re really ok with this?” “This being?” “Everyone knowing that I’m staying in your apartment next weekend.” “It was my idea, Swan,” he pointed out. “I’m just double checking.” “No need, love,” Killian said. “It was my idea and, like you said, I don’t think we were really fooling that many people.” “Not so great at the whole under the radar thing.” “Eh, it’s the thought that counts.” “I’m not sure if that sentiment really works in this particular situation.” “It’s the thought that counts,” he repeated, drawing a laugh out of Emma.

“I’ll give you that one,” she admitted. “But only because you’re my friend.” “That’s all I ask.”

“Hey, did you happen to look at a calendar next week?” Emma asked.

“What about it?” “It’s Valentine’s Day.” “Yuh huh.” “And that’s something you were aware of?” “I was, but I kind of figured…” he trailed off, and Emma knew exactly what he was going to say. She wouldn’t care. She didn’t. Really. Just the irony of spending her first weekend in Boston since her time at the house landing on Valentine’s Day weekend with her brand-new boyfriend wasn’t lost on her. At all.

“No, you’re right,” she added quickly. “I was just pointing out. I’m going to be M’s and David’s third wheel on Friday night.” “I highly doubt that’s what they’re considering it.” “Happens every year. We do a thing the night before Valentine’s Day and they do their own thing on the actual holiday or whatever it is.” “You are chock-full of tradition, Swan.” She almost told him that she wished she could include him in all of these ridiculous friendship traditions, but she didn’t because that would require her to actually talk about things like that and Emma had done more than enough of that for one afternoon.

“I’ve got to go to go to availability,” Emma said instead, grabbing a pen and forcing it into her ponytail. “I’ll talk to you later?” “Of course. I was supposed to be in a meeting three minutes ago, so I should probably show up.” “The professionalism is astounding.” “It was my meeting, love. They can’t do anything until I’m there anyway.” “Good to see the ego hasn’t taken a hit since the move.” “Never.”

“Bye, Killian.” “Bye, Swan.”

Mary Margaret looked gorgeous .

Emma would have argued that this was always the case, but in this particular instance, it almost seemed a bit superfluous. Because her best friend looked perfect.

Something was going on.

“Aren’t we just going to dinner?” Emma asked, gaping at Mary Margaret in the mirror before glancing down self consciously at her own dress. She wasn’t meeting the apparent dress code of the evening.

“David just told me to look ‘nice,’” Mary Margaret shrugged. “Whatever that means.” Something was definitely going on.

“He didn’t say why?” Emma asked, tugging a bit on the waistline of her outfit. Mary Margaret shook her head. “Do you think I should maybe bow out?”

Mary Margaret looked stunned, spinning around to look at Emma and crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Why would you do that?” “You look fantastic,” Emma said, as if that completely explained everything that was going on in her mind.

“Thanks. So do you.” “Nuh uh. You are like other level right now. Like straight up Her Royal Highness Mary Margaret of Storybrooke, status.” “Where exactly are you going with this?” “I have a few suspicions,” Emma said warily.

“Such as?” “Where’s David?” “You’re suspicious of David?” “Maybe. That didn’t answer my question.” “He’s in the living room.” Emma didn’t say anything else, didn’t even acknowledge Mary Margaret’s answer before turning on her heels and walking down the hallway.

David was, in fact, sitting in the living room, slumped in the corner of the couch a vaguely nervous look on his face. He looked like he was going to be sick. Emma dropped down next to him, resting her still-bare feet on the edge of the coffee table and flicking his arm. He jumped and shot Emma a glare.

“What’s going on?” Emma asked pointedly.

David just actually looked green. “Nothing,” he said quickly.

“You’re a very overdressed liar. Why didn’t you tell me to dress up?” “You are dressed up.”

“Not like M’s.” “Yeah?” Emma nodded and smiled at the slight crack in David’s voice. She hadn’t heard that in years – not since he came to pick Mary Margaret up for prom and was terrified because Mr. Blanchard had made him promise to be home by midnight.

