#csss2020

[phiralovesloki]

Rose-Tinted Glasses

Summary: Killian Jones seems to hate Emma Swan, no matter what she says or does. It's a good thing that this New Year's Eve weekend getaway they're on will involve a bunch of their friends to serve as a buffer. Wouldn't it be terrible if there were to be some kind of a snowstorm, keeping them trapped in a cabin together while none of their friends are able to make it? Rating: T Notes: A very, very, very belated @cssecretsanta2020​ gift for @gingerchangeling​, who deserves, like ... a THOUSAND roses for being so chill and patient because it took me four and a half extra months to finish her gift. Happy belated winter holidays, friend, and I hope that your 2021 is going as well as possible. You let me do whatever I wanted for your gift, which did help a lot to help me write my first fic in ... two and a half years ... so I hope that you enjoy it <3 And thank you to @lifeinahole27​ for the support and writing help!

AO3

The trip had stemmed from what Emma considered the most misleading pitch of all time.

“It’ll be a lot of people!” Mary Margaret had said excitedly. “And of course some hot guys for you to choose from. Just one weekend of drunken debauchery to ring in the new year!”

Emma had understood “a lot of people” to mean, you know … a lot of people. It wasn’t until after she had sent over her share of the deposit for the cabin in Vermont that she’d learned that a lot of people had meant eight people: herself, Mary Margaret, David, Ruby, Belle, Killian (of course), Mary Margaret’s coworker Graham, and some friend of David’s named Kris who Emma had never heard of but who had a girlfriend anyway. 

This wasn’t going to be drunken debauchery. It was obviously a ploy for Mary Margaret to set her up with Graham, which she’d been trying to do for a few months now. And what better way to do that than to invite Emma to a boozy weekend getaway with one lone eligible bachelor to hook up with.

But she’d already paid the deposit, and since things with Walsh had ended last month, she’d been feeling claustrophobic in the city anyway. She could always just sit in front of a nice warm fire with a cup of hot cocoa and turn in early when Mary Margaret, David, Ruby, and Belle all inevitably disappeared.

And so she’d tried to relax over it, even accepting Mary Margaret’s request to pick up groceries for the weekend (“We’ll make sure everyone pays you back, and we’ll bring the booze!”). It would be fine. Just one weekend. Next year’s New Year’s Eve, she’d make sure to take charge and pick better plans.

But her dread rose as she left her apartment, and big fat snowflakes dropped onto her windshield. The weather did nothing but get worse and worse as she approached her destination, turning quickly into a nearly blinding, slippery blizzard.

Finally, she arrived. Her car barely made it to the end of the long, winding private drive; just thirty minutes later, and she’d have been snowed in by the side of the road. There was only one other car there. And just her luck, it wasn’t David’s car, or Ruby’s. And it wasn’t an unfamiliar one either.

It was the car belonging to Killian goddamn Jones, who was standing under the eaves of the house, desperately searching for the key.

Most misleading pitch of all time.

----------

“Well, they’re not coming,” Emma sighed, resisting the urge to slam the phone down.

“I should say that’s bloody obvious,” Killian sneered. And now the urge became wishing to throw the phone into his face.

“You know—” She cut herself off. What was there to say? Ten years of experience had taught her that there was nothing she could say that would improve the situation. It was an immutable fact that Killian Jones hated her guts, and she was powerless to change it.

And equally powerless to escape. She’d known as soon as she’d pulled up to the cabin that she wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, and in the time that it had taken them to call their friends and see what was going on, the snow had somehow gotten worse. Even if the roads were passable, which they weren’t, both her car and Killian’s were already disappearing underneath the falling snow.

“She’s going to text me. Mary Margaret,” Emma clarified. “Hopefully it’ll go through.”

“Text you what? A teleportation device to bring us back to Boston?”

“The number for a plow.” There was no use searching for one themselves. Naturally, the situation had gotten even worse as they’d discovered there was zero cell service in or around the cabin. They were stuck relying on the ancient rotary phone in the cabin’s kitchen. At least the cabin’s owners had thought to include a pad of paper and a pen next to it, to jot things down like the number for a plow, but it hardly made up for it.

“And how long will this take?”

“I don’t know.” It took everything in her to keep her reply neutral.

He opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say, and just shook his head. “Well, I suppose we’re stuck here.”

“Looks like it.”

“When will this godforsaken storm end anyway?”

“I don’t know.” This time, she couldn’t stop the annoyance from creeping into her voice. And as expected, Killian picked up on it.

“There’s no need to snap at me,” he said hotly. “I’m just as unhappy with the situation as you are.”

“I’m not Google search, okay? I don’t know anything that you don’t, and I can’t look anything up.”

He held up his hand and prosthesis defensively, and rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse me then, didn’t mean to offend.”

“Look—”

“I’m going to go check out the rooms,” he said, cutting her off. “Might as well get my pick.”

“Wait!” But as he stalked upstairs to the bedrooms, the phone rang. She was trapped--in Vermont, in this cabin, next to this phone that was older than she was. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Mary Margaret. “I’ve got a number for you, are you ready to write it down?”

“Yeah, hit me.”

Mary Margaret rattled off the number. “The owners said that this guy was pretty reliable, although they did warn me that he’s in high demand. So you might have to wait.”

“Perfect,” Emma muttered.

“You holding up okay?”

“How do you think I’m holding up?”

“At least you’ve got groceries?” Mary Margaret replied weakly.

“But you were supposed to bring the alcohol, and that’s what I could really use right now.”

“I know. Look, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you as soon as possible, I promise. Just try not to kill each other, and as soon as you get home, I’ll take you out for drinks as an apology.”

“Thank you.”

“Can you get texts or emails at all? Or should I just call here to check on you?”

“You’ll have to call. We’re really in a dead zone here. Oh, wait, do you know anything about the forecast?”

“Give me a sec … uh … oh no.”

“Oh no?” That was a bad sign.

“It looks like it’s going to let up a little bit tonight but there’s more snow in the forecast tomorrow night.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I wish. Oh, Emma, I’m so sorry. I really am. If I could fix it—”

“I know, I know.” She let out a heavy sigh. Berating her best friend wasn’t going to solve any problems, and it wasn’t going to make her feel better either. What she really needed was to ignore everything for an hour or two, find a distraction, and just forget that her New Year’s plans were definitely and unavoidably a disaster.

“Okay,” she said, taking in a deep breath. “I’m going to call this guy right now and see when I can get out of here. And then I’m going to put my stuff in a room and try to find something to do.”

“Call me, okay? Even if it’s just to talk.”

“I will. And I’ll keep you updated.”

“Good.”

But of course, there wasn’t much good news to report back, either to Mary Margaret or to Killian. Emma trudged sullenly up the stairs with her bag, peering into the rooms until she found one with Killian in it. He sat upon the bed, legs and arms crossed, staring into space with an angry expression on his face. “Please tell me that our freedom is imminent,” he said, still not looking at her.

“Nope,” she said curtly. “The guy who can plow the drive for us can’t come until Sunday morning at the earliest.”

“Surely he can come sooner.”

“He’s booked solid overnight and tomorrow, so no, he can’t.”

“With what we’re paying—”

“I think he’s okay with frustrating a couple of one-time tourists as long as his regular customers are happy,” she cut him off. “And as long as we’re able to leave on Monday, the hosts aren’t going to care that we’re stuck. They’re not—” She stopped herself before she could say that the hosts weren’t going to care if the people stuck here hated each other.

“I’m going to pick a room,” she announced, before he could demand that she finish her sentence. “Then I’m going to make something to eat.”

“Thank you so very much for your schedule,” he drawled.

Thinking better of replying, she stomped down the hall.

Killian stayed in his room for much longer, finally coming back downstairs while she was in the middle of making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Don’t tell me this is all we have.”

“It’s not, but you’re welcome for bringing food.”

“There were supposed to be eight of us,” he said, as though she didn’t know. “Surely there must have been plans to make something more substantial for dinner.”

“It’s all in the fridge or the cabinets to the left,” she replied, refusing to look up from spreading peanut butter. “Have at it.”

She heard him putter around, opening the fridge and cabinets, as she finished up. But as she maneuvered around him to put the jelly back in the fridge, he stopped her, holding up a plastic sandwich bag. “What?”

“For your sandwich.”

“I’m going to eat it,” she said, confused.

He let out a frustrated breath through his nose. “You can eat it for lunch tomorrow. I’m going to make us some actual food.”

“I didn’t ask you to cook.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Look—”

“Just--will you stop being so difficult for five minutes?” he snapped. “You brought all this food, and I’m not going to eat a bloody sandwich for dinner like a college student, so you might as well reap the benefits of having an adult cook something.”

“An adult?”

“You can’t pretend that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is something adults eat for dinner.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were an expert on adulthood,” she spat. “I guess I should take some remedial night classes in being an adult.”

“Just take the bag and—”

“Excuse me, I need to go eat my sandwich.” She shouldered him out of the way to get to the fridge before grabbing her plate and all but running back upstairs to her room. It felt a little like admitting defeat, but the day had been too exhausting for her to eat defiantly at the dining room table with Killian watching.

In the end, it was a hollow victory. There was nothing to do in her tiny room; her phone was as useless as a brick, and she hadn’t thought to bring anything else to do, having expected to have fun with other people all weekend. Worse, the scent of burgers wafted up the stairs from the kitchen, taunting her. If she had just sucked it up and let Killian’s insults slide off of her, she could be eating a burger. But now, how could she? It would be embarrassing.

She finally gave up around seven o’clock, resolving to go downstairs and call Mary Margaret with an update. It was a good enough pretense, and then maybe she could see if there was anything to do to resolve her boredom.

The snow was letting up a bit when she glanced outside, but if the forecast Mary Margaret had seen was accurate, there was more to come. And the weather had already done plenty of work to keep her stuck here; she couldn’t see her car at all, and she could only see the mirrors of Killian’s SUV poking out of a massive snowdrift. Escaping this hellhole was going to be brutal.

Her call with Mary Margaret was short, with nothing much to say besides the fact that the snow was as bad as they’d feared. Meanwhile, it was excruciating being in the kitchen, smelling the dinner Killian had made for himself. He’d cleaned up already--she spotted the pan and utensils in the drying rack beside the sink--but it still smelled like burgers. Her stomach rumbled traitorously, reminding her that one of the reasons why having a sandwich for dinner was meant to be a last resort.

She followed the faint sound of a TV to the living room at the other end of the house; Killian was watching some old black and white movie on an old set. He’d eaten dinner here; his empty plate was on the coffee table in front of him. He didn’t turn around, but he’d clearly heard her approach. “There’s leftover salad in the fridge.”

She ignored the offer. “What are you watching?”

“Haven’t the foggiest, but it was either this or one of those questionable paperbacks.” He pointed to a small bookshelf hiding in a corner of the room.

“This is the only channel?”

“All local access.”

“With how much we paid for this place, you’d think they could have sprung for cable and internet.”

“Aye, it’s a little frustrating. Especially with the lack of cell phone service. Were there truly no reviews pointing that out?”

“I don’t know, Mary Margaret picked the place out.” She glanced around the room. If you ignored the lack of post-1995 technology, the place wasn’t so bad. Killian was stretched out on a massive couch, and there were cozy-looking chairs to round out the sitting area. The TV itself was set off a bit to the side, leaving the large brick fireplace as the main centerpiece. The lamps lighting the room looked like antiques, but they gave off just the right amount of light for the space. The most modern decor in the room were the wide curtains that covered an entire wall of windows.

“You can sit, you know.”

And do what? Watch an unidentified old movie with someone she didn’t like? “I’m good,” she said, heading over to the bookshelf and grabbing a title without looking. “I guess I’ll get some reading done.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied gruffly, and she scurried back upstairs to her tiny room.

The book wasn’t exactly award-winning literature, but it wasn’t terrible. Or at least, she was sure it was better than whatever Killian was subjecting himself to on the TV. She managed to get fifty pages in before she needed to give her brain a break. When she finished showering, brushing her teeth, and taking out her contacts, the buzz from the TV downstairs was still going.

What was she going to do, exactly? Wish him a good night? Not worth it. And so she curled up in her bed, set her alarm--the only thing her phone was good for anymore--and hoped that sleep would overtake her as quickly as possible.

----------

The next morning, the snowfall was much lighter, but the damage was breathtaking.

Well, damage in the figurative sense. Emma was pretty sure her car was fine under all that snow. At worst, the battery was dead, but she had jumper cables and there was no way Killian would be cruel enough to strand her here.

But there was so much snow.

So much snow.

Emma had lived in places with snowy winters almost her entire life. She’d started out in Maine, then spent some time in Minnesota, and except for short stints in Portland and Tallahassee, the rest of her life had been spent in and around Boston. But this amount of snow made every other storm she’d seen look like a pitiful dusting.

The cars were completely invisible underneath the snow, the only hints that anything lay beneath being the slight hills that had formed in the otherwise smooth snow. Last night, she could at least see some of Killian’s car, but now she had to rely on her memory to know where it was.

The very first thing she did was rush to the phone, leaving a panicked message for the guy with the plow. She suspected that he’d dealt with absurd amounts of snow before, since he lived here in Vermont, but all she could think of right now was that he was never going to be able to get them out of here, and she’d be trapped in here with Killian until February.

By the time the plow guy returned her call, it was almost eleven, and there was still no sign of Killian. Maybe she’d imagined he’d come up to the cabin with her? She certainly hoped so, because she was going to have to dig the cars out by herself, and if she’d hallucinated Killian here, then it meant only one car to dig out and no assholes around.

She might as well get to work.

She hadn’t come prepared for lots of shoveling, unfortunately; she didn’t own waterproof winter gloves, and she’d left her good snow boots at home. Her warmest coat and fuzziest hat would have to do, so she bundled up as best she could.

The shovels weren’t difficult to find, tucked into an alcove on the front deck, although there were only two and both ancient. She took the one that looked the least likely to fall apart and got to work.

City living had definitely softened her. She recalled big winter storms in Minnesota where she and the other foster kids took turns shoveling for some extra pocket money; while she’d never seen this much snow before, those storms hadn’t been light either. Had she just had more energy as a kid? Or was this snow that much heavier? Or was it the bad company weighing her down?

Any time she felt her energy flagging, she paused, took a deep breath, and thought about the plow guy coming to her rescue. She just had to get the cars free and accessible, that was all. Stay focused on the goal, imagine herself as already having achieved it.

“Oi, are you completely dense or just rude?”

Startled, she accidentally spilled all of the snow off her shovel. “Sorry, what?” Judging by the look on Killian’s face as he stood in the doorway, he’d been trying to get her attention for a while. She’d just been too in the zone to hear him.

“I said that the plowman just called.”

“Oh.” She hoped that was a good thing. “And?”

He was a little too far away for her to see his eyes roll, but she knew that they were rolling just based on his posture and body language. “I’m not your message boy.”

And yet again, she couldn’t win. “Do you need me to come in and talk to him?”

“No, we already spoke.”

“So then—” She paused and took a breath to steady herself. This man truly was interrupting her while she shoveled just to tell her that the plow guy had called, but not to tell her what the guy had said. “So then what did he say?”

“Is there no one else who can come earlier?”

A non-answer, naturally. “No, there isn’t. So what did he say?”

“You told me that he would come first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

Her stomach dropped. “Wait, he’s still coming, right?” It was too much snow, wasn’t it? She knew it.

“Aye, but not until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh.” Well, that wasn’t the greatest news, but it wasn’t that much different than if he could come in the morning. So why was Killian so agitated?

“What on bloody earth are you doing?”

Extremely agitated. “Shoveling? Obviously?”

“And you’re just going to do this all on your own?”

“I mean … yeah? It’s fine, okay? I’ll get it done.”

“And I’m not capable?”

“I—I just assumed—”

“That I couldn’t use a simple tool like a shovel?” he asked, angrily waving his prosthetic hook over his head.

Her face burned enough that she was genuinely surprised that the snow around her didn’t begin to melt. “I—” She felt sick with embarrassment.

Luckily or not, Killian chose not to rip her a new one, instead storming back into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. This wasn’t even about how now he was going to hate her even more. She was such an asshole! Why the fuck had she assumed he couldn’t shovel? She knew better than this! She hadn’t had a picture perfect childhood, but she’d certainly been raised better than this!

And then the door slammed again, and she snapped her head up to see Killian stomping down the steps in his winter boots and coat, gripping the other shovel in his hand. Her first instinct was that he was coming to attack her with the shovel, and before she could process how absurd this was--and how unlikely it was that he would get away with murdering her, given that everyone knew they were up here together and it would be really hard for him to avoid suspicion.

But no, of course he wasn’t coming to kill her--this wasn’t a Lifetime movie, after all. He was coming to shovel the snow, to show her just how biased and thoughtless she’d been by believing and suggesting to him that he couldn’t shovel snow.

For better or for worse, she had help. Killian Jones was beside her, grunting with effort as he dug into the heavy, wet mountains of snow keeping them trapped together.

Maybe it was for worse. He was right next to her, after all. Not only did it mean that she had to be careful not to jab him with her shovel, but it also meant he was right next to her.

Had she ever been this close to him before? Maybe. She could vaguely recall slipping past him at a party to get to the bathroom when he was in her way and she didn’t feel like asking him to move and earning an eye roll. But had she ever been this close for more than a moment?

Even bundled up and with a scarf over her nose to try to keep warm, she could smell his cologne or body wash or deodorant--whatever it was. It smelled pretty good, better than the stuff Walsh used, or what Neal used to. Ugh, Neal.

She didn’t like thinking about Neal, and right now was the worst time to think about him. She was single again after yet another guy had deemed her too messed up for a relationship, celebrating the new year stuck out of state with someone who hated her--it didn’t exactly scream, “I won the break-up!” It was silly to want to “win” a decade later, but there was a living, breathing reminder of that awful relationship right next to her right this second: Neal’s former best friend.

It was stupid, really. Killian hadn’t really liked her much before she and Neal broke up; he’d always held her at arm’s length and been sort of judgmental. Then the break-up happened, and she was on his shit list immediately. Which had been fine by her--she and Killian weren’t friends. They had never been friends, and they didn’t share any mutual friends, so it wasn’t a problem that he hated her.

But then Killian and David did crew together, and then he’d been study partners with Mary Margaret in French class, and then he and Ruby had dated for a few months, and then … and then … and then … until every single one of her friends was one of his friends, too. And yet he still treated her like she had personally offended him.

At first, she thought it was still because of Neal. After the break-up, he’d shown his true colors, demonstrating a mean streak she was honestly shocked that he’d been capable of. The rumors he’d spread about their relationship and its ending had been cruel, and she’d been grateful that almost no one who knew her believed Neal’s lies. She didn’t expect his very best friend to question him, though, and if Killian was still loyal to Neal a decade later, then fine.

Except that Neal wasn’t Killian’s best friend anymore. Not because David had usurped him or anything, but because of … well, she didn’t know, actually. All she knew was that it had been forever since Neal’s name had come up, and as far as she knew, no one was in touch with him. Last she’d heard, he had moved to the west coast, and no one in her circle, Killian included, had heard from him in years.

So why all the hate? Or was Killian just still holding a grudge from college?

“Swan, bloody hell, watch where you’re going!”

Lost in thought, she’d been shoveling on autopilot, and had accidentally jabbed him with the handle of her shovel. “Sorry!” His reply was a low grumble, likely an unflattering comment. Better to pretend he’d said nothing and keep shoveling. She’d already put her foot into her mouth once already today.

By the time both cars were dug out and cleared (and then dug out again from the snow that had been on top of them), Emma was in rough shape. Sweating into her winter coat had her feeling extremely nauseous, but her fingers and toes were soaking wet and freezing cold from her lack of waterproof gloves or boots. It felt unfair, like she was being punished for being unprepared for a weekend full of shoveling. Mary Margaret was going to need to seriously make up for this mess.

But to Emma’s surprise, when she called her friend, she didn’t get the groveling and sympathy she felt due. “Whoa, you did what?”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Emma retorted. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret admonished, “you know not to make those kinds of assumptions, especially about Killian!”

“I didn’t tell him not to help me!” she protested. “I didn’t even say anything, I just went outside to shovel! He could have joined me, I wouldn’t have stopped him.”

“Emma, keep your voice down!”

“It’s fine, he’s in the shower. Which, by the way, he didn’t even offer to let me use first even though I was shoveling for longer than he was!”

“You really need to start letting some of this go.”

“I’m not the one holding a grudge,” she reminded Mary Margaret sternly. “I’m not the one who’s always being a jerk. He’s never given me a fair chance, not once.”

“He’s--look, I know he’s not your friend, and I’m not going to pretend that you guys get along swimmingly. But Killian isn’t really a jerk. You need to stop letting him get under your skin and just get through the weekend. Okay? Try to be nice? Less prickly?”

“I’m not--I’m not prickly,” she muttered. She heard the shower faucet shut off. “Okay, my turn to shower. I guess we’ll be back tomorrow night if the plow guy is on schedule.”

“Oh.” Mary Margaret’s tone was not reassuring.

“What?”

“Uh, I guess you guys didn’t hear.”

“Hear about what?”

“You don’t get a weather channel? The listing said that there was TV--”

“Mary Margaret!”

“It’s just that the weather isn’t looking all that great, Emma. It’s supposed to snow again.”

“I know it’s supposed to snow again.”

“Yeah, but it’s … gonna be bad. Worse than expected.”

“You’re joking. It already snowed more than it was supposed to. How can it be worse?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know if the worst of it will even hit you guys! It might stay farther east and miss you altogether.”

It wouldn’t miss, Emma knew. Her stomach dropped as it occurred to her that she might be stuck here much longer than just a weekend. “Fuck.”

“What?” It was Killian, dressed in what looked like his pajamas, toweling his hair dry.

“Mary Margaret, I’ll call you before bed, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Love you, sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Killian asked again as Emma hung up.

“Uh, do we get a weather channel?”

“Bloody hell.” He turned around immediately in a rush to the living room. The answer appeared to be yes.

They stood silently as they watched the chyron on the local news channel. Winter storm warning, Up to 2 ft add’l snow west of Rt 89, Sat evening through Sun morning, Icy conditions and potential power loss, Tune into News at 6pm for more info …

“We’re west of route 89,” Killian said morosely. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

Two more feet of snow. Possible power outage. This year was determined to end as badly as it could.

There was no use shoveling more; they’d already finished, and there wasn’t much they could do to prepare for more snow. It wasn’t like there was a garage or carport they could use, and they couldn’t park any closer to the house than they already had. Besides Emma showering, there wasn’t much they could really do besides hunt down candles, matches, and extra blankets.

At least, Emma thought, as she finished blow drying her hair, the phone was old enough that it didn’t require electricity to work, and the range was gas, not electric, so they would be able to cook.

In fact, speaking of cooking, the scent of Killian making dinner was wafting down the hallway as she finished getting dressed. It smelled pretty good, too. Mary Margaret had told her to just try to be nice and get through the weekend. Maybe this time, she’d accept his offer to share dinner. It wasn’t the worst idea.

Her stomach was growling by the time she reached the kitchen, since she’d skipped lunch while she’d been shoveling. Killian was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear the murmurs of the television on low volume; he was probably eating in the living room again.

But the kitchen had been cleaned up. She could see a few pans and utensils drying in the rack beside the sink. He was done cooking, and there was no plate for her. Not even in the fridge.

Emma felt … well, stupid wasn’t really the right word. Ashamed wasn’t either, nor was angry. She couldn’t articulate the feeling at all, which made it all the worse.

She felt herself sliding into self-loathing. Of course he wouldn’t have made her anything to eat. He’d been under no obligation to, after all, and when he’d offered last night, how had she reacted? By shutting him down … kind of rudely, too. She hadn’t apologized, or asked him if he might make her something. It wasn’t all that generous of her to consider him making her food to be an olive branch that she could extend by graciously accepting.

But Emma had spent too many years battling self-loathing to shoulder it unquestioningly. After all, he hadn’t exactly offered kindly last night, had he? Nope, he’d called her immature, acted like he was doing her some huge favor that was a huge burden to himself, and had even criticized her for what food she’d brought for them when he hadn’t brought anything at all.

This was Killian Jones. He hated her. And she knew that he had made dinner for himself and none for her as punishment. The simplest answer was usually the right one, after all.

A microwaved bowl of canned soup and a grilled cheese would make a totally fine dinner. She didn’t need Killian’s judgmental charity.

As she took her last bite of sandwich and turned the page of the mediocre thriller she was working her way through, the lights flickered.

She gasped. No. No, no, no.

They flickered again. “Oh, no you don’t!” she heard Killian hiss from the living room.

And then the house plunged into darkness.

----------

“At least we’ve got the flashlights on our phones,” Emma said, trying to sound encouraging.

Killian lit the last candle in the living room. “Poor form for the hosts not to leave any real ones.”

“Phones are easier anyway. Besides, we should be careful not to use all the candles and matches tonight.”

“The hosts are welcome to restock once we’ve made our escape.”

“No, I mean, we might need them tomorrow night. In case the power isn’t back.”

He snorted. “I refuse to believe this will last a second night.”

“Well, all I’ve learned from this weekend is that anything that can go wrong will, so pardon me for expecting the worst.”

“Ah, yes, what a terrible burden for you, one that I couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Look, the only reason I’m here is that I got conned by Mary Margaret.”

“Oh, please, ‘conned?’”

“Well, I was supposed to spend a drunken weekend with friends, and instead I’m here with you, so you tell me--was I conned?”

His face was ugly and twisted in the candlelight. “If anything, I’m the one who’s being punished here.”

She let out half a laugh. “You know, buddy, I’ve tried. I really have.” Memories of Mary Margaret warning her to just let it go and get through the weekend were evaporating quickly. “But I give up, okay? You can keep hating me, and I’m going to stop trying.”

“You’re going to stop trying?” he asked incredulously. “Stop trying to do what, exactly? Stop trying to be as rude as possible to me at every turn?”

“Stop--are you kidding me? I’ve been trying to be nice to you! Ever since we met! I’ve never had a problem with you except that you’ve had a problem with me!”

“Your capacity for self-centeredness never ceases to amaze me, Swan. Because if you could see past the end of your nose, it would be more than obvious that I have been trying, so very, very hard, to get along with you for the sake of the rest of our friends. But bloody hell, no matter what they say, about just how caring and loyal you are, I just do not see it.”

It shouldn’t have stung as much as it did. She’d known for years that Killian didn’t like her, and if she hadn’t known by this weekend, then the past twenty-four hours with him would have been enough to clue her in. But talking about it--getting it out in the open like this--was much more upsetting than she could have anticipated.

“You--you know what?” she stammered. “I might not always have the right thing to say, and I know I can be closed off, but I know I’m a good friend and I know I’ve tried so fucking hard with you. I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but this is me throwing in the towel, okay? If you don’t want me to try to be nice anymore, then good, okay, you win!” The adrenaline almost felt good. “I’m not nice anymore! But I’m still a person, a person with feelings, so the least you can do is just—if you have something nasty to say to me, just don’t say it! Just leave me alone!”

She was halfway to her room before she tripped over the carpet runner in the hallway, but she didn’t stop until she could close the door behind her and throw herself onto the bed.

Well, it had happened, a decade in the making. She and Killian had finally just said it. And she didn’t feel any better, not even a little bit.

Not that she thought that she would feel better, actually hearing him say out loud, undeniably, that he hated her. But she expected that it would make her feel less crazy, just a little bit validated. She did not expect that she would feel so much worse hearing those words.

Just the whole idea that their friends—her friends—had to tell him to give her a chance, it made it so awful. Their friends knew how he felt and had needed to tell him to be nice to her? And they hadn’t cut him out when he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do it? She’d always thought of them as her friends first, and only sort of tangentially his friends, but if they had felt like they’d needed to talk to him about being nicer to her, and he hadn’t been, and they still were friends with him …

And how was she the mean one? How was she the rude one? She wasn’t mean!

How was she supposed to get through the rest of the weekend now?

She fell asleep a few hours later, sick to her stomach and tears staining her face, listening to the howling wind outside.

----------

Emma woke slowly, her eyes almost glued shut. Her first thought was that she’d worn heavy eye makeup and forgotten to take off her mascara before bed. That wasn’t totally out of character for her, and it happened to her last year on New Year’s, so it made sense that it would happen again this year.

Except New Year’s Eve hadn’t been last night. New Year’s Eve was tonight. And she’d packed her good make-up because although Mary Margaret’s attempt to set her up with Graham was way too obvious, she’d wanted to bring the good stuff just in case he was hot and she wanted to look her best.

But Graham wasn’t here, nor was Mary Margaret or anyone else, because it had snowed so badly that only she and Killian had managed to get to Vermont.

And the reason her eyelashes were stuck together was not because of mascara, but because she’d cried a lot before she went to sleep.

Because she and Killian had finally shouted at each other last night, and it had been awful, and now she had to go downstairs and interact with him. Great.

She pulled herself out of bed and was greeted by every muscle in her body angrily reminding her that she had done hours of shoveling and had not stretched sufficiently afterwards. Oh, right, and now she was going to have to shovel even more.

At least the power seemed to be back, judging by the old digital clock on the dresser, which was blinking the incorrect time. She checked the actual time on her phone--ten thirty--before getting dressed and poking her head out the door.

Down the hallway, the door to Killian’s room was open, but she couldn’t see any shadows moving or hear any sounds of someone getting ready. So he was already up, she supposed. The bathroom door was open and the light was off; at least that meant she could get ready to greet the day in peace.

The house was oddly still and silent as she put in her contacts and brushed her hair and teeth. Killian was still here, right? Or--oh, maybe the plow guy had already come! Maybe Killian was gone and now she could leave, too! She rushed down the stairs to look out the front door.

She was surprised to see several unexpected sights. First, that there had indeed been about two feet more of snow, which meant that there was now more snow than she’d ever seen in her entire life. Somehow, intellectually understanding that there would be more snow had not prepared her for the sheer amount of snow. Too much snow. How was she going to get her car out?

A question answered by the second unexpected sight: Killian Jones, shoveling out her car. Why the hell was he shoveling out her car? She darted to the shoe rack and shoved her feet in her boots before bursting out the door. “What are you doing? Hey, I said, what are you doing?”

Killian didn’t so much as pause, with grunts punctuating his response. “I’d say it looks like I’m shoveling.”

And that’s when she observed a third unexpected thing: the reason why Killian was shoveling out her car was because he’d already finished his. But how? “How long have you been out here?”

“Lost track,” he said. “Why, what time is it?”

“You can’t do this by yourself,” she answered instead. Bile was rising in her throat.

“I certainly can.”

“Look, if this is because of yesterday—”

“Swan, please.” He finally stopped, setting down his shovel and looking straight at her. “Just go back inside.”

“This isn’t—”

“Just go back inside, all right? Shower, read a book, watch some godawful telly, I don’t care, just go inside.”

“Fine!” was all she managed to come up with before she stormed back in and slammed the door behind her.

She knew he was just doing this to get back at her. A tiny voice inside that sounded a little like Mary Margaret countered that it would be odd to get back at someone by digging out their car, but she ignored it. She’d fucked up yesterday by insinuating that he couldn’t shovel with only one hand, and now today he wanted to make her eat her words by doing it all by himself. Well, fine, if he wanted to suffer alone, then she’d let him.

But she’d be damned if she was going to take any of his suggestions, and so by the time he came in, she hadn’t taken a shower, read a book, or watched any TV. Instead, she���d found an old Sudoku app on her phone and had been playing it for almost two hours, hunched over at the edge of her bed so that she could keep her phone plugged in at the same time.

She was surprised to find him knocking at her door. “What?” she asked, a little angrily, as she looked up from her phone.

“I’ve made some lunch.”

“So? Enjoy.”

He let out an irritated breath through his nose. “I made us some lunch.”

“Us?” What the hell was wrong with him?

“Aye, us. Grilled cheese, I’ve heard you’re partial to it.”

It was no secret that she loved grilled cheese sandwiches, but it was also no secret that every time she and Killian were out with friends and she ordered one, he would roll his eyes at her. It was like the very notion of her liking grilled cheese sandwiches was offensive to him. So what was his deal?

“This isn’t—” He sighed, looking around as though the words he wanted were written on the walls or the door and he couldn’t find them. “Just, it’s lunch time, I made lunch.”

What was the motive? What was he doing? But now she could smell melted cheese and crispy buttery bread; he had indeed made grilled cheese. So if this was a prank, it wasn’t a very good one. “Okay.” She wasn’t sure what else to say.

It was awkward, sitting across the table from Killian as they ate soup and grilled cheese. The whole house was shadowed from snow piling up against windows, and the fluorescent lights in the kitchen made it feel like it was dawn or dusk instead of noon. And Killian hadn’t showered for some reason; he was practically glittering from snow and sweat. That was something to bring up at least, since there wasn’t anything else to say.

“Why didn’t you shower?”

“That’s rude.”

“No, I mean--I would have showered,” she clarified. “After shoveling. You must feel gross. It wasn’t a comment on … anything.”

He frowned. “No use showering now, since I haven’t finished.”

“But you were out there for hours!”

“Aye, because there’s a lot of bloody fucking snow.” He sounded a little angry, but for once, she didn’t feel like it was directed at her.

“Look, you don’t have to do all the shoveling, okay? I’m sorry about what I did and said yesterday, but you don’t have to prove anything.”

“Swan—”

“No, seriously, okay, here’s the thing.” She took a deep breath and stared at the uneaten half of her sandwich. “We don’t really talk about your … hand. I mean, you and I don’t talk about anything, so of course we don’t talk about your hand. And I’m not saying that to make excuses and act like I can’t be expected to know what’s okay or not, okay?” This was coming out like vomit, but like a good hurl after a night of drinking, it felt good to get it out. “I made an assumption without asking you what you were capable of or comfortable with, and that wasn’t cool, even if we weren’t … enemies.”

She wanted to keep going, fill the strained silence she’d created, but she held her tongue. It was hard to do, but she knew there wasn’t more for her to say, at least not right now. Hopefully he got it.

At the edge of her field of vision, she saw him move uncomfortably in his seat. “Swan, I was out there shoveling all morning because you did most of the shoveling yesterday and I’m certain your back is sore. As far as I’m concerned, it’s my turn.” She looked up at him to argue, but he held up his hand to silence her. “I know I helped a little, but you dug the path, and you cleared around both cars. It was much more work than I had to do, and you kept working even after I came out. That’s all, I just wanted to have a more equal division of labor. Nothing more.”

He seemed sincere. It wasn’t a look she saw on him very often, although she had seen it once or twice over the years. He did seem to care about his friendships with other members of their group, after all, so she knew what he was like when he wasn’t actively being a dick.

And, well, okay.

Except for one thing.

“Disability or not,” she said, “it’s harder today. You did do some shoveling yesterday, so you’re sore and tired, too. And you’ve been going all morning and you’re still not done, so you’re probably exhausted. And because there was already so much snow, there’s nowhere to put the new stuff. You could have three hands instead of one, and you’d still do better with me helping.”

He looked like he was going to argue. Instead, he said, “Would you believe me if I said I technically do have three hands?”

“What?”

“I mean, I didn’t bring my prosthetic ones with me, but I do have them at home, so technically—”

She tossed a crumpled napkin at him. “Finish your damn lunch, Jones, so we can get back to work.”

----------

Emma was hesitant to say that the afternoon had been fun. Shoveling two feet of snow was not fun. Shoveling two feet of snow for the second day in a row? Even less so. And she had Killian hadn’t really spoken much while they’d cleared away the snow, just a few words of encouragement here and there, a few laughs at their own mishaps, a few polite requests to move out of the way.

Pleasant. She’d go with pleasant.

But her mood was lifting pretty quickly. Not that she was thrilled to be here, spending New Year’s Eve doing manual labor without an internet connection or alcohol. But the way was clear for the plow, both cars could start without a problem, the power seemed to be holding steady, and when she called the plow guy, he’d sworn up and down that he would come first thing tomorrow and that he would charge the Airbnb hosts directly.