“I told her she looked like a princess.”

“That is awfully sentimental for you, Emma,” David laughed, turning his head towards her and smiling. He looked a little less nauseous now.

“More honest than anything,” Emma shrugged. “Something I know for a fact that you aren’t being.” “I hate that lie detector test you have.” “You love it. You wish it worked for the New York Police Department.” “And have Mary Margaret worry about you too? Absolutely not.” “I know you’ve got a plan.” “And what if I do?” Emma looked at him, raising her eyebrows in silent question. “Because maybe I do,” David added.

Emma smiled, trying to settle into the role of supportive friend as she ignored the ball of anxiety she could feel forming in the pit of stomach – and maybe right in the middle of her heart. “I kind of figured you had a plan,” she said. “And you’re sure you want me to be part of that plan?” “Why wouldn’t I?” “Seems like the epitome of third wheel.” “You’ve never once been that Emma and you know it.”

Emma sighed and shook her head. “I’m only going to come if you want me there.” “I do. And so would Mary Margaret. You know, once she realizes, what’s going on.” “Don’t do something stupid like put it in the dessert or anything ok?” “I promise not to put the ring in the dessert,” David promised. “If only because my mother would kill me. It is an antique after all.” “Of course.”

David smiled at her – he didn’t even look remotely nervous anymore. “I’m going to let Mary Margaret know we’ve got to go. We’ll miss our reservation otherwise.” “Sure.”

Emma watched him walk away and took a deep breath, wondering exactly how she was going to do this. Everything was going to change and – out of all the things she hated – Emma hated change the most.

David was going to propose to Mary Margaret.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #ypblag #this is....so long #oh my god #i am so sorry internet #there are so many words here

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topfygad · 5 years ago

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Learn to Surf. Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica.

The first time I was traveling in Costa Rica I rented a surf board on the beach of Tamarindo determined to learn to surf, with absolutely no prior experience. There was no knowledgeable instructor in sight, just me, my board and a bucket list goal that needed to be conquered. The reality of what happened that day was a little less than inspirational. The result was swallowing ridiculous amounts of water, lemon sized bruises on my hip bones and pure exhaustion after an hour of attempting to stand for a mere half second.

Epic fail.

So, it was truly appropriate that the very next time I traveled to Costa Rica that I would learn to surf, the right way. With a proper lesson. Taught by a hot surfer boy.

While spending the week perfecting my downward dog at Blue Osa Yoga Retreat in the Osa Peninsula, there was an opportunity for an afternoon ‘learn to surf’ excursion.

Yoga will have to temporarily be put on hold. I smell redemption.

Just a half hour ride from the retreat was our surfing spot, Playa Pandulce. When we arrived, there were only a few other surfers and the waves seemed mellowly manageable, even for a clumsy novice like myself.

We were greeted by Pollo, from Pollo Surf School, our trusty instructor with sun-bleached hair and a wicked tan. He fit the part. Our lesson immediately started on the sand as he taught us the three step approach to riding a wave.

Step 1, lay on your board in a position similar to yoga’s cobra, put your dominate hand forward and lift yourself up into a modified downward dog position. Step 2, plant your back foot and exchange your front foot with the hand that was there. Step 3, stand up keeping your feet and arms perpendicular to the board. At this point you should look like you’re loosely doing a version of warrior. Every step of this lesson seemed to remind me of yoga pose, this was probably subconscious since I was playing hooky from my daily yoga class to learn to surf.

Most importantly, don’t fall.

Sounds easy enough, for someone who actually has coordination. Not me. Certainly this had to even be easier for the beach pooches who seemed to be watching my lesson in disappointment. Were they shaking their heads at me? I practiced the moves a couple dozen times on the beach before even taking to the water, I didn’t want a repeat of my first ‘learn to surf’ experience.

Besides, It took time for my body to keep catch up with my brain.

Finally, we were ready to take to the ocean. Heading towards the Costa Rican beach with our boards in hand, the water was calm with small waves, which our instructor said was perfect to learn to surf. We paddled out far enough to catch a wave, but close enough where Pollo could still touch the bottom in order to properly instruct.

He held my board with me facing the shore.

When the wave approached, just before it was underneath me, he pushed the board to help me along. Though I quickly tried to execute what I had just learned ten minutes prior, my first wave was a total bust. As soon as he pushed me, me and my board tipped over. I quietly started to get worried that I wouldn’t even be able to stand up for a second, but Pollo must have seen the concerned look on my face and told me not to be concerned, just to take my time.

The second wave: up for half a second. I needed to be quicker popping up.

The third attempt: up for a second and a half. I needed to bend my legs more.

It was already time for a short break, surfing was very hard work.

I laid on my floating board for a five minute breath-catching pause and let the waves crash over me, until I was ready to try again. My mind gave myself a pep talk, “Come on Annette, get it together, you can do this”.

The fourth & fifth try: On both tries I stood up, rode the wave and took it almost to the shore.

It was like a Rip Curl commercial.

Okay, maybe not quite, but every wave after that didn’t matter because I had just officially surfed and it turned out to be a great addition to my list of the top things to do before you die.

After about a dozen times, with successes and failures, my body was too tired to carry on. There were five adventurous (& totally awesome) ladies in this class, including two other fabulous travel bloggers: Angie from Angie Away and Camille from This American Girl…and EVERY ONE OF US was able to catch a wave.

We totally rock.

Of course, as with many adventures that include myself, there had to be a small injury involved. As I was walking my surf board toward land, triumphant, I kneed a large stone underwater.

Brilliant.

. . . Check it Off Your Bucket List . . .

Location/Facts:

Costa Rica is a Central American country bordered by Panama and Nicaragua, plus the coasts of the Caribbean and Pacific. The Osa Peninsula is the rugged southwestern headland that has the Pacific Ocean to the west and Golfo Dulce to the east. It is a primitive haven of about five thousand where the rain forests are pristine, many of the streets are unnamed and white-faced capuchins swing in the trees.

Getting There:

The Osa Peninsula can be reached by plane via Costa Rica’s capital city of San José, The daily flights to Puerto Jimenez airport takes roughly 45 minutes. My flight was with Nature Air (www.natureair.com) who is known as the world’s first carbon neutral airline, reducing their carbon footprint to zero. Alternatively, you can fly with Sansa Air (www.flysansa.com). It is also possible to drive from San Jose, by renting a car with Solid Car Rental (www.solidcarrental.com), the trip would take about 6-8 hours. Taking a bus can be tricky if you speak absolutely no Spanish and are not an experienced traveler, but it can be done. Transportes Blanco Lobo offers a daily bus service from San Jose to Puerto Jimenez, the main town in the Osa Peninsula. The cost is currently $13 and departs from the intersection of Calle 12 and Avenidas 7/9 Blanco Lobo Station at 8:00am and 12:00pm (tel. 2257-4121).

Language(s):

Spanish is the official language, though English is widely understood.

Currency:

Costa Rican colón, US dollars are widely accepted.

Electricity:

Plug Type A/B, 120v. Most outlets are the same as the two-prong American-style, though some will not include a spot for the third prong. So your 3-prong devices may need an adapter, though you shouldn’t need a converter.

When to Go:

The Osa Peninsula consistently sees average daytime temperatures between the high 70s to low 80s throughout the year, though there are two seasons; dry and wet. The ideal time to visit is during the dry season (mid-November to late April) when the rainfall is very limited. Though this time is also the peak tourist season, the Osa Peninsula doesn’t draw the same crowds as the mainland, so you will still be able to enjoy lounging on the nearly empty beaches and hiking barren rain forests. Wet season is from May to mid-November, and during the peak months (September and October) the rainfall may prevent you from traveling to the more remote parts of the area, especially when the potholed dirt roads become challenging even for the most rugged sports utility vehicle. If you are looking for a bit of a bargain, traveling off-season in early May or November may be your best bet. The rains will have just started or ended during these months and retreats may offer discounted rates.