And now she was taking a relaxing shower--Killian had gone first while she called the plow guy and Mary Margaret, which meant she could take as long as she wanted in the bathroom.

She took advantage of it. After all, she’d come up here for New Year’s Eve, and she was going to enter the next year feeling as good as she could. As she’d come prepared to maybe hook up with that Graham guy, she had all the goods with her--her razor, her hair dryer and curling iron, her perfume, her most eyelash boosting mascara. There was no one here, but she was still going to look her damn best.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, the smell of whatever Killian was cooking was filtering up the stairs, and once she finished getting dressed, it had made its way into her room. Some kind of chicken? Not stir fry, she didn’t think, or maybe it was? What the heck had she brought with her again? She barely remembered what Mary Margaret had put on the list for her to pick up; she’d just bought everything on it without thinking.

Downstairs, her question was answered: homemade Chinese food, laid out on the table family style, plates and silverware already set out. “Wow, you made this?”

Killian didn’t answer, and at first she panicked: had she imagined this afternoon? Was he interpreting her wrong, thinking she was insulting him?

But he wasn’t frowning or sneering or rolling his eyes. He was staring at her with an odd—

Oh, whoops.

“I, uh, well, Mary Margaret had made it sound like I was going to hook up this weekend, so I packed for it,” she explained badly. “I didn’t want it to go to waste.” His eyes widened a little more at that, and she held up her hands defensively. “No, I mean--ugh, I just mean that it’s New Year’s Eve, and I want to feel good about myself when the new year starts. This isn’t—” 

“Ah,” he said, mercifully cutting her off. “Well, I’d better change, if that’s the case.”

“You don’t have to, I didn’t—”

“Please, Swan, I’m not going to let you feel self-conscious if you’re going to dress like that while I’m in my joggers.”

“Killian—”

“You can get started if you’d like,” he finished, gesturing towards the table before making his way past her to get to the stairs. She privately thought it would be a waste if he was going to put on some kind of cologne, because whatever his body wash was had him smelling good enough.

Not that it mattered.

She sat awkwardly in the same seat she’d taken during lunch, unwilling to start eating food he’d cooked without him. Maybe she should have just put on her yoga pants and thrown her hair up in a bun. Now she was going to have to scrub all the make-up off her face before bed or risk staining a pillowcase that didn’t belong to her. She should have thought about how it would look to Killian, like she was desperate, or like she’d misunderstood his friendliness or something.

But in no time at all, he was back, passing her closely enough that she could smell the cologne he’d put on. He’d put on some tighter black jeans and a waistcoat over a button-down shirt, and he definitely had put on--eyeliner? She’d scoff except it looked pretty damn good.

Wait, what was she doing? What were they doing?

Killian seemed to have the same realization, brow furrowing a little. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t let the food get cold,” he finally said, clearing his throat.

“Uh, yeah, this smells amazing,” Emma said, trying to move on as well. “You just threw this together?”

He chuckled. “I’m not that talented. Mary Margaret asked if I’d make Chinese food for dinner, since we wouldn’t be able to order takeout. I assumed you knew, since you bought the ingredients.”

“I wasn’t paying that much attention to what I was getting,” she admitted.

“Well, I promise it doesn’t taste terrible,” he said.

Oh, right, they were supposed to be eating.

“Damn,” she commented, mouth full. This was the opposite of terrible. It didn’t quite have that special something that you could only get with authentic Chinese takeout, but the flavors were spot on. Certainly better than any other homemade Chinese food she’d had.

He swallowed his own bite before replying. “I’ve made this before,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed. “So it’s not like I was trying a recipe that was new to me.”

“Still, this is really good. Thanks for making it.”

“You’re welcome.”

The rest of dinner was … nice. More than nice, if Emma was honest with herself. It didn’t feel like she was sharing a meal with an adversary. Instead, it felt mundane, just another dinner with a friend. Here and there, she still worried about stepping on an eggshell, but as the night wore on, those moments were fewer and farther between. And the eggshells became smaller and less sharp.

Her insistence on doing the dishes led to his insistence on making dessert, which led to an impassioned but still friendly debate over the best mix-ins for brownies--even though they were making them from a box and had neither chocolate chips nor walnuts with them. And it was nice to sit together in the living room, surfing through channels to find something bearable to watch, as they ate their brownies with ice cream and sipped hot cocoa.

The elephant in the room finally came up. Emma had sort of been expecting that it would, although not in the middle of a conversation about work holiday parties.

At first, they’d been lightly ribbing their absent friends over the poorly thought out holiday plans, which turned into a partway sincere planning session for a better holiday getaway in the future. That, of course, involved sharing some of their best and worst experiences at any sort of holiday party, leading Emma to tell the story of her manager forcing her and the new hire to sing a karaoke duet in front of the rest of the department. And that, of course, led to Killian telling his own story of his worst work holiday party, which involved one of his colleagues showing up with an unexpected date.

Killian’s face turned white halfway through the tale, and he stumbled over his words before stopping entirely. Emma had known--her senses tingling off the charts--that there was a reason he had paused, one that mattered. But there was no point in trying to shut the door on whatever it was; the atmosphere had already changed, and she leaned into it. “What?”

Killian cleared his throat. “Er, Neal had been trying to get an interview at the firm and had managed to secure a date with Tamara for that purpose. He spent the entire night trying to network with the partners, who had no interest in doing business at what was supposed to be a private party.”

The name reverberated through Emma, although not as harshly as she would have expected. She let her stomach settle, but just in case, she set what was left of her brownie sundae on the coffee table.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We were doing so well, weren’t we?”

“He was going to come up,” she reassured him. But what to say now? What to do?

There were a few paths she could take, she mused. She could let the moment pass and try to move on from it, striking up a new conversation. She could reassure him that the past was done and gone and that Neal wasn’t in their lives any more. Or, emboldened by his behavioral shift over the past several hours, she could absolutely fucking blow it by shoving her foot in her mouth.

“Was he the reason you always hated me?” she blurted out.

Killian blinked. “What?”

“Neal,” she clarified. “I know he told everyone I was crazy when we broke up. I assume he told you the same.”

“Uh, well … yes,” he replied. “The crazy thing, I mean.”

Of course. “Which thing did he tell you? I’m honestly just curious. Was it the one where I wanted to get married before graduation, or was it the one where I broke his heart by cheating with my TA?”

He let out a short, weary laugh. “The second one.”

“That makes sense.”

“The odd thing is that I didn’t even really assume it was true all these years,” he admitted. “At first, yes, I believed him. But as I became friends with David, Mary Margaret, and Ruby, it sort of slowly occurred to me that they weren’t the sort to accept that sort of behavior of a friend.”

“But you didn’t stop hating me.”

“I never--it’s not like that,” he protested.

“Fair. It was before Neal and I got together anyway.”

“Emma, you didn’t like me.”

She blinked. “Right, because, you didn’t like me.”

“No, because you didn’t like me.”

“Wait, wait.” Maybe she was too exhausted to be processing this conversation correctly. “You didn’t like me because you thought I didn’t like you?”

“Aye, you think I’d hold a grudge over nothing?”

“No, but why would I? I only disliked you because you didn’t like me.”

“But …” His eyes darted back and forth in confusion. “But … you were cold to me. And rude.”

“But you were like that to me!” she protested. “I tried, I really did! I knew you were friends with Neal, and I had a crush on him and wanted his friends to like me. I would have killed to have your approval, but you just … didn’t like me.”

“But I only didn’t like you because you didn’t like me--wait, hold on.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bloody hell, we’re going around in circles, aren’t we?”

“I don’t understand what’s going on here. You can’t be telling me that we didn’t get along for years for no reason.”

“It’s just not possible.”

“This is … I don’t even know what this is.”

Silence fell, awkward and pressing and inescapable. Of all of the times she’d imagined this conversation, she could never have predicted this result. She’d always imagined instead that he would finally confess whatever flaw made her so despicable to him, or whatever sin she had committed to earn his eternal wrath.

But this? What was this?

“I’ve been trying, too,” he said softly. “So very hard.”

“What?”

“I care about our friends,” he said. “I value my friendships with them, as I previously valued mine with Neal, including when you were together. I’ve tried so hard to be patient, and perhaps not kind, but …”

“Neutral,” she supplied, and he nodded. “Me, too.”

“It’s whatever the opposite of rose-tinted glasses is.”

“What glasses?”

“Rose-tinted glasses. When you perceive everything positively, idealistically. But the opposite of that. Every time I tried to be the bigger person, tried to do something nice or polite, you would always react as though I’d done something terrible.”

“Same with you,” she said. “Not, like … not in a me blaming you way, just saying that I get it.”

“We’ve always assumed the worst of each other, haven’t we? Instead of assuming the best?”

“Wearing shit-stained goggles,” she suggested, and he laughed. But it made sense. Even just the simple gesture of offering to share dinner with her the night before, she’d assumed the worst of his intentions, had ascribed so many untrue motives behind his behavior, when she could have assumed neutrality or even kindness. “Well, Killian, I’m ready to take off the goggles.”

“Aye, me, too.”

“Too much effort, finding reasons not to like you.”

“They do say I’m a charming fellow.”

She chuckled. “Well, that’s not fair, because I know they don’t say the same about me.”

“Well, now, that’s not true,” he said, unexpectedly gently. “Mary Margaret has spent the better part of a decade pointing out your fierce loyalty to your friends, as well as your determination and practicality in the face of adversity.”

“What?” She blushed.

“When we arrived, it was clear that we would be snowed in, was it not? And what did I do about it? I stewed about it, blamed you and our friends, but did nothing towards rectifying the situation. But you didn’t wallow as I was. You made phone calls, began shoveling, prepared for power loss, and so forth. And while you perhaps made an unfortunate assumption about my capabilities as an amputee, I didn’t do anything to indicate that I was willing to help dig us out of this situation. In fact, I’d hazard to say that even if I were two-handed, it would have been fair to assume I wasn’t going to help shovel.”

“Killian, it was still unacceptable, okay? I don’t feel good about it.”

“Well, it’s not the worst thing a friend has done when it comes to my hand.”

“What do you mean?” He didn’t answer. “Is this why you aren’t friends with Neal anymore?”

He sighed. “Aye. Seems as though he found it more challenging to pick up women when his wingman lacked an appendage.”

“That can’t even be true, you’re like … one step away from being a male model.”

He smirked, but his eyes stayed downcast. “Truth be told, he was too cowardly to admit the truth, that he wasn’t comfortable with my sudden disability. By the time he moved away, we barely spoke to each other, he was so distant.”

“That’s awful.”

“As awful as lying about you sleeping with your teaching assistant?”

She shrugged. “The people who cared about me still believed me over him. I guess I didn’t care what other people thought.” A lie, maybe, but it wasn’t like she saw her old college classmates outside of her small circle of friends.

“Why did he do it?”

“Hm?”

“Lie. Tell two different lies, no less. And bold ones.”

“The marriage one, I know he told to girls he wanted to fuck.” The whispers had made their way back to her, from young women who were made to feel cool and special by acquiescing to casual sex to avoid looking like crazy, infatuated ex-girlfriend Emma Swan. “The other one, I don’t know. It felt a little cruel, even for him. I think he just didn’t like that I’d dumped him.”

“Ah, yes, he wouldn’t have liked that,” Killian agreed.

“God, this is depressing. We’re just here talking about Neal Cassidy. Neal Cassidy.”

“Aye, we need to change the subject.” He pulled out his phone, and a moment later, music was playing, creating a distracting dissonance with the TV noise still buzzing in the background. “It’s New Year’s Eve, Emma Swan, and so we’re not going to talk about people who did us wrong.”

“Cheers to that,” she said, lifting up her mug of hot cocoa.

“Cheers,” he echoed. And the music carried them on to the next topic of conversation.

----------

Emma was beginning to feel bone-tired by the time Killian’s phone alarm sounded. The power had flickered a few more times over the past few hours, leading them to forgo some of the lamps in favor of candles, and the cozy, warm darkness and her sore overworked muscles were lulling her into an almost drunken stupor on the couch. The alarm didn’t startle her so much as she thought she was dreaming it. “What’s that for?” she asked.

“Midnight,” he replied, shutting off the alarm and the music with it. “Bloody hell, I didn’t mean to turn the music off.”

Midnight. “Oh. Happy new year.”

“Happy new year, Swan.” He laughed. “A little anticlimactic, I suppose.”

“This isn’t exactly a big party, not sure what else we were supposed to do.”

“Aye, I think Ruby was supposed to bring the party horns and champagne.”

“We could kiss,” she suggested, before instantly regretting it. “Sorry, I mean, not like that, I meant like a kiss on the cheek. It’s supposed to be good luck for the new year.”

“Oh.”

But he didn’t move or say anything more, and she wasn’t sure either. “Well, I guess I should get all this makeup off. We’ve gotta be up early tomorrow to make sure we can escape this prison.”

“Right.” His voice sounded a little off, and she hated herself a little for blurting out such a stupid, awkward idea. That plus her outfit, and she was really starting off the new year looking as desperate as possible. “Good night, Emma.”

“Good night, Killian.”

He was still down in the living room by the time she emerged from the bathroom, face scrubbed clean of cosmetics, and if he did come upstairs, she was already fast asleep.

----------

“What the hell happened in Vermont?” Mary Margaret practically demanded.

“Literally nothing,” Emma said for what had to be the hundredth time. “We were trapped in an Airbnb without internet or cell service for an entire long weekend, and it sucked. That’s what happened.”

“But you guys are acting weird.”

“How are we acting weird?”

“You just … are,” Mary Margaret said weakly. “You just are!”

Emma pressed her lips together and shook her head. “For the last time, nothing happened in Vermont, and I’m sick of talking about it.”

“Fine. But you’re not off the hook, Emma Swan.”

“There’s no hook to be on,” she countered, before pulling her coat on and making her way to the front door. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay, text me when you’re home.”

“Will do.”

As Emma walked home to her apartment, she felt a little guilty. Not that guilty, certainly not guilty enough to run back to Mary Margaret’s, or even to text her friend the truth when she got home. But a little guilty nonetheless, for denying what Mary Margaret could see but couldn’t describe.

Because she and Killian were in fact acting weird.

She couldn’t even help it, really. It was like a switch had flipped on New Year’s Eve; she hadn’t done it on purpose, but she couldn’t flip it back either.

It was essentially like she and Killian had secretly been friends for years, but forbidden from expressing their friendship. Or like the weekend in Vermont had rewritten history, or sped up a reconciliation of sorts. And Mary Margaret didn’t even know the half of it.

Monday morning had arrived, New Year’s Day, and Killian had cooked breakfast while she did one last round of shoveling. Conversation had been light and pleasant, and they’d carefully steered clear of the topics of the previous night. After the heroic and highly anticipated arrival of the plow guy, they’d packed up the cars and closed up the cabin.

But before leaving, Killian had turned to her with an odd look on his face, asked to exchange numbers, and explained that the plow guy had reported the roads were still slick. He was concerned, he said, as her car was much older than his and lacked some of the safety features of newer models. Would she, he asked, please text him to let him know that she was all right when she arrived home?

So she had. In fact, she’d updated him when she’d stopped at a gas station halfway home, as well as when she’d parked her car in front of her building.

And the texts had not stopped there. Friendly, low stakes, genuinely fun texts.

Less than a week later, at Mary Margaret’s place to have a second, “make-up” party, they saw each other in person for the first time since their isolated weekend together. And Emma knew that their friends were noticing the lack of animosity.

But how was she supposed to talk to Mary Margaret about this? Because it was so much more than this. So much more than friendliness. So much more than lack of animosity. So much more. And that felt foolish and impossible. Embarrassing, even.

So she squashed the guilt and walked home. And when she stepped into her apartment and pulled out her phone to let Mary Margaret know she’d arrived, there was already a text waiting for her:

Let me know that you’ve arrived home safe. Tonight was fun.

And it wasn’t from Mary Margaret.

Oh boy.

----------

The pub was warm, in contrast to the chill outside, and Emma shook the snowflakes off her hat as she approached the booth her friends had crammed into. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s almost seven,” Ruby pointed out. “What gives?”

“I know, I’m sorry. Was dealing with a tough custody case.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret interjected, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You usually don’t like to do stuff after work when you have a rough day.”

“Or maybe a night at the bar with you guys is what I need to unwind,” she countered, but Mary Margaret’s expression remained unchanged. “What are people having?”

“A classic pint, in honor of the birthday boy,” David said, clapping Killian roughly on the back, causing said birthday boy to sputter into his drink.

“Or, you know, cocktails,” Ruby said, rolling her eyes, “for those of us who prefer something a little less boring.”

“Beer’s fine,” Emma said, waving over a nearby server.

“Glad you could make it,” Killian said, and she tried hard not to read too much into his tone.

“Yeah, of course, it’s your birthday.”

And then the server came over, and the conversation turned to other topics, such as the weather, work shenanigans, Ruby’s latest conquest, and plans that Mary Margaret and David were making for an upcoming vacation.

None of which seemed to sufficiently distract Emma from the feeling she kept experiencing whenever she could sense Killian’s eyes on her, or whenever she caught him smiling, or whenever he would say something that made her wonder--was he talking about her?

But it was all impossible and nonsensical, because four weeks ago they’d hated each other.

Never mind that she’d wished him a happy birthday that morning over text, and they’d exchanged more messages throughout the day about the plans for that evening, and--why was this happening right now? This was Killian goddamn Jones, and she’d spent almost every day for the past month glancing at her phone, hoping to see a text message notification with his name attached to it.

The night wore on, and while she sipped her beer and avoided eye contact with Killian, their friends had other ideas for how to spend their time. Around eleven, with the alcohol lowering their inhibitions and self-consciousness, David and Mary Margaret caught a cab home so that they wouldn’t continue to scandalize anyone with their PDA. And an hour later, Ruby left with a wink as she went home with a cute bartender whose shift was just ending.

Alone with Killian again. Just as nerve-wracking as it was the last time.

“I guess I should be getting home,” Emma stammered. She’d nursed a single drink all night and yet was still tongue-tied.

“Likewise,” Killian agreed.

“Long day?”

“Aye, and I suppose my old age is catching up with me.”

She laughed. “Yeah, thirty, so old.”

“Oi, be nice, Swan, it’s my birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s why I made sure we paid the tab before you could get to it.”

“You--what?” The playfulness vanished. “You did what?”

“It’s your birthday.” Her cheeks felt a little hot, probably from the beer. “We didn’t want you paying your own tab. Besides, you only had a couple of beers. Pales in comparison to how much of the bill was from David and Mary Margaret getting sloshed.”

“I suppose, but … well, thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Shall I walk you to your car?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.” It clearly didn’t mean anything that he would offer. Right?

She was shocked at the scene before her when she exited the bar. “Oh, fuck.”

“Bloody hell, did you know the snow was supposed to be this bad?”

“I knew it was going to snow, but the forecast said it was going to stop around nine or something.” Instead, it was sleeting heavily, leaving the roads and sidewalks mushy and slick.

“You can’t drive home in this. Where are you parked?”

“Around the corner. I can leave my car overnight where I parked, and just catch a cab. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as she spoke, a cab drove past, slipping and sliding even at a low speed. 

“Are you sure now?” Killian asked.

“I’ll drive really slowly.”

“Come with me,” Killian said, gently touching her arm. It was probably just to get her attention, but maybe--no, it had to be to get her attention.

“Where?”

“My place.”

“What?”

“My place. My flat. My apartment. My abode.” He rolled his eyes. “Swan, you cannot get home safely in this weather, and I live one block away. I’ve got a comfortable couch and extra toiletries, and you won’t die horribly in an accident on my birthday.”

“You want me to stay the night?”

His cheeks were pink, certainly from the cold. “I’d rather you stay with me than get hurt trying to get home, is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I mean, if you’re okay with it.”

“Do you think I’d offer if I weren’t?”

“I … guess not. All right.”

“Excellent, come with me.”

Killian hadn’t exaggerated at least; the single block between the bar and his apartment felt like it had been a mile long thanks to the snow, but it was still just a single block. They shook the melting snow off their shoulders and stomped it off their boots as they made their way up to the third floor, and by the time he’d unlocked the door and they walked inside, Emma was too out of breath to immediately appreciate that she was inside of his apartment for the first time.

Granted, it wasn’t the first time in her life she’d been inside somewhere that Killian lived. Back when she’d been dating Neal, he and Killian had been roommates, and senior year, he’d lived with David, Mary Margaret, and a couple other people in a rundown off-campus apartment. But since college, once he lived with people she wasn’t friends with, and then lived on his own, she had no reason to go over.

But here she was, now. In his apartment, on his birthday. Snowed in again, somehow.

“Coat and shoe rack’s over there,” he gestured, breathing heavily from the stairs.

“Thanks, just have to--hold on.” She fired off quick texts to Mary Margaret and Ruby to make sure they’d gotten home safely in the snow, before stepping carefully towards the coat and shoe racks. Her socks and the hems of her jeans were soaked through.

“Just a moment.”

“Uh, okay,” she replied as he walked out of the room, leaving her entirely alone.

His place was … pretty nice, she thought, looking around. There was the proffered couch; unfortunately, it was leather, which wouldn’t be that comfortable to sleep on. Maybe he would realize that and offer to share—

No, no, no, no. He wasn’t going to offer to share a bed with her. This wasn’t a Lifetime movie, after all. Nope, he would just make up the couch for her and she’d sleep on it, because they were just regular friends, participating in a regular friendship.

“Sorry about that.” He reappeared, having changed into the same style of pajamas she saw him in last month, back in that cabin in Vermont. He held out a bundle. “I don’t know how well any of this will fit you, so my apologies. But the joggers have a drawstring at least.”

“Oh, thanks, I’m sure these will be fine.”

“You can change in my room.” He pointed to the doorway he’d just walked through. “I’d offer you the bathroom but I figured I ought to find you some toiletries while you change.”

“You really don’t need to do that, Killian.”

“Nonsense. Besides, I know how terrible it is to sleep in your lenses. Off you go.”

“Uh, okay.” Well, getting to take out her contacts and brush her teeth wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He’d offer that to anyone, that she was sure of.

But now she was in his room. Alone, but her heart still sped up.

It was neat and tidy, the lightwood and simple furniture giving it a homey feel while the finish touches made it look polished. The only light on in the room was the one on the bedside table, which gave off a warm glow. She gently touched the gray comforter; this was a nice room. Not fancy nice, but the other kind of nice. Nice to wake up in.

But she couldn’t think like that. She was reading way too deeply into the situation and it was giving her ideas that she shouldn’t even have. It was just Killian’s bed in Killian’s bedroom in Killian’s apartment.

A bed that was made as though he knew he’d have company tonight. Had he made the bed while she waited in the entryway? But why—

Stop it. Just change into the clothes. This was bad thinking. Dangerous thinking. She was seeing things, imagining things, making things up. She was writing a narrative in her head right now that didn’t exist.

Which, of course, were his clothes, so they smelled like him. Not like his cologne, but just him. Which—

She shook her head to dislodge all those crazy thoughts and rushed to get changed so she could get out of there. Luckily Killian had chosen wisely; the pants were baggy, but were in no danger of falling down, and the shirt was thick enough that no matter how cold it got, he wouldn’t see anything inappropriate.

“Do you have a bag or something?” she asked as she exited. “I just don’t have anywhere for my clothes.”

“Oh, of course.” He ducked into the kitchen before returning with a plastic shopping bag. “Hope this is all right.”

“It’s perfect, thanks.” She stuffed the ball of damp clothes inside.

“I’ve got everything set up for you in the bathroom,” he said, pointing behind him. “Toothbrush and paste, lens solution and case, facewash, washcloth, some towels. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to shower as well of if you’d prefer—”

She reached out to stop the rambling. “Killian, it’s more than enough.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do.” He scratched behind his ear, ducking his head shyly before clearing his throat. “Now, if you’d like to ready yourself, I’ll get some sheets on the couch.”

Her hands were shaking slightly as she got ready for bed in the too-bright light of the bathroom. She was just tired from such a long day. She was just a little woozy from the single beer she’d drank over the course of several hours. She just hadn’t eaten enough. That was all.

It was hard to read his face when she exited the bathroom; her vision wasn’t terrible, but without her glasses, she needed to be much closer to see his expression clearly. And unless she was close enough for them to—

She had to stop thinking like this.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, breaking her out of her train of thought. “I’m a little concerned about the couch.”

“Why? It seems fine.” It looked just like a couch with a sheet fitted over the seat cushions.

“Well, it’s just that the entire time you’ve been in the bathroom, I’ve been trying to make it as comfortable as possible for you. But—well, see for yourself.”

She pressed down on the cushions, testing the softness; sure enough, the fabric of the sheet made an odd sound as it rubbed against the leather, and part of it immediately came loose. “Oh. I mean, it’s really fine. I’ve slept on less comfortable couches.” She chuckled. “Hell, more than once, I’ve slept on the floor. This’ll be like the Ritz.”

“I suppose,” he said glumly. “It’s just … I don’t feel … right making you sleep here.” He nodded, as though he'd decided upon something. “If you don’t mind waiting a little, I’ll just change my sheets, and—”

She held up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, Killian, you’re not sleeping on your own couch.”

“I’ve done it before,” he replied with a shrug.

“On purpose? On your birthday?” This didn’t seem right.

“Well, I mean, is it truly my birthday now that it’s one o’clock in the morning?”

“Killian.”

He held out his hand like he was calming a frightened animal. “Emma, it’s fine, I swear to you.”

“I don’t feel right about it, and like I said, I’ve slept fine on crappy couches before, and this couch doesn’t even seem crappy.”

“I really insist,” he said, stepping closer.

She stepped forward, too. “Well, I insist back, you can’t sleep on your couch on your freakin’ birthday.”

He paused, and now she could see his face a little clearer. He looked anxious, almost scared. But why? “It would seem that we are at an impasse.”

She sighed and stared at her feet, which were almost hidden by the baggy, too-long sweatpants. His sweatpants. “Look, here’s the thing: if I minded, I would say so, I don’t fake how I feel about things. Or at least not very well.”

“True.” She heard the smile in his voice. “For over ten years, you couldn’t fake liking me.”

“Hey, come on.” But she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from twitching upwards, and she took the risk of looking back up at him. “I like you now, that should be enough to make up for it.”

His eyes were dark. But it was dark in the room, so of course his eyes looked dark. “It certainly is,” he replied. But his tone wasn’t playful. It was low, a little husky, like—

She had to stop thinking like this. These motivations she was projecting on him just as imaginary as the ones from before Vermont, when she was convinced he hated her.

“All right there, Swan?”

“Huh?”

“You have a look on your face. Perhaps you’ve found a solution to our conundrum?”

“Uh, not really.” Instead, she was just twisting herself into knots trying to find evidence of any possible feelings he could have for her. Totally normal and helpful.

“I suppose … well, don’t take this the wrong way, all right?”

“What?” Her stomach dropped with dread. Take what the wrong way? Was she that transparent? Was he going to ask her to leave to make things less awkward?

“I don’t move much in my sleep, and I have a king size bed,” he said cautiously. “I certainly won’t spread rumors, I’m happy to tell people I slept on the couch--or that you did, you stubborn lass.”

Or, apparently, the opposite.

It was happening. Actually happening. He was offering to share a bed with her. Which didn’t mean anything, and he’d asked her not to take it the wrong way. But just because he was asking her not to take it the wrong way, did that mean he wasn’t offering it in the wrong way?

“Swan?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You did it again, that look on your face. I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have offered. But really, I wouldn’t mind, and it achieves my goal of not permitting you to sleep on this pitiful couch.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Swan, you can tell me.”

Could she? It was a huge risk. Rationally, she knew it was all impossible, when they hated each other only a month ago, when all of his behavior could be explained as him being a decent person.

But her intuition was screaming at her that she wasn’t crazy, that she wasn’t just seeing what she wanted to see, that this wasn’t just wishful thinking coloring her point of view. And if she didn’t take this leap, she was going to lose her damn mind.

 “Okay, this is going to sound stupid, but like … remember when we talked about shit-stained goggles?” It took a lot of concentration not to stammer.

“Aye, very clearly. Do you not trust that I’m being sincere?”

“No, I do, it’s just … like, what’s the opposite of that?”

“Of what, shit-stained goggles?”

“Yeah, what’s the opposite of that? Where instead of me assuming you hate me … I’m kind of making a different assumption?”

A long pause. “Are you saying that this assumption is that I like you? You know that things have changed between us since last month, it’s no secret between us. Even if our friends are a bit bewildered.”

“Not exactly. Look, never mind, let’s just get on with it.” Onwards to the awkwardly charged bedsharing.

“Wait, no.” He held up his hand. “What do you mean? Please tell me.”

Her face was burning up. “Okay, fine, just … I keep reading into stuff, okay? Probably way too much. Like, this couch. I know rationally that you’re right, the couch won’t be the most comfortable because of the material not making nice with the sheets.”

At this point, she was wringing the hem of her borrowed shirt so hard that she was sure it was stretched out permanently. But there was no going back. “And rationally, I know that two people can sleep in the same bed and it doesn’t really mean anything besides just two people sleeping in a bed. But part of me gets the feeling that if nothing was going on, you would have just offered me the couch, I would have said yes, and we’d both be asleep by now.”

An even longer pause, one she had to bite the inside of her cheek in order to avoid breaking. But then—

“Rationally, I know that you might have been able to drive home, or that you accepting my offer didn’t mean anything beyond you not wanting to drive in the snow. But I also get the feeling that there’s more to it than that.”

Her heart did a few backflips, even as she mentally needed to process what he’d just said. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He took a small step closer.

“So what now?” So did she. Like there was a small but very real gravitational pull.

“I’ll say it plainly, I suppose. With the shit-stained goggles off, I seem to have taken quite a fancy to you, Emma Swan.”

“Really?” Several more backflips, a somersault, and some kind of high bar routine now.

“Aye. Now that I can see more clearly, you appear to be a very kind, loyal, determined, and beautiful woman. And I’m honestly quite nervous right now that you are in my flat with me.”

“So I’m not imagining it.” They were so much closer now, it just made sense to reach out and touch his arm. To reassure herself that this was real.

“No. Am I?”

“No.”

“I see.” He cleared his throat, and she felt his hand tentatively touch her waist. “May I kiss you?”

“Uh, yes. Definitely.” And the hand on her waist tightened and pulled her in.

A month ago, the thought of kissing Killian Jones would have been unpleasant. Repulsive, even. Having his arms around her, being close enough to smell his cologne, feeling his beard stubble against her skin--all things that grossed her out.

But like he’d said, things looked different with the goggles off. Kissing Killian Jones? Far, far, far from unpleasant

[eastwesthomeisbest]

I am yours... Now and always

Wouldn't dream to be anything more

You take my breath away every night

Still can't believe it when you say your mine and

I am yours, I am yours, I am yours

I was free falling through the open sky

'Til you smiled at me and you saved my life

And I Knew I was put here to love you

You got the universe swimming in your eyes

Im an open book when you look in mine

You'll find that I was put here to love you

I been lost, I been found

But I know I am now, I am yours!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And the next one for @lifeinahole27 as @cssecretsanta2020 with your favorite CS song.

❤️❤️❤️

[carpedzem]

Ho-ho-ho @emmaducklingsaviour! I’m your @cssecretsanta2020! Surprised? 💝💝 I wish you this Christmas a lot of love, inspiration for more stories, a lot of readers and everything else you wish you ave! it was a pleasure to get to know you more last weeks!

At first I wanted to draw you the most cliche thing, kissing under a mistletoe but I did it last year and I don’t want you to feel I don’t care enough to come up with something else. So this is 2nd the most cliche thing 😌😌😌 Emma and Killian were each other Secret Santas for the first Christmas in Storybrooke. How this happened is a mystery (I mean, of course it’s Ruby, or Mary Margaret, or maybe both?). Kissing under mistletoe comes later 😉 I hope you like it!

I post it on 24th because that’s when we give each other presents in Poland and I like to flex on people I can have my presents first . And now you can as well! 😉

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR! 💝💝💝💝

[jrob64]

Snowstorm Confessions

Hello @girl-in-a-tiny-box! I am your Secret Santa! I must have been destined to be your SS because I had already started writing a fluffy story to take a break from an angsty story I’ve been working on. When you told me some of your favorite tropes, characters and scenes, I was very happy because they fit right in with what I was planning to write!

This gift-giving event also inspired me to try my very first pic set, & I had SO much fun doing it! Thanks to @kmomof4 for helping me with it.

Thanks also to my magnificent beta @hookedmom who is always willing to check over everything that I throw at her!

Summary: When Liam and Elsa are called away for an emergency during a snowstorm, Killian & Emma are left alone. Will they finally admit their feelings for each other?

Rating: T

Words: 8722

Also found on Ao3 and ffn

*********

Arizona. I’m definitely moving to Arizona, Emma Swan thought, trudging from the car to her friend’s house through the slushy puddles, as more snow fell all around her. She hated cold weather, and couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she’d decided to make one of the coldest states in the country her home. 

She stomped the snow off of her boots and reached up to knock on the door, but it opened before she had a chance. 

“Emma!” Elsa exclaimed, throwing her arms open wide to embrace her friend. 

“Oomph! Too tight, Els! Can’t breathe!”

“Sorry! I’m just so excited to see you! It’s been ages!” She stepped aside to usher Emma into the house. 

“Well, if you and your new husband hadn’t decided to travel the entire world for your honeymoon, it wouldn’t have been so long!” 

“It wasn’t the entire world!” Elsa laughed. “Just portions of it, and we were only gone for a month. We’ve been home for almost two months now, but you haven’t stopped over.”

“I’ve never thought it was a good idea to drop in on newlyweds. Too much potential for scarring memories to be made.”

Elsa’s laughter rang out again as her husband entered the room. “Hello, Emma!” Liam greeted. “Long time, no see!”

“Yeah, I was just telling your wife the reason for that. It’s good to see you, Liam.” She crossed the space between them to give him a hug. 

“Hello, Swan.”

She froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Killian Jones, Liam’s younger brother. Insufferable, swaggering, annoying, extremely gorgeous, funny, sweet Killian. Without her permission, her heart started racing. She pulled away from Liam and turned to face his brother. 

“How are you, Killian?” she asked. She was unsurprised to see the smirk and cocked eyebrow on his face. 

“Better now that you’re here. It’s getting bloody unbearable being around these two lovebirds all the time.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kil. You’ve only been here since yesterday afternoon,” Liam scoffed.

“That’s long enough.” He looked at Emma again, and she swallowed at the intensity of his brilliant blue eyes. “Anyway, it’s good to have someone to talk to who won’t be preoccupied with public displays of affection. Unless…” he sauntered forward into Emma’s personal space, “you would be interested in such actions with me. What do you say, Swan?”

“Please,” Emma spat, trying not to let his nearness affect her even more. “you couldn’t handle it.”

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

“Killian, Emma has been here a total of three minutes and you’re already hitting on her. Give it a rest,” Elsa playfully admonished. She flashed an apologetic smile at her friend. “Dinner isn’t quite ready yet. Do you want to keep me company in the kitchen?”

“Got any wine in there?” Emma asked. 

“Of course.” 

“Then yes, I will keep you company.” She strode past Killian, throwing in a wink for good measure, which he tried, and failed, to return. 

The two brothers headed to the living room to watch and fight over a football game. Emma followed Elsa into the kitchen and got two wine glasses out of the cupboard. 

“Smells fantastic! What are you making?” Emma asked as she stuck her head in the refrigerator to check out the wine options. 

“Chicken Cordon Bleu with roasted carrots and garlic mashed potatoes,” Elsa answered. 

“Mmmm. Chardonnay then?” 

“Of course! So how have you been, Ems?”

“Eh, not bad. Business has been good since it’s getting close to Christmas, so I can’t complain about that.” Emma was the assistant manager at a combination bookstore, coffee shop and bakery which was owned by their friends Mary Margaret and David. “I will complain about the weather, though. Who needs this much snow when it’s only the beginning of December?”

“Better get used to it. Sounds like we’re in for quite a bit of it this winter. They’re calling for several inches tonight. I hope you’ll be able to get home. If not, you’re welcome to stay here overnight.” 

“Thanks, but I’m sure I can trust Old Faithful out there,” Emma said, referring to her vintage Volkswagen Beetle. 

Elsa scoffed. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that car is reliable.”

“You should know by now not to insult my car.” Emma sat down at the counter and took a sip of wine. “How long is Killian staying?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“For the rest of his life,” her friend said smugly.

Emma nearly choked on her wine. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

“He’s decided that he wants to move here to be closer to his family. There’s really nothing left for him in Ireland, and Liam put in a good word for him at the lumber yard. He’s going to be in charge of the hardware department now that Leroy has retired.”

“Oh, well, that’s good, I guess.”

“Yes it is. Liam is very happy about it. Moving away from his brother was so difficult for him, especially since Killian was all alone after Liam came here to live.”

“I’m sure he didn’t lack female companionship,” Emma said under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough for Elsa not to hear. 

She turned to look sternly at her friend. “That’s not fair, Emma. You don’t know Killian like I do. He’s really quite shy and introverted. That flirtiness and arrogance is just a front to cover up his insecurities.”

Emma looked chagrined. “I would never have guessed that, but I don’t understand why he thinks he has to put on an act. I’d rather hear a guy admit he’s shy instead of acting like he’s a womanizer.”

“Have you ever seen him flirt with anyone besides you?” Elsa asked pointedly. 

“Uh, can’t say I ever have, I guess” her friend mumbled, while her cheeks filled with color. 

“Yeah, well, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How long until everything is ready, Sweetheart?” Liam asked, entering the room and striding across it to peek over his wife’s shoulder. “And what can I do to help?”

“It’s almost finished. Can you mash the potatoes?”

“Absolutely!” He crouched down in front of a cupboard to pull out the hand mixer, and Emma gave Elsa a look over his head that told her their conversation wasn’t over yet. 

*********

Dinner was delicious, and everyone enjoyed talking and laughing about a variety of subjects. When Liam got up from the table to get the dessert, he looked out the window and gave a low whistle “The snow is really piling up out there. Looks like we’ve gotten at least another three inches and it’s still coming down.”

“Maybe I should go,” Emma said, troubling her lip between her teeth. 

Before anyone could answer, Elsa’s phone began to ring. She picked it up and glanced at it. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. It’s Anna.” She took the phone into another room, but they could hear the concern in her voice as she talked to her sister. 

Liam was just beginning to dish out the apple crisp when Elsa came hurrying back into the room with a look of panic on her face. 

“Anna’s gone into labor and Kris is out on the road! He’s trying to get back as fast as he can, but he’s three states away. I told her to call for the rescue squad to take her to the hospital and we’ll get there as quickly as possible. Is that okay, Liam?”

Her husband dropped the spoon he was holding. “Of course it is! Go pack a bag and I’ll pull the truck out…”

“I’ll do that, brother! You and Elsa get ready to go.”

“I’ll move my car out of the way, then help Killian clean everything up before I take off,” Emma stated, grabbing her coat and pulling it on, while yanking her keys out of the pocket. 

Everyone shot off to make preparations for Elsa and Liam’s departure. 

Emma coaxed her bug to life and threw it into reverse, backing it out of the driveway so quickly that she didn’t see the large snowdrift on the street behind her until it stopped her progress. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, shifting into drive, but her fears were realized when the tires spun fruitlessly and the little car stayed put. 

She groaned and looked up to see that Killian had Liam’s black four-wheel-drive truck moved into the spot she had just vacated. She gritted her teeth and got out of her car. “I’m stuck!” she called to him. “Can you help push me out?”

Killian surveyed the situation, then scanned the street. “It won’t do any good, Swan. You’re not going anywhere in that car. I’m a little worried about Liam trying to drive in this mess with his truck.”

Emma heaved a sigh and decided it was pointless to argue. She hated to admit it, but she knew he was right. Reaching back into the little car, she turned it off and removed the keys from the ignition. Then she slammed the door and slogged up the driveway. 

Just as Emma and Killian stepped back inside the house, Elsa and Liam emerged from their bedroom with overnight bags slung over their shoulders. Emma saw how drawn with worry her friend’s face looked and her heart went out to her. 

“I checked to make sure there are emergency supplies in the truck in case you run into trouble,” Killian told his brother. “I put a couple extra blankets and some bottles of water behind the seat.”

Emma was impressed. She would have never thought of doing that. She didn’t even keep supplies like that in her own car, and it was far less reliable than Liam’s pickup truck. 

“Thanks, brother. Our phone chargers are in the console, so we should be good to go.”

Emma pulled Elsa into a hug. “Everything will be fine, Els. You guys be careful, and don’t worry about anything here. Killian and I will take care of it.”

“Don’t try to drive that car of yours home, Ems. I can’t be worrying about you on top of everything else.” 

“It’s stuck in a snowdrift right now. I was gonna ask if I could borrow your car to drive home.”

“Her car is terrible in snow, Emma,” Liam cut in. “We’ve already started looking for a different one, but for now, just stay put.”

Elsa’s phone buzzed and she took a quick look. “Anna’s at the hospital. We need to get on the road, Sweetheart.” She hugged Killian tightly. “Thanks for your help, Kil. We’ll keep you guys updated. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Both of you,” he added, glancing over at his brother. “Drive carefully.”

Emma and Killian walked out on the porch to see them off, then went back into the warmth of the house once the truck turned the corner at the end of the street. 

“How long does it take to get to Anna’s from here?” Emma asked through chattering teeth. 

“About three-and-a-half hours under ideal conditions, so I’d say at least four or more today. You’re shivering, Swan. Why don’t you go into the living room and get under a blanket.”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up.” 

She pulled off her boots and tossed her coat onto the rack beside the door. Killian set his boots beside hers on the rug, and followed her into the kitchen. 

They worked together silently, each lost in their own thoughts about the harrowing trip Elsa and Liam were making through the snow that was still falling steadily outside the window. 

“Do you want your apple crisp now?” Emma asked, picking up the bowls that Liam had been getting ready to serve before he had to leave so abruptly. 

“Maybe later. I seem to recall that you are partial to hot chocolate. Perhaps we can have some with our dessert in a little while?”

“Sure, sounds good.” She wiped a dishcloth over the table, then looked around the kitchen. “I think that’s it. Now what?”

“Liam and Elsa have the Disney Plus package, so we have access to plenty of movies and shows. What do you say we take advantage of it?”

“Okay, but I get to choose. I’m the guest, after all.” 

“Technically we’re both guests, Love.”

“Actually, Elsa tells me you’re going to be a permanent resident here.”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Aye. I’ll be staying here at the house until I find a place of my own, then I’ll have to make one more trip back to Ireland to get my belongings sent over. They’re in storage for now.”

“It will be nice having you around. I...I mean...I’m sure Liam and Elsa think it will be.” She could feel her cheeks heating. 

“Are you saying that you’re glad you’ll be seeing more of me, Swan?” he smirked.

Emma rolled her eyes. 

“Play your cards right, and you might be able to see a LOT more of me!”

“In your dreams, Buddy,” she mumbled. 

“Perhaps you are, Darling,” he quipped. 

“Look, just hand me the remote and stop being Captain Innuendo, please.”

Killian smirked again and gave her the device. She flipped through the options and selected “Mandalorian”.  

“I didn’t picture you as a Star Wars fan, Love.”

“I’m not, really. I just like Baby Yoda.”

“Ah, of course!”

They settled into opposite corners of the sofa and began to watch the episode. After about fifteen minutes, Emma’s phone vibrated in her hand and she unlocked it to read the text. 

“Elsa says the roads are tricky but Liam is being cautious. Anna is progressing slowly and they should be able to get there before the baby is born. Hopefully Kris will be able to, also.” 

“I hope so. Every father should be there when their child is born.”

Emma realized that what he said had an underlying meaning. His own father had left while his mother was still pregnant with him, claiming he didn’t want to be tied down with a wife and two children. Elsa had once told her that Killian felt like it was his fault his father had abandoned the family. 

Killian got up from the couch and stretched. “Can you pause it, Swan? Nature calls.”

Just as she heard the bathroom door close, the lights started flickering. “No, no, no, no, no!” she chanted. Suddenly, everything shut down and the room was plunged into darkness.

“Bloody hell!” she heard Killian exclaim. 

Emma brought up the flashlight app on her phone and turned it on. She carefully made her way over to the window to see if anyone else in the neighborhood had lights, and what she saw caused her heart to sink. Not only were all the surrounding houses dark, but all the street lights were out as well. 

She heard a crash coming from the bathroom and quickly headed in that direction. “Are you alright?” she called through the door. 

“I am at the moment, but I might not be once Elsa finds out I broke her magnifying mirror.” The door opened and he squinted when the light from Emma’s phone shone right into his eyes. 

“You broke a mirror? You do know that’s seven years bad luck, don’t you?”

“It’s only cracked.” 

“Three-and-a-half years then.”

Killian chuckled. 

“I hate to tell you, but it looks like the power is out everywhere,” Emma told him, and he groaned. “Hopefully it will come back on soon.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, Love. My guess is the weight of the snow brought some power lines down, which means utility workers will have to go out in this mess and try to restore it.”

Emma threw her head back dramatically. “Fantastic! So now what do we do?”

“Well, there’s no need to be antsy. We have our wits, we just have to focus on being constructive. What’s the battery percentage on your phone?”

“Seventy-seven percent,” she reported, after checking her screen. 

“I left mine on the coffee table. Shine your light over there, would you please?”

She did as asked and he crossed the room. “Mine’s at ninety-four. Elsa has been checking in with you, so try to conserve your battery. Do you have it on low-power mode?”

“I do now. Oh wait! I have a portable battery charger in my purse. I think it’s fully charged, too.”

“Excellent! We should be all set with our phones then. Now we need some light sources. Do you know if Elsa has any candles or flashlights?”

“Um, I’m not sure about flashlights, but I’ll bet she has candles. She always had them burning in our apartment at college. Let me look around.”

“I’m going to go round up all the blankets in the house since it won’t take long for the temperature to drop in here. Do you want me to grab a sweatshirt for you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll raid Elsa’s closet myself. I’d like to get into something more comfortable than these jeans, and I need some warm socks. Do you think we should tell Liam and Elsa what’s going on?”

Killian considered her question for a moment. “No, they have enough on their minds. We can handle this ourselves without worrying them about it.”

Emma nodded her agreement. “Okay, meet you back here in a few minutes then. I assume you want to stay in the living room?”

“Actually, my bed is pretty comfortable. We’ll probably need to combine our body heat, don’t you think, Swan?” The exaggerated eye roll he got for that remark made him laugh out loud. “Aye, meet you back here, Love.”

When he returned loaded down with numerous blankets and quilts, he found several lit candles placed around the room, but Emma wasn’t there. He assumed she was changing into warmer clothes. 

Just as he was unfolding the blankets, he heard her re-enter the room. “I’m gonna have my dessert now. Do you want yours?” she asked. 

He looked up and saw that she was now in fleece pajama pants and a hoodie, with thick, fuzzy socks on her feet. 

“Sure. We can bring it in here where all the candles are so we at least have some light.”

“Too bad we can’t have our hot chocolate.”

“Why can’t we? They have a gas stove. I’ll light the burner for you.”  

“I can get it.”

“No, Swan. I’ll take care of it.”

“So now you’re gonna be a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman.”

Emma scoffed, but followed him into the kitchen. By the time she’d gotten out the milk, sugar and cocoa, he had the burner lit and was leaving the room to flip off all the light switches that he knew had been on before the power went out. 

She was stirring the heating liquid when he returned. “Something smells delicious,” he commented. 

“Homemade hot chocolate is always the best. Can you get the cinnamon out, please?”

He gave her a quizzical look, but went to the spice cupboard. After setting out two mugs, he handed her the cinnamon. “What are you doing with this?”

“Putting it on my cocoa. Ever tried it?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Would you like to?”

“Why not? I’d like to think you and I have a taste for similar things, and I’m not just talking about cocoa,” he commented, attempting to wink. 

“Seriously, can you not go ten minutes without making suggestive remarks?” she asked sharply.  

The grin faded from his face. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’ll just, um, I’ll just take these bowls into the living room.” He stuck a spoon into each dish of apple crisp and walked through the doorway. 

After he left the room, Emma sighed. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she was sure that she had. 

When she carried the steaming mugs into the other room a few minutes later, he was standing at the window, shining the light from his phone outside. 

“Is it letting up at all?” she asked.

“It’s hard to tell if new snow is falling, or if the wind is just blowing around what’s already fallen. Some of the drifts look to be about four feet high. Oh, your phone was buzzing a minute ago.”

“Thanks.” She set the mugs on the coffee table and picked up her device. “Text from Elsa. She said they seem to have driven out of the worst of the snow, and they’re able to go a little faster. Kris hasn’t run into any bad weather, so he’s making good time.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Listen, Killian, I’m sorry about what I said in the kitchen…”

“No, Emma, you’ve no reason to apologize. You’re right, I really shouldn’t speak to you that way. It’s just...I don’t know...you make me a bit nervous and I respond by making innuendos. From now on, I’ll make an effort to stop.”

“Why do I make you nervous?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Because actually, I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not yelling at me.” 

She noticed that he was looking down to avoid making eye contact with her. Taking a deep breath, she decided to return the favor of his honesty. “You’re, uh, you’re not so bad yourself, and maybe I feel the same.” 

His eyes shot up along with his eyebrows. “Really?”

She shrugged. “I guess you’ve...grown on me a bit.” 

“Well, I tend to have that effect on people.” 

“All right, don’t push it.”

He grinned, then motioned to the sofa. “Shall we?” 

They consumed their dessert in relative silence, then sat sipping their drinks. “Do you think we need to do anything in case the electricity is off for a long while?” Emma asked. 

Killian stretched his arm above his head, then dropped it down to scratch the back of his head. “I think we need to close off all the other rooms besides the bathrooms to keep the heat in one area as much as possible. We can just camp out on the floor in here. I’ll grab some pillows from the bedrooms.”

Emma collected the bowls and mugs and carried them into the kitchen, where she placed them in the sink. As she made her way back out, Killian ran into her, accidentally knocking her backwards into the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry, Swan!” he exclaimed, immediately dropping the armful of pillows he was carrying and reaching out to grasp her upper arms. “Are you alright?”

Shivers emanated from where his hands made contact, even through the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. “I-I’m fine, Killian,” she stammered. “No harm done.” 

When he didn’t release her arms, she looked up to meet his eyes. The light from the flickering candles illuminated them, and she saw the moment his concern turned into a different emotion - one of warm affection. Her breath caught as she realized that he was probably seeing the same in her eyes. 

Killian brought his hands up to the sides of her face, and raised his brows in a silent question. She nodded slightly and leaned in, letting her eyes drift shut. 

The slide of her lips against his was something Killian thought he’d never get to experience. Ever since he’d met her two years ago when he came to Storybrooke with Liam for the first time, he’d hoped to someday know that feeling. His heart had squeezed in his chest the second he’d laid eyes on her, and he had felt an attraction toward her that was completely foreign to him. 

The kiss lasted just a few seconds before she pulled back, and he was afraid that he’d misread her signals. She pressed her forehead against his momentarily, then wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips once again. 

His arms slid around her back and he felt her running her tongue along the seam of his lips, which he parted to accommodate her. She tentatively explored his mouth, then tilted her head and got a little bolder. A low moan escaped him as he reciprocated, wondering if he was somehow dreaming, while at the same time deciding to enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasted. 

When breathing became a necessity, Emma broke the contact between them. She could hear him panting slightly as he whispered, “That was…”

“Something we should probably talk about,” she finished breathlessly. 

He gripped her hips and said, “Emma, please don’t say it was a mistake, because it didn’t feel like one to me.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I was going to say. I just want to...I don’t know...figure out where we go from here, I guess.”

“Oh, okay.” 

They gathered up the pillows he’d dropped and went into the living room. Emma sat on one end of the couch, and when Killian hesitated, she took his hand and tugged him down beside her, not letting go of him once he was settled. 

Neither of them spoke for a while as they tried to figure out where to begin. Finally, Emma cleared her throat and said, “If I tell you something Elsa told me tonight, will you promise not to get upset with her?”

“I can’t imagine anything she could say that would make me angry with her.”

“She said that you’re, um, really shy, and the reason you flirt with me is to cover up for that.”

He dropped his eyes and pulled at a thread on his flannel shirt. “She’s, uh...she’s right. I’ve never been very good...you know...around women, especially ones as beautiful as you.” 

Emma could feel her cheeks grow warm as a result of the compliment. She squeezed his hand before answering, “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Killian. I have to admit that I’ve been attracted to you for quite a while now, maybe even from the first time I met you.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah. I’ve just never thought that it would be worth pursuing since you live so far away, and I can’t seem to make any kind of relationship work, let alone a long-distance one.”

“I don’t know what sort of men you’ve been dating, Love, but if they aren’t interested in being in a relationship with you, they must be fools.”

She laughed lightly. “To be fair, it’s usually me who doesn’t want to continue going out with them. I guess maybe I set my expectations too high.”

“Should I be intimidated by that confession?” he asked teasingly.

She nudged his shoulder with her own. “Are you saying that you want to date me?”

He turned in his seat to look directly into her face, and she could see the sincerity in his gaze, even in the dim light. “I would very much like to date you, Emma. What do you say? Will you go out with me?”

She reached up to run her hand along his jaw, enjoying the feel of his beard against her palm. She had noticed that it was longer than the short scruff he usually wore, and she found it to be quite attractive. “Yes, Killian. I will go on a date with you.”

“Only one?” he asked cheekily, as his right eyebrow rose high on his forehead. 

“I have to see how the first one goes before I promise a second one.”

“So, no pressure then?”

“Nope. Just show me the best time I’ve ever had on a date and I’ll consider going out with you again.” She giggled at the look of consternation on his face. 

“I know you’re teasing, Swan, but I really do want to plan a lovely date for you. You deserve nothing less. I was thinking perhaps we could go out to eat at a nice restaurant, then take a drive to see the Christmas lights. Would you like that?”

“So you’ve already put some thought into this, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“I think it sounds wonderful! And honestly, you don’t have to feel like it has to be something spectacular. I’d be perfectly happy to stay in and watch a show or movie like we did tonight before the power went out.”

“Ah, so this is actually our first date then, and you’ve already agreed to a second one!”

“I don’t think it works that way, Buddy!” 

“Too late! I’m already counting it!” he chuckled. 

She slapped playfully at his chest, and he grabbed her hand before she could do it again. 

“Sweetheart, your hands are freezing! Let’s get you under some blankets.” 

He reached over to the pile that he had deposited earlier on the opposite end of the couch. As he started to drape it around her, she said, “Wait, I have a better idea.”

He watched her leave the room, wondering what she had planned. While she was gone, he checked the inside temperature on the thermostat. 

When she reentered the room, she was dragging two comforters-one from his bed and one from Liam and Elsa’s. He realized what she was intending to do and hurried over to push the coffee table out of the way, being careful not to jostle the two lit candles on it. Then he helped her spread the comforters on the floor, one on top of the other. 

Tossing the pillows down on the makeshift bed, Killian told her, “The temperature is down to sixty-one in here. I knew it would drop pretty quickly with the way that wind is blowing.” 

Emma was unfolding the blankets and shivered involuntarily. “The bedrooms are even colder than out here. It was a good idea to close them off.”

“When Liam and I were kids, we spent most of the winter camped out on the lounge floor in front of the fireplace, and Mum would sleep on the sofa. I remember going into my bedroom to get dressed in the mornings and nearly freezing since we kept those rooms shut off, but it saved some money for our family.” 

They worked together to layer all the blankets on the floor, then Killian said, “I’m going to brush my teeth. Do you need a toothbrush to use? I’m sure Elsa has some extra ones tucked away somewhere. Liam always grabs two or three new ones when he goes to the dentist, because he’s a cheapskate and doesn’t want to buy them for himself.”

Emma laughed. “Sure, that would be great. I obviously wasn’t prepared to spend the night here.”

After brushing their teeth, Killian went into his bedroom to change into sleeping attire. When he made his way back out into the living room, he found Emma already snuggled under the pile of blankets. 

“Did I take your side?” she asked.

“I don’t really have a side, at least not that I know of. I’m not used to sharing a bed. When Liam and I shared as kids, I always had to sleep on the outside so I could get to the bathroom quickly if I needed to. Sometimes I didn’t make it in time and...” He abruptly stopped speaking. “I guess that’s TMI. Sorry, Swan.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I like knowing more about your childhood. Elsa told me that your, uh, your father abandoned the family before you were even born.” 

“Aye, that he did.” 

She held up the blankets in invitation, and he dropped to the floor and began to crawl into the cocoon they had created. 

“Wait a second. I’d better blow out the candles.” 

“Oh yeah, good idea.” Emma started to throw back the covers.

“Stay put, Love. I’ve got it.”

She turned on her phone flashlight so he could see his way around. After he’d extinguished the candles that were scattered around the room, he slid under the mountain of blankets. Emma turned off the light, leaving them in complete darkness. 

“It’s funny how quiet it is when the power is off,” she observed. “I guess we don’t even notice the constant hum that’s created by electricity.”

“Aye, that’s true. It always seems like the darkness is darker without any power, also, if that makes any sense.”

“It does, and I agree.”

Killian heard Emma shifting and soon felt her pressed up against his left arm. He lifted it and she nestled in closer to his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and left a breath of a kiss on her head. 

She ran her hand up the soft fabric of the henley he wore until she encountered a soft tuft of hair peeking out of the unbuttoned opening halfway up his chest. She swirled her fingers through it and felt him shudder. 

“Ticklish?” she asked slyly.

“Your fingers are like icicles, Swan.” He removed his arm from around her, took both of her hands between his, and began rubbing them vigorously. 

“How do you stay so warm? You’re seriously like a furnace.”

“Why, Swan - are you saying I’m hot?” Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew without a doubt that he was wearing his trademark smirk. 

Just as she opened her mouth to answer, her text notification went off. She pulled her hands from his grasp and fumbled for her phone, quickly swiping her finger across the screen. “It’s from Elsa. They made it there safely.”

“That’s a bloody relief,” Killian breathed. 

“She says Anna hasn’t started hard labor yet, and Kris is less than two hours away, so they’re pretty sure he’ll make it there before the baby is born.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be a long night for them,” he said, as Emma tapped out a response. 

“I think the birthing rooms have sofas and recliners in them, if it’s like the one Mary Margaret had. They should be able to get some rest.”

“Have you ever spent any time around Anna? That girl can talk the wallpaper off the walls! I doubt they get a whole lot of rest.”

Emma laughed. “She used to come visit quite often when Elsa and I roomed together in college. After a while, you learn to tune her out.” She laid her phone down and yanked the blankets around her shoulders again.

Killian gathered her back into his arms, this time holding her more tightly against his chest. She sighed in contentment. 

After several moments, she felt a rumble under her cheek as he said, “May I ask you something, Emma?”

“Of course.”

“Elsa has mentioned that you don’t have any family. What...what happened to them?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was abandoned when I was just a few days old. I went through the system until I was almost fifteen, then I landed in a foster home with Ingrid, who kept me with her until I graduated from high school. It was the longest I ever stayed in one place. She helped me apply for scholarships so I could go to college.”

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

“Yes. I’ll be going to Boston to visit her sometime during the holidays, I just haven’t figured out when.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, as Emma rubbed small circles into Killian’s shoulder, and he glided his hand up and down her back. 

“I guess we have a lot in common with our lack of parents, don’t we?” he asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes, but I feel like Elsa and Mary Margaret are as close as any sisters I could have ever had. And Liam and David treat me like their little sister - sometimes almost annoyingly so.”

“I completely understand what you mean when it comes to Liam!” he laughed. “I’m looking forward to getting to know David and Mary Margaret better. They seem like a great couple.” 

“They really are, and their little boy D.J. is adorable.” She paused for a couple of minutes before she asked, “How old were you when your mother passed away?”

“Fourteen. Liam was only eighteen, but he became my guardian. He worked and held off going to Uni for a few years, then took home courses until I graduated secondary school. It was lucky he went on campus eventually because that’s where he met Elsa. Did you study overseas, also?”

“No, I was just scraping by financially. I’ll never forget when Elsa came back from Ireland, though. I knew right away that she’d fallen in love, just the way she talked about Liam.”

“Aye, he was smitten with her from the very beginning, just like…”

She gave him some time to continue, and when he didn’t, she prompted, “Just like what, Killian?”  ` `

He swallowed. “Just like me, when I first saw you.”

She pushed up onto her elbow, moving her opposite hand across his collarbone, and into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Leaning down, she connected with his lips and they shared a leisurely kiss. 

After laying her head back down on his chest, she murmured, “Killian?”

“Mmmhmm?” 

“I really like kissing you.”

He let out a chuckle. “The feeling is mutual, Love, I assure you.” 

“Despite the circumstances, this is really nice, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it certainly is,” he agreed. There was another period of silence before he asked, “When would you like to go out on our date, Emma?” 

“Are you thinking of planning it for next week?”

“Would that be too soon?” 

“No, that would be fine. I have to close on Tuesday and Friday. Other than that, my evenings are open.”

“Shall we say Wednesday then?���

“Sounds perfect.”  

Killian thought that Emma had fallen asleep when she didn’t speak for quite a while, so he was a bit surprised when she asked, “Do you think we’ll be able to dig my car out tomorrow?”

“We’ll have to see how things look in the daylight. Are you in a hurry to get back to your apartment?”

“No, I don’t have any plans since the bookstore is closed on Sundays. I feel like I should stay until Elsa and Liam get back, or at least until the power comes back on.”

“I definitely wouldn’t mind the company.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead, then she tilted her face up to press one to his jaw. He turned his head to meet her lips and they engaged in another languid kiss. 

Soon after they separated, he heard her yawn. “Do my kisses bore you, Swan?” he chuckled.

“Not at all,” she reassured him firmly. “It’s just been a long day. I had the early shift which started at six-thirty. I don’t usually have to open the shop, but Mary Margaret and David wanted to take D.J. to see Santa this morning.”

“Ah, your exhaustion is quite understandable then.” He pulled the blankets more snuggly around her. “Are you warm enough, Sweetheart?”

“Mmmhmm.” She yawned again. “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Love. Pleasant dreams.” 

A few minutes later, he heard her breathing grow deeper and more regular. He continued to run his hand up and down her back until he felt sleep beginning to pull him under, as well. His last thought before he drifted off was how he could very easily get used to holding Emma Swan in his arms every night. 

*********

Several chimes from Emma’s phone pulled her out of a very good dream. Sitting up groggily, she haphazardly patted the couch to search for it. When she finally located it, she squinted at the screen and saw that it was shortly after five-fifteen in the morning and there were several messages from Elsa. She entered her passcode, as Killian stirred beside her. 

“What is it, Swan?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly. 

“More texts from Elsa...oh!” she exclaimed, slapping him on the arm excitedly. “Anna had the baby at four thirty-seven! It’s a little boy, and they named him Aaron Dale. Elsa says he’s strong and healthy, 8 lbs, 6 oz, and Anna is doing fine. Kris made it there in plenty of time, so she and Liam are going to get some sleep at Anna and Kris’s house. She says they plan to go back to the hospital afterwards, then they’ll head home later this afternoon.”

“That’s nice.” He gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

Emma was busy typing out a response to her friend. “I’m telling Elsa the power is out, but we’ve got everything under control. I’m also gonna tell her that you’re being grumpy.” 

“Mmph.”

“For some reason, I’ve always pictured you as a morning person, Jones.” 

“Too bloody early,” he mumbled into his pillow. 

She sent the text, then playfully shoved him in the back. He shot his hand out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down onto the thick comforters. 

Emma giggled as he nuzzled into her neck. “I thought you were tired.”

“I could be persuaded to stay awake for the right reason.”

“What would that reason be?”

“Keeping a certain lovely lady warm.”

“That is a good reason.” She wrapped her arms around him and her lips found his for a brief but sweet kiss. 

“Mmmm, I have to say that this is a very nice way to wake up,” Killian’s voice rumbled in her ear. 

His accent was more pronounced in his drowsy state, and that, combined with the chilliness of the room, caused Emma to shiver. He noticed immediately and, after securing the blankets around her, began to rub his hands up and down her arms. 

She yawned. “As nice as it is, I could do with some more sleep. How about you?” 

“Absolutely, especially since we won’t be able to use the coffee maker.”

Emma groaned. “Ugh, I forgot about that. Maybe if we go back to sleep, the power will magically be on when we wake up again.”

“It’s worth a try.” He stopped massaging her arms and pulled her into his chest. She could feel his lips press to the crown of her head twice, then her eyes closed and she gave in to sleep once more. 

*********

The next time Killian awoke, the room was bathed in light coming in through the windows. He was laying on his right side, with Emma tucked up against his back. Her left arm was draped over his waist, and he felt puffs of her breath on his neck. He could tell she was still sleeping soundly, so he let himself enjoy the feeling of being in the arms of the woman he’d dreamed of holding for such a long time. 

Liam and Elsa had encouraged him to ask Emma out every time he’d visited them, knowing that he harbored feelings for her. He always balked, claiming that it wouldn’t be fair since he lived in Ireland, which was a valid excuse, but in reality, he was afraid of being rejected. Even though he talked a good game when he was around her, he completely lacked the confidence he needed to initiate anything that might lead to a deeper relationship with her. 

He thought about the events of the night before and smiled as he realized everything had fallen into place for Emma and himself to be alone in the dark, cuddling together to share their body heat. He couldn’t have planned a better opportunity to open up to her and admit how he felt. And then for her to confess that she felt the same, well, that was more than he could have ever asked for. 

“Why are you thinking so loud?” muttered the subject of his thoughts.

He chuckled and flipped over to face her. “I wasn’t aware I was doing that.” 

“Trust me, you were.” Her eyes blinked open and she smiled sleepily when they connected with his forget-me-not blue ones. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Love. Did you sleep well?” 

“Uh-huh. How about you?”

“Surprisingly well for being on the floor of a house that has no heat, with someone snoring in my ear.” His dimples became pronounced as he failed to hide his teasing smirk. 

“Watch it, Buster!” she retorted, lightly pinching his side. His yelp of feigned pain made her giggle, then she stretched her arms above her head and released a wide yawn. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now.”

“Should I be nervous?”

“Possibly.” 

“Note to self - keep Emma Swan supplied with coffee or risk an untimely death.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She plucked her phone off the couch to look at the time. At Killian’s questioning look, she reported, “It’s almost eight o’clock.” 

It was his turn to stretch, then he tossed back the blankets, pushed himself to his feet, and crossed the room to look out the window. “It looks like the snowplow has gone through. I think I’ll try to take Elsa’s car to get some coffee and breakfast.”

“You don’t have to do that, Killian. I’m not that desperate for coffee.”

“It actually looks pretty clear. I’ll just go to the gas station down the street. It has a convenience store inside.”

“That would be great, if you really don’t mind. I’ll text Elsa and tell her the roads are plowed but the power is still out.” 

“Aye, that’s a good idea. I’m going to go get changed.”

After Killian brought back some food and the caffeine fix Emma needed, he asked, “Do you want to try to dig out your car? The plow pretty much buried it, and the snow isn’t going to melt anytime soon.” 

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we might as well. It’s not like we have anything else to do.” 

Killian grinned. “Oh, I could think of much more enjoyable activities that we…” He stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry, Emma, I wasn’t thinking…”

She put her hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I really don’t mind, you know. I think I would actually miss your comments if you stopped making them altogether.” 

“Still, I don’t want you to think that I’m treating you with disrespect.”

“I don’t think that at all. I feel like we established where we stand with each other last night.” She watched him nod in agreement, then asked, “Do you know if Elsa has any ski pants and snow boots? I’m not going to last very long out there in jeans and the boots I wore here last night.”

“I’m pretty sure she has winter clothing in the cedar chest underneath the window in their room. There’s a storage tub for boots in the garage. I’ll see what I can find.”

They dressed as warmly as possible, then headed outside. Emma was plodding around her little yellow bug, dismayed to see that the snow was piled up to the windows, when Killian came down the driveway gripping two snow shovels. He handed one to her and asked, “Ready, Love?”

“Sure. Let the fun begin.”

He chuckled and trudged toward the front of the car, while she dug her shovel into a drift that was against the driver’s side door. 

They worked diligently for nearly twenty minutes and Emma was finally beginning to see some progress, when suddenly a snowball hit her in the back while she was bent over beside the rear tire. She straightened up and turned, “Jones! You’re playing with fire by start-” 

Another snowball hit her square in the chest. She looked down at herself, then her eyes shot up to see her attacker knelt down and peeking around the front of the car with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Oh, you’re asking for it!” she shouted, throwing down her shovel and grabbing a large chunk of snow. She packed it tightly between her hands and drew back her arm, waiting for an opportunity. Before long, she saw his head pop up and threw the snowball as hard as she could. He ducked, but not before it knocked his black beanie askew. “Ha! Gotcha!” she celebrated. 

Soon snowballs were whizzing back and forth through the air as the couple’s teasing threats and laughter rang out. After a few minutes, there was a lag in the action and Emma cautiously crept around the back of the car. As soon as she poked her head around the fender on the passenger side, she was tackled and landed in a large pile of snow with Killian laying on top of her. 

“I win!” he crowed. He stole a quick kiss, then got up and brushed himself off.

“Okay, fine!” Emma conceded. “Can you just help me up?”

He offered her his hand, but before he could pull her to her feet, she yanked hard on his arm to knock him off-balance. Then she took advantage of his momentary unsteadiness to shove him into another snowdrift, scoop up two handfuls of the fluffy white stuff, and plop it right into his surprised face. 

He sputtered and gasped, shaking his head briskly from side to side. “Swan! Bloody hell, that’s cold!” 

A frigid battle ensued until both of them lay panting on the ground, surrounded by the trampled snow that attested to the wrestling match that had just occurred. 

“Truce?” Killian asked breathlessly, reaching across his body to offer her his hand.

“Truce,” she agreed, putting her hand into his and shaking it, “but I won.”

“I don’t believe that’s how a truce works, Love,” he chuckled. 

She rolled over and leaned on her elbow, looking into his cold-reddened face. “It is when we play by my rules!” She smiled widely at his outburst of laughter, then bent forward and rubbed her frozen nose against his. 

He raised his head to brush his lips over hers, before dropping it back down so he could look into her sparkling green eyes. 

“You are so beautiful, Emma.”

She ducked her head at the compliment, and he lifted her chin with his gloved finger. “You are, you know. The moment I met you, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she said softly. “I guess, um, I guess we’d better finish shoveling out my car before we both freeze to death.”

“Aye, good point.” 

Once their task was finally done, they headed back inside to try to warm up, even though there was still no heat. Killian was more than happy to join Emma in a nest of blankets on the couch, and they cuddled together, laughing and talking until they could both feel their fingers and toes again. 

The electricity flashed back on just after eleven o’clock. They checked the house to make sure everything was working properly, opened the bedroom doors, and inspected the food in the refrigerator to verify that it was still edible. Then they reheated the leftovers from the previous evening, which now seemed so long ago.

They chose not to turn on the television or seclude themselves with their phones. Instead, they raided the game closet and played several rounds of Sorry and Clue, and a very competitive game of Risk, as the house gradually got warmer. 

By the time Liam and Elsa arrived home late in the afternoon, they were surprised at what they found. When they’d left less than twenty-four hours before, Emma seemed to be merely tolerating their brother. Now, as they entered the living room, they came upon a couple who was so wrapped up in one another that they hadn’t even noticed the return of the homeowners. 

Elsa turned to her husband and gave him a knowing smile. 

*********

Emma and Killian went on their date, although they still argued about whether it was the first or second one. That led to many more afternoons and evenings together until they were nearly inseparable. 

He bought a little house close to the harbor eight months after moving to Storybrooke, and she joined him when he flew to Ireland to pack and ship his belongings. He was glad to have her with him as he faced the bittersweet memories that the task stirred up. Upon returning home, he helped her box up the things in her apartment, and they were also moved into the house. 