How to Visit/Planning:

Surfing lessons are offered as an excursion at many of the hotels and resorts, or you can book directly through Pollo Surf School.

Getting Around:

The Osa Peninsula is a remote location and has very limited transportation choices while there. Some hotels will provide shuttle service from the Puerto Jimenez airstrip to the lodging and excursion operators will offer pick-up/drop-off services (fees may apply). Between spending time at the retreat and the extra tours your time should be pretty well filled up. But, if you have an interest in exploring on your own it will require either renting a car, hiring a driver or catching a ride in one of the few taxis.

Where to Stay:

If you’re visiting the Osa Peninsula on a very special ocassion spend the night in Drakes Bay stay at the luxury eco-resort Copa de Arbol Beach and Rainforest Resort set amongst the tropical rainforest (from $633). For something a little more reasonably priced and still very nice try Iguana Lodge (from $92). If you need a night in San Jose before catching your early flight home, try Adventure Inn (from $94) who includes an all-you-can-eat breakfast and a free shuttle to the SJO International airport. If you want to do a little exploring in the city, enjoy a night at the historic Grano del Oro (from $167) or Aranjuez Hotel (from $46), just a short walk from the city center.

Where to Eat:

Head to the coastal town of Puerto Jimenez and indulge in the ceviche at the oceanfront Marisqueria Corcovado (https://ift.tt/2W0isvE). Or opt for a taste of Italy with a thin-crust, wood-fired pie at PizzaMail.it (piazza central; 506 2735 5483). For a special treat head north to Drake’s Bay for a meal of fish tacos and tuna at Gringo Curt’s Seafood (Agujitas de Drake;506 6198 5899). If you spend extra days in San Jose try Ram Luna (https://ift.tt/3az8lTx) for Tierra Tica (Typical Night) where every Wednesday and Thursday evening you can not only eat traditional casado, but also listen to marimba music and see authentic Costa Rican folk dancing.

Nearby Must-Dos:

Spend a few hours meeting the inhabitants at the Osa Wildlife Sanctuary (osawildlife.org), a center focused on rehabilitation. There will be opportunities for have contact with the animals, whether it be feeding a sloth playing with a monkey or petting a porcupine.

Take a tour through a traditional cacao plantation at Finca Kobo (fincakobo.com; $32). See the different species and taste the fresh fruit from a chocolate tree.

Hike amongst the monkeys and toucans at Corcovado National Park (corcovadoguide.com). With over 100,000 acres of tropical rain forest there are many picturesque trails to choose from.

Take a guided kayaking tour through the Mangroves with Aventuras Tropicales (aventurastropicales.com; $45). The paddle will take you through the Preciosa Platanares Wildlife Refuge to learn about the ecosystem through your experiences with nature.

Essential Information:

Americans are not required to get a visa to enter Costa Rica, though they do need one upon exit. It can be purchased at the airport and the cost is $26 per traveler.

If you only learn a few Spanish words before you go, make sure that two of them are “pura vida”, as it is worked into almost every paragraph, if not sentence. This literally translates to “pure life”, but it goes beyond this definition. It is really a way of life in the Costa Rican culture, encompassing a mindset of not sweating the small stuff, letting go of what you cannot control and understanding there are many people in worse positions than yourself.

The Osa Peninsula is a rural area, so don’t expect to be able to get your morning triple shot latte at Starbucks — this is part of the charm.

If you rent a car, be cautious while driving because the dirt roads can be filled with potholes and there are virtually no street signs.

Packing Tips:

If you forget anything, make sure it is not bug repellant! The tropical, humid climate attracts many little pesky bugs that would love to eat you for dinner.

Costa Rica is another country where the strength of the sun can be deceiving, so bring lots of sunscreen.

Helpful Websites:

Costa Rica Experts (https://ift.tt/1k59qGa); Go Visit Costa Rica (https://ift.tt/1awnmmD); Book Yoga Retreats (https://ift.tt/1cFIt7O)