By the time Anna and Kris threw a party for Aaron’s first birthday, Killian had placed an engagement ring on Emma’s finger that featured an emerald which matched her eyes. He had secretly purchased it the day before they left the Emerald Isle. 

 They were married two months later in a small, intimate, candlelight ceremony...while the snow fell steadily outside the chapel windows.

*********

I hope you are happy with your gift @girl-in-a-tiny-box, and that you have a wonderful Christmas and start to your New Year!

Tagging: @girl-in-a-tiny-box @cssecretsanta2020 @hookedmom @xsajx @kmomof4 @kymbersmith-90 @pirateherokillian @eleveneitherway @elizabeethan @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @dreamingdreamsalways @oncechicagolove @yasbio2015 @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @therooksshiningknight @cassy1511 @laschatzi @enchanted-swans @hufflepuffnerdx @xhookswenchx @officerrogers @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @forget-me-not-s @lkles08 @spartanguard @kristi555 @let-it-raines @iaom @qualitycoffeethings @ohmakemeahercules @kday426 @flslp87 @hollyethecurious @adoringjen @donteattheappleshook @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree @xxalostdreamerxx @wyntereyez @bluewildcatfanatic @swanlovato @xarandomdreamx @ahookerandproud​ @lyssapup27​ @it-meant-something​ @snowbellewells​ @winterbythesea​ @winterbaby89​ @xhookswenchx​ @klynn-stormz​ @the-darkdragonfly​

[scabopolis]

the gift of gab, the gift of you

Here it is @thisonesatellite! your 2020 CS Secret Santa gift. It was a complete and total delight to get to be your gift giver this year. That is not hyperbole - you are a gosh dang delight! Each of your message responses left me in stitches and while I will NEVER try and convince you a movie you think is bunk is good, I am delighted at the opportunity to recommend rom coms that don’t make you want to gouge your eyes out. 

This fic is heavily inspired by your love of coffee shops AUs (except...you know, a pub), your travel stories (which I shamelessly incorporated into the fic) and I believe rates about a 4 on the reindeer scale of Christmas cheer.  You’re a total eagle eye, so I just need to say I am well aware that Colin O’Donoghue’s accent in no way resembles an accent from Cork, but I just need that to be ignored, please and thank you.

Also, I’ve decided we’re fandom friends now. Okay? Okay! Finally, thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this exchange and being the actual best and most patient fandom soul. 

*** Title: the gift of gab, the gift of you

Summary: Emma needs an Irish man. Wait! No! It’s not what it sounds like. And then the universe just has to go and provide her with the world’s chattiest, flirtiest, blue-eyesiest Irish man in existence. 

Available on AO3. ***

Emma is in no position to complain. From where she sits both literally – (perched upon a comfy barstool in the world’s coziest pub) – as well as existentially – (traveling abroad for the first time in her life) — she is fortunate and blessed. 

It’s just – 

It’s just it would be easier to enjoy it all if she didn’t have to deal with a rather annoying request from her rather annoyingly persistent mother. 

Her headphones are in but Emma still takes great care to speak in hushed tones over video chat. There’s nothing she wants less than to be the loud American who shares her private conversation with an entire establishment. The pub she found is at the end of a quiet lane off of Cork’s high street. The customers within the pub appear to be locals well known by the staff who tend the pub. In truth, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for —

“Who have you talked to today?” her mother asks. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I thanked the barista who made my coffee. And I ordered a pint in this pub.” 

“That’s not talking.” 

“It is by definition talking.” 

“That’s not what I meant. How else are you going to get to know the city?” Her mom interrupts before Emma can properly formulate a snarky reply. “And don’t you dare say ‘guidebooks.’ Your father and I raised you better than that.”

“Mom, please don’t make me do this.” 

“You said I could have anything I wanted as a souvenir.”  

“What about a mug? I bought Grandma Ruth one with a big fat sheep on it.” 

“Sounds lovely, sweetie, but no.” 

“Mom.” Emma realizes that as a twenty-six year old woman it is probably unbecoming to whine, but her mother is being absolutely ridiculous. Where is her dad when she needs him to rescue her? All he requested was a bottle of whiskey. What a sensible person!

“No. It’s fine. If you don’t want to get your mother the one thing she asked for on this trip that’s okay. I won’t say one word about paying for this celebration trip, or paying for graduate school, or —” 

“Shit, mom. Did you take a Guilt Trip 101 class or just Google how to?”

“Oh, this is natural talent. My present, please.” 

“Fine.” There’s a group of bearded men, the ones she pegged as locals, tucked into one corner of the pub. They’re probably her best bet, but she just arrived last night, and the combination of jet lag and travel nerves make her feel not yet up for that. Which leaves the staff working the bar. 

One of the two men she’s seen pouring pints and serving up food has gone missing. Besides, Emma wouldn’t trust herself in her sleep-deprived state to not say something utterly absurd to the blue-eyed, dark-haired, scruffy bartender. Probably a good thing he’s gone. Much safer is the other man working the bar – the one who refused to serve her Guinness but was very kind about it. While arguably attractive, he is a decidedly less intimidating sort of handsome. Unfortunately, he is in the midst of a heated discussion with one of the patrons, the two of them gesticulating to something happening with a football match on the screen. Which leaves the blonde haired woman currently polishing glasses. 

Emma lightly clears her throat. “Excuse me, ma’am?” When the woman turns to look at her, Emma smiles, and signals her over. She sets aside the pint glasses and tucks the polishing rag into her apron. Her mother, on the other end of the video call, is not satisfied. 

“Did you say ma’am?” 

“Mom,” Emma whispers.

“I said an Irish man, Emma Blanchard Nolan. Man.”

“No. You said person.” 

“The man was implied.” 

“Then you should have been more specific.” 

“Ready for another?” the woman at the bar asks. 

Emma looks down at her half-full pint. “Not quite.” She frowns. “And, uh, you’re not Irish, are you?” 

“No. Canadian.” 

“Ah. Okay.” Emma lowers her voice again and looks at her phone screen. Her mother remains unimpressed. “That’s foreign. Technically she’s a foreigner.” 

The sternness of Mary-Margaret’s expression is evident even over the video call. “Emmaline —” 

“Not my name, mother.” 

“Emmaline Blanchard Nolan, you promised me.” 

“I’ll find an Irish person tomorrow.” It’s about this time Emma realizes she’s rudely ignoring the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender. The one she asked to speak with. What’s more, the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender has been joined by the curly haired bartender. Both of whom peer at her with matching expressions of amused befuddlement. Emma removes her headphones and addresses the man. “You’re Irish, right?” 

“Well, miss,” and the gentle brogue of his accent, even with those two short words, is quite evident, “you are in Ireland.” 

“Excellent! Can you talk to my mom?” She detaches the headphones from her phone and turns the camera around to face the man and woman. “My mom wants to have a conversation with an Irish person.” 

“Irish man,” her mother corrects.

“An Irish man. Out in the wild.” The bartenders stare at her, nonplussed. “It’s her souvenir.” 

The woman presses her lips together – an obvious attempt to stifle a laugh. 

“Well, uh, aye.” The man tugs at his ear. “I guess I could —” He’s interrupted from his stuttering by the return of the blue-eyed, stubbly bartender, hauling a new keg into the back of the bar. 

“Actually,” the woman cuts in. “My husband,” she hip checks the curly-haired man, “needs to replace the keg.” 

“I do?” he asks. 

“He does?” This from tall, dark, and holy hell! also possesses an Irish accent. 

“But Killian is in the middle—”

“Shh,” the blonde woman interrupts her husband. 

“Yeah. Killian is—”

She goes on to shush the man Emma now knows to be Killian. 

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret whispers over the video call, “there’s two of them.” 

“What is happening?” Emma’s not sure which of the two men asked, this whole interaction spinning rather absurdly out of control. 

“I don’t know,” Emma says.

The woman ignores all of them. “I’m Elsa, this is Liam, and that,” she points to Killian, frozen with a hand on the keg like he’s uncertain what to do, “is my very single, very Irish brother-in-law.” And all at once it becomes clear what Elsa’s intentions are. “Killian, can you come over here and help our lovely patron and her lovely mother?” 

“Oh, Emma, Killian even sounds like an Irish name.” 

“Mom!” Originally she found her mother’s request to be silly but harmless. The more people who become involved, however, the quicker it approaches mortifying. Emma watches as Elsa whispers something to her brother-in-law, likely explaining the unconventional request. 

“I’m very friendly,” Mary-Margaret reassures anyone who might be listening. 

“You are a flirt, is what you are,” Emma scolds. “And what would dad say if he found out about this?”

“He asked for whiskey. I asked for this.” 

“Come on, lass. Don’t deprive me of a dashing rescue.” Killian leans across the bar, his hand reaching out for her phone. All that stubble and the blue-eyes and the accent are worse when directed directly at her. “Besides, your mum sounds like a woman after my own heart.” 

“If you’re sure—?”

“Absolutely.”

To her abject horror, the moment she hands Killian the phone, he walks away with it in hand. 

“As requested, milady,” he says to the screen, “one genuine Irish man.”

Her mother’s delighted giggle is embarrassing for all Americans everywhere but it seems to delight Killian. She can just makeout her mother’s question about where he grew up when he rounds the corner, out of her hearing. 

“Where is he going?” Emma asks, craning her neck. “Where is he taking my phone?” 

“If I know Killian, your mum is probably about to get the most thorough oral history of Irish pubs she could have asked for,” Liam says, tossing a towel over his shoulder. 

“Oh. Okay.” She drums her fingertips on her glass. “I’m sorry about all the trouble.” 

“Nonsense,” he waves her off. “This is the most exciting thing to happen in our pub since Seamus and Willy hosted their wedding reception here.” He jerks his chin towards the group of bearded men she noticed earlier, though which one is Seamus and which is Willy she can’t be certain. 

After another fifteen minutes, Emma has finished her pint and Killian still has possession of her phone. He crossed through the room once, merrily chatting with her mother as he regaled  her with the story of how he got the scar on his cheek. 

Elsa is filling a series of pint glasses for a group of women standing at the bar, and Emma feels the need to apologize again. “This isn’t what I expected,” she explains. 

“What’s that?” Elsa asks. 

“I was kind of thinking, best case scenario, there’d be an exchange of hellos and that would be that.” 

Elsa nods, hands the pints off to the women, and then fills one more. “Are you familiar with the legend of the Blarney stone?” 

Emma nods. She has absolutely no intention of kissing the dang thing (her research indicates local teens do all manner of ungodly things to the stone, knowing that tourists intend to kiss it), but it’s on her list to go see. 

“Well, Jones family legend —”

“I take it your husband and his brother are Jones’?” 

“And me by marriage. Jones family legend has it that Killian must have been birthed upon the stone because never has there been a man more endowed with the gift of gab.” Elsa finishes pouring the pint and sets it in front of her. 

“Oh, I didn’t order this.” Right at that moment, Liam returns to the bar and sets a turkey sandwich in front of her. “Or this,” Emma says. 

“Knowing my brother, you might be here a while,” Liam explains. 

“Gift of gab?” 

He nods, pleased that the Jones family lore has reached her. “Gift of gab.”

Liam proves to be correct, which means Emma has ample time to get to know both Elsa and Liam. The two of them are freakishly adept at juggling bartending, interacting with their customers, and keeping up a steady flow of conversation with her. The highlight is hearing the full story of Seamus and Willy (she is able to identify them by their matching navy sweaters – sweaters which Willy apparently handknits for the both of them), two men who worked on the same fishing boat for decades before realizing they were in love. 

“Once they sorted that bit out, they got married three weeks later,” Elsa says. 

“So which one of them is the designated driver?” Emma asks. 

“That whole lot lives down the street.” Liam raises his voice so the group can hear them. “And they do nothing but hassle me every day of my life!” The group all raise their pint glasses and cheer, indicating this kind of teasing is something central to the pub’s dynamic. 

Killian returns from wherever it was he was busy flirting with her mother and sets her phone on the bartop. She looks down at the display only to find it blank.

“Uh, your mum had to run to the market, but she indicated she’ll call you later.” 

“She didn’t even say goodbye? Unbelievable.” As Emma gears herself up for peak mom-annoyance, she gets a text message. “Speak of the devil.” 

4:38 PM - Mom to Emma hubba hubba

“Ah, geez, mom,” she grumbles. 

“What’d she say about me?” Killian asks. 

“What makes you think that text was about you?” 

“Because you have roses in your cheeks.” Emma frowns. She what? “You’re blushing,” Killian says. 

“No I’m not.” 

“It’s getting deeper, I’m afraid.” He takes away her empty pint glass. “Another?” 

“Yes, please.” 

He sets another pint of Murphy’s in front of her (Liam was the one to inform her that one drinks Murphy’s when one is in Cork). “Your mother is lovely.” 

“Yeah, she’s something alright.” She sips the beer and licks the foam off her lip. “What were the two of you talking about for so long?”

“Oh, just having a chat. She wanted to know about the pub and how Elsa and Liam met.” 

“The gift of gab.” 

“Ah,” he says, “Elsa told you of that, then?” 

“Like my mom didn’t tell you anything about me?” 

“It was all good, Emma.” 

She snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“Why a conversation with an Irish man?” Emma frowns at Killian, not quite certain of what he’s asking. “For a souvenir. That’s truly all your mum wanted?” 

“Oh, that. In between flirting, did she tell you anything about her and my dad?” Killian shakes his head. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

As if waiting for his cue, Liam comes up behind Killian and slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “My dear little brother has time.” 

“Younger brother,” Killian corrects. 

“Shorter brother.” Liam bumps Killian towards the other side of the bar. “Why don’t you keep Emma company?” 

“I have another three hours on my shift.” 

“I think Elsa and I can handle it until Will arrives.” 

“Liam.” 

“Don’t make me fire you.” 

“You can’t fire me. We’re co-owners.” 

“Fine. Don’t make me quit.” 

Killian rolls his eyes but slides out from under Liam’s arm. He crosses to the other side of the bar and sits beside Emma. “I’ll take a pint, then.” He raps his knuckles on the bartop. “And make it quick.” 

Emma hides her smile in her pint glass. Both Liam and Elsa have been so lovely. There’s no reason to switch allegiances at this point. Regardless of how much she might be tempted by the stubbly-faced, blue-eyed flirty Irish man sitting beside her. 

“Between the two of them and my mother,” Emma says. 

“Yeah, not the most subtle lot.” Liam shoots Killian a glare as he sets the pint down to which Killian responds with the cheekiest grin Emma has ever seen. The interaction has older and baby brother written all over it. “So, your mom and Irishmen. Go.” 

“Oh, that.” Unlike her mother, and even her father, Emma holds the details of her life close to her chest. She’s made the mistake in the past of sharing too much too fast. When people leave her, either by choice or circumstance, it physically pains her to know there are people out in the world with knowledge of her worries, fears and dreams. But maybe it’s the sandwich sitting warm in her stomach, or the jet lag, or simply the buzz of international travel, because she feels inclined to share at least a few details of her life with Killian. 

“My mom and dad both took a gap year after high school and met while backpacking across Europe. They met at the Roman Colosseum, decided to match up their itineraries, and by the time they arrived in Budapest five months later they were in love and my mom was pregnant.” 

“And they’ve been together ever since?” 

“Almost 27 years.”

“That’s quite the story.” 

She nods. “They cut their year of travel short, and went to live with my Grandma Ruth, my dad’s mom. They always talked about returning to Europe, finishing their trip at some point, but by the time I was old enough to leave behind with my grandma, dad was in vet school, mom was teaching, and they were running a wildlife rescue from the family farm. They kept making new plans to travel but they just kept getting pushed back and back and back. Until, one day, they decided to put all that money towards sending me on my first trip instead. So, as much as I fight every silly request she has of me, I would do anything if it made her smile.”

“Your mum and dad never made it to Ireland?” 

“Nope.”

“Thus the strange request.” 

“Thus the strange request.” 

“Well, it gave me a reason to chat with the lovely lass at the bar, so for that I’ll be forever grateful.” 

Her Grandma Ruth, Aunt Ruby, and frankly everyone who knows her parents well, routinely comment on the resemblance between Emma and her dad. Apparently in temperament and affectation they are almost identical. But maybe she’s more like her mom than anyone knows because the conversation between her and Killian flows fast and easy. Easy enough that she barely notices when she and Killian finish their pints and Elsa slides new glasses in front of them. Emma’s head is feeling a little buzzy, and that turkey sandwich was more than a couple hours ago. Maybe she can hint at Killian that she wants to go to the Christmas market. Hint even more specifically that she wouldn’t hate if he went with her. 

No, she can’t do that. To even think such a thing would be ridiculous. 

She can’t possibly ask a practical stranger to walk up and down the stalls of the festive market with her. She can’t expect him to want to sample all the baked goods and food they can handle. Or to hold her hand while they drink spiked apple cider. That kind of thinking is romantic, and hopeful, and not at all her brand. 

“This is really your first trip out of the states?” Killian asks.

“I mean, Canada, but that’s so close to home it doesn’t count.” Emma catches herself, eyes darting to Elsa. “Don’t tell your sister.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Killian angles his body on the stool to face her more directly. Without Emma realizing it, they’ve drifted close enough together over the past hour or so that the move makes it so their knees knock together. Emma could move away, put some distance between them, but everything is foggy and hazy in that delicious way, and she can’t bring herself to move. “What does that make me, then? The ruggedly handsome foreigner you intend to seduce as a notch on your bedpost?” 

“Who said anything about seduction?”

“You’re giving me bedroom eyes.” 

“I do not make eyes of any kind. Especially bedroom eyes.” 

Elsa jumps in, setting glasses of water down for each of them. “Yeah, but Killian does. And he needs to put them away.”

Emma tries to react quickly enough to Elsa’s teasing to evade Killian’s detection, to turn away and hide her smile in her shoulder so he can’t see, but the gentle tug on the end of her braid indicates he caught her. 

“Think that’s funny, do you?” 

“You and my mom ganged up against me. I deserve to join with your family against you.” 

“Your mum is great.” He shrugs. “Well, based on the little I know.”  

“I know she can be a little intense. I hope she didn’t—”

“She was as lovely as her daughter.” Before his words can fully sink in, perhaps bringing that blush back to her cheeks, he’s moved on. “You’ll have to bring her with you when you return.” 

She rests her chin on palm, blinking up at him. Okay, maybe she sometimes makes eyes. “What makes you think I have any plans to come back?”

“Ireland gets in your blood. You’ll be back.” 

This time they’re interrupted by Liam. He swipes away the pint glasses in front of them, remaining beer and all. “That’s about all I can stomach of that.”

“What do you mean?” Killian asks. 

“You’ve been flirting with the kind tourist long enough. Time to go.” 

Oh. Emma looks down at her boots. A surge of deep embarrassment heating her cheeks and causing her stomach to churn. “Sorry,” she says quietly, her eyes turned down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” The twin cries from both Liam and Killian startle her. She’s not sure which one appears more stricken by her announcement she intended to leave.   

“Apologies, Emma, I wasn’t clear,” Liam says. He extends his hand to Killian. “Apron.” It takes Killian a moment to react but when Liam stays in his place, his hand extended, Killian removes his apron and hands it to him. “See you tomorrow, little brother.” 

“Younger.”

“Dumber.” 

“Stubborner.”

“Not a word.” Liam stalks back over to Elsa who is shaking her head at the whole display. “They’re both idiots,” Liam says, and Emma is just going to pretend she didn’t hear that, thank you very much. 

“Have you been to the Christmas market yet, Emma?” Killian’s voice brings her back to the pub, and this particular bar stool, with this particular man. This particular man who has somehow intuited the secret desire of her heart to go to the town’s Christmas market with him. 

“No. No. Not yet.” 

Killian jumps down from his seat and extends a hand to Emma to help her down. “Come on, love. Let’s sail away.” 

There’s 100 ways Emma could respond to that. She could tell Killian she isn’t his love. She could jump down from the stool on her own. She could insist she’s fine going to the market by herself. But she tries to channel a little magic, that particular magic which for her mom and dad turned one day in Rome into a lifetime, and chooses differently. 

(Not that she’s saying she expects—)

She takes Killian’s offered hand and his answering grin is all the confirmation she needs she made the right decision. 

And so they go to the Christmas market, and at Killian’s insistence she tries mulled wine but quickly trades it in for a cup of boozy cider. They ride the ferris wheel, the cold stinging her cheeks from the top, the lights of Cork spread out before her, and that thrum of love for this place beats loudly in her veins. Suddenly every travel story her parents have ever told her makes sense and maybe Killian is right  – maybe Ireland is in her blood. 

They walk together side-by-side and at a point Emma can’t remember – somewhere between sampling whiskey, buying several bottles for her dad, and licking salt and malt vinegar from hot chips off her fingers – they transition to walking hand-in-hand. The heat of Killian’s skin, even through two layers of gloves, is what she blames for the fact that she actually starts humming along to Christmas carols. Where’s that deep cynicism she has been committed to for her life when she needs it? 

“Told you,” Killian says after the two of them step away from a stall with handmade ornaments. She must have been channeling her mom because she couldn’t stop herself from striking up a conversation with the vendor. Somehow by the end of the interaction she’d agreed to join him and his wife for their annual holiday pub crawl the following night. 

“Told me what?” 

“That you would fall for Ireland.” 

“You get the honor and privilege of keeping me company on my first full night on my first real trip out of the country and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?” 

“I believe what I am trying to say, love, is you appear very much at home here.” 

The sentiment makes everything in Emma buzz, but she does what she does best and works to diffuse it. “Well, uh, I don’t know. Does it ever snow here?” 

“Eh, we get about 50 mm every year?” At her look of confusion Killian smiles. “Not much.” 

“Have you ever had a white Christmas?” 

“Can’t say I have. They’re pretty rare in Ireland.” 

“In that case, I think this means you should come to Maine. We do a great white Christmas.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

“Great. Next year sound good?” 

Killian laughs and squeezes her hand. “Sounds great.”

She hears the faint echo of advice her dad once gave her. It was right when she was fresh off her heartbreak with Neal and wasn’t sure she had it in her to apply for grad school. He said something to her about moments. About the need to notice good moments even in the midst of bad ones. 

Standing here hand-in-hand with a man she met only five hours ago, the glow of Christmas lights dancing in technicolor hues against his cheeks and hair, Emma is absolutely certain this is a good moment. 

“Emma?” 

She answers Killian’s question by rising up on her toes and kissing him. It’s quick and fleeting, barely a brush of her lips against his, but the look on his face as she pulls away, all bright eyed-wonder, deserves to be classified as a good moment all on its own. 

It takes self-control Emma wasn’t aware she possessed to not drop their shopping bags to the ground, grip him by the lapels of his jacket, and kiss the crap out of him. Instead she loops her arm in his. 

“It’s getting late,” she says. “Want to walk me back to my hotel?” 

He swallows, that poleaxed expression still on his face. “Aye.” 

The next morning, Emma is woken up by the sound of her video call alert and boy it was a mistake to not extend her do not disturb until noon. She reaches out and blindly bats at the bedside table until she makes contact with her phone. As soon as she swipes up on her mom’s call, she squeezes her eyes shut again. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, sweetie. Are you still jet lagged?” 

“And a little hungover.”

“Sounds like you had a very eventful night.”

Killian grumbles from somewhere behind her. “What time is it?” he asks.

It’s right about this moment Emma realizes her error. Her mom goes quiet and Emma considers taking the opportunity to end the call. And then maybe ignore every call thereafter for the next five days. 

“Emma Nolan. Is there a man in bed with you?” 

“No,” Emma answers, though it’s perfunctory and not at all convincing. 

Killian presses closer to her, and shifts so his chin rests on her shoulder. “Hello again, Mrs. Nolan. And this must be Mr. Nolan.” 

That gets Emma’s attention and she opens her eyes enough to see her mom and dad sitting beside one another on the couch. While her mom is positively gleeful, her dad looks as though he wishes he could melt into the couch cushions and disappear. 

“There are certain things I don’t care to see,” her dad says. “Certain things I don’t care to know.” 

Emma rotates in bed and onto her back, holding the phone above her head so both she and Killian are still in view of the camera. “Oh hush, Dad, you and mom did it the first night you met.” 

“You told her that?” 

In response, her mom shrugs. “She asked.” 

“And not that it matters, but Killian and I didn’t have sex.” 

Though it didn’t stop them from trading long, slow kisses that left her dizzy and wanting more, more, and more. Killian must have felt the same because it took little to no convincing to get him to stay the night. Perhaps most remarkably, after extending the invitation, Emma had no desire to retract it or pretend it didn’t mean anything. 

“Your daughter was far too drunk to have sex.” Emma turns her head so fast in Killian’s direction she hears something crack. 

“That, for instance, is one of the things I don't want to know about,” her dad says.  

Killian cheerfully waves at the camera, ignoring both her father’s indignation and her glare. “I’m Killian, by the way. Happy to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Nolan.” 

Emma elbows Killian. The man is a total menace. “I’ll call you guys back when I’ve had coffee,” 

“I want details,” her mom says. 

“And I want no details.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma hangs up the phone and tosses it in the direction of the foot of the bed. She flips over onto her side and Killian mirrors her, reaching out to trace the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “So that was my dad.” 

“He seems a charming fellow.” 

“Don’t let the responsible tough guy act fool you,” she says, and snuggles closer to Killian. He responds just as she hoped, by wrapping his arms tight around her. “He once spent all his money on a cross country train ride and stole oyster crackers from the dining car for food. And during a California road trip, my mom almost froze to death sleeping in her wet bathing suit on the side of the road.” 

Killian chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh making her feel even warmer. “You’re saying they can deal with a half naked man in their daughter’s hotel room?”  

“Yeah, they can deal.” After a moment’s hesitation, Emma slips her hands up and under Killian’s shirt. It’s the one he wore to work, and she can still smell the faint aromas of beer and fried food that linger. She presses her palms against his back and bunches the shirt up, up, and then over his head. 

“Emma?” 

A girl could get used to the way his voice moves over the syllables of her name. “They might have a problem with a fully naked one, though.” She kisses his bare shoulder.

Killian’s hands move under her shirt to span her waist. Goosebumps breakout across her skin. By the slight twist of his lips, Killian notices. “So you’re saying—?” 

“I’m saying you should quit gabbing and kiss me before they call again.” 

“As you wish.”

And a week later, when she is back in Maine celebrating Christmas with her family and Killian is in Ireland with his, Emma convinces herself she imagined it. She must have. She must have imagined how safe she felt in the presence of another person. Imagined the comfort she felt as he joined her for a quick road trip to Dublin. Imagined that it could feel like your heart was split in two, half residing in the chest of a person you just met. 

But the week of New Year’s Eve, when he arrives in Maine to celebrate with her, she’s startled to find it was all real. 

The morning after Killian arrives, she sits with her mom in her parents’ breakfast nook, the two of them sipping coffee as Killian and her dad make waffles. 

“Not such a dumb souvenir after all, huh?” her mom whispers.

Emma shakes her head, too happy to even react to her mom’s shameless gloating. “No. Not so dumb.” 

[willexxmercer]

nice and rosy and comfy cozy

A Lieutenant Duckling Christmas fic for @xhookswenchx, my lovely CSSS recipient this year!

Four times Princess Emma is helped into a sleigh by a nameless naval officer, and one time she goes on a sleigh ride with him and learns his name.

Check for the link in the notes!

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

CS Secret Santa 2020 (2/2)

We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

Hello @everything-person!! Here is your second of two gifts for CSSS! I know you said you’re looking for some fic inspiration, so I hope that this festive CS family aesthetic might spark some ideas for you. It’s been great getting to know you and I hope to talk with you more off-anon now. ❤️

Thanks again to the mods of @cssecretsanta2020 for hosting this wonderful event this year!

[wellhellotragic]

Hiraeth

Summary: Emma’s life had always been carefully curated for her as the daughter of a Navy Admiral. To follow in her mothers footsteps: meet and marry a suitable husband and be the best wife possible. But what she hadn’t expected was for her father to be reassigned halfway around the world to Egypt, and she certainly had never expected to meet and fall in love with a man so opposed to everything her father stood for...

A/N: Well, @shireness-says​​, I guess it’s finally time to reveal myself. Hope having me as your @cssecretsanta2020​​  isn’t too disappointing. I think I managed to get 90% of your wish list tucked into this little monster. I hope you have the most wonderful of Christmases this year!

 Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was. Grief for a loss, something you can never have again.

 _____________________________________________________________

 She hears a crackling noise coming from the next room, the oversized fireplace recently stoked with with wood, and even in its muffled state through the doorway, it brings a calmness to the home. Winters in London have always been chilly, but this one is by far the most brutal that Emma can remember and the snow piling up outside has brought transportation to a halt as the cobblestone roads give no grip to passing carriages. She briefly considers taking a few sips of the bottle of brandy she has hidden in the back of the cupboard to warm her, but considering the small child playing with her doll in the great room, Emma decides against, choosing to boil some water instead. 

 It’s strange, being in the house, just the two of them after all this time. Stranger yet celebrating a family holiday without the entire family, but such is life. She will allow herself to cry tonight once the child is safely tucked into her bed with a story told. She will allow herself to grieve for the man not sleeping at her side and the chill that’s taken hold of his side of the mattress. For the quietness of the home,  but for now, she’s going to smile and tell her daughter a tale of Father Christmas.

The kettle begins to whistle, taking Emma by surprise, having lost track of the time in her wistfulness. Quickly she composes herself and sets about mixing up two cups of cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a generous dusting of cinnamon on top for good measure. Always with the cinnamon.

 She places both cups on a small wooden tray, adding in some biscuits, before taking the tray into the living room. There, she finds the small girl playing a game of imaginary flight. The girl has named the doll Wendy, based on some fairytale she’d been told at school. One retold to her by a classmate whose father spun such tales for a living. 

 “Fly Wendy, you must believe. You simply must!”

 “What must she believe, my Poppet?” Emma can’t help but chuckle at the earnestness of her daughter’s words.

 “Oh, it’s quite simple really. She has to believe in the magic for it to work so she can fly.”

 “Ah, well maybe she just needs some cocoa to help her outlook. What do you say?”

 The young girl nearly tossed her doll in the air in her haste to run to the table where her mother has set the tray. Tiny fingers move at nearly impossible speed and it’s all Emma can do to prevent her from burning her mouth again.

 “Careful, it’s still warm, you must take care to blow on it, sweetheart.”

 The little girl rolls her eyes before nearly sinking her face into the whip cream, catching a dollop on her nose as she blows. Giggles fill the room and Emma’s heart begins to warm just a bit.

 “Mummy, Theo told me that cinnamon on cocoa was wrong. That it doesn’t belong.”

 “And what did you say in return?”

 “Well, I told him that he was silly of course.”

 Emma laughed. Her daughter has inherited so much of her father in physical appearance, but tucked away inside the girl, Emma often finds her own spirit. 

 “Have I ever told you the story of how I came to use cinnamon on my cocoa?”

 The little girl shakes her head as she takes a sip of her now cooled drink.

 “Well, then, where should I begin?” Emma smiles wistfully before continuing. “Once upon a time…”

 _____________________________________

1881 Port of Alexandria, Egypt

 She’d been sick since the day they’d left London, never having experienced the open waters before. She’d been on boats a handful of times as a child with her father, yet they’d never had the occasion to leave their position in the berth and weeks at sea had taken their toll. Emma, like a handful of others unaccustomed to the waves, had taken ill, turning nearly green in the face. Most of the men aboard had served in her Majesty's Navy for years, making such simple work of setting about the ship with ease. Emma envied them that, having spent nearly every day in her room sick over a bucket.

 Her only solace was the blaring horn of her father’s ship alerting them that they’d finally arrived at their destination. Leaving London hadn't been easy, saying goodbye to so many of her friends. To the only home she’d ever lived in. Her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, reminding her constantly that it wasn’t a house that made a home. It was family. But Emma and her mother had experienced very different upbrings. 

 And the idea of moving to Egypt had been off putting. She’d been warned of the heat and the impoverished people. The less than ideal sanitary situation had also been worrisome. It was only at the insistence of her father and that Emma was able to avoid hesitation all together.

 But that was then, before her family drug her nearly kicking and screaming halfway across the world to an entirely different continent. She didn’t know much about Egypt other than the English had recently begun to colonise it to ensure the protection of monetary interest. She knew even lesser still about Alexandria. An oasis of sorts her father had said, situated between the Nile and the new Suez Canal, producing some of the most fertile land in the country, which was also the very reason they were there. To protect more than the land the Queen now laid claim to, but to ensure safe passage for  the ships returning to England from India. 

 “Emma, sweetheart, are you coming?”

 Emma looked up to find her mother’s head poking in through the doorway, cheerful as always. “We really mustn’t dotile, it wouldn’t make for a good first impression.”

 “Of course, we couldn’t possibly be late,” she mocked as she rolled her eyes, trying to find a place to stow her recently used bucket. Heaven forbid they ever step one toe out of line. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of her father’s role as a Rear-Admiral and how important it was to keep up the image of the perfect family, but for Emma, it meant everything had to be just so. No creases in her dresses, no new fashions that were considered too provocative as they may have shown the slightest hint of skin around the reduced neckline. It also meant that every moment of her day must have been accounted for. 

 It wasn’t as if she had a rebellious streak, but she longed to have any semblance of autonomy in her own life. But that wasn’t the life she was destined for. Instead, she was expected to find a suitable husband of good social standing and wealth, and to bear his children. To provide for him in any way necessary and to see only to his happiness. So many of her friends had been all too eager to accept marriage proposals from men that ill fitted their personalities just for the sake of not being labeled a spinster.

 At nearly twenty one, Emma had already pushed the boundaries, having recently turned down a marriage proposal from the son of the Admiral of the Fleet, a reason she strongly believed had led to the sudden reassignment of her father. Neal’s father had always stuck her as a horribly controlling man, a trait that she saw more and more in Neal as their courtship progressed.

 “Emma, really, I must insist that you hurry.”

 “Yes, mother.”

 Emma rose from her seat and placed her bucket on the floor at the foot of her bed before putting herself to rights. She checked her hair in the small mirror hung on the wall opposite her luggage, trying her best not to look as bad as she felt. 

 The top deck of the ship was beaming with life. People milled about everywhere, barking orders to some, saluting others. It was the most organized brand of chaos Emma had ever laid eyes on. She followed her mother, taking caution not to step in anyone’s way as they made their way to the gangplank. 

 It was there that she caught her first sight of her new home. It was breathtaking, not at all what she’d expected. The sky above the city was the bluest she’d ever experienced, like the ocean itself had been reflected into the heavens, and the buildings lining the seashore erupted in a mountain of golden sandcastles. 

 She’d barely had time to take it in before her mother began tugging on her elbow, a silent signal to move faster. Once on land again, Emma and her mother were greeted by the women’s auxiliary group. There were a handful of other officers that had brought families with them to their new duty station, and as was customary, a greeting party had come to meet the newest arrivals. 

 The women, some as young as Emma swooned and cooed over her mother. It wasn’t every day that the wife of such a high ranking official appeared, and the women clearly wanted to make a positive first impression, cementing their good standings as well as their husband’s in the mind of her mother. Much of the privilege afforded to soldiers and their families depended on rank, but social status had long been its own form of exchangeable collateral. 

 They all exchanged pleasantries as the woman walked them to the nearby base, a small wall and barbed wire barricade the only thing separating them from what some of the women had referred to as natives. Emma tried not to show her disgust at the term, but it was difficult when they seemed so unapologetic for the slur. Especially when they spoke of the uprising and how some of them needed to be put down like dogs.

 Emma had seen her fair share of aristocrat snobbery before, but nothing quite so brazen. If not for the young brunette ambeling beside her, rolling her eyes as the women spoke, Emma certainly would have lost her sanity. 

 Eventually the gaggle of women made it to the house that Emma would call home. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as what she’d been accustomed to in London. There weren’t any of the ornate embellishments on the walls, no wood carvings, not even any color really. By some miracle though, the house did have plumbing, which had been one of Emma’s greatest worries. Some of her friends had warned her that she would be forced to use outhouses and public bathes.

 The home itself was bleak, but her mother took it in stride, finding whatever she could to be excited about, and told the women that she would make her own in no time. Soon, she’d even managed to command the kitchen enough to make tea for all of the ladies who’d been kind enough to stock the house with groceries for the newcomers. They sat around the small table in the living room and discussed what it was like living in Alexandria, gossiping about one of the wives who hadn’t been able to make it. At one point, the conversation had shifted back to the natives, a warning not to venture into the city without a male escort to prevent savagery. Emma felt the walls closing in as the conversation continued. This small base made of a few homes and barracks had become a small prison. All of her dreams crushed.

 As the women rose and exchanged parting words, Emma moved to take her leave but felt someone grab her wrist, tugging her outside and around the corner of the house. The girl continued to pull her farther and farther away from any other people.

 Not sure what was happening, Emma braced herself to dig her heels into the ground, not wishing to move another inch.

 “Where are you trying to take me,” she demanded.

 It was the same brunette from earlier, and with a wolfish grin she shrugged.

 “To the city of course.”

 _____________________________________

 She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to follow the young woman she now knew as Ruby. Perhaps it was a rebellion from all of the rules that had been forced upon her in such a limited amount of time. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, but she went, almost eagerly.

 Emma listened as Ruby told her about all of the places as they passed them and the people, even watching Ruby greet a few of them as friends. It was such a different picture from the one the women on base had painted. Half of her had been expecting men hidden under robes and veils to jump out and grab her, but the men and women that they came across all seemed friendly enough. 

 Soon, she found herself entering a brasserie. Ruby didn’t miss a beat in rushing to a table with a couple already sat across from each other. With no prompting whatsoever, Ruby took the spot next to the gentleman, edging him further against the wall. She motioned for Emma to sit as well. Carefully, she slid onto the bench next to the other woman, making sure not to crowd her. 

 It wasn’t until she’d become fully situated that she’d really been able to take stock of the people sitting with her. The woman to her right was beautiful in her own right. Brown hair tied at her nape, flowing over her shoulder in curls. It was odd for Emma to see a woman wish such relaxed standards and so carefree. In old London society, it was an unspoken rule that women wore their hair up in fanciful twists. 

 But as surprising as the woman’s demeanor was, it was truly the gentleman that had caught her attention. A slight scruff speckled the entire lower half of his face, and his cheeks had a sunkissed glow about them. But his eyes, they sparkled a deep blue, and all thoughts she’d had about the Egyptian sky upon her arrival had been put to shame by him.

 “Emma, I’d like you to meet my friend Belle, and her pet, Killian. Everyone, this is Emma. She’s just arrived today and I’m trying to dispel the lies she’s heard of the city thus far.”

 Killian nodded in her direction, but remained silent. Belle on the other hand had been eager to speak, having originally been born in France, but she’d lived in London until only a few years prior. She asked all sorts of questions about the museums and libraries, and life in general. Emma filled her in on all of the newness of what she’d missed since leaving. Before she knew it, a table full of food had appeared, enough to feed a small army.

 She’d been reluctant to eat any, not yet having currency to pay for her share, but Ruby insisted, telling her it was on Killian. He barked out a laugh, but assured her that lunch was on him as a welcome gift. The four of them ate and spoke. Or more aptly, Ruby and Belle did most of the speaking, which was fine by Emma. She’d learned so much about Alexandria. 

 As it turned out, Ruby was the daughter of another office stationed at the base, but Belle had no affiliation with the Navy. She’d simply come to Egypt for the adventure of it all. She was actually on a small team searching for the lost library of Alexandria. She told Emma how many of the explorers that had come to the country had done so for the glory and treasure. Most of them were in Cairo, exploring pyramids and digging in the middle of nowhere hoping for the best. She on the other hand was intrigued by the library, her treasure was the lost books. The knowledge that had slipped away.

 Eventually, lunch came to an end, their bellies all well and full, and Killian informed them that he’d stayed as long as possible, but that he needed to depart. Emma wasn’t sure why - he’d barely spoken, and she’d no knowledge of anything about it - but there was a small twinge of sadness at his leaving. 

 As they excited the brasserie, she watched as he turned and gave both Ruby and Belle hugs before handing Belle a small satchel. Emma had been taken back. In her previous social graces, a man and women were never to embrace unless they were married, and even then, they were to maintain a certain amount of propriety in public. But there, amongst a city of strangers, they seemed to give it no thought. 

 She was taken back yet again when Killian grabbed her hand, brushing the slightest of kisses against her knuckles. She felt her breath quicken and her heart begin to pound within her chest and she worried that the others might hear it. 

 “My lady.”

 And then, before Emma could catch the breath that had left her body, he walked away. She tried not to watch him as he left, but her eyes had affixed to him, and there was no prying her sight from him until he’d turned into an alleyway. A gleeful squeal from Belle as she peaked inside the satchel and pulled out a worn book was the only thing that finally allowed Emma to focus her attention elsewhere.

 “Hook always brings her a new rare book when he returns to the city, and everytime she loses her mind as if it were not to be expected from him.”

 “Hook, is that Mr. Killian’s last name.”

 Ruby snorted. 

 “Mister Killian? We’ve really got our work cut out for us with this one.”

 Belle shushed Ruby, only giving the smallest of snickers.

 “To answer your question, no. His last name is Jones. Hook was a moniker given to him back in his navy days. He was always very prim and proper of course, but if the occasion called for it, he had a mean left hook.”

 Emma nodded in understanding, trying to reconcile the image of a clean cut soldier with the man she’d just met. 

 “As as far as Ruby is concerned, the best part of living in Alexandria is the freedom to not abide by strict formalities.”

 “Exactly, you needn’t be so formal here. There’s no Mister Killian or Mister Jones. No one here is going to rat you out for being human, Emma.”

 “I-”

 “No. You’re going to have enough thrust upon you on post, so in the rare moments you have for yourself like this, take advantage.”

 Emma understood Ruby’s intentions, but she’d let her guard down once before and it had led to her father being exiled from his position. She couldn’t risk letting him down again. Instead, she nodded and did her best to change the subject.

 After some time, Emma and Ruby returned to the base, parting ways near each of their homes. Ruby lived with her father and grandmother on the opposite end of the street. The girls made plans to meet up later in the week once Emma had her footing under her. 

 That evening, her parents discussed their days. Her father had his work cut out for him. Not only was he tasked with maintaining order in the city of Alexandria, but he’d just been informed that there had been a ship in the Medditeranian Sea that had been terrorizing cargo ships departing the Suez canal on their way home to London. He told them that the Royal Navy had searched exhaustively for the ship, but hadn’t had any luck and that they suspected that one of the neighboring countries was helping to provide a safe haven for the pillagers. They were ghosts. 

 Emma went to bed not long after, exhausted from all of the events of the day. Her mind couldn’t help but replaying everything over and over again in her mind. She’d managed to make new friends sooner than expected, and she genuinely enjoyed her time with Ruby and Belle. They were both so different from her social circle in London, more free and uninhibited. Something she’d always wished she could be but nothing she could have herself, given her station. The other member of her group had been more of an enigma, so quiet and mindful. She had to admit to herself, he was very handsome, and if not for his obvious relationship with Belle, she may have even allowed herself to dwell on his blue eyes and raven black hair. But he was already in a courtship, and she would do well to think of other things. 

 If only her dreams had understood propriety. 

 _____________________________________

 The following few weeks were packed full of events and social soirees. Her mother wasted no time jumping into her role as a mother hen to the entire base, organizing tea parties, book clubs, even planning a winter ball for all of the soldiers. The weather in Alexandria was a far cry from the snowy streets of England but her mother made due, and also made use of nearly all of Emma’s free time. 

 She’d seen Ruby nearly daily, allowing their bond to grow, but the two women had only been able to sneak off once in the four weeks that Emma had lived in Egypt to meet Belle. The women had shared a more traditional meal in a British Pub that time. Emma had learned that the British people who lived in the center of the city had begun transforming the buildings, erecting more Victorian style facades with not one, but two pubs offering traditional menus and ales for the homesick. It was a remarkable find, and Emma was grateful for any semblance of her life before, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if her people were ravanging the land, forcing their ways on others. 

 Even Belle had noticed the lack of Egyption patrons, and had warned the girls that there had been gossip of groups speaking out against the British presence in Alexandria. Nothing had come of it, but she warned the girls to be cautious and never to explore the city alone. For her part, Belle had taken a guide, hired by her employer for her protection. It also helped that Belle spoke and read the language, making her less helpless. 

 The days turned to months, and every few weeks the girls were able to sneak away for lunches at the same Brasserie as their first meeting. Sometimes it was just the three of them and they would discuss Belle’s research or Ruby’s grandmother who lived with her and her father. They spoke of news from England. Sometimes Killian was there as well, regaling them all with stories that Emma often believed were complete fiction. She learned that he captained a ship that transported cargo, weeks of sailing the Suez Canal being what kept him away for such long stretches of time.

 It was during hose visits with Killian present that Emma experienced some of the most amazing meals she’d ever eaten. The chicken curry with black cardamom had been particularly flavorful and the Mahlab bread had been perfect, but for Emma the Morracan saffron chicken had been her absolute favorite. The four of them became very close, but Emma still knew little about Killian, aside from the fact that he’d grown up in Yorkshire and sailed. The curiosity of it all ate away at ther, but it would have been improper for her to inquire into his life in such a way. 

 Instead, the small group continued to meet when they could, exchanging mostly pleasant conversation, with Emma occasionally venting her frustration of having to listen to her mother speak of some of the more eligible young naval officers with the sultity of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. She also spoke of her excitement over the Winter Ball and how it would be nice to have a formal dance once more with some of the young soldiers.

 It wasn’t until nearly six months after Emma’s arrival that she learned that Killian and Belle were not in fact courting. The four of them met for a late lunch, eating their meal and catching up, and just as their plates were cleared, four mugs appeared, preordered by Killian before any of the rest of them had arrived. Killian had asked them all to keep an open mind, so Emma closed her eyes as she took her first sip, trying to focus on the taste, letting just the tiniest of moans escape her lips as the flavor exposed itself. It was sweeter than she’d remembered, but there was something else, something that gave it a small bite.

 “Killian, this is delicious! What is it?”

 Emma looked up from her mug to see a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he toyed with a spot behind his ear.

 It’s cocoa, made from camel’s milk, with a sprinkling of cinnamon. 

 “Cinnamon?”

 Emma wasn’t of simple mindedness. She’d seen the prices of many of the spices at the local markets, and while not as exotic as saffron or cardamom, cinnamon was still beyond the price she was willing to part with. While Killian never baulked at the price of their meals, nor did he seem to mind in the slightest the idea of paying for all of them, Emma often felt that she’d taken advantage of his kindness and polite manors, and the cinnamon cocoa that she savored did little to ease her guilt.

 It wasn’t until after they all parted, all with hugs and Emma yet again with a kiss to her hand from Killian, that she learned of the true relationship between Belle and Killian. That they were merely friends, that they had been for years. Ruby teased Emma at her naivety, explaining that Killian had never treated them to such alluring meals before, not until he met Emma. That many of the dishes they consumed weren’t even on the menu but that Killian had brought the spices with him and bribed the staff to use them for the table. 

 Ruby also teased Emma for the way she sometimes looked at Killian, the yearning glances. 

 For her part, Emma assured Ruby that there was no such thing, embarrassed that she been caught mooning over a man she’d thought taken until only moments before. Instead, Emma changed the topic entirely, asking Ruby how the Christmas dinner her Grandmother was planning was coming along. 

 The next two weeks passed in a blur as final preparations for the Winter Ball took place. All of the women pitched in making sure every decoration was placed in just the right spot, and that every possible detail had been seen to. Even though the base was small, and word of mouth would have been sufficient, Emma’s mother saw to it that each person had received a personalized invitation. 

 Her mother had chosen silver and blue for the colors, to accentuate the uniforms worn by the gentlemen. She’d even ordered new dresses from England. Silver for herself to coordinate with Emma’s father,  and a long sleeved cream gown for Emma, with ornate lace embellishments. Emma had insisted that it was too much, but Mary Margaret had been adamant that Emma put her finest foot forward - an obvious insinuation that it was time for Emma to begin a courtship less she waste away as a spinster in her old age.

 The ball itself was magnificent. The meal was divine, dripping with decadent sauces that reminded her of the nicer restaurants she’d been privileged enough to dine at before their move to Egypt. The desert was scrumptious as well, but as everyone spoke of how lovely the meal was, Emma couldn’t help but glance at the center table centerpieces. Silver and blue christmas baubles had been placed in glass vases. Most were uniform in shape and size, but there was one small bauble out of place among them, lighter in color. The blue of a certain pair of eyes she’d been dreaming of more and more lately. 

 She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts of the man who’s eyes had captivated her over so many other meals, that she’d completely missed the music begin to play, as well as the young petty officer at her side. It was only the clearing of her mother’s throat that brought her back enough to realize that he was there with his hand stretched out to her, asking for her own hand for a dance.

 Emma acquiesced, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, they did their best to move in synchronicity, but Emma was rusty, and the poor petty officer had been born with two left feet. Emma had been grateful as the music came to an end and a new song began. Never had she been so grateful for social norms, the same one that prevented her from dancing with the same gentleman twice without being in a courtship. Not that it had really been much of a blessing. Each partner had his own quirks. Some moved too quickly, others too slow. One poor gentleman had clearly been taught by his friends, and had inadvertently learned the footwork meant for her. She did her best not to embarrass him or to bring attention to it. But after eight partners, she had become tired, and her feet ached.

 Ruby seemed much more excited though, telling Emma not to seem so glum. She was just in the middle of explaining her reluctance to dance anymore, when she heard a man interrupt from behind her.

 “Perhaps you just need a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

 Emma turned, recognizing the voice but not being able to rectify what she saw before her. There, in a pristine Lieutenant’s uniform, stood Killian Jones, clean shaven and just as proper as any man in the room. 

 “How- How are you here?”

 Killian chuckled and held his hand out for Emma, which she eagerly took as he guided her back into the center of the dance floor. 

 “I actually used to be stationed at this very post. It’s not exactly a fortress as I’m sure you know.”

 “But, why are you here? I only mean that if you've left this post, then why would you come to a ball like this?”

 “I’d never pass up a change to dance with a beautiful lady.”

 There was such earnestness in his eyes and Emma couldn’t help but blush and look away, unsure of what to say herself. Perhaps Ruby had been correct in her assessment of Killian’s affections for her. They didn’t speak beyond that, but when the song came to an end, Killian made no move to relinquish her hand, and she made no effort to deny him. The next song began soon after and they continued to float across the dance floor to a waltz.

 After the third song, Killian finally released Emma, knowing all too well how quickly gossip could spread in such small quarters. Together, they exited the dance floor and moved to gather some refreshments, but before they could make it to the table set for drinks, Emma came face to face with her father.

 By any account her father looked rather austere as he took in the form of the man behind her. 

 “Emma, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

 Emma paused, not sure how to introduce Killian. It wasn’t as if he was meant to be there, or if he was even still in the navy - something she had questions about but would save for a later time - and didn’t know how many of the young naval men her father knew by name. 

 “Lieutenant Killian Jones, Sir. From the HMS Condor.”

 Emma watched as her father’s features relaxed a bit.

 “So you sail under Admiral Seymore then?”

 “Lore Beresford actually. Admiral Seymore commands the HMS Invincible now.”

 If it had been a test, Killian had surely passed given her father’s smile and invitation to sit at their table. David asked Killian all sorts of questions regarding his position and role aboard the Condor, and had Emma not been so enraptured by the ease at which Killian answered her father’s questions, she likely would have been bored of the conversation. The two men discussed Naval related items for a bit before the conversation shifted.

 “So, Jones, as a man who’s recently sailed in the Mediterranean, what can you tell me of the rogue ship that’s terrorizing the cargo vessels?”

 Killian scratched just behind his ear, a sign Emma had come to learn was an indication of his unease. 

 “Not much I’m afraid. I’ve heard a story or two but never encountered them myself. To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure if they exist.”

 “Well if they don’t exist, why would ships claim to have been attacked then?”

 “Oh, it’s not uncommon actually. You see, before the canal was built, many of the ships would get caught in the storms around the cape. Sometimes they would genuinely lose a large portion of their cargo, and other times they would claim their losses to be greater than they actually were, especially if they’d been paid in advance. They’d hide the cargo and sell it at another port before docking in London.”

 “So they pocket the extra purse?”

 “Exactly, and now with the canal helping them avoid the more treacherous waters, they have no excuse to falsely declare their cargo manifest.”

 Emma’s father sighed, trying to take in everything Killian had told him. It seemed far fetched, and Emma’s father even said as much, but it was such a bizarre claim that Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was some merit to it. 

 “It seems like an awful lot of trouble for so many ships to go to, but I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. And if I’m being honest, I found myself questioning the stories all together when I heard the rumors of the vessel’s captain's name. Who would possibly ever wish to go by the name of Hook?”

 Both men laughed at the absurdity of it, but Emma couldn’t rid herself of the knot that had formed in her throat as Killian watched her with a cautious eye. It may have seemed such an absurd name if not for the fact that her father was speaking directly to the man in question without so much as a clue. She had invited the wolf into their home and he had devoured the sheep.

 Emma’s chair scraped the wood floor as she stood in a rush.

 “Mr. Jones, I do believe it is getting late and you said you needed to return to your ship soon.”

 Her father, completely stunned, told the young lieutenant that he didn’t wish to keep him, and Killian for his part nodded and thanked her father for a delightful evening. 

 Emma followed Killian outside, where he immediately turned to her and tried to speak, but she cut him off, enraged at his audacity.

 “Mr. Jones-”

 “Am I no longer Killian to you?”

 “Mr. Jones, given the situation, I must insist on following proper social decorum as not to beseech or sully my father’s name and standing in his post. I ask that you leave and that you do not return.”

 He only nodded and took his leave, breaking Emma’s heart in two as he did so.

_____________________________________

 Three months passed in which Emma devoted herself to her mother’s causes. It had been difficult at first as her mother pressed her in the days after the ball as to who her young lieutenant was, and Emma had assured her he was no one as she fought the urge to weep and scream and riot at the very thought of him. But when her father came home two weeks later, irate at learning that there was no such Lieutenant Jones on the HMS Condor, demanding that Emma have nothing to do with him and to report it if she ran into him again, Mary Margaret finally let the subject go. 

 Instead, her mother nurtured her as best she could, teaching her a new needle point technique, recommending books for Emma to read as the newest member of the women’s auxiliary book club. Anything she could to keep Emma’s mind busy. 

 Ruby tried as well, showing Emma new places in the city, showing her a mix of the roads less traveled by most sightseers. They shopped at the market and even learned to cook a new dish from an older Egyption woman that Ruby’s Granny had befriended. Ruby still took her monthly trips to have lunch with Belle, but Emma always declined. 

 Still, despite all of her activities, Emma found her mind wandering to a certain pair of blue eyes. Sometimes the thought of him sickened her so, but sometimes it just left her with a sense of melancholy. 

 He’d been the only man to captivate her so, to make her feel like she had value as a woman as more than just a future wife or daughter. She’d seen it in the way he interacted with Belle as well. He was different, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe him her equal in many ways.

 But he was a coward and a cod. 

 Two month more passed before Ruby finally broke, telling Emma she was being stubborn. That there was more to the story and that if Emma would only keep an open mind, that she would understand. 

 They fought, and Emma sent her away just as she had Killian. But Ruby had managed to dig her way into Emma’s mind, and her will shattered, curiosity settling into the cracks. Finally, Emma gave in and sought out Belle, with Ruby’s help.

 She learned that Killian once had an older brother named Liam. That Belle had actually been engaged to Liam before his passing, and that Killian and she had latched onto each other in the years since as the only family either one had left. That both Jones brothers had been sent by her Majesty to oversee the construction of the canal. That the working conditions for the Egyptians had been less than ideal. It was essentially slave labor, and many of them became ill and if they didn’t die from exhaustion and hunger, they died of cholera instead. That Liam had passed after getting sick as well.

 It had all been too much for Killian, who had witnessed everything first hand. The poor conditions, the way his countrymen had come to ravage a country, to indoctrinate themselves. He couldn’t be a party to it anymore, so he took his brother’s ship and crew and they revolted. They shed their uniforms and sailed under no man but themselves. They captured vessels and stole cargo belonging to the queen, giving it back to the Egyptians to sell for profit in reparations.

 It was so much more than Emma could comprehend. She’d seen firsthand how the British had taken over parts of the city, but she’d never considered it on such a large scale. And the thought of everything Killian had witnessed, she wouldn’t have had the strength to survive it all the way he had. 

 She’d been such a fool to dismiss him so carelessly, ignoring everything she’d known about him in favor of the limited gossip her father had spared her over a meal one night. 

 Belle told her that she expected Killian in a few days time, and told Emma where his ship usually made port to avoid the Naval ships in the area and where’s she’d likely find him in the mid morning. The next two days Emma felt her stomach in knots with anticipation and nerves. She’d barely been able to eat dinner and her mother had fretted that Emma had taken ill. 

 Sneaking away had been a thing of miracles, and had taken Ruby’s use of distraction, leaving Emma to roam the city alone for the first time. She knew the way, but there had been rumors of unrest in the city again, and although the port Killian used wasn’t far, she’d wished she’d heeded everyone's warnings when she found herself surrounded by two angry men, screaming at her in a language she didn’t understand. She tried to apologize for whatever she’d done and move on, but the men were enraged, and before she knew it, one of them and moved closer. She hadn’t been prepared for the stinging blow that crossed her cheek, nearly knocking her to the ground. 

 She felt herself being shoved back and forth between the two of them and felt nothing but fear. She’d never been in such a situation and had no way to defend herself. But just as one of them had pushed her against the wall, she heard another voice call out for them to let her go. There was a commotion, but her tear filled eyes had prevented her from seeing most of what had happened. All she’d caught was a blurry figure punching one of the men and both of them taking off down an ally, leaving her in the man’s charge. 

 The man tried to comfort her, but she recoiled from his touch, breaking into full hysterics, screaming at him to get away, trying to push against his chest when he didn’t leave. Instead he only pulled her closer and hugged her tightly until exhaustion set in and she collapsed into him.

 “Shh, It’s okay, love, I’ve got you.”

 It was only after she’d calmed down that she was finally able to make sense of what had occurred. Killian had seen the men pushing her and had come to her rescue. She collapsed into him once again, letting herself sink into his embrace that time. When they broke apart, she felt his fingers lift at her chin while he looked her over. 

 “Emma, what are you doing out here alone?”

 “I,” she hesitated, not sure how to begin her apology. “I actually came to find you. I needed to speak to you.”

 He gave her a small cautious smile, but he kept his distance, still unsure of his place with her. It broke her heart all over again, knowing that she’d caused him pain. “Come now, let’s get you out of here.”

 Emma followed him back to the market where more Englishmen were milling about. “Smee, something has come up that I must see to. I trust you to take care of things here.”

 “Aye, Captain.”

 Emma watched as Killian handed the stocky man a small notebook before taking her hand and guiding her away towards an area she had never been to before. They walked for a bit in silence before coming upon one of the most breathtaking views Emma had ever experienced. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.

 “I’ve always found the sight of the sea from this place to be calming. I thought that perhaps you could use some of that calmness after what happened back there.”

 “It’s beautiful.”

 Killian removed his jacket and set it on the ground at Emma’s feet, signaling for her to sit. With his aid, she lowered herself down until she was in a seated position where he joined her. They sat in silence for a bit while Emma worked through her muddled thoughts. She’d had a plan before the incident but everything she’d practiced in her head seemed silly by comparison.

 “I wanted to thank you, Killian.” She hoped that the use of his name would have the impact it deserved.

 “It was nothing.”

 “No, I- I’m sorry, I’ve lost all sense of myself. I just needed to apologize, for that night, for everything. I acted rashly without knowing all of the details and I was a child throwing a tantrum. And then after I treated you so poorly, you still came to my rescue.”

 The longer she spoke the more incoherent her words became and she was sure she’d messed up anything all over again.  But once again, Killian was the pinnacle of kindness and good form. 

 “Emma, you had no reason to act any differently. I selfishly crashed your party and then made a cad of myself in front of your father. I’m ashamed of myself for the way I carried on that night and your actions were completely justified.”

 “They weren’t though, and I’ve been sick at myself ever since. Please forgive me.”

 “Emma, love, there’s nothing to forgive on your part.” “Then there’s nothing to forgive on yours either then.”

 He nodded.

 “But I must ask, why did you come that night?”

 “Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. I’ve been besotten with you since the moment I met you, and with all the talk of the ball, I drove myself mad at the idea of you dancing with all of those men. I know it was stupid and selfish, but I couldn’t not go. Belle gave me the information.”

 “And should I have not sent you away, what would have happened?”

 “Emma,” he warned, but she continued. 

 “Would that dance have been the end of the evening?”

 “Emma, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. Please. I beg of you.” There was a pleading in his voice. Something she knew was dangerous to push at, but she couldn’t help herself. Not after all of the time she’d wasted avoiding him.

 “Would you have watched as I danced with my next partner?”

 “Yes. I would have watched with hatred in my heart towards the man holding you in his arms, and I likely would have slipped out before you could notice.”

 “And that would have been it?”

 “Aye. But I would have left wondering,” she nodded for him to continue, “what it would have been like to kiss you.”

 “And now, would you continue to wonder?” All sensibility clearly having left her head as she never would have been so forward had she had her wits about her.

 But all thoughts of her impropriety were gone as his lips met hers, ever so softly. Nothing more than a light press of his mouth to hers before he pulled back. She let out the softest of sighs before flashing him a smirk that left him beaming from ear to ear light a young school boy.

 They stayed there, in that calm little island among the land for another hour, discussing things Emma had never allowed herself to voice aloud before, an ease and understanding having formed between them. Emma told him of the true reason her father had been stationed in Alexandria. She’d also spoken of why she’d been so sullen at the idea of leaving England. It wasn’t the idea of leaving her childhood home, or her friends, but at leaving behind any chance she had at independence. 

 Two years prior, the University of London had become one of the first in the country to allow women to not only sit for exams but to earn their degrees. Emma had dreamt of becoming a solicitor, but her move to Egypt had all but assured that dream dead. Instead, she would become like every other woman she knew, marrying an eligible suitor and bearing his children, to live a dreadfully boring life. 

 Killian told her that her dream would only die if she let it. That he believed in her and that he’d yet to see her fail at anything she’d put her mind to. He encouraged her to apply to the university and to speak with her parents. That even in his limited interaction, he could see the love her father had for her and that he’d want nothing more than her happiness.

 He also told her the truth, the entire truth about the activities aboard his ship. That they had many friends that gave them safe harbor and protection from the Navy. That they ever only took items that belonged to the royals and other aristocracy. They never took from people that needed it. 

 She learned of his childhood. A drunk sot of a father and a sick mother. He and Liam joined the Navy as soon as they came of age hoping to improve their station. He spoke of Liam in the highest regards, and Emma wished she could have met him.

 They eventually were forced to leave their little oasis to join Ruby and Belle for lunch, receiving knowing looks from both of the ladies as they sat side by side for the first time, feeling a rush each time their hands brushed each other’s at the table. 

 When they parted, Killian promised to write to her as often as possible as he had no idea when he’d next be able to visit. Soon he hoped, but they both knew that her father had doubled down on his efforts to capture the elusive Captain Hook since letting him slip through his fingers at the Winter Ball. More patrols had been sent and there had even been a reward offered for information leading to his capture. He assured Emma that he knew the waters better than anyone and wouldn’t get caught but she worried just the same.

 Over the next few months, Emma and Killian exchanged letters through Belle. Their mutual friend knew of Killian’s confidants in the city that could get corresponce out by other means. From what she gathered, Killian spent a large portion of his time in Turkey, an ally of England, but not under its control and therefore having no obligation to the crown. Higher officials could more easily be bought there as well, making it a safe haven of sorts for him to hide from her father’s constant searches. 

 She wrote to him as well telling him that she had secretly applied to three universities in England, not that she expected anything to come of any of her applications when there were so few spots available and much more well connected families, while she was doing it completely alone. She wrote to him about the books she was reading as well, many of which he’d read himself, with Killian recommending more she may like.

 Emma spent most of her free time with Belle. Ruby had taken a new beau and they’d only connected in passing. Emma envied her the ability to properly court her young petty officer, even if it meant having Granny as a chaperone most of the time. 

 Belle’s research had nearly come to an end. With no results, receiving funding had been more difficult and her employer had nearly exhausted his own purse in their search for the library. There had been a few times that they’d believed themselves close, but each of those resulted in disappointment. 

 Emma dreaded the idea of Belle leaving Egypt, but if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was likely for the best. Incidents like the one Killian had saved her from had become all too common in the city. Reports of attacks on British men had begun to circulate, and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before venturing into the city would be impossible. She often worried about Belle. Her hired guide knew the area, but should a situation arise, she wasn’t sure where his true loyalty would lie, or if he'd be able to protect her friend, and the idea of anything happening to Belle left Emma feeling ill.

 And as it always happens, all good things did come to an end. Belle’s research was cancelled and her entire team had packed up, ready to return to London after years away. Emma spent the morning with her, helping to see to the rest of her belongings in her small apartment, making sure nothing was left behind. Ruby had managed to pry herself away from Peter long enough to join them as well. Emma had written to Killian, but given tensions everywhere, knew that it would be unlikely that he’d be able to see their friend off. 

 Not that anything between them would ever really be goodbye with their connection. In time they would find eachother again. But it was that very connection that ensured Killian was there for one last farewell lunch. They ate and despite the stories told and the laughs had, the entire meal was a somber affair, each person there realising that everything was changing and nothing would ever be the same.

 When lunch was over, they all left the brasserie one final time, exchanging their goodbyes. The woman all cried as they hugged and promised to write one another. Seeing the embrace between Belle and Killian nearly broke Emma’s heart. She knew how important they were to each other, the familial bond between them, and she knew how hard it must have been for Killian, knowing that he’d be unable to return to England to visit her. Not when he was deemed a deserter by many. She watched as he whispered something in Belle’s ear, and how Belle could only shake her head in return, too choked up for words.

 Ruby left first, having made plans with her father and Peter, hoping to seek her father’s approval. Belle left next, her ship departing shortly after, which left only Emma and Killian. They walked slowly through the market, Emma’s hand placed gently in the crook of Killian’s arm, just like any normal couple. Together, they simply enjoyed the time they had before he had to leave again. 

 They continued through the city until they’d made their way to the spot Killian had brought her to before. Just as before, he removed his jacket for her to sit on, and there they talked as they took in the sight of the sea before them. As the sun lowered, Emma knew she should be getting back before her family missed her, but she hated the idea of saying goodbye to him. 

 They waited as long as possible, until they could wait no more. But before they headed back, Killian told her that he had a gift for her. She’d expected a small jar of spices or a book like he’d brought to Belle in the past, but instead she watched as his hand rummaged with the collar of his blouse before freeing a small silver chain. She caught just the faintest glimpse of a jewel before Killian had closed her hand around the chain, the weight of it in her palm heavier than expected. 

 “This belonged to my brother, who gave it to me before he passed. He told me that it would keep me safe, just as it had him, and for all of these years it has. And now I want you to have it. To keep you safe as well when I can’t be with you.”

 “Killian, I can’t accept this. It’s too precious!”

 “Emma, love, nothing is more precious to me than you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you here.”

 Throwing away all sense of propriety, Emma lifted to her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest as she did so, kissing him with all of the affection she felt in her heart. 

 Her joy was short live though as she heard a throat clear from behind her. Stunned, she turned, only to find her father staring back. She’d never seen such a look upon his face, and her blood turned to ice.

 “Emma, come here now,” he growled.

 “Daddy, please, it’s not what you think.”

 “Now!”

 Emma did as her father commanded, helpless to disobey him, but she continued to plead for Killian, telling her father that he was a good man and that she loved him. Her father baulked at the idea, telling her that she was a naive child that had been taken advantage of. He told Killian that had it not been for Emma’s presence, he would have had the man seized and chained to the stockades already. That he’d found the letters Killian had sent his daughter. David was livid that his Emma had been so irresponsible and had betrayed his trust.

 Emma wept as Killian left, unable to say anything to change her father’s mind. He parted with a promise to her that not a day would go by that he didn’t think of her. In return, her father promised that if he ever saw Killian again, he’d have him hung for treason.

 In the weeks and months that follow Emma was inconsolable. She’d lost nearly everyone that had meant anything to her. Her father kept a strict eye on her and her interactions with Ruby were limited, and only allowed under supervision. Without Belle to help her send letters, she had been completely cut off from everything.

 Most of her time was spent in a melancholy daze. Her mother tried her best to lift her daughter’s spirits, but Emma was despondent. Even when her letter from the University of London arrived informing her she had been accepted to study with them hadn’t been enough to pull her from her misery. It didn’t help that her father had become upset at learning of her intent to leave for school, just another secret she’d kept from him in his eyes.

 She moved through life as a walking ghost. 

 The climate surrounding the city has escalated as well. Many of the Europeans had fled the city in favor of Cairo where the political situation was less terse. The officers on the base had been warned to stay ever vigilant, and visits into Alexandria had been officially forbidden. 

 No one could have predicted what had come next though. A member of the Egyptian Army who went by the name of Ahmed Urabi, had sparked a revolt among the people. The whispers among the countrymen had become shouts heard from all the way across the Mediterranian. Killian knew all too well the anger dwelling among the Egyptian nationals. He’d seen first hand how the canal had run red with the blood of the men that built it long before it had with the sea. And he knew it was only a matter of time before the land became overrun with devastation. 

 He’d also heard chatter of British ships collecting in the sea, ready wage an assault on the city, and how quickly tensions could rise. Emma was in danger, and it killed him not being there to protect her, and while her father was formidable, David didn’t know the people or the city. 

 Eventually, it became too much, and his worry for Emma’s safety outweigh any consideration he gave to his own life. What was the use of avoiding the hangman’s noose with her gone? So he sailed into the heart of the beast, to the ship he knew Emma’s father commanded, allowing his ship to be boarded by British officers for the first time since Liam’s death.

 Killian pleaded with Emma’s father, telling him that a revolt was coming, but his warning came too late as the city had been taken under siege that morning. Riots had broken out all over the Alexandria, and that the British armada had orders to attack the city. It took ages of arguing between the two men before a resolution had been found. Killian was certain that the base was in danger, that it would be one of the first places attacked if it hadn’t been already. David, ever as stubborn as his daughter assured him that the base was the safest place Emma could be. It wasn’t until Killian listed all of the ways to sneak it that David realized his concerns may have merit. And it was only on Killian’s solemn word to return with Emma and Mary Margaret and turn himself in to be tried before a British court for his actions against the crown that David relented, letting him sail on towards Alexandria. Killian was sure that if not for his strict orders, David likely would have sailed right next to him. 

 When he and his crew docked at their usual spot, he found the city in near ruins already. Fires raged through the buildings, people fought in the streets, dragging expats through the narrow corridors by their clothes. Killian rushed through the city as quickly as possible, taking shortcuts wherever he could, throwing a few punches along the way. His sword found its way in the belly of a particularly large rioter at one point. Eventually he reached the base, as just as he had worried, there were already rioters beating against the building doors, tearing down everything in their path. 

 Killian pushed past them to the house he knew belonged to the highest ranking officer. Knowing that Emma and her mother were likely hiding inside, he kicked down the door, searching for them room by room, calling out her name until he heard her voice, small and weak, coming from a closet. Inside, he found Emma, her mother, and Ruby all huddled together trying to shelter themself from the chaos of the outside world. 

 With reluctance, Killian finally managed to convince Mary Margaret that she wasn’t safe there and that she needed to follow him. That he would keep them all safe. They fought their way through the pandemonium, running as fast as they could from the hoards of men screaming in the street. 

 When they reached Killian’s ship, his crew wasted no time setting sail again. They had only barely left when they heard the shots of cannon fire ring out from the other side of the city. Smoke and ashes overtook the sky as Alexandria burned before them. Killian’s first mate tended to the women aboard, making sure they had food and blankets as the ship drifted further and further to sea. 

 It was surreal for Emma, the dichotomy of the beauty she experienced from nearly that same spot as she arrived in Alexandria only the year before to the way she left it, in desolation. For hours, the ship stayed anchored away from the battle that raged on between the British and Egyptians. The booming cannons rang out through the night, and silence overtook everyone on the ship, each man and woman understanding the weight of what had happened.

 It wasn’t until morning when Killian’s crewman witnessed an Egyptian boat float out to sea with a flag of truce that everyone was able to breathe again. As promised, Killian returned Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret to David’s ship, awaiting his own fate at the hands of Her Majesty's Navy. 

 And whether it was exhaustion from the night before, or the gratefulness of a man whose family was safe, David didn’t immediately take Killian into custody. Instead, he had the man escorted to the Captain’s day cabin, while his family was taken to his quarters to rest. Emma was too tired to even protest, but Killian couldn’t begrudge her. She’d been through too much and no matter what fate befell him, knowing she was safe was all that mattered. David had been right before, and as much as Killian had been remiss to admit it to himself at the time, he wasn’t good enough for Emma. He couldn’t give her the life that she deserved as a man on the run, and after years of always looking over his shoulder, he was ready to accept his fate. He was just too tired to continue.

 He wasn’t sure how long he waited, likely only an hour, but it felt as if weeks had passed before David emerged, his fatigue obvious in the bags under his eyes. David gestured for him to sit at the round table in the middle of the room, before taking a seat himself.

 “I’ve looked into your record. One of the fastest promoted Lieutenants in recent history. Plenty of commendations. You were once an honorable man and I have to believe he’s still in there somewhere.”

 Killia had no idea how to respond. It was a far cry from the dress down he’d expected and deserved. So he said nothing.

 They sat in silence, each savoring the calmness of the moment. 

 “I can’t let you go, but I can’t send you to your death after you sacrificed yourself for my family. I’m at a loss for what should happen next.”

 “What I did, saving Emma wasn’t to barter my way into your good graces, or to leverage my situation. I did it because I’m in love with her. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and I’ve acted rashly at times, and I stand by the actions I took. But I’ve also come to see through Emma, that I wish to be a better man than I’ve been. And that begins now with me accepting the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be.”

 David barked out a laugh.

 “Yes, and that would go so well for me with my daughter.”

 “She loves you. Surely you must know that.”

 “I do.”

 “Emma carries a great deal of guilt over the end of her relationship with Neal, and the adverse effects it had on you. She holds you in the highest regard and I promise you, she didn’t enter into a courtship with me lightly.”

 David stood and walked to a small porthole where the view of the sun setting against the water was visible.

 “Is that what it was then? A courtship?”

 “You would have to ask Emma.”

 David's gaze remained fixed on the horizon as they continued to speak.

 “My daughter was accepted to a university back in England. She doesn’t know yet but she begins her courses in a month’s time. And although I know it’s what her heart truly desires, I find that I’m having a difficult time letting her go.”

 “Aye, I can imagine.” Killing couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Emma's accomplishment, even if it did sting to know she was leaving.

 “How did you do it? How did you let her go?”

 Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. It wasn’t that he had let her go, as much as he had let her free. 

 “It wasn’t easy for me either, but as I said before, Ilove her, and sometimes loving someone means realizing that you have to put their needs above your own.”

 David grumpled before rubbing his face with both hands. 

 “I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do about having your charges dismissed. No one outside of my family knows who you are. As far as the navy is concerned, you’re nothing more than a deserter.”

 “I’m grateful, but you needn’t-”

 “What I need is to know Emma has someone with her in London watching out for her. I can’t leave my post, and most of the officers back in England are terrified of Neal's father and will keep their distance out of fear of repercussions. As reluctant as I am to say this, you’re the only person I trust with her.”

 It took some doing, many favors called in, but David was able to clear Killian’s record and his time was considered served. Many of the crew members aboard Killian’s ship had been just as grateful to step back on English soil after so many years away. While none of them had verbalised it, they’d each grown homesick in their own rights. 

 Killian found honest work with Belle and her research team, translating some of the more rare manuscripts they had come across on their newest search for the Temple of Deir el-Bahri, believed to be the resting place of the only three women to rise to the position of pharaoh. 

 And over the next few years, Emma was able to finish her degree, receiving it under her new married name with David’s blessing. Her father remained in Egypt, still under banishment from Admiral Gold. Long after their daughter was born, Belle and Killian managed to decipher the exact location of Hatshepsut’s resting place, which meant returning to Egypt. Killian had been reluctant to leave, but Emma insisted, reminding him that while Belle was great with books, they needed him for translations. The dig turned out to be a once in a lifetime find, and kept growing, so much so that he’d written to Emma, devastated that he’d be unable to return home in time for christmas. 

 Which had led to a lonely Emma telling her daughter the very story in question. 

 _____________________________________

 The cocoa has cooled and the fire in the hearth long dwindled. It’s chilly in the drafty house once more, and while she briefly considers adding more wood to it, the hour is late and she really should be getting her little one to bed.

  “So Papa started the cinnamon tradition?”

 “Yes my little duck. You father introduced it to me, and he passed it on to you as well.”

 The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.

 “I miss him. In class we wrote to Father Christmas and I asked him to bring Papa home. Do you think he got my letter?”

 Emma’s heart breaks at the question. Her daughter is still young, too young to understand that Father Christmas is only an illusion, something told to little children to get the magic of the world alive, and that no amount of magic in the world can bring Killian home in time for Christmas morning.

 But sometimes, just as her daughter told her that evening, you only have to believe in magic for it to work, and her daughter's belief has apparently been just enough for the biggest Christmas miracle that Emma has ever witnessed. 

 Because there before them, in a freshly opened doorway just before midnight, stands Killian covered in snow from head to toe. And he isn’t alone. Shuffling into the entryway behind him is her mother and father, neither of which she’s seen since leaving Alexandria. It’s everything she can do not to cry as she rushes to hug them all. 

 Her daughter screams once she realizes what’s happening and leaps into Killian’s arms as he introduces her to her grandparents for the first time ever. They speak of David’s retirement and her parents plans to move back to London as they’ve already missed so much time together. 

 Later, when everyone is settled, Killian pulls her aside, and he reveals a small sprig of Mistletoe from his jacket pocket, kissing her with all of the passion of a man who hasn’t seen his wife in nearly seven months.

 Things may not be what they were, but this is so much better.

[cssecretsanta2020]

This year might be a little different - I am working a lot and thanks to the pandemic even more, but I still love this fandom and I loved hosting this event the last years so let’s bring some joy to this dark days! Christmas is approaching fast and with it many happy thoughts.

Sign up will be open from Wednesday until November 29. There won’t be a possibility to sign up later - I am very sorry about that but if you don’t know if you can participate until then you won’t be part of it!

Pairings will be sent out the latest on December 1st - get in touch with your giftee within the first week to make sure you can communicate.

Get to know your giftee by sending frequent ANONYMOUS asks the following weeks.

Share the gift you created the latest on December 26th - keep it simple - be on time. There is nothing more disappointing than not receiving a gift.

If you have ANY questions, please contact us.

If you have any second thoughts, please contact us.

If you have ANYTHING to say, please contact us.

If you have any troubles, please contact us.

If you wanna say ‘hi’, please contact us.

WE ARE HERE FOR YOU AT ANY TIME FOR ANY REASON.

[eastwesthomeisbest]

Captain Swan Secret Santa 2020

All those days chasing down a daydream

All those years living in a blur

All that time never truly seeing

Things, the way they were

Now she's here shining in the starlight

Now she's here suddenly I know

If she's here it's crystal clear

I'm where I'm meant to go...

And at last I see the light

And it's like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted

All at once everything is different

Now that I see you...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

And here's my next gift for @lifeinahole27 as @cssecretsanta2020 Hope you like it!

Merry Christmas!

[mariakov81]

Merry Christmas, @demisexualemmaswan !

Tis me, your Secret Santa! 🎅🎄

I really hope you had a very good Christmas and still are in a cheerful Christmas mood! Thank you for your patience, I'm really sorry it took me so long!

I loved your fics and when you mentioned Atonement movie I decided that I had to make a try and to draw Emma in that green dress .

So here it is!

I enjoyed chatting with you! Thank you!

And once again Merry Christmas!

@cssecretsanta2020

[curiousconstellations]

The Price of a Bean and the Cost of Love

Summary: With no clue how to defeat a villain the town can’t remember, Hook and Emma venture to the Enchanted Forest to retrieve some magical items from the Evil Queen’s castle. Along the way, they rediscover the connection they shared before they were separated by worlds a year ago. 3B canon divergence, Rated T, 8k, also on AO3 here

A/N: Happy Holidays @phiralovesloki��� I’m your CS Secret Santa! I hope this little fic will bring you some cheer to this wild year :) Honestly I had so many ideas after revisiting season 3 that I’m definitely down to write more S3 renaissance/divergence fics from now on!

Thank you @cssecretsanta2020​ for another great event!

-/-

The more frequently they host these hushed conversations by the fireplace, the more Emma grows to despise the décor of Granny’s B&B, however cozy it may be. It’s difficult to keep Henry safe whilst also keeping him away from these discussions of the Enchanted Forest and curses and magic, so the common area of the B&B is the best option when she knows he is tucked away asleep upstairs.

Her parents and Regina are going back and forth at each other while Hook stands by the fire, raising an eyebrow every time Regina fires an insult or her mother shoots down Regina’s suggestions with judgement.

“Well, even if we could figure out who did this, they’ve done a spectacular job of making sure I can’t fight back by stripping my entire vault of anything magical that could help. I bet it’s all just sitting back at the castle, wilting away like this damn town will under this curse.” Regina bites out angrily.

They all silently reflect on her words and Emma can’t help but wish she were back in New York right now. At least then her issues would be about prying Henry away from his video games long enough to sleep and do homework, not trying to protect him from some unknown fairy tale villain who had cursed their family and friends and was turning people into flying monkeys. God, what is her life?

“What if we could retrieve some things from your castle?” Hook asks, everyone swinging their heads up to look at him curiously.

“What the hell do you mean, pirate?” Regina demands. Hook sighs and pinches his nose; a gesture Emma finds herself sympathizing with when dealing with Regina.

“I mean that I have a way of returning to the Enchanted Forest. I can use it to fetch your magical goods and then you can do your thing with your little bottles and jars and we can resolve all of this.”

“And how exactly do you have a way of getting back there?” David asks suspiciously. Hook fishes in his jacket pocket and reveals a magic bean, rolling it between his fingers slowly.

“I procured two beans, the first I used to get to Emma in New York. The second, well let’s just say I had it saved for a rainy day. Now, this cursed business is really only a slight drizzle for me, but if it will help, the offer stands.” The offer had mostly been made to Regina, but Emma finds Hook’s gaze on her. She’s pretty sure he was not offering this bean for Regina’s sake.

“Well, I don’t trust you to go alone.” Regina shrugs. Hooks rolls his eyes upward in frustration and Emma’s lips twitch a little. The man is not particularly good at hiding his emotions.

“I’ll go too.”

Her words are met with immediate disagreement from her parents, but she patiently waits for them to finish their complaints before speaking.

“Look, you’re all cursed. As far as we know, you can’t leave town let alone jump through a portal. Hook and I are the only people not affected by the curse. He brought me here to help, so this is something I can help with. I’m the saviour after all.” Emma sighs, glaring at her parents until they surrender.

“Is this even necessary? Regina, I’m sure you can cope without your things for now. We can find another way to figure out who cast the curse and defend ourselves if need be.” Snow says firmly, David backing her up with an affirmative nod and a squeeze of her shoulder.

“Isn’t it better to have and not need, than need and not have?” Hook interjects.

“See? The pirate gets it. He’s willing to give up a bean for this. What would the town say if they find out their royal highnesses didn’t do everything they could to protect them?” Regina says smugly.

“Look, guys, enough. Hook and I will go get Regina’s magical crap from the castle, end of discussion. I don’t like not having all the tools possible to face who or whatever this is.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan.” Regina says, her tone indicating it was more of a dig at her parents than actual gratitude.

“Fine. But how will you get back? You only have one bean.” David asks. Emma looks to Hook for answers, considering this was his plan to begin with. He catches her eye and clears his throat with an awkward scratch of his ear.

“I can get another bean from the same seller. I know where he is.” Emma knows he’s hiding something, and she plans on pushing him on it later, but for now she lets it slide.

“Well, how do you know that he has more, or that you can get one from him? It’s a bit of a precarious plan, especially now my daughter is coming.” David replies roughly.

“I trust that Hook will get us back, okay. We should probably get going soon and I want to say goodbye to Henry first. I know you’ll all take care of him, but he’ll think I’m leaving him with strangers, and I don’t want him to worry.” Emma heads upstairs before more disagreements break out, exhaling with relief at the tiny amount of peace the dark, quiet hallway provides.

She wakes Henry to explain that she needs to go somewhere else for work, but she will be back in no time. He’s sleepy and confused, but he smiles when she says he will be treated to all the ice cream from the mayor he wants and some lovely meals from her friends (yes, the one that was apparently her cellmate). Emma hugs him tightly and says goodnight once again, watching over him for a moment before turning off the light and closing the door.

“You don’t have to come along, Swan.” Hook says softly from behind her as he exits his own room.

“And let you have all the fun trashing Regina’s castle? I don’t think so.” She scoffs. They share a brief look, and, in this moment, she is particularly grateful for this uncanny ability they seemed to have developed of understanding each other with a single glance. It’s simultaneously terrifying and comforting to know Hook can read her so well.

Emma says goodbye to her parents while Hook gets strict rules from Regina about what to do in her castle and he looks like he’d rather switch places with her and be hugging David right now. She’s hoping they will be back pretty soon but and she’s putting all her faith in Hook’s suspiciously vague plan to get them another bean home, but her trust in him grows each time he does something selfless, chipping away at her suspicions with his surprising decency and kindness.

They head out the back behind the B&B, the frosty air nipping at her skin as she shivers. Hook’s breath comes out in clouds when he offers her one last chance to back out, but Emma simply shakes her head, and he tosses the bean on the grass. The portal swirls in front of them and a second later they’re jumping through in a dizzy haze of flashing lights and crackling sounds.

With a rough landing in between some trees and a distinct shift in the atmosphere, Emma knew they had made it to the Enchanted Forest. Well, running back to New York wasn’t exactly an option anymore.

-/-

“I walked around the Enchanted Forest in my normal clothes last time, I don’t see why it’s an issue now.” Emma grumbles, fighting with the heavy material of the skirt they had nabbed from a clothing line. Hook had already explained it to her, but he indulges her complaints nevertheless.

“We don’t know what or who has been left here after the curse. Looking like you’re from another world is a sure-fire way to gain attention, and we want to get in and back as soon as possible, right lass?” He smirks at her grumbled response as they continue down the path in the forest, squinting at the peak of the castle ahead of them. They had been walking for some time; unfortunately, the bean did not let him pick an arrival spot closer to the castle. He had thought that perhaps this time alone with Emma would be pleasant, perhaps even a time for them to reconnect after being separated for a year, but so far Emma appears to be preoccupied with her own thoughts.

“Did you miss going on adventures with me while you were in New York?” He asks teasingly, glancing over at Emma as she scoffs.

“You bet. The Big Apple had nothing on trekking through trees and beanstalks in strange lands with a pirate.” She replies humorously.

“The Big Apple?”

“It’s a nickname for New York.”

“Your land never ceases to confuse me, Swan.”

“Yeah, well, staying in New York would have meant not having to deal with the confusion of curses and villains.” He can sense the shift in Emma’s attitude with her bitter words and he sighs.

“So, you would have preferred it if I had left you alone in your new life.”  

“I’m glad you came and gave me my memories back, but you have to understand how hard it’s been for me leaving that life of blissful ignorance to the existence of…all of this.” Emma waves her hands around, gesturing at the land they’re in.

“You act like knowing of the existence of magic and fairy tales is a burden. But don’t you ever think about what it has to offer, what it’s already given you?”

“When magic was the entire reason for me growing up alone? For my parents being cursed twice now? For Neal’s crappy childhood and Regina killing a bunch of people and countless other shitty things? Sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied dealing with all of that that see the beauty in it.” Emma speeds up her steps and Hook strides to match her pace. She’s clearly jaded, and she has every right to be, but he feels like he should be doing more to reason with her. He suspects that her dismissal of magic and this world will cause a chasm soon enough, pulling her further away and back into the noisy streets of the city she seems to love so much.

They continue along the path in relative silence, jumping into the trees when they hear the odd carriage or footsteps ahead as a precaution to avoid potential foes or having to explain who they are. Hook can feel the air cooling as the day progresses and he’s concerned about the few hours of daylight they have left. He hadn’t thought that they could achieve everything in a single day, but Emma’s cold demeanor had put him off broaching the topic of resting come nightfall.

The castle soon becomes visible as the trees thin and the path becomes wider. Hook is surprised that no one is around. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he had wondered if some strays left behind from the curse would ransack it or something. From appearances, it had been left alone, which was a good sign for collecting all of the necessary items Regina requested.

“The way Regina talked about this place I thought it would be beautiful, but honestly it’s kind of ugly.” Emma comments, making eye contact with him for the first time in over an hour. He smirks, nodding in agreement and pleased they can at least mock the architecture together.

“Aye, her taste is indeed questionable.”

“It’s weird to think my grandparents lived here, that my mom grew up here. I feel so disconnected from all of this.” Emma admits as they walk up the stairs to the main entrance. It’s so eerily quiet that Hook is reminded of the curse that hit everyone here, snatching them away to the land without magic. Their trek to the castle and his concerns of Emma’s longing for her old life had almost made him forget why they were here in the first place.

“Perhaps that is something you could discuss with your mother. Maybe hearing stories of her childhood and your grandparents will help you appreciate this part of your life more.”

“So that I won’t want to go back to New York you mean?” Emma asks flatly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that, like you said, you are disconnected from your history here, and maybe understanding it more will help you better accept magic being in your life.” Hook shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant. Emma hums suspiciously and he realizes he really has no ability to pretend anything other than the truth with her.

“And perhaps I don’t want to say goodbye again.” He adds boldly. Since Emma regained her memories, he’s been dancing around his feelings for her, prioritizing her return to town and figuring out the business of this new curse. After all, she was juggling her cursed parents and her son’s own sheltered memories, she hardly needed him making things more difficult.

“There is a lot of New York you haven’t seen yet. There’s more to the city than the inside of a jail cell.” She jokes, giving him a lopsided smile. They’ve reached the main entrance now, the doors grand and intimidating in their aggressive spikes and bolts as deterrents. Hook pulls on the large handle, the door creaking loudly in the otherwise quiet entrance. The immediate hall inside is empty, no guards or thieves in sight, and they step in apprehensively.

“Are you suggesting I should come to the city with you, if you were to return?” He asks as Emma glances around in wonder.

“Well, I-” She starts, but she suddenly stops and slams into him, knocking them both to the floor as streaks of fire blaze above them. The fire singes the floor right where they had stood, fizzling out after scorching most of the entranceway. Hook looks around frantically, not seeing anyone around to cause balls of fire to hurdle at them. Emma’s heavy skirts and cloak are draped over him, her hair tickling his face as she moves off him with a groan.

“I’m sorry, it just came out of nowhere and I reacted.” She sits up awkwardly, looking around to see if any more fire could come their way as she shifts her cloak back over her bodice correctly and puffing out her now red cheeks.

“No worries, lass. I’m impressed by your quick reaction.” Hook replies as he stands, offering her his hand to help her up.

“I deal with some shifty people at work, I’ve got to be fast.” Emma shrugs. He delicately moves a curl of her hair back in place, catching her eyes as he does so. It’s the softest she’s looked since he found her in New York, a look he hadn’t seen since they said goodbye at the town line a year ago. It lasts only a moment before she looks away, but he’ll hold onto it as a sign that whatever formed between them in the cruel humidity of Neverland still lingered in her soul.

They cautiously proceed through the castle towards Regina’s tower, both on the lookout for other apparent protection spells that were still in effect. He wondered if they would find some hint of what happened before the curse, but everything seemed normal, at least for the castle of the Evil Queen. Once they find her room, they quickly grab bottles and books and trinkets from the vanity, tossing them into a sack he had in his pocket.

“Regina said she has a room where she keeps more things, but it’s sealed with blood magic so this will have to suffice.” Hook tells Emma as she sniffs one of the bottles and grimaces.

“And no doubt she will blame us if this stuff isn’t what she needs.” Emma scoffs. The setting sun reflects off the vanity mirror and Emma’s hair shines in the hazy orange glow. He admires her for a moment before stepping away to stand at the balcony, looking out the stretch of land ahead and the pastel colours of the sunset. Emma soon joins him, and they stand together and watch the changing colours of the sky in silence.

“I don’t know how Regina could stand here and see something so beautiful out there and want to retreat into this cold, dark palace.” Emma says quietly.

“Maybe she was scared of the potential life outside of this, so she retreated to something familiar.” He replies, glancing over at Emma to see his meaning was not lost on her by the way she shakes her head. He thinks she’s ready to launch into another defence of her wanting to go back to New York, but she doesn’t say anything. To his surprise, she shuffles closer and rests her head on his shoulder. They stay like that for a while, until a chill settles over them and Emma sighs wistfully.

“So where is this bean seller?” She asks, pulling her cloak around herself with a shiver.

“He should be down by the water. But we should rest for the night. It’s a bit of a walk to the port, even longer and more hazardous in the dark.” Hook replies, his stomach sinking at the thought of the next part of their quest.

“Okay, but I don’t want to stay here. I’m sure the beds in the guest rooms are nice but this place freaks me out. Is there an inn or something close by? Preferably somewhere we could find some kind of food.” Emma laughs lightly when her stomach rumbles mid-sentence.

“Aye, there’s a tavern in a village close by, if we leave now, perhaps we can make it by the light that’s left of the day. I have no idea if anyone will be there, but there may be something left behind we could salvage to eat.” Hook grabs the sack of magical items and swings it over his shoulder, ushering Emma ahead as they quickly descend from the tower.

He keeps close to Emma as they walk in the dusky light, glancing ahead as the individual trees of the forest become indiscernible and form an ominous tunnel of darkness.

“Why did you have two beans?” Emma asks, her voice breaking the quietness of the night.

“Well, why not?” He evades with a cheeky tone.

“You said you were saving it for a rainy day. I get being prepared for the worst, but it seemed like you had a specific purpose for it.” Hook thinks for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell the truth. He thinks of her head on his shoulder earlier and the way it felt so simple and easy to stand by her side in peace.

“I got a second one in case you wanted me to leave.”

“Leave?” Emma asks incredulously.

“You had a life in Storybrooke with the town and your family, and then again in New York with your boy. I came to bring you back to them, but I never had a place in that life of yours. I have stayed for the possibility that I could, but if you wished that I didn’t, I would return here and never burden you again.” Hook tugs on the sack awkwardly as they walk, almost wishing he could see her face but also relieved to be shielded by the darkness.

Emma is quiet, and the longer she doesn’t speak, the more anxious he becomes. She could easily turn around right now and tell him she does want him to leave her life, and the thought makes his chest ache.

“You’re not a burden, Hook.” She says quietly. He takes that as the smallest of victories and relaxes a little. He thinks she’s about to say more when she suddenly trips, slipping onto the ground with a painful groan.

“Swan!” He tosses the sack down and kneels beside her, widening his eyes in the dark as if that would help him see better.

“I think I hit my…” Emma mumbles. Hook gently touches her face, feeling blood already forming at the cut at her temple. He kicks around and feels a rock on the path just as Emma turns on the ground and retches.

“Concussion.” She mutters, slumping against his chest.

“Aye, that was a nasty hit to the side of your head, lass.” He says softly as he brushes her hair away from the cut. She’s in no state to continue walking, but there’s no way they can stop here for the night; she’ll certainly need food and water to ease her discomfort. He reaches for the sack and loops the string over his hook before scooping her up in his arms, much to her disoriented chagrin.

“Down, I’ve had this loads before.”

“Doesn’t matter how often this happens to you, Swan. I’m not having you wander about in the dark in this state. You’ll end up knocking me out too with your stumbling.” He teases lightly. She grumbles something unintelligible, but he takes her burrowing herself against him as resignation. Hook watches her close her eyes and furrow her brows and he hopes he can reach that damn tavern soon.

-/-

 A wave of nausea hits Emma when she opens her eyes, the image of the room feeling like a puzzle her brain is too slow to piece together. A candle flickers on the other side of the room, the dancing flame making her unsteady vision worse. She slides up the bed she lays in, wincing in discomfort. Looking around the room at the simple décor, she assumes this is the tavern. To her left is another single bed, the sack of Regina’s things sitting on top along with Hook’s jacket. There is a cup and a pitcher of water on the small table in the middle of the beds and she clumsily pours some and takes a slow drink, her dry lips and throat relieved to feel the liquid.

She tentatively reaches up to touch her head, feeling a small bandage across the cut on her temple, her hair damp from what she hopes is the water used to clean the wound and not blood. The door creaks open and Emma is relieved to see Hook.

“Ah good, you’re awake.” He says softly. She notices the plate he’s carrying and practically salivates at the thought of food, but he puts it down on the table and stands beside her bed, gently lifting her chin up with his fingers.

“Your eyes look alert, I’m sure some colour will come back to your cheeks once you’ve eaten.” His fingers are warm against her skin and she feels cold as soon as his hand slips away.

“I was able to bring up some cheese and a small amount of bread, but Sylvia won’t allow any hot food in the rooms. If you are feeling well enough, we can go down a bit later for something more.” Hook explains as he passes her the plate of the ration sized portions of bread and cheese.

“Sylvia?” She asks before tucking in, happy to have a least something to put in her stomach.

“The owner of the tavern. Turns out, the curse left a few people from different villages all over. A lot of them gathered here after the curse hit and made their own sort of village. It’s a lively little place.”

“Does anyone know what happened?”

“Not in any great detail. Some were outside of the boundaries and saw it descend, but they didn’t know why. They said it was a green fog that seemed to appear from Regina’s castle. They’ve all been too scared to go there in case its dangerous, but no one knows who cast it or why.” Hook sits down on the other bed and slides out the flask from his jacket pocket. She watches him take a drink and longs for the pleasantly warm feeling of his rum.

“Have you eaten yet?” She asks, swallowing the last of the bread guiltily.

“I had some bread and cheese downstairs.”

“We should go get some warm food now. I’m still hungry and I bet you are too.” Emma says firmly as she moves off of the bed. Hook jumps up to stop her, his hand gently holding on to her shoulder like she’s going to break.

“Are you well enough?”

“Hook, I’m fine. It was a concussion; I’ve gotten them plenty of times when a skip is rough on the run and I still catch them every time.”

“Aye, but head injuries can be fatal. Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are.” He replies with concern. She rolls her eyes and tugs on his arm as she feels her stomach grumble in desire of more food, pulling him towards the door.

“And if I faint it could easily be from hunger. Come on.”

Hook leads the way down the stairs to the common area of the tavern, the old place dimly lit with candles scattered about, leaving pools of melted wax around them. Emma hears the buzz of chatter from the front room and is surprised to see so many people here. Hook ushers her to the table closest to the fire that was fortunately free and she hums in appreciation at the warmth. She sees him gesture to the woman behind the bar she assumes is Sylvia, who gives her a once over and smiles before leaving through the door behind her.

“The food will be here shortly, Swan.” Hook reassures her as he sits down on the bench beside her. They both soak in the heat of the fire eagerly, Hook holding out his hand in front of the flames for warmth. Emma subtly looks over him, noticing his tired eyes in the gleam of the fire and his tense shoulders. They hadn’t been able to see the light from the tavern before she hit her head, so she assumes they had still been a fair distance from it, which meant that he had walked all that way with her in his arms in the dark. He must have also tended to her wound and made sure she had a soft place to lie down when they got here.

“Hey, um, thanks for making sure I was okay.” She says awkwardly, reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. He seems surprised by her gesture, raising an eyebrow and quickly looking back at the fire.

“Of course, love.”

“And you’re not some stray dog I’m going to get rid of by the way. You’ve helped me and my family out a lot. I said that you could be part of something, and I meant it.” Emma speaks quietly, aware that they had attracted some attention from the other patrons when they came down. Hook nods and puts his hand over hers on his arm with a soft smile.

“Some warm stew for the lovebirds.” Sylvia says loudly as she comes towards them with two steaming bowls and some water. Emma gives Hook a questioning look, but he responds with his own vague expression that tells her to play along. They thank Sylvia and tuck in, Emma too grateful for the warm bowl of food to even care what’s in it. Her body instantly relaxes at the taste of food and she practically inhales the whole bowl, realizing the last warm meal she ate back in Storybrooke felt like days ago. Hook grins at her and asks Sylvia for seconds for both of them. Four bowls of stew later they turn back to the fire, feeling full, warm, and surprisingly relaxed.

“Lovebirds?” Emma murmurs to him, knocking his shoulder with her own teasingly.

“I told her you are my wife. I thought it the easiest way to explain a passed-out woman in my arms that I needed to stay with.” Hook explains sheepishly.

“I’m surprised she gave us a room with two beds then.” She scoffs.

“It was the last room left.” Hook says humorously. Emma hums in understanding but starts gnawing on her lip at the fact that a mild swell of disappointment fills her chest. She hadn’t given much thought to their sleeping arrangements beyond finding a bed outside of Regina’s castle to lie on for the night, but now that they have a room with beds of their own, she thinks about what it might have been like had there only been one. It’s ridiculous and she puts it down to the overwhelming craziness of the past few days making her yearn for some comfort and that is it.

“Disappointed, Swan?” Hook smirks, flashing her the smoldering gaze that obviously gets him a lot of attention.

“Please.” She rolls her eyes; glad her cheeks were already flushed by the fire. The heat of the fire and the tension simmering between them brings her right back to Neverland and she licks her lips at the thought of their kiss. Emma finds herself feeling the same desire to throw caution to the wind and kiss him again. It seems fitting that they are in another world again and away from her home that she can lock these moments away in the compartments of her mind that separate reality and these fantasy experiences.

Loud cheering from across the room breaks the intense gaze between them. Emma exhales and takes a drink of water, watching the group of men begin to play music. They tease each other about their singing voices as they start a song off-key, a couple of the rowdier ones getting up to dance with no coordination. The other patrons clap and cheer them on, some of them joining in with the dancing.

“Go on loves, join in!” Sylvia encourages them with a wink as she clears away their bowls. Hook grins wickedly, taking great pleasure in the way she groans with dread.

“Nope. You can’t get me up there, I have no idea what this jig type thing even is.” She says firmly, watching a couple shake their legs in strange ways as they twirl around.

“Then it’s a good thing you have a partner who knows what he’s doing.” She can’t help but stare wide eyed at Hook as he stands up, offering with his hand with a warm smile. With a wince, she puts her hand in his and lets him lead her to the middle of the room, holding on to him as he positions them for the dance.

“Remember I have a damn concussion, Hook.” Emma grumbles, breathing in sharply when he brings her closer to his chest.

“I’ll go easy on you, love.” He whispers in her ear as his stubble grazes her cheek. He guides her through some basic moves, and she feels laughter bubble up in her chest at the absurdity of the situation. They manage to jump and twist in time to the music a few times, both of them laughing at her lack of coordination despite him practically leading each of her body parts that needed to move. Emma finds herself enjoying it, giggling happily when she eventually starts to pick it up. When the music begins to pick up in tempo she sways into Hook, feeling a little overwhelmed by the fast movements. He responds by holding her waist and tucking her against his shoulder as they sway slightly. They’re no longer moving to the music, but she finds that she doesn’t care that they’re swaying slowly near the rowdy crowd still skipping about.

“How do you know how to dance like that?” Emma murmurs close to his ear.

“The crew and I would frequent taverns like this and picked it up. We even danced on the Jolly some nights, especially in the summer when the air was warm and smelled sweet.” She hears the sadness in his voice, and she realizes she doesn’t know what happened to Hook during the missing year or where his ship was.

“What happened to the Jolly?”

“An illustrious bean seller has her.” Hook says quietly, and Emma leans back to look at him. She searches his eyes, and it dawns on her what he means.

“You traded your ship for me?”

“Aye.”

She’s overwhelmed by this revelation and for the first time stops overthinking and just reacts, her lips finding his with relief. It feels warm and comforting to be in his embrace, and for the first time since leaving New York, she truly feels the spark of her old life reignited. It’s then when she feels the stir of passion and peace swell inside her a wave of exhaustion hits her and she sinks into him weakly.

“As much as I love a woman swooning at my feet Swan, you need to rest now.” Hook teases, kissing her forehead gently. They leave the boisterous fun of the tavern for the quiet chill of their room for the night and Emma practically collapses into bed, her limbs screaming out for rest. She’s already slipping into sleep when she feels Hook kiss her cheek and she dozes off to the burn of desire from the high of their kiss.

-/-

Hook wakes up to a pressure against his right side, twitching his nose at the tickle of hair. It takes him a moment to adjust to the dim light of early morning before realizing it’s Emma, pressed against him and deeply asleep still. She must have climbed into his bed at some point in the night, but he has no memory of being stirred in his sleep (he most certainly would have remembered Emma Swan coming into his bed).

The beds were small and certainly not made for two people, but he’s far from mad to have her body against his in the morning. Their kiss last night had been unexpected to say the least. Hook had been well aware that the truth of his ship’s whereabouts would come to light at some point given that they needed to find the man who had it, but he thought perhaps Emma wouldn’t realize what exactly had transpired. For the sake of their relationship, he was glad she had seemed to know the gravity of it. Hook stays in bed for a while, holding Emma as she sleeps. He dozes in and out until she begins waking up.

“Morning, Swan.” He says warmly, watching as she frowns and takes in her surroundings.

“Um, hi. I’m sorry, I was freezing.” She says all flustered, wriggling out of bed quickly.

“No worries, I was too.” Emma nods apprehensively at him, rubbing her eyes sleepily. They awkwardly dance around each other as they splash water on their faces and shrug on their cloak and jacket, ready to leave as Hook hoists up the sack. Sylvia convinces them to grab breakfast before they leave, shoving bread rolls in their hands as they head out. The port isn’t too far, but it’s another decent walk there and he’s grateful for the sustenance.

This walk feels more comfortable between them than the one to the castle and despite the awkwardness after waking up, Emma seems more relaxed now. He teases her about watching out for rocks on the path, laughing when she playfully shoves him into the grass. He feels these moments from Emma are rare, so he cherishes the sound of her laugh and the curve of her smile. They hadn’t broached the topic of New York again, and Hook thinks it best to leave it until they return to Storybrooke. Perhaps their little quest will help defeat this new foe quickly and Emma can appreciate her exposure to the magical world. Or perhaps she will decide to still go, but he can go with her. The noisy, busy streets of her city would be bearable if it meant still having her in his life.

The brilliant blue of the water rests ahead and before long he recognizes the Jolly, his heart sinking at the thought of his home belonging to another. He had wondered if he would ever see it again, which may have been the less painful scenario than seeing another captain at the helm.

“I’ll do the bargaining, lass. This is personal between Blackbeard and I, so it’s best you stay back.” Hook warns Emma as they reach the ship, still glorious and majestic in comparison to the other ships around her.

“I can hold my own, Hook. This is my bargain too, is it not?” Emma retorts. He shakes his head, wishing she hadn’t taken his words as a dismissal of her strength.

“Aye, but Blackbeard is cruel. If he sees how important this is to you, he will do something vindictive. And quite honestly, I’m concerned he will hurt you if he knows how much you mean to me.” Emma opens and closes her mouth but doesn’t seem to find the words to respond and simply nods.

She hangs back while he walks up the ramp and onto the ship, surveying the small changes made here and there. He did not see a familiar face in the crew, but most of his had been loyal and left when he did, some finding other crews to join and others venturing off elsewhere.

“Hook, as I live and breathe! I did not expect to see your sorry soul standing on this ship ever again.” Blackbeard bellows, an arrogant smile on his face.

“I’m in need of another bean.” Hook says curtly.

“You blew through the two I gave you already? What the hell are you playing at, mate?”

“Do you have another or not?”

“Aye, but the cost…do you even have anything of value left to trade?” Blackbeard inspects him, his eyes landing on the sack of Regina’s things. Hook tosses it to him, watching him catch it with intrigue.

“Take your pick.”

Blackbeard rifles through and snorts obnoxiously.

“Trinkets? Jars? What fool do you take me for? You must be desperate coming to me with this junk in search of a bean. Why do want one so badly?” Blackbeard stares intensely waiting for him to crack. Hook matches his gaze silently, but he sees Blackbeard’s eyes wander to the harbour and with a sinking feeling, Hook knows by the grin on his face that he has seen Emma.

“A woman, of course. The very same woman you needed the first bean for perhaps? She’s a beauty, that’s for sure. Well, in that case, what is she worth to you?” He challenges, smug that he has Hook in such a position.

“Name your price.” Hook grits out.

“Oh, you love her. In that case…your life of servitude for a bean. She gets the bean; I own your soul.”

Hook feels the colour drain from his face. This had been a risky plan all along, but such a bargain was so painfully steep he was taken aback. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been considering he truly does not have anything else to offer beyond his own life. But this was his plan, and he would be damned if Emma suffered because of it.

“Fine. Deal. But I get to give her the bean myself and say goodbye.” Hook says wistfully. Blackbeard actually looks surprised for a moment, but he shrugs and gives Hook the precious bean from a little pouch in his pocket, along with the sack of Regina’s apparently worthless items. He heads back to Emma, trying to keep a neutral face but struggling.

“So, you got it, right? What was the trade?”

“Here it is, Swan. Take it. You’ll be home in no time.” He evades as he curls the bean into her hand, clicking his tongue when Emma glares at him.

“Hook, what did you do to get it?”

“I’ll remain here and work for Blackbeard.”

“Okay…for how long?”

“The rest of my life I suppose.”

“No. Absolutely not, we can find another way to get back.” Emma shakes her head vehemently.

“The town needs you too much. We don’t know what has transpired while we’ve been gone, and you need to get Regina her things and be with your boy.” Hook says softly.

“They need you too.” Emma replies, reaching for his hand when he shakes his head.

“Killian…I need you.” His chest aches at the way she uses his name. Her words both fill his chest with happiness and break his heart; of course she expresses such a sentiment when they must part once more. Her fingers are laced between his and he holds her gentle hand tightly, not ready to let go.

“You don’t, Swan. You did just fine without me the for the past year.” He replies with a short humourless laugh.

“Because I didn’t remember you. If I did…I don’t think I would have started seeing Walsh. Maybe I would have-”

“No use speculating now, lass. It’s in the past, but right now you need to worry about your family and the town. Don’t worry about me.” He makes sure she has the bag of Regina’s things and kisses her cheek softly, smiling sadly when she dips her head and brushes against him.

“Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.” She whispers.

“Good.” He responds, wishing that perhaps this goodbye will only be temporary like the last turned out to be, but the reality of Blackbeard’s bargain weighs heavily on him and Emma already feels a world away from his damned soul. They linger for a moment longer before separating, Emma exhaling and looking at the bean as she walks away from him and out of the busy docking area, turning back with a wistful smile only once. He waits until he sees her go through the portal in the distance before heading back onto the Jolly, ignoring Blackbeard’s taunts to retreat below deck.

He’s home, but without his freedom and without the woman he loves. A more sensible man would also be without hope, but when he meets the crew, he sees a few familiar faces, and the way they call him captain in hushed tones stirs something in him to fight to get back what he has lost. He’ll bide his time, but after being around the heroes, their penchant for hope has certainly inspired him.

-/-

Things never seem to slow when Emma returns. In the time that she had been gone, Regina had discovered that it had been her sister Zelena who cast the curse and she had been masquerading as Snow’s midwife. She had barely been back a day when they finally found Neal, but she lost him again just as quickly as he had come back. The reasons for returning to New York only grew with every painful and dangerous thing that happened. She even tried working on her magic and learning from Regina, but when Zelena took her newborn sibling in an attempt to cast a ridiculous time travel spell, Emma had had it.

She would be leaving for New York once her parents were settled with her brother, and not a moment later.

But the reported sighting of the Jolly Roger down by the harbour had her pause her exit plans.

Emma had avoided speaking of Hook, simply telling people when she returned that he had decided to remain in the Enchanted Forest. No one seemed convinced, but thankfully didn’t push her on it. In some twisted way she had been pleased to have so much to deal with that she didn’t have time to think about what his absence meant for her, but in quiet moments of respite, she longed for the warmth of his presence in her life.

When she gets the text about the Jolly, she races down to the docks, wishing she had taken her car as she carries Henry’s book with her rather awkwardly. She finally gets close enough to see the little figures of people walking about the deck, and if she squints really hard, she thinks she can see Hook.

It’s unmistakably him when she reaches the ship and she calls his name, smiling at his reaction as his eyes find her. She hurries up the ramp and throws her arms around him so hard the book slams into his back, causing him to chuckle into her hair.

“Hi, Swan.”

“Hi, I’m sorry I just didn’t think I’d ever really see you again. How did you get the ship back from Blackbeard? Did you use another bean to get here? How the hell does he have so many?” She rattles off, tucking the book under her arm after their embrace.

“I’ll explain all later, but more importantly, what happened here? Did you figure out who cast the curse?” He asks with concern, looking over her to make sure she was okay and frowning at the book.

“It was Regina’s sister, the Wicked Witch of the West. It was some sibling rivalry crap, but she wanted my baby brother for a time travel spell and mayhem ensued. We’ve stopped her but…I’ve lost my magic and we lost Neal.” Hook reaches out for her and she leans in to his touch, relieved to feel the spark of comfort she usually feels around him.

“I’m so sorry, Swan.”

“Look, I know how you feel about it, but I just really wanted to go back to New York after all this. Henry gave me his book to remind me of the magic that makes up our family history, and I’ve been trying but I’m just…exhausted.” Emma sighs, sinking into him when he reaches his arm out to embrace her.

“Well, I just got here, you can’t leave now.” Hook jokes softly. Emma is about to respond with a quip of her own when she sees a beam of light flash in the distance.

“What the hell is that?” Emma mutters, trying to figure out where the light was coming from. She has a horrible suspicion that it may be coming from the barn and she groans, tugging on Hook’s jacket sleeve to follow her as she heads over there.

“David left a message, Zelena died and somehow triggered the time portal.” Emma yells over the loud noise of the magic when they reach the barn.

“Emma, perhaps we shouldn’t get too close.”

“We need to close it!”

They swirl around in a magical portal once again, being thrown into another unexpected and unpredictable adventure. But, as always, Hook is by her side, and she’s realizing that despite the pain magic has caused in her life, it has also brought him into her life, and maybe it’s about facing the hardships together.

“You don’t have your magic, it’s too dangerous."

"But-"

She’s interrupted by the sheer force of the magic pulling them toward the portal and they cling to each other as they tumble on the ground roughly. They both struggle to avoid falling in, Hook using his appendage to grip onto the ground. Emma holds on to his hand, but she feels herself slipping away and she’s worried he’ll leave her to fall into the unknown hole of time. She meets his eyes, and he lifts his hook to fall in with her.

And so she decides to do just that. When their little adventure in the past comes to an end, after witnessing her parents fall in love, attending a ball, almost losing her mother, and maybe falling in love with Captain Hook along the way, she decides to make Storybrooke her home. There are the occasional foes in town, but it is a place full of family, friends, and love, and they can face anything together.

[klynn-stormz]

The Snow Falls Quickly

Merry Christmas @cocohook38, I'm your secret santa this year for @cssecretsanta2020! I hope that you have a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful weekend! Here is your gift, I really hope you enjoy it!

Summary:  Killian’s nightmares since returning from the underworld have been getting worse. When they end up with him sleepwalking into a snow storm Emma decides enough is enough. She’s on a mission to make sure her pirate knows what he means to her. Though first she has to find him.

AO3

Killian was confused, main street was completely empty. It was evening out, the sun had set not long ago, but still even Granny’s diner stood dark and silent. He kept walking, waiting for someone to call over to him. He hadn’t been back from the underworld that long, they finally had a moments peace, and he hadn’t had much rest. Plagued with nightmares of his time as a Dark One and of the underworld, he had trouble sleeping. Even more troublesome was when he had found out he had been sleepwalking. Emma found him in the kitchen mumbling and seemingly fighting something. He couldn’t sleep much after that, making sure to work himself into exhaustion to sleep a dreamless sleep for a couple hours at a time. The town appeared to be abandoned now, but it must be his imagination, his tired brain playing tricks on him.

While he longed to go and find where everyone was, he didn’t know how he’d be received. He had been a Dark One, the thing he had hated and hunted for centuries. The things he had done, how easily he had given in, weighed heavy on his heart. Now Emma was left to deal with him, to try to move him forward. She had suggested seeing Archie to try and work through his thoughts, but he couldn’t bring himself to go, perhaps he didn’t deserve to be saved. When Zeus had brought him back, he had been elated, he could finally be with Emma. However, the reaction everyone had to his return had been… less than receptive. He understood he’d been sent back at a delicate time, Robin’s death was not easy on anyone, but the only one who seemed happy he was back was Emma. Perhaps they hadn’t actually forgiven him for any of his misdeeds. Perhaps he deserved that.

“Of course, you do.” An eerie voice whispered through the night. “You think you deserve anything?”

Killian spun towards the voice, sword in hand, only to be met with an empty street and flickering lamp post. Hearing voices was never a good sign, it was time to go home. He started for his and Emma’s home at a quick stride, his eyes focused on his surroundings.

“Do you really think you can run from us?” A new voice now, higher in pitch, giggled.

He quickened his pace.

“Aw, he thinks he can go back home. Home? You think they want you there? You think anyone wants you there? It’s not your home, it’s theirs and you’re intruding.”

The last voice had him sprinting down the street, if he could just get to the house, everything would be alright. He was almost there, the lights on in the windows, Emma waiting up for him again. And then everything disappeared. He was standing in an emptiness, no up, no down, no here or there. All alone. His sword still in hand and ready to strike he rotated around, looking for whatever monster seemed to think he was prey.

“You won’t find us.” Once of the voices sang out.

“Show yourself coward.” Killian spat out, his heart pounding.

“Why should we, when you already know who we are… dearie?” The last voice had ice running through Killian’s veins. It couldn’t be, it wouldn’t be, he wouldn’t let it.

“Did you think you could get rid of us that easily? Did you think we wouldn’t find you?” The voices came together, whispering their bloodstained words around him.

The dark ones, those voices that had haunted his waking days. His body shook involuntarily, he took a breath and gripped the sword hilt tighter, they wouldn’t beat him.

“This is a dream.” His voice didn’t waver, though inside he screamed. “You’re not real, and you’re not here. I just need to wake up.”

“Oh, do you now?” The voices laughed, “Go on then, wake up.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t wake up. A cold dread washed across him. It couldn’t be real, how was it possible that it was back. The voices wrapped around him like a cloak, he felt like he was suffocating.

“Did you think it was that easy? Did you honestly think you were rid of us?”

“Leave me alone.” Killian gritted his teeth.

“Maybe it was a trick, maybe it was a dream.” The voices volume dropped to a whisper, echoing in the void. “You made yourself believe you had died a hero, that you were brought back because you deserve to be. Would you like to see what you’ve actually done?”

The scene changed to Storybrooke, but not how he’d last seen it. Buildings destroyed, roads cracked, trees felled. With utter horror Killian turned in a slow circle. The smell of smoke and death permeated the air. He stared at the fallen bodies around him and broke. He fell to his knees as his heart shattered into a million pieces. What had he done, what had he become?

“You did this. You think you’re good? You think you’ve changed? This is what you’ve become.” The voices swirled in the smokey air. His hand came up to clutch his head, covering his ears. He couldn’t reconcile the reality, he couldn’t believe he had done it, and yet it appeared he had. He had nothing now. The first tears began to fall.

As abruptly as the scene had change from the void to here, it shifted again. His arms were painfully yanked away from his head, he heard and felt a snap as they protested the movement. His head shot up and took in his new world. The underworld. Relief pushed through the pain, this had to be a dream then, he hadn’t hurt anyone. His relief was cut of by another punch of paid as a fist connected with his face. He winced as blood tracked down his face. Looking up he met Hades grinning face.

“Didn’t think you’d be rid of me that easy, did you?” Another blow landed on his cheek, was that crack the sound of his jaw breaking? “I wasn’t finished having fun with you!”

The torture lasted for what seemed like hours. Killian’s body began to numb with the pain. His vision faltered and blood dripped steadily down his face. He had long since stopped screaming in agony, his throat raw from it. When Hades finally left him, he sagged down in his chains and quietly begged it to be a dream. It would be the worst one he’d had, but if this was real. If him being brought back to life by Zeus, being able to be with Emma again, had been a trick… well he didn’t know if he could handle that knowledge. From his slumped position he spotted a wire, one that had been broken off from the cage he was in.

His body protested as he reached to pick it up. With a quick glance around to make sure he was alone, he set to picking the lock. It took precious minutes, the wire slipping from his lips multiple times as he shook with the effort, but finally his hand was free to pick the lock that chained his brace to the ground. When he was free, he stood up and nearly blacked out. Steadying himself against the cage walls, he breathed deep until he was sure he’d stand firm. The cage was easy to pick, he was out within a minute and running down a hallway he wasn’t quite sure where it led too.

The tunnel darkened and narrowed, soon he was just running through the emptiness again. A light appeared at the end and he knew if he could just make it to the end, everything would be alright. As he ran, he began hearing voices, from whispers to shouts.

“Nothing but a Pirate.”

“How can I trust you now.”

“You thought you could ever be a hero? Be anything?”

The voices only grew louder, shouting every insecurity, ever insult he’d heard. And they hit their mark. Were they right? He’d thought so, time and time again he’d tried to be better, yet he always seemed to fail. Killian could see the light fading; he would never make it. In despair he crumbled to the ground. He would never make it back to Emma, maybe he never had.

~~~

Emma woke to a quiet home in the middle of the night. For a moment she let herself lie there, soaking in a feeling of… well not peace, but close. Things hadn’t been easy since the Underworld trip, but with Killian back at her side she could rest a little easier. She turned to face him in bed and frowned when she found his side cold and empty. Where was Killian? Sitting up she looked towards the bathroom but found no light on there. His hook was still on the nightstand with his brace. Any peaceful feeling she’d had melted away into panic. In a rush she jumped from the bed and, in sleep shorts and a t-shirt, ran down the stairs. He was no where to be found. She focused on breathing as her heart pounded in her ears. He’d been having nightmares ever since he’d gotten back, even sleepwalking a few times, but never had he left the house, and he’d never left the house without his brace.

Grabbing her coat and hat from the rack and boots from the shelf, she raced to figure out how to find him. A tracking spell! She hadn’t used her magic much since being the Dark One, it made her feel weak and sick, but this was for Killian. Focusing as much as possible she whispered a spell on the jacket he wore, hoping to all the Gods in the universe she would find him okay. The coat lifted into the air and began to move. She followed it, closing the front door of their home with a wave of her hand, her eyes never leaving the coat.

It was a cold and snowy night. The moon was somewhere behind a blanket of white snow clouds. Luckily the brightness of the clouds made it easier to watch her step as she followed the coat at a run. Snow was falling heavily, the flakes big enough you could see their shapes without trying. There was already at least 2 inches on the ground and it was piling up quickly. The coat made a sharp turn into the woods, if she wasn’t terrified before, she certainly was now. How far had he gotten? And why hadn’t she woken up when he left? She new without a doubt he did not leave of his own volition. Whether sleep walking in a nightmare or dragged away by Stroybrooke’s newest villain of the week, she knew he was in trouble.

It took another 15 minutes of searching, though it felt like hours to Emma, she had forgotten her gloves and long since felt the numbness spreading through her fingers and legs. The coat hung to her knees and gave her a little bit of warmth, but with the cold settling in and her panic to find Killian rising, her magic wasn’t working well. Even if she did find him, she had no idea if she’d be able to transport them back to the house. The coat began to slow and she picked up her pace to walk next to her, her eyes searching for a figure standing out between the bright snow and the shadows of the trees in the night.

She nearly tripped over him. While the snow aided some in the light, it wasn’t enough for her to find him without help. She stopped and for a moment she thought her heart might have too. He was nearly covered in snow. Face down and crumbled as if he had been thrown, he lay in only his black sleep shirt and pajama pants she had insisted he buy a week ago. Was he breathing? Was he still alive? She couldn’t bare to lose him again, not after everything they’d gone through.

“Killian?” Her voice shook as she knelt down in the snow. “Killian, please wake up.”

Frantically now she began to brush the snow off his face. His black hair gleamed against the snow, his face was pale and his lips nearly blue. She needed to get him inside and get him warm now. How could she? She looked around at the empty woods, begging for a miracle. Her head snapped up again as she recognized a part of the woods. They were near a cabin, a cabin! She didn’t know if it had any electricity, or food or anything, but it was worth a shot. She took the coat from where it still hovered above Killian’s body, and laid it over him. She quieted her mind and focused on her emotions, knowing that was the only chance she had at getting enough magic to help them.

The thought of losing Killian seemed to work and the coat wrapped tighter around him, slipping beneath and nearly pulling him from the snow. With a quick kiss to his forehead, she stood up and grabbed the jacket, beginning to pull in the direction of the cabin. She could be wrong, it might not be there, but she wouldn’t let herself think on that long. This was her only chance. Glancing down at his face, she pulled at the coat faster. After nearly 10 minutes of dragging him through the thick snow, she saw the cabin. It was still a ways off, set in a small clearing. She could feel the first aches of relief, and exhaustion. Emma gritted her teeth and continued to drag her limp pirate towards safety.

It seemed that right at the threshold her magic gave out. The coat loosing it’s sparkly and flattening on the stairs. Emma opened the door and turned to pull Killian the rest of the way in. Once he was in and she could close the door, she looked around. It was a small, nearly barren cabin, the dark wood of the trees outside had been used to build it. The windows had long since been frosted over. In the corner was a larger fireplace, with wood stacked neatly by it. A small couch sat across from the fire, old and worn, fabric tearing along the seams. Emma walked over to the fireplace and begged the fire to start quickly. It only took a few minutes before the flames were high and heating the room.

Emma quickly dragged Killian to lay next to the fire, her exhaustion was beginning to deepen and she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to stay awake. Once he was settled, she set about looking around the cabin for blankets. She found a small kitchen, barley room for the stove and pantry, but the pantry was stocked with canned food. Glancing out the small window to see the wind and snow picking up again, she was grateful they had food for however long they needed to stay here, bottled water was found underneath the sink, more relief. In a small bedroom just off the front room she found a pile of blankets. She grabbed all that she could carry and made her way back out. Kneeling next to him Emma began to undress him, knowing that if she didn’t get him out of the soaked clothes, her work might be for nothing. She chuckled to herself at what he might say if he was aware she was undressing him. She was sure she’d hear it when he woke up.

Undressed and bundled up in at least three blankets, Killian remained unconscious, she would have to hope he woke up soon. Glancing down at herself she realized she was still only in her t-shirt and sleep shorts, and she was freaking cold. She peeled off her useless coat and hat, the icy wetness seeming to burn her skin. Hanging them to dry on the couch with Killian’s clothes, she took the rest of the blankets, burrowed under the ones wrapping Killian, and laid them over the two of them. Body head was good right? She thought she’d read that somewhere, then had a brief flashback to when he pulled her out of the ice wall. He’d hung onto her so tight, lifting her off the ground and carrying her to the car. She remembered how good it felt to be in his arms, though she would never admit that out loud. He had barely left her side that night while she recovered. Emma looked up at him, brushing his hair back and kissed his jaw. He loved her, she loved him, it was time to put a stop to his fears and nightmares. She cuddled into him, and finally slipped into sleep.

~~~

Killian wakes up scalding hot, sweating and confused. He doesn’t open his eyes right away, still worried he’s back in that horrible nightmare, at least what he hopes was a nightmare. He takes stock of his body first, aches in his left shoulder and down his arm are the most prominent. It brought him temporarily back to the underworld portion of that dreamscape, his arms had been chained down roughly, he wouldn’t be surprised if it had yanked his shoulder out of place. That wasn’t a good sign for it being just a nightmare. Something was laying across his chest, it felt like an arm, and he realized that something was currently resting on his aching shoulder as well. He finally took a chance to open his eyes and pray he was home. He wasn’t.

Wood ceilings greeted him when he looks up, definitely not home, then where? He looked to the side and found himself next to a stone fireplace with a small fire burning, close to burning out it seemed. He looked to his other side and found Emma was curled on her side against him. A restless look on her face as she slept. Lines on her forehead creased slightly, her mouth turned down unhappily. He looked at her beautiful face, and was grateful that he was with her. Whether this was a dream or not, it was the best thing he’d been through in the past few hours. He had the urge to brush the blonde hair away from her forehead and caress her cheek. As he moved to do just that he realized two very important things. One, he was most assuredly not wearing a stitch of clothing underneath all those blankets. Two, Emma Swan’s very naked body was currently tangled with his.

The realization had him jolting slightly and beginning to look around for clothes, though he couldn’t turn his head much, nor peak over the mountain of blankets very well. He was debating on whether to move or not when Emma groaned and began to stretch. As she did so a leg came cross his body to adjust her position, her shoulders moved forward to dull the aches in her back. She mover her hand from where it was under her head onto his chest. Killian was pretty sure now he’d died and gone to heaven, there couldn’t be a better explanation for this brilliant, beautiful woman next to him.

“Killian?” Emma murmured groggily, her head tilting up to look at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“Aye love, I’m here.” He answered back. Faster than he had time to follows she was up and practically straddling him, leaning over him with the blankets over her shoulder and a worried look in her eyes. And she was most definitely not wearing clothes. Killian might like to flirt with her uncontrollably, but he was still a gentleman, his eyes stayed firmly fixed on her face. He wasn’t sure what caused the look of concern on her face but he wanted to wipe it off with a kiss and much more pleasurable activities. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” There was an edge to her tone now. Killian had a feeling that he was about to get a dressing down, well more so than he already was. “What’s wrong?! Killian you almost DIED.”

He blinked he hadn’t been expecting that. When had he almost died? If everything that he’d just been through had been a dream, then the last time he had died would have been before the underworld, and he didn’t think that’s what she meant. Perhaps she was talking about the murderous expression that would come over Regina’s face every time she saw him out and about, he was sure she’d nearly incinerated him multiple times. He realized she was ranting now and focused on her words.

“—I knew they were getting bad but this bad. What if I hadn’t found you? What if I hadn’t woken up. Oh hell, I can’t handle it Killian, I just can’t.” Her voice broke on the last word and tears filled her eyes. He was even more concerned now.

“You can’t handle what, love?” His hand finally came up and cupped her face, he knew he’d missed something during his musings but he would focus more now.

“You DYING.” The shout rang through the tiny space he had deduced they were in. “Weren’t you listening? Killian you almost died. I woke up in the middle of the night to find you gone, not in bed, not in the house! You were just gone. And your nightmares have been getting worse but this, this is bad. I had to do the tracking spell and I used your jacket, and I didn’t even grab pants, just a coat and hat. The jacket lead me to the woods where I found you freezing to death and nearly covered in snow. You’re lucky I remembered this cabin out here in the middle of nowhere or we both would have frozen to death.”

As the words sank in, Killian grew concerned; allowing his eyes to roam over her body, not in lust but in worry, making sure she wasn’t injured. She didn’t seem to be, he didn’t see any signs of frostbite or burns from the cold. He let himself feel a little relief before his eyes met hers again. She still had tears in them, she wouldn’t allow them to fall, his Emma wouldn’t show that kind of weakness when she was angry, even to him. It was best to tell her what happened and talk then to let her continue to stare at him as if she expected him to keel over that moment.

“I had a dream, it started out in Storybrooke and I was so sure it was real—” He told her all of it. Every moment of agony, every word spoken and heard. He knew she needed to hear it all, so she could understand. When he was finished, they simply stared at each other. As Emma processed it all he finally got a good look around the cabin, it was small with a worn sofa, a window showing a multitude of snow-covered branches.

“It can’t go on like this Killian, this is getting bad. I don’t think I could take loosing you again.” Emma said quietly, staring at him intently. He looked away.

“I’m well aware love, but I’m working through it and it’s like I’ve always told you, I’m a—” She cut him off.

“A survivor. Yeah, I know you say that.” She paused. “But you didn’t, you didn’t survive while we were the Dark Ones, you didn’t survive until Zeus himself brought you back. So how am I supposed to believe that now? Because it sure as hell looks like your body is trying to kill you.”

“Maybe it’s time we talk about everything then.” Killian responded. He adjusted himself slightly, still very aware that he and Emma were nude and in extremely close contact. “And this might be better done with some clothes on.”

“Normally you’re trying to get me out of them, you want me to get dressed?” Emma raise her eyebrows at him in a poor attempt to imitate him. She moved to get off of him, brushing against his chest as she did so. He suppressed a groan and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. He heard her walk to the couch then felt fabric on his face. She had thrown his clothes at him. Once they were both dressed in what little clothing they had, dry thanks to the fire. Emma added more wood to the fire and moved to the door. When she opened it, she wasn’t surprised to find at least three feet of snow at the threshold. They would be stuck here for a while. She could attempt to use her magic, but her emotions were still all over the place and she didn’t want them to risk sending them somewhere else.

“Looks like we’re stuck here a while.” She called to him. “My magic is a little on edge right now and there’s no way we could make the trek home on foot with all this snow.”

Emma shut the door and turned to find Killian on one end of the little couch. She moved to the other end and wrapped a blanket around herself, a way to keep herself warm and a protection from the oncoming talk.

“What do you want to talk about.” She asked. He let out a mirthless chuckle.

“What shouldn’t we talk about? I feel that we’ve never truly discussed anything, we haven’t had the time. Where should we start? You as the Dark One? Me as the Dark One? Me dying? You only being able to say you love me when we’re in danger? Neverland? The year I spent without you? Going back to Storybrooke and having to fight the witch? Getting my heart taken by Rump—” This could go on forever, she thought.

“Okay, so a lot to talk about. Where should we start?” He looked at her quietly.

“Have you ever regretted me loving you?” He asked and she was stunned. Of all the questions she thought he would have asked if she did love him, not if she regretting him loving her. To Killian it was an easy question though, and one he feared the question too. He had been infatuated with her from the beginning, intrigued by her strength and resilience, charmed by her wit and sarcasm. He didn’t suppose it was in the cards for him to fall for someone, but Emma moved all of that when she held the knife to his throat and told him he was lying.

He had wondered through the few years, whether she had wished he would simply disappear, as many others in the town certainly wished. This answer was perhaps the most important one, and the one he feared most, but he needed to know.

“Killian, I could never regret you loving me.” Her voice was soft, yet her eyes held a fierceness that demanded he listen. He was. “Next to Henry, you are the only one that never gave up on me, never stopped fighting for me. I didn’t think I’d ever find a love like you, someone who would always put me first, maybe too much for their own good. Someone who would make me feel safe and loved and not alone. You did that, you made me feel that. I will never regret you and I will never regret us.”

He swallowed back a lump in his throat, determined to get through this talk. There was a possibility that it would change everything, but maybe it was for the better.

“I wasn’t a good man, Emma. I haven’t been that naval lieutenant I told you about in a long time. I don’t even know if he’s still in me. I feel that every time I’ve tried to be that man, I’ve fallen short. I don’t believe I’ll ever be worthy of you, or your love, but I do love you. I know that you aren’t ready to say it back, but I know you have feelings for me. We wouldn’t be living together otherwise.” At that she smiled warmly at him. “I just want to feel like enough for you.”

“This is the same problem you had when you asked Gold for your hand back. You didn’t think you were enough for me with what you were so you tired to change yourself. I don’t want you to change, that might sound a little selfish, but I believe you’re already a good man and you are enough for me. Missing a hand doesn’t make you less of a person, and it doesn’t make you less to me. You are what I want, no one else. I love you, Killian” His eyes widened as he heard those words fall from her lips, he was speechless. The three words he had wished to hear from her when they weren’t about to be torn away from each other.

Once again, they got lost in each other’s eyes, saying everything they needed too. Emma knew he’d been struggling since his return from the underworld. While everyone was mourning Robin, Killian had been brought back. She wouldn’t be surprised if he felt out of place now. It seemed quite a few people had wished that Robin had been the one brought back and not him. Regina was obviously at the top of that list, but Emma was done feeling guilty for nothing. She had spent enough time running away from anything that resembled love for fear that it would slip through her fingers. It was time to stop being afraid.

So, they talked, they talked about everything they could. The hours passed quickly as they shared happy memories and sorrowful moments. They talked of their insecurities and their worries. Their fears that they had never been able to tell anyone before. It felt like for the first time they were as honest and upfront about everything, and found out just how alike they were. It was refreshing to have someone who understood them so well. And by the end of it, both knew this was it for them.

The hardest part for both was talking about their times at the Dark One, and then the Underworld. Neither were keen on facing the fact that they had hurt people and made the wrong decisions.

“We, especially I, messed up Swan.” Killian’s eyes were full of sorrow.

“But all we can do now is move forward and be better.” Emma paused and replayed her words. “My mother must be really getting to me if she’s got me spilling out those words.”

Killian laughed and snuggled closer to her, over the hours they talked they had gravitated closer together. They were tangled together not unlike they had been under the blankets. Emma smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. She didn’t know if this would stop his nightmares, she might have to convince him to go to Archie for that to fully stop, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be following her sleepwalking pirate out into a snow storm again anytime soon.

“I think I’m ready to go home.” She said to him. He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“It’s a nice cabin, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be bad if we stayed here for a bit longer,” She hesitated. “But the fires out and neither of us have eaten. We could make something for dinner and just relax. I’d like to make good memories in that house.” Killian grinned at her.

“I can think of quiet a few ways to do that, love.” She laughed, and kissed his cheek. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated. With a disgruntled ‘Oof” they landed on their bed. The house was warm and cozy, though the sheets were cool from nearly a day’s disuse. Emma grumbled about needing a heating blanket while she went to check her phone. Killian was certain Henry would help him find where to order one of those, anything to keep his Swan warm and happy.

“Oh shit.” She muttered as she stared at her phone. Killian was by her side in an instant.

“Something wrong in town?” He questioned.

“No, just my dad wondering why I haven’t answered any of his messages today. It’s my day off anyway! Why is he even.” She trailed off as she read the last of his messages, then sighed and dialed his number. David answered the phone on the first ring.”

“Emma? Where have you been?! I’ve been trying to call you all day. Are you—” Emma cut him off quickly.

“I’m fine dad, I’ve been with Killian all day. It’s my day off, and there is no need for you to come down and defend my honor.” Killian grinned, his hand moving up to play with her hair while his other arm brushed against her waist. “No, you cannot kill him! He just got back and you would lose your drinking buddy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” David protested, sounding slightly indignant.

“Why Dave, after all the time we spent at the Rabbit Hole together? Did I mean nothing to you?” Killian spoke, his smile widening as she egged her father on. Emma did her best to look unamused but her mouth twitching gave it away. Killian placed a kiss on her neck and she shivered, a new heat forming inside her.

“Killian if you touch my daughter.” David threatened. “I’ll come take off your other hand. I don’t care if there’s three feet of snow out here, I’ll do it.” Emma laughed.

“Dad it’s a little late for that.” There was a choking noise from the other line and Emma had to hold in another laugh. “So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to enjoy my day off. And tomorrow since it looks like we’re snowed in.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something to do to pass the time.” Killian added right before Emma hung up on a still speechless David.

“He’s going to kill you.” Emma laughed.

“He can try. He likes me to much, just won’t admit it yet.”

“Well, if he shows up on our doorstep in an hour demanding you duel him, you’re on your own.” Emma turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Darling, a whole hour? I believe that’s more than enough time to grant my final wish in this life.” He used the arm wrapped around her waist to haul her up into a deep passionate kiss. As they made their way to their bed, both couldn’t help but feel that everything was finally perfect.

[emmakillianfan]

A Christmas Story for You

To @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for Christmas. While I haven’t had as much time for it as I had hoped, I hope you are having a wonderful Christmas and enjoy this little story that kind of got away from me. Merry Christmas and a very happy new year to you!

Due to illness and post graduate studies I’m a bit rusty on the fanfiction story writing, but I hope you enjoy it. I have loved the opportunity to be your secret santa. As I said from the beginning, I’m a big fan of your writing.

Getting to Know You at Christmas

Emma Swan hated to mingle at these social events her parents held each year as a welcome to the holiday season. Her mother easily socialized with people, remembering names and details of each person’s life in the coastal town of Storybrooke, Maine. Her father was just as gregarious, shaking hands and clapping older gentlemen on the back as the mused over details of long-ago exchanges and funny occurrences that she never quite could understand. She liked people, even had friends. But there was something missing for her from the conversations and laughter that seemed to lift over the swell of Christmas carols and the flashes of lights from the tree and cameras snapping shots of huddled groups of friends, family, and compatriots.

“Your mother is worried about you,” Ruby Lucas-Gale said with a knowing smile as Emma reached for another mini pizza and shoved it in whole. “You don’t look happy.”

Keeping her lips sealed, Emma shot her friend a plastered smile and shrug.

“You could at least move away from the bar. She’s going to think this is a re-do of last year’s party where you went to bed with a bottle of tequila under each arm after telling everyone that you were sleeping until the new year.”

“I should have kept that promise,” Emma groused, giving a slight wave when her mother looked at her pleadingly. “I could have avoided the Christmas Karaoke party at Victor’s, the cookie exchange at your grandmother’s, and let’s not forget the pot luck at Regina and Robin’s where I was shamed for bringing your grandmother’s frozen lasagna as my contribution. Not only had Regina made one, but I didn’t even realize it was still frozen.”

“You brought a pie too,” Ruby reminded her. “I don’t remember anyone noting that was store bought.”

“I ate it in the car working up the nerve to go inside because my mother set me up on a date. Who does that? Blind dates on Christmas?”

“She means well,” Ruby added consolingly, patting her hands down her red dress that seemed to creep up her toned thighs each time she moved. “And Graham was…”

Emma held up one hand in protest. “Don’t defend him. First he was your ex. He was nice but a little or more than a little too intense with his whole getting back to nature and communing with animals thing. My mother has horrible taste in men for me. For a woman who believes in fairy tales and calls my father her prince charming, I don’t think she would survive a day on Tinder.” It had been the long running commentary at the parties that somewhere in the crowd was there to be set up with Emma. Some who did not partake in the dancing or singing along around the piano would try to guess who it was going to be this year. Bets were currently on about a gawky man with a green tie who was currently chatting up Zelena Mills in the corner.

“Just remember she means well.” Linking arms with Emma, Ruby pulled her friend out onto the makeshift dance floor and began to sway her hips to the beat of a modern Christmas tune that Emma knew was by some current pop singer. “So I’m guessing your next date is in here somewhere. Where oh where could he be?”

“You are annoying,” Emma pouted, folding her arms over her chest yet still swaying a bit to the up-tempo beat. “I thought you had money that guy in the green tie.” He was the typical type her mother would love to see her date. She could hear the school teacher turned public servant now telling her how she just knew he was the kind of guy she would love to get to know.

“Possibility,” Ruby said, tapping her bright red lips in mock thoughtfulness. “What about Archie?” He’s been hanging around over in that corner in a conversation with Regina and Robin for a little bit now. Seems to look over here every once in a while.”

“Everyone is looking at you, Ruby,” Emma hissed in exasperation. You are showing more skin that is advisable with the temperature and you’re currently bumping and grinding to Christmas tunes.”

“Maybe he’s setting up some pre-marital counseling for them. Okay…one of the guys from the mines? Leroy?”

“That’s a tad incestuous since they are practically my uncles.” Emma scanned the crowd to see her father and mother in conversation over by the French doors leading out to the patio that had been sprayed with twinkle lights and that included a new audio system he had spent the day fiddling with as her younger brother tried out the microphones in his own rendition of some sort of heavy metal meets classic rock rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He was just 14 and still at that awkward stage, suffering the embarrassment of parents who doted and friends who loved to point that out to him. Her own son idolized him though. “I’m thinking he’s a no show. My mom is in her plotting mode. Look at the way she’s talking to my dad.”

Sure enough her parents were furtively whispering, her mother holding up a hand to hide her mouth as though nobody would notice. It would be debated for years to come which of the two women noticed him first though. A slender, tall man with piercing blue eyes and sardonic smile seemed to rush up to her parents and hug them in turn. Even though Emma couldn’t make out the words, her father gave the man his double shoulder clap before spinning him about to the crowd and pointing out a few people.

“Maybe him,” Ruby said, lifting onto the balls of her feet even higher than her shoes allowed and balancing herself against Emma. “He’s a hottie.”

“Doubtful,” Emma noted, swinging her gaze across the room to the man in the green tie who was now eating a banana and doing nothing for his resemblance to a simian creature as Ruby had declared. “I don’t have that sort of luck. My mother doesn’t…” She never got to finish the sentence when she noted who had just entered the party and made a line straight toward greeting her parents. Neal…the once love of her life turned affection into weapons and her self confidence into a puddle of what if. She was better now, but the sight of him seemed to jangle her nerves in a way that made her doubt her recovery. They managed to co-parent their son with little trouble, but he wasn’t one she wanted to see socially. The fact he always had a date on his arm just added to her discomfort.

Ruby was one of the few people who understood. Twirling her in the direction of the mystery man who was now noshing on a few of the crisp veggies without bothering to dip them into the various sauces, Ruby leaned in and whispered loudly in Emma’s ear. “Don’t question it. Just go introduce yourself. It’ll be less awkward that way.”

Emma would forever question the logic in that, but for the moment felt her feet begin to move one after the other and in no time she was standing in front of him. His eyes were even more striking up close and she caught a whiff of his cologne that was a spicey scent that she would later blame for her mouth watering and her words feeling like they slid off her tongue without regard to custom or reason.

“Emma,” she said by way of invitation. Her smile was a little forced and her hand held out in mid air a beat too long as he shoved a celery stick in his mouth and raised his own in greeting. “I guess my parents probably told you that.”

“Your parents?” he repeated, the smiled he was giving her lifted higher on the right side of his face as did his right eyebrow. He seemed to be surprised by her, almost as if he was not expecting the conversation. That irritated her a bit.

She gave a wave over her shoulder to where they stood by the fireplace. “Mary Margaret and David. The Nolans. You were just talking to them.”

“Aye, David and my older brother went to school together back in the day. They invited me to…”

She brushed off his explanation. “No, I get it. It’s so them. They don’t think I have any skills in that area at all. Apparently, they have given up on finding someone local.” She shrugged and when he seemed he wasn’t going to answer, she reached across and grabbed a carrot stick. Placing it in her mouth she made a face and immediately removed it. “Rabbit food.”

“You do know how to flatter man, love. I’m not sure I would want to be just one of the multitudes.” His smile was wider as he watched her, his questions about her easy and slick as she tried to explain that her parents were young when she was born and waited nearly two decades before their miracle child was born. He seemed to know nothing about her, which was odd for a set up. Maybe he was just being polite.

“So you’re not from around here,” she asked when he paused to take a drink. Even over the rim of the cup his eyebrows raised again. “I’m the sheriff. I sort of notice things like accents. I do sort of like accents like yours. Different than other guys around here.”

“Boston by way of London,” Killian answered. “And you, love? Always a resident of this seafaring town?”

“Most all my life,” she admitted, leaving out a few pit stops along the way. “Mom probably told you that the best place to take me for a dinner date is Granny’s. She loves it there, plus Granny will spy on us and give her updates every few minutes. I’m more into this Italian place near the docks. Awesome seafood and pasta. And their lasagna isn’t frozen. It’s more date like, I think. You know, checked table clothes, drippy candles, wine, and all that.”

“A classic romantic?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Well, I mean if we have to go out, it makes sense to go someplace like that.” She held out her hand and gestured to his phone. “I’ll give you my number in case mom hasn’t already. A date is a date, but might as well get a good meal out of it.”

“By all means,” he said, handing her the latest device on the market. She noted that he did everything with his right hand, his left staying next to his side and covered in a black glove. She was about to mention it when she heard her father’s voice and laughter.

“You’ve met our Emma,” David said, joining the duo at the table and placing one hand under Emma’s elbow. “Our daughter can be a bit blunt. I hope she hasn’t insulted you or made you change your mind.”

“Dad,” Emma said, swatting him playfully.

“She’s been absolutely brilliant,” Killian answered, shoving his phone in his pocket. “By the way, love, name’s Killian Jones. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself.”

David nodded knowingly. “Killian is here to work with your mother on her bid for the mayor’s office. He’s a wiz when it comes to all things in local politics. Very highly recommended.”

“Work for mom?” Emma asked weakly, trying to ignore the not quite so humble smile that played about Killian’s mouth. “You mean he’s not…”

“Of course, Regina is taking time off to plan her wedding and then get settled into married life. She recommended Killian to run your mom’s campaign since Archie is considering and Mal has already announced. Anyway, it is good you met. Killian’s going to need to talk to you about your role in promoting our family. Maybe you can meet up at Granny’s later this week.” David glanced around the room and gripped his daughter’s arm harder. “I wanted to introduce you to someone I met when I was buying supplies for the farm. His name is Walsh.”

Emma stammered a bit, her face turning pink as Killian continued to hold that smile that showed both bemusement and cockiness. “Walsh…”

“Go ahead, love,” Killian said. “We’ll finish our conversation at this Granny’s or perhaps you might like the atmosphere.”

Emma was sure that her face was bright red as his eyebrows lifted up and down in a way that made her wonder just what lascivious thoughts were rolling around in that head of his. She felt those blue eyes on her as her father made another excuse and led her over to the man in the green tie who was smiling nervously at her and oblivious to her discomfort and not so secret looks over at Killian Jones.

She nodded appropriately and even asked a few questions about Walsh and his furniture design business. Her own rental was outfitted with castoffs and hand me downs that had seemed comfortable and worn at the time. He was telling her why it was important to have pieces that spoke of her uniqueness and character. At least that was what she heard on the occasions she bothered to listen and didn’t internalize the flinches and groans as her parents introduced Killian Jones to every person in the room. She wasn’t pleased to see most of the single women giggling and flashing him flirtatious smiles that he easily returned. There was no need to be jealous, but still the emotion was creeping up her spine as she watched him actually kiss Ruby’s hand like something out of a novel.

“I could show you sometime,” Walsh interrupted. She jumped at being caught unaware and repeated the words back to him in hopes of making some sense of the situation. “My shop. I have some really beautiful pieces I think you would like.”

“Well, if I am ever in the market,” she said, realizing that he was holding out a business card with his personal number written on the back. “Have you met August and his father Marco. They do some of the most beautiful woodwork you have ever seen. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“We were right about the monkey guy,” Ruby said defeatedly, kicking off her shoes and reclining on the bed in Emma’s childhood bedroom. The room didn’t quite do justice to the angsty teen she had been, but still boasted teen idol posters of boy bands and even the dollhouse brought by Santa one year. “But that other guy was cute and quite the charmer. Even I was about to hit on him. I had such high hopes for your mother.”

Emma flinched as she unclipped her hair and left it to fall around her shoulders in soft waves. “Yeah, so he’s not my set up of the year. Yet I asked him out, sort of. I don’t know. I made a fool out of myself.”

“He didn’t seem too offended,” Ruby suggested. “I mean I was distracted once Dorothy agreed to dance but every time I looked in his direction he was looking in yours. And I might add that was pretty often.”

“Right, he was probably trying to figure out what was wrong with me.” Emma was about to bemoan her embarrassed state a little more when her phone dinged out one and then another text message. She reached over to grab it and groaned with the realization. It was Killian. Ruby immediately wanted to know what he had to say and proceeded to inspect the picture he sent just in case Emma was confused if he was the guy in the green tie or not.

“Emma, you might have had a rough start, but he’s hot. And he’s clearly interested. Why else would he text?” Passing the phone back, she shrugged. “And let’s face it, you and commitment aren’t that strong of allies. He’s from out of town. Mary Margaret said he travels all over to do these little campaigns. I’m seeing excellent fling material.”

The text was taunting her, a coy comment about Italian restaurants and then a reminder of who he was with the picture. “I should answer him. I mean it would be rude not to answer, right?”

“Your mother would say not to be rude to anyone, but I’m telling you there is no reason to be rude to that guy.” Ruby reached over and grabbed a 10 year old magazine from the table, clearly bored with the conversation. “But I mean it is up to you. Text him. Don’t text him. Your choice.” Ruby flipped the pages casually, bringing up what dresses Regina was going to want them to wear at her wedding. She insisted that red wouldn’t be that garish at a Christmas event. It wasn’t until Emma refused to correct her that Ruby even looked over cautiously. “You haven’t texted him?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Ruby propped herself onto one elbow. “It’s written all over your face.”

Emma shoved the phone back in her bag and let her head loll against the mattress as she sat cross legged on the floor. She rarely was in this room now, but somehow it felt comfortable and almost nostalgic to discuss dating and boys with her friend just down the hall from her parents. At least she wasn’t practicing writing his name with hers or anything like that. “I don’t get crushes.”

“You’re much too tough for that.”

Emma wasn’t exactly wrong about her aversion to crushes. She was in her twenties and already sheriff of the small coastal town. She wore practical boots or sneakers more than heels and her long hair had not seen princess curls in months. This event at her parents was the first time she’d worn a dress except to church. “If I did, and I’m not saying I do, what difference does it make. I’m a grown woman, mother of a 10 year old, and I have a career. I’m hardly going to make cootie catchers and see if his name comes up after saying some horrible rhyme.”

Ruby nodded thoughtfully and went back to the magazine. “Not to mention horribly ugly and boring. I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“You are going to pay for that one, Ruby,” Emma laughed, tossing a pillow and joining in as Ruby cackled with laughter. They were both laughing so hard that Emma barely heard the familiar chirp of her phone ringing. Holding up a hand to silence her friend, she shushed her and reached for it. She only hoped she sounded less winded than she felt as she said her own name and waited for the response.

“I hope I didn’t call to late,” a male English accent sounded on the other end. Even without seeing him in person, she could already picture that bemused smirk and light in his eyes. “I meant to check back with you, love, but time got away from me and then you were gone.”

“Oh um…good…I mean great…I mean you didn’t call too late,” Emma gestured wildly at her friend who was making choking signs in response to her word vomit. “But why did you call?”

“Well, love, you did give me your number,” he reminded her. “I tried texting, but didn’t get a response. I thought perhaps you were screening, but I had to give it a shot. I was hoping you might have a bit of time for me tomorrow – breakfast perhaps? I know you said you preferred that little Italian place, but I have never known such an establishment to be open very early. Perhaps that Granny’s, you spoke of? We could save the Italian place for our dinner date. I have been craving some ravioli lately.”

“Date?” Emma stammered, ignoring the way that Ruby looked ready to pounce. “I…”

“You did sort of ask me out and I must say it was a masterful way to do so. I would love to accompany you for dinner, Emma. But first we have a bit of business to discuss about your mother’s campaign. Breakfast then? 8 a.m.? Granny’s?”

“I’ll be there,” she answered dully as he spoke politely for a moment about thanking her for her time.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

Emma’s father had not gotten the memo that she was going out for breakfast, as he was flipping pancakes onto a large plate as she descended the stairs, handed her son his permission slip for the field trip, and dodged the family’s collie that seemed to be underfoot. Her mother showed no signs of worry as she sipped her morning coffee and reminded Emma to wear a scarf and hat as she consoled her husband that there were not too many pancakes and Emma wouldn’t have eaten them all anyway.

She pulled her yellow bug up in front of the diner, taking the last of the spots at 8:05 a.m. That was early for her and not a big worry that she was late for meeting with Killian. That was until she walked in, kicked a bit of the snow off her boots (the black ones with a heel that were in her old closet and could not be described as practical – don’t judge), and spied Killian at one of the booths talking to Tink. The bubbly blonde was petite and perfect, a face and voice like a cherub in a painting. Every year she had the solo at the church choir’s Christmas Eve performance and every year people wiped away tears at her beautiful rendition. She didn’t look very angelic as she perched on the edge of her seat and leaned forward to talk animatedly with Killian. Her smile flashing at him and even an occasional stroke of his arm with her hand to emphasize a point. Even in the 90 seconds she had been standing there kicking her boots and unwinding the mile long scarf from her mother, she had watched the waitress stop by and lean across the table to give Killian quite the view down her shirt.

Ruby must have noticed too, as she left her spot behind the counter and fluffed Emma’s hair with an encouraging nod and a teasing note that Emma was wearing lip gloss. Spinning her with one hand on her shoulder, Ruby sort of nudged her in the direction of the booth with a hissed reminder to smile.

“Killian,” Emma said, ignoring the pout from Tink, whose real name was Isabella but didn’t want to be confused with the town librarian, Belle, “sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he said, scooting out to stand as she arrived. “I was going over a few notes for the kick off and Tink here was catching me up on some of the ideocracies that make small town politics so fun.”

Emma flashed a quick smile at her childhood friend, watching her slink out of the booth and tell Killian she was in the town directory if he wanted to call. He did not follow her with his eyes as she sashayed toward the door, nor did he smirk like Emma wanted to do when Ruby called after Tink to tell her that she still owed for her morning tea. It wasn’t that she disliked Tink, but there was that feeling that made her feel ill when she saw her flirting with Killian.

He gestured for her to sit down a simple glance toward the counter sent the waitress scrambling to bring them menus and take their orders. Or maybe it was just his order, as he had to call her back to get Emma’s. Despite his seemingly healthy eating style the night before, he matched her order of a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon. Granny had even fancied it up with chocolate shavings.

His questions were easy at first, wanting to know about her childhood and then her job. While a few were personal, he did not seem to be prying. She even managed to ask him a few and he offered some answers of his own without objecting too loudly and then quickly getting them back on track. She learned of his naval experience that paid for his education and how he had become involved in the campaigns and politics of small cities and his love of the ocean and aged rum.

“So is your position as sheriff an elected one?” he asked, casually resting back in the vinyl seat across from her.

She was taking two sips to his one when she noticed the way he smiled as he watched her. Instinctively she raised her hand up to swipe at the whipped cream that might have gathered on her nose but found none. “What?” she asked in exasperation. “Did I make a mess?”

“No, I am simply enjoying watching you share your experiences as sheriff. Your passion for it shines on your face, love.”

She knew she was probably blushing and rolled her fork through the home fries as a distraction.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

For the next few days they saw each other often. There was the announcement of her mother’s candidacy where she helped place signage. She ran into him when she went to inspect a license of one of the vendors at the skating rink and ended up sharing a drink and conversation. While pondering which type of creamer to buy, he popped up out of no where and offered a suggestion. He was even there when the church choir had a rehearsal, claiming he was talking to some potential volunteers. He did apologize for that when the choir director called Emma out for missing two of her cues in a row because she was watching him, in the words of Regina, make doe eyes at her and silently flirt.

In the mean time, her mother had been talking up Walsh’s skills in design and potential as a date for Emma. There was now a gaping hole in the living room at the farm house where her mother was having him design a custom entertainment center. Her brother was already complaining that the television on the floor was not the greatest idea. Emma tried to explain Walsh wasn’t her type, but her mother wasn’t hearing it and was asking when she was seeing him again. Given that she had not saved his number and had mutually agreed with him that they weren’t really each other’s type it seemed unlikely. However, Mary Margaret was so cutely sure she had done well this year that Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her.

One morning over doughnuts at the station her mother read the speech Killian had written for her campaign and asked her daughter for feedback. Emma offered a few remarks as the woman adjusted the clutter on her father’s desk.

“I think he’s handsome,” her mother said at one point. “Kinda has that mysterious look to him.”

“Who?” Emma asked distractedly. “Dad?”

It was the pronoun game.

“No, I was talking about…” The phone ringing cut off what Emma was sure was a pep talk about Walsh. The conversation was left unfinished as Emma went to investigate the case of the missing trash can lids. Spoiler: some of the kids were using them for sledding.

It was a full two days later before she saw Killian again. Granted he had texted a few times and called her “by accident” when he claimed he had meant to call her mother to discuss strategy. He was humming a tune and scrolling through his tablet when she and her son, Henry, spotted him inside the library. Apparently, he had set up shop in the corner and had everything but a receptionist there to greet visitors. Her son, who had heard his name a few times from his grandparents, pointed him out in a totally obvious way that made Emma want to crawl under the table. Somehow she managed to take a few steps closer and do more than the wave she originally planned.

“Nice office,” she said of the table he had commandeered. “Quiet I guess.”

“It has it’s perks,” he offered. “I was heading over to talk to your father. He said he would be at the station this afternoon. I take it you are not?”

“Short break to get my son home before I go back to face the files on my desk.” She knew her son was already done checking out his three books and would be joining them any second. She only hoped he would not blurt out an inappropriate question. She was about to send up a silent prayer when she noted that the glove Killian normally wore on his left hand was off and a synthetic material prosthetic was in its place. Before she could say anything, he looked down at the hand as though surprised by it and shrugged.

“Naval accident, an accident.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” she said not sure what else to say about it. It was clearly an old injury and hardly one she had a blame in causing.

“Tis an old pain,” he told her. “Most days I don’t really think of it.”

She nodded, glancing at her son who was still in conversation with Belle. “Does that mean you are getting more comfortable with me?” She instantly regretted saying that, as it came off a little weak.

“You do seem to put me at ease, love.” He winked at her and leaned a little to the left as her son ran up beside her. “You, lad, must be Henry. Your grandparents tell me you are quite the author.”

Henry nodded enthusiastically and continued the conversation for a few more beats, nearly forgetting his mother was there. Even a comment from another patron, Will, that Killian was clearly trying to get to the mother through the son, went unnoticed by all but Emma who stood taller and tried to let it slide. Killian was quite the conversationalist, observantly noting that Henry was holding a book on piracy along the New England states. That really got them going until Emma reminded Henry that she needed to drop him off at home to meet the tutor and get back to work.

That was how she ended up with Killian sitting in her living room and then the two of them walking side by side back to the station to interview her father. He opened doors for her, asked her less probing questions, and complimented the way she handled one of the boys known for getting into trouble with a stern look and warning. She was starting to feel natural about it all when he stopped short at the wreath decorated double doors and scratched behind his ear.

“I was wondering, love,” he said, shifting his eyes to the door and back to her again. “Rather I was hoping you might…well, bloody hell, I was hoping to ask you on that date. I gather you weren’t aware of who I was or why I was here when you sort of asked me.”

“I thought you were the guy my parents set me up with this year. It wasn’t my finest moment.”

He smiled nervously, his lips tight and his eyes again darting to the doors. She realized he was looking to see if her father was lurking. “It was rather adorable actually and I was thinking…”

She closed her eyes as he searched for the words, something she was sure he rarely did in his life. He always seemed to know the perfect thing to say and the perfect way to say it. “Killian, you don’t have to…”

“And if I want to?”

“Then maybe we could meet up tomorrow evening? Or wait no…tomorrow is the winter carnival for the kids at the orphanage and I am hosting the movie portion. Maybe Thursday…no Henry’s got his soccer game. I would say Friday but I’ve got choir practice and Saturday is mom’s campaign rally.” She truly looked sorry about her schedule as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Busy lass,” he muttered. “I suppose we’ll have to consider another time. Or by chance are you free this evening?”

Biting down on her lip, she closed her eyes briefly. “I want to say yes, but my father is in there and I’d rather not mention this to him. And given that my son is likely to either eat potato chips and chocolate milk for dinner, stay up past bedtime for video games or inappropriate movies, or worst yet burn the place down in an attempt to see what he can melt in the oven, I’m thinking I need a back up babysitting plan that doesn’t include my parents.”

“Rather not hear the I told you so? Or are you hoping to keep me your little secret?”

“My parents are a little on the enthusiastic side when it comes to my love life.” She tilted her head back for a moment and then made eye contact again. “I have a plan, but you have to swear to me that we won’t be going to Granny’s or any place else they would be spotted.”

He assured her that paper napkins weren’t on the menu. “I have no issue with being circumspect, love. Trust me, I can plan an evening for us.”

If she didn’t trust him, she didn’t show it as he ushered her inside and greeted David. His cheeks were a little red from the cold and she knew hers were too. However, David never seemed to notice their conversation outside. She saw him pulling out his notes when she spoke up and asked David if Henry could perhaps have dinner with them. She managed to ask nonchalantly, simply a scheduling glitch.

“Any particular reason,” David asked, barely hiding his smile.

“I’m going out,” she answered vaguely, crossing her denim clad legs and pulling a stack of files into her lap. “Did you see Leroy’s file? I need to check about his court date.”

“Haven’t seen it. Anyone I know?” He was trying to watch her in the reflection of his computer screen, sneaking a few knowing looks at Killian who was flipping casually through his notebook.

“Oh you know,” she said, pausing to look at a document, “that guy from your party.” She didn’t want to lie to her dad, but she could tell he was not going to let up. It was one thing to have her father believe it was Walsh but another to flat out tell him that.

Killian seemed to understand, interrupting the awkwardness with a cheeky smile. “Since Emma appears to be on a deadline and you’ll be entertaining the lad this evening, it sounds like we need to get through these questions to prepare your wife’s talking points. Let’s start with the most obvious. You have a role that is second in command here at the station and in the community. How does that work with you effectively reporting to your own daughter?”

Emma let out a little sigh and as her father droned on about how proud he was of her, she shot Killian a grateful look. Her father seemed to take pride in both his work and how well she did her job, showing him pictures of celebrations after tough cases were solved and the commendations she had gotten from the governor. Most grown children worry that they aren’t successful enough or are somehow a disappointment to their parents. Emma didn’t have that worry when David Nolan talked about her.

He was still talking about how well Emma had worked with Regina who was stepping down to concentrate on her new life when Emma slipped out to change. Neither he nor Killian seemed to notice that she almost spoke up twice to tell Killian that maybe tonight wasn’t the best timing. Then she reminded herself of Ruby’s advice. He was a nice and more than good looking man. He didn’t even live here. So what if she went out with him. It was just fun.

She repeated that to herself as she went to her car to head home and change. That is until the realization hit that she didn’t really have anything to wear. A trip to one clothing store in town would rouse suspicion and the tailor was a friend of her mother’s. There was only one place to go.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

“No leather, no spiked heels, no red, no plunging necklines, and I would preferably like to sit down without flashing everyone in town,” Emma said as Ruby dove into the bowels of her closet up above Granny’s. The woman had squealed, hugged Emma, and asked if certain parts had been shaved or waxed. Emma assured her that was not an issue and that she just needed something that didn’t have the capacity for her shoulder or hip holster. Ruby had of course said she had just the thing.

With no sign of her wardrobe addition, Emma looked at her phone and two unread texts.

Killian: Your father is in search of your old scouting badges. I feel like we should have code words. Perhaps not. Meet me at the docks at 7?

She answered quickly, not wanting Ruby to interfere with the response that would probably be inappropriate. A quick see you then and an internally debated smiley emoji would have to suffice. The next message was from her mother.

Mom: David says you have a date. Very exciting. When you come by to pick Henry up, I want to hear all about it. I’ll wait up.

Her mother was going to be an issue. She loved the eternal optimist that was her mother, a woman who had more than her fair share of darkness, including losing two parents early in life, but rose above it to see the good in people. Wasn’t that what Emma was doing. She was seeing the good in Killian despite the voices inside that said this was a bad idea. Well, she could rationalize it that way. Her mother truly wanted a happily ever after for her daughter, something even  Emma couldn’t disagree with in scheme of things. The fact that her mother even believed in such things was pretty amazing.

Ruby emerged with a black dress that looked more like a set of random strips all stitched together. Beneath it was a red dress that flared out and looked more appropriate for dancing. And beneath that was a soft mauve frock with a full skirt and wrapped bodice. She knew that was the one she wanted to wear, but knowing Ruby she had to at least try the others. Half an hour later she was wearing the lighter colored dress, matching nude heels, and her hair was what her friend called casually curled.

She was standing with her arms crossed for warmth at the docks at 7:01 when Killian emerged from one of the sailboats with a single red rose in his hands. “Apparently,” he said, steadily walking the gang plank despite the swell of the waves that had her not quite sure if she was standing still or not, “it is nearly impossible to procure just a rose this time of year. You almost ended up with a pot of poinsettias.”

“It’s beautiful,” she remarked. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”

He assured her that it was no trouble and that she was beautiful herself. Below deck he had a small table set with real dishes and flatware, a bottle of wine and containers of pastas and sauces from the Italian restaurant she had mentioned. The only thing, he mused, was that he could not do the candles since such items were not really safe on a boat.

“Confession time,” he said, clinking his glass with hers. “I borrowed the boat. I don’t have one here in Storybrooke.”

“I knew that,” she admitted. “It’s my uncle Leroy’s boat.”

“Short man, scruffy looking, kind of grumpy?”

“Always grumpy, yes. It’s nice of you though. Not too many prying eyes.”

He took a sip and pondered that for a moment. “I take it that you would prefer to keep things clandestine just in case. I am also guessing that you gave the information to your friend Ruby just in case I turn out to be a murderer.”

“I can take care of myself.” She squared her shoulders off.

“Aye, I believe you can, love.”

The rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation and only a few awkward pauses that were usually filled before it got to be too much. Killian had even brought along a set of speakers to stream music allowing them to dance. It was a tough that even Emma thought was sweet as his arms were around her in a way that she admitted fit. She wasn’t sure how much life was left in his phone or when the clouds that had been building all day would open up with snow, but time seemed to stand still as they swayed. Her eyes closed and her head resting against his right shoulder. He lifted their entwined hands and softly kissed hers. She was glad her eyes were closed and her head nestled against his chest.

She could feel his breathing change and his hold feeling tense. Her name came out as a whisper from him. She lifted her head and found his eyes searching hers. “Emma? I would very much like to kiss you.”

“I’m not sure you can handle that,” she teased in just as soft of a voice. Yet she closed the space between them and let him close the rest. Their lips touching softly at first and then with more passion. Her hands gripped at his shirt, pulling him toward her and his hand hovered at her hair before threading through it with a sort of awe she had never experienced.

They might have stayed like that for a while had the siren of her dad’s cruiser not shattered the cold and quiet night. Maybe they should have stayed below deck, ignored her father’s presence on the docks. However, that plan faded as his footsteps grew closer and she knew, just knew that someone had spotted them on Leroy’s boat and reported it. Resigned to the fate that her father was about to find out who her date was with and probably have an opinion about it, she took a step back and turned to climb up into the cold. While he said nothing, Killian placed his own jacket, a worn leather one, over her shoulders. It was a gentlemanly gesture and one that shouldn’t surprise her.

“Dad?” she asked, holding one hand over her eyes to shield it from the giant flakes falling silently from the sky. “Did something…”

Her father looked startled and even a little embarrassed to see her there. His breathing was normalizing when Killian emerged too, which sent his eyes wide and his gasp of surprise sharpening. “I didn’t realize…”

“Everything okay, mate?” Killian asked. His dark colored shirt and black vest offered little warmth against the plummeting temperatures. However, he did not indicate it by shivering or otherwise complaining.

“Sure…I mean I was just answering a call about someone attempting to break in cars when I saw Emma’s bug. Someone said they thought they saw the suspect run this way and…”

Emma gave her father a nod, taking a deep breath to switch back into her role as sheriff. “Any description?”

Her father’s eyes drifted to where Killian’s hand was covering hers and giving it a slight squeeze of reassurance. They narrowed and his voice faltered as he answered, “light colored hair, red sweatshirt, about 5’9”, thin.”

“Sounds like a juvenile,” Emma assessed. “I’m assuming we don’t have any camera visuals. Last time we investigated over here the cameras were malfunctioning and I haven’t noticed…”

“Emma,” her father said, his boots shuffling a little on the worn planks of the dock that were beginning to be covered in snow. “You don’t have to…I mean…You’re on a date…I guess you are.”

“Well, yeah,” she said, glancing at Killian who seemed to be enjoying the moment. Suddenly she felt the urge to clear up the misconceptions she had caused. “I didn’t mean to…” She cleared her throat. “I know you probably thought I meant I was seeing that Walsh guy.”

“Your mother’s buying an entertainment center from him,” David answered with confusion. “It’s not my business who…but where is Walsh?” He did manage to lower the flashlight and seem less ominous there on the docks, but still had his hand on his hip and was rocking backwards as he waited for explanations.

“I’m not really sure. I haven’t exactly seen him since the party.” Emma glanced at Killian who was standing closer to her than she realized. That wasn’t exactly unpleasant as a prospect. “Killian and I…”

“You and Killian,” he father parroted with the confusion that it hadn’t dawned on him. “You and Killian what?”

Killian gave her hand another squeeze and took a step forward as though offering himself as tribute. “Aye, mate. I do fancy your daughter and she and I have been spending time together.”

Blinking back at them, David appeared to running through the occasions he had seen them together and attempting to digest this information. “So the conversation about intentions toward Emma should be delivered to you and not Walsh?” It was too dark to know for sure, but Emma thought he looked a little disappointed.

She reminded him that there was a potential thief on the loose and he assured her he had it under control and to go back to her date. Killian just sort of shrugged and offered his analysis that it wasn’t that much of a secret after all. They talked a bit longer, took a slow walk toward her car, and both hopped in with him saying he would walk to Granny’s after she was safely at her parents with her son.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said, speeding up the wipers against the snow. “I can drop you off. No need for you to freeze.”

He looked toward her in the dark car and gave her a soft smile. “Your father is bound to have told your mother about our date, love. I know you had hoped to keep it secret. I only wanted to offer my services should you want them to fend off her disappointment and concern.” He jumped when she placed her hand over his prosthetic.

“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. I guess I just don’t want to disappoint them with another failed attempt at matchmaking. My mother has to be ready to give up by now.”

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “she might have to give up anyway. If we were to date, surely she would not attempt to replace me each year.” Her hand jerked away fast, something he noticed. “I hoped you might want…”

She sighed, turning her car off the coastal road to the one that led toward town. “Killian, I am the one who originally asked you out. Even if that was a misunderstanding. I had fun. I enjoy spending time with you. But…”

“But?”

“But we live in two different cities. The special election is going to be over next month. What kind of relationship can we have when you’ll be off on your next job and I’ll still be here? I’m not 18 and free to wander around after you. I have a job, parents, a son, and responsibilities.”

“We could…”

“Killian, I like you. I like spending time with you, but I’m not interested in starting a go no where or long distance relationship. I want more than a pen pal. Think about it. You do too.” The driveway of the farmhouse was coming into sight and then disappeared as she passed it. “I’ll take you back to Granny’s. No sense in talking to my mother about this. We’ll just say it was a one time thing.”

“As you wish.” His voice was quiet, deep, and almost wistful.

~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~ CS ~~

As the holidays grew nearer, Emma’s parents and Killian went into campaign overdrive. There were photoshoots of the whole family on the farm. Her mother even managed to sneak in a few candid shots of Emma and Killian. Speaking of Mary Margaret, she was only mildly disappointed at Emma’s secret that she was not seeing Walsh. That was quickly erased as she said she had considered setting her daughter up with Killian, but was quickly dissuaded when her internal voice said her daughter would object. Nobody corrected her on it.

For his part, Killian worked hard and would try to sneak in time with Emma. They shared a few lunches, walked around the farm discussing a few strategies, and shopped together for a present for her parents. He sat with them on Christmas Eve when Emma performed with the choir for mass, looking just as in awe and proud as her parents did. He even joined them for the evening meal on Christmas, leaving behind a gift for Emma rather than making a big deal of her opening it in front of everyone.

As the wreathes were removed and the snow seemed not as white, the election day finally drew close and Killian was even more of a fixture. He was constantly showing up with a new tactic and shoving his client in front of cameras to announce a proposed initiative. Everything from illiteracy to hunger would be addressed by Mary Margaret Nolan for mayor. When election day arrived, more than 60% of the voters chose her and he beamed proudly from the sidelines. Most people noticed the hug shared between Emma and Killian, but it seemed to be just part of the celebration. It went so long into the night that nobody really saw the two of them saying goodbye the next morning.

“I wish it was different,” she admitted, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Perhaps someday, love. After all, nothing stays the same.”

She watched as the Uber driver loaded his bags and Killian reluctantly slid into the backseat. Their eyes were locked and the unsaid words hung in the air. She wasn’t sure she even breathed again until she was pulling up in front of her parents’ house. Her father was flipping pancakes, but her mother was at the doorway even as she dragged up the steps of the front porch.

“I like him,” her mother said. “He’s a good man.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed, accepting the hug and hurrying in before the next gust of wind. “I just…I don’t want this every time we see each other. I don’t want to miss him and have the constant feel like a clock is counting down the hours.”

“I know, Emma. And that is very practical, but if you…”

Emma didn’t wait for her mom to finish the statement before greeting her father and asking about setting the table. It wouldn’t be the last time that her mother brought him up. She would over the next few months, mentioning seeing him at some event or another. Emma never asked, but her mother would always update her on his well being. It wasn’t that Emma didn’t know. He still called. He texted. When he was in the area he would invite her to dinner or to an event. She occasionally went but always told herself it was just casual. He never tried to kiss her again and she never sat herself too close to him, despite Ruby’s advice to do so.

A book he had mentioned to her once said of the protagonist and her lover turned best friend, “they would continue to call and write until eventually they were just acquaintances and no longer a real part of each other’s lives.” That’s what Emma resigned herself to when he didn’t answer her text or voicemail inviting him to her parents’ annual party. He’d been pretty scarce for the past few weeks. Their conversations short and usually interrupted by something or someone. She once even heard a female voice in the background and wondered if he was seeing someone. That idea hurt more than she wanted to admit.

She wore red to her parents’ party, her hair hanging loose and the smile on her face tense and unyielding. She was sipping on champagne and watching as Regina and Robin twirled around the room still in bliss nearly a year after their wedding. Walsh was there too, dancing with Zelena and inking a new design deal with Marco. Neal had brought Tink as his date, which made Emma roll her eyes. And her parents were at their prime greeting and hugging all of those in attendance.

“Emma,” her mother called out when a few more guests were greeted. “Come here. I want you to say hello to someone.”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look as Emma begrudgingly dragged her feet over to where her parents were standing. And there he stood, Killian in a freshly pressed suit with a wide smile on his face as she approached. Her mother was giddy as she mockingly introduced them. “Emma, you remember my old campaign manager, Killian, right? Well, he was in town getting settled because his new job at the governor’s office starts next month. I was thinking that he might be just the kind of guy you’d like to get to know.”

[allons-y-to-hogwarts-713]

CS Secret Santa 2020 (1/2)

Little Red Riding OH!

Summary: Emma’s friend Ruby convinces her to go to a costume party where she just so happens to be in matching costumes with non other the Killian Jones.

Hello, @everything-person!! It is I, your CS Secret Santa! Sorry I’m posting these a bit late. This is your first of two gifts. I had sooooo many ideas of things I wanted to make for you that I wasn’t sure where to start which made photo-searching a bit of a challenge without one specific direction to take, but then I found a few of your fics and got inspired. So here’s some fanart for your fanfic “Little Red Riding OH!“ I hope you like it! ❤️

Huge thanks to the mods of @cssecretsanta2020 for hosting this event again this year!

[cssecretsanta2020]

Ao3 collection - information

my dear participants!  Don’t forget to add your story to the ao3 collection which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CSSECRETSANTA2020 When you post (or edit) your story, please add the story to the collection: