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sugamoonv · 5 years

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You Had To Open Your Mouth

Like A Mate Should

Summary: Namjoon and Jin see you being attacked as a godsend. You see your attack and meeting them as a series of unfortunate events. How unfortunate that you’re their mate.

Pairings: established NamJin / Namjin x Reader/ Jin x Reader

Word Count: 3,321

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The house is eerily quiet when you leave the room the next morning, the complete opposite from the loud, boisterousness of the boys you’ve already come to expect. A mop of dark hair peeks over the back of the couch as you walk into the living room. Jungkook is sitting, a small gaming device in his hands that has his whole attention.

“Where is everyone?”

The game flies from hand to hand as Jungkook jumps in his spot and loudly curses before the device finally falls onto the carpet with a dull thud. Jungkook rushes to pick up the device and he sets in on the coffee table before turning to you. He stares at you until you raise your eyebrows in a silent question and he’s reminded to speak.

“Oh, uh, Jimin and Hobi went into town. Suga’s probably still sleeping, and Tae probably went to the pond, and I um- I don’t know where Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung are.” He says the last bit of information as though he’s trying to keep a secret. An awkward silence blankets the both of you so your standing facing each other, eyes shifting around the room.

“I’m the one that’s bringing you back to town,” Jungkook blurts out. “Not that I asked to. That would be weird of me to ask because, you know, Jimin. Not to say that you’re not pretty-because you are- it’s just that I don’t really go that way and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter because Jin and Namjoo-wait.” The entire time Jungkook spoke, he kept his eyes to the floor and suddenly looked up as he remembered something halfway through his speel, face mortified.

You bit your lower lip before pursing your lips and standing on your tiptoes to lower yourself flat-footed again.

“....Okay. Are you good to go then?”

Jungkook rapidly nods, glad for the break in the conversation. “Are you okay to walk?”

“Uh, yeah,” you look down at your ankle mumbling, “I don’t think it’s fully healed but I should be good walking on it.”

Jungkook nods again.

You follow him out of the door onto the front porch. There’s a large space cleared that you assume is used as a lawn before the grass becomes shaded by trees. You see a large garden on one side of the yard and next to you on the porch is a dark, oak bench swing with a pastel blue cushion. You grip onto the railing as you limp down the small set of stairs onto the stone path leading into the woods. Jungkook watches from the bottom with worried eyes.

You’ve barely been walking for five minutes before you want to punch the younger man in the face. He’s already asked you about twenty times how you were feeling and if you were okay to keep walking. If it weren’t for his red face and the way his gaze would flicker to the ground whenever he caught you looking at him, you might have actually thrown hands. The tension between you and Jungkook built and there were only so many trees you could distract yourself with as you walked by.

“So how did you all meet?”

Jungkook stumbles in the path.

His lips split into a wide, nervous smile. The chubbiness of his cheeks with his slightly oversized front teeth and the softness of his nature at that second make you forget what exactly he is.

“Um, I’m half shapeshifter so my mom sent me away to school so I wouldn’t be seen in the clan and I met Taehyung there and he introduced me to everyone.” Jungkook’s eyes light up despite the heaviness of his words, perhaps from the opportunity to talk to someone new.

Jungkook takes a full breath before his face lifts and he begins speaking again. “I was really nervous at first because they were all older than me but Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung became like parents to me. Jin-hyung would actually drive me to school most days-Yoongi would sometimes drive me when he felt like it or he had to pick something up in town.”

Jungkook is looking at the ground as he talks but his expression is comfortable. You didn’t expect him to open up like this to you but his youthful aura begs you to stay silent and let him take advantage of you listening. Besides, it’s better than the solitary silence of the plant life around you.

Jungkook’s eyes squint in happiness as he reminisces, “It actually took me and Jimin awhile before we realized we were mates.” He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “I would annoy him a lot and I always looked up to him so I would copy him and for the longest time, I thought he was mated to Yoongi-hyung but then one day when he went into heat, Taehyung came running to me, yelling about Jimin was asking for me.” He laughs at the end as if he were sharing an inside joke with you.

Memories pop into your brain of the lessons your own mother taught you about werewolf mating and the brief touch on the topic in your high-school health class.

Jungkook hasn’t taken any notice to your mind drifting away. “And then it turned out that Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok-hyung were mates but they’re not as affectionate as Jimin and me and they completed their mark so they didn’t need to be around each other all the time when I joined the pack….You okay?”

Jungkook looks at you with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Your face flushes. “Yeah, I just- I just thought that it was uncommon for two werewolves that were the same gender to mate?”

If Jungkook has any issue with the word ‘werewolf’ or the question itself, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his eyes softened in understanding.

“I think it’s about the same as humans.”

“Yeah, but I thought you guys chose mates based on reproductive purposes.”

“Humans do the same thing, don’t they? And if you’re talking about us having mates based on how well we’ll be able to have children with them, then that’s a myth.” Jungkook sees your confused expression and continues on. “We don’t get to choose our mate, it’s just kind of, instinctual to us? Our nature subconsciously chooses partners it knows will most compatible with us based on scent so that doesn’t always mean whoever will give you the healthiest pups. It’s just who you’ll be most in sync with physically and emotionally, and then typically because of that our pups are extremely healthy and grow up sturdy.”

You silently nod in confirmation, absorbing all of the information thrown at you. Jungkook’s taught you more in 10 minutes than what you’ve learned about shapeshifters your whole life.

“Do you humans not feel the same connection?”

The innocence of his question draws out an unnatural amount of maternal sympathy. “Not really, no. Relationships like that usually take us a while to build.”

“In every movie with humans, they always find their mate though.”

“Yeah-those are just movies, Jungkook,” you look him in the eyes. “Nothing about them is realistic, especially the falling in love in three weeks.”

“So you’re telling me humans feel nothing when they meet their mate?”

“Nope.”

“I feel bad for Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung now,” Jungkook pouts at the ground and continues his trek.

Your eyebrows pinch as you follow behind him, mindful of the small boulders bulging from the section of the path you’re currently on, “Why?”

“Because Namjoon-hyung came back home when he ran into you and he couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m pretty sure him and Jin stayed up all night talking about you.”

You reach out and grab Jungkook’s arm to make him stop again. This time he looks just as confused as you do at your ministrations. “Wait, what? When did Namjoon run into me?”

“When he went into town.”

You shake your head to convey you still have no indication of when you and Namjoon crossed paths. “When did he go into town?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up as he thinks back a few days ago. “About two days before we found you and brought you back home.”

Your mind replays the week's events back to you until you get to the last time you were in town but your mind comes up blank. The only thing you can remember is the lunch you had with your friends and talk about the date before the date itself.

“We thought you were in the forest because you were looking for them.”

“No?” your eyebrows further deepen upon your face and Jungkook’s expression moderately shifts to mirror yours.

Both of you stand in front of each other, unsure of how to respond. Without saying anything, you come to a silent agreement when you look at your befuddled faces then with a shrug, begin walking again.

The rest of the walk is short and you and Jungkook don’t make much conversation for the remainder of it. You can’t get the thought of all that he’s said to you about Namjoon and Jin out of your head, especially the fact that you and Namjoon apparently already having had a run in before you ended up at their house.

There’s a park that the path opens into. It’s empty except for the woman jogging, pushing a stroller and another woman off in the distance untangling a leash from around the legs of her dog. The breeze is stronger here without the trees to halt it, but it’s still soft. You look behind you to see that the space you just came from is practically non-visible, as though you walked through a portal and the path was a mirage conjured up from days wandering through the woods hungry and dehydrated. But Jungkook is still standing beside you and the bandage is still snug on your ankle.

“So this is the central park. We’re pretty close to town,” Jungkook captures your attention, “You’re able to make your way back okay, right?”

“Mhmm.” You eagerly nod at him, ready to escape from the strange energy built between you two.

Jungkook takes a slow step backward, “Cool. Well-uh, stay safe and it was nice meeting you.”

He snaps his fingers and spins so he’s walking forward and you watch him disappear into the thicket back onto the pack. The moment you’re alone, the past week begins to feel like a fever dream.

Despite the plethora of questions from your friends once your phone was charged and you saw them in person and dodging demands to see pictures or souvenirs, the past two weeks have been relatively normal. Well except for the fact that no matter how busy you keep yourself, you can’t stop thinking about the pack of shifters that saved you. More specifically, Namjoon and Jin.

Jungkook’s conversation with you had been ringing in your head since the day he led you back. And the fact that he was the one to lead you back when Jin was the one that insisted that you stay. You would have thought that he would have wanted to be the one to see you off and make sure that your ankle was good before you departed for good.

You heavily sigh and drop your head back when you see the sign on the elevator letting all know that it doesn’t work. Of course, this would happen the day you have tests in all your Tuesday classes. You roll your shoulders as much as you can with the backpack containing your textbooks, planner, and laptop resting on your back.

You drudge your feet over to the paint chipped, metal door that opens to a shady staircase. You wish you could say you were the type of person who’s thighs didn’t burn after climbing three flights of stairs. The minute you enter your apartment, you throw your bag onto the small couch and make a beeline straight to your room. The promise of loose pajamas and a night in made you giddy and for tonight, you were allowing yourself a break from school.

You scroll through your social media and answer the occasional text as the characters on screen whined about the new issue of the episode. The acting was bad but the familiarity of it was comforting. You want to laugh at how close to home the current episode hits. It was a show from before the discovery of shapeshifters, where werewolves were seen as mythical commodities for entertainment and so anyone had free range to voice their interpretations.

The male lead of the show was fighting a group of people when hair started growing on his face and his eyes turned a bright yellow. As you watched the character’s claws swing at the faces of the other people, the now completely healed bite on your ankle began to ache. As though seeing an aggressive shifter on the tv screen was a trigger to your ankle, saying, “you should be in pain”.

You reach down and delicately rub the two puncture marks that were left behind. And with the reminder of your old wound comes the reminder of the creatures that caused it and the shifters that healed it. With the reminder of the boys comes the reminder of Jin and Namjoon. All that they did to help you and how they wanted to get to know you, the conversation you had with Jungkook about them and the conversation you had with Namjoon before you left.

A strange feeling bubbled inside your chest; something akin to guilt mixed another feeling you can’t quite determine. Now instead of your attention being put on the show playing in front of you and your phone face down on the arm of the couch, your legs are restless to move.

You sit up straight, leg bouncing and face screwed in concentration as you think to yourself.

“This is such a bad idea.”

You were able to maneuver through the park with the night sky blackening the sidewalk that ran through it. Yet here you are, in front of the mysterious hidden path Jungkook had led you out of some time before. You can’t see where the entrance is but you know you’re in the right space. The emptiness of the park around you is eery and sends chills up and down your spine so you have to swallow the thoughts of all the ways you could die being alone outside at night. What you wouldn’t give to see the woman from before whose dog got itself caught in its leash.

You almost turn around and go back home. In fact, you do that a couple times. Caught in a loop where you stare at the path then go to walk away only to swallow your nerves and turn back and be caught frozen before repeating again. You take in a deep breath and puff your chest to prepare to walk into the dark, unknown path when all of a sudden a loud rustling comes from in front of you and true fear clogs your throat. You want to turn around again but now you can’t.

You keep your muscles tense despite their natural shaking to prepare themselves to help you flee. Your heart has dropped into your stomach and your mouth is dry as the rustling grows louder and your mind conjures up images of red eyes peering from behind the fauna. You feel the phantom sensation of blood running down your ankle and you want so badly to look down to see if the intense ache felt is real.

“Y/N?”

If it weren’t for Jin saying your name, you would have no idea who’s standing in front of you due to the tears blurring your vision. Your diaphragm reanimates, allowing your lungs to expand and take in a deep breath of air that somewhat immediately stops the dizziness in your head.

“What the hell Jin? What are you doing here?”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Each of your words become jumbled as you speak over one another. Jin reaches forward and places his hands on your upper arms as he checks over you for any injuries. You take a step back out of his grasp and his hands drop to his sides, but his eyes remain concerned on you.

“You scared me! Why are you even here!?” you scold Jin and place a hand on your chest over your frantically beating heart.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why are you here?” you repeat yourself, exasperated and drop your hand from your chest.

Under the dim street lamp, you can see a blush forming on Jin, starting from his neck and coloring his face.

“There was something I needed to do,” Jin tries to deflect the question, “Why are you here?”

You don’t want to admit that the reason you looked for the path to their house was to see them. Admittedly, sputtering at Jin’s question probably didn’t make you seem un-suspicious.

“It doesn’t matter why I’m here. What is it you needed to do at 11 o’clock at night?”

Feeding into this game of deflection probably didn’t help your case either.

Jin rapidly blinks as he formulates what answer to give you. Eventually, he resigns himself to telling you the truth and squares his shoulders to make himself appear taller and more confident. “I was looking for you actually.”

“Why?”

Jin sharply inhales then clears his throat a few times. His shoulders now appear more tense and uncomfortable than those of a confident man.

“I wanted to ask you on a date.”

Your lips slightly part as you gape at him. Nervous energy fills the quiet air and Jin shifts from foot to foot as he watches and waits for a response. His eyes have begun to rapidly blink again.

“You came all the way here to ask me on a date!?” your hands thread themselves through your hair and you half spin away from Jin. “You walked all the way here at nearly midnight so you could ask me on a date!? You don’t even know where I live! How were you going to find me? What were you even thinking? Are you insane!”

Jin visibly flinches back as each question is thrown at him and by the time you run out of breath, his face is a raging red and his eyes are wide. His lips move on their own accord trying to speak the words caught in his throat.

At last, he’s finally able to respond to you staring at him aghast.

“I know Jungkook told you how mating works and I just couldn’t let this be a missed opportunity.” Jin goes from bordering on terrified to pleading. “Let me and Namjoon take you o just one date,” when he sees your eyes grow wider, he quickly corrects himself, “Just me! Let me take you on a date. I promise you won’t regret it and if you do, I’ll leave you alone and you can completely forget about me.”

Jin takes a hesitant step towards you so he’s almost directly under the dim light. His eyes softly bore into yours. His voice becomes soft as he drops it to whisper, “Please.”

It feels as though your mind is completely blank. You never expected anything that happened tonight to happen and yet you’re even more surprised by Jin’s appearance and request. It seems to be a pattern with him and the other boys to make every interaction with them feel like something straight from a movie. And you don’t know whether it’s the way the light hits Jin’s face or the fact that your brain hasn’t fully comprehended what he asked, but you nod yes. You don’t exactly mind the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you as though you made him the richest man on Earth.

Tags: @detectivebourbon @omgsuperstarg @eshika0102 @delightfulyoongi @boononx

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

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The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 31

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Previously (for the smut-averse):

“I have something for you,” Malcolm murmured, kissing her ear.

“Huh?”

They were snuggled together under the blankets, her back to his front, their arms entangled and folded together beneath her breasts. Thoroughly sated, warm, comfortable, and happy, she was almost asleep when he spoke.

He rolled away from her, and by the time he came back she had turned to face him, pillowing her head on her arm as she watched him. His hands appeared, one clenched around something, and her breath caught. “What-”

“Rose,” he cut her off, not unkindly, “you… you are a breath of fresh air. You-”

Unable to help it she yawned, face scrunching with the size of it- it seemed to go on forever, and by the time it was over, he was biting his lip, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Mhmm, you’re not,” she promised, snuggling closer, “but I’m exhausted. My husband had me up ridiculously early to watch the sunrise this morning, then he shagged my brains out.”

“Sounds like quite the catch.”

“He is.” She grinned up at him. “And I’m going to return the favor and blow his mind- well, something- as soon as I’ve gotten a kip.”

Malcolm hummed. “Well, I’ll let you get to it, but first- I’ll save the drawn-out romantic speech for when you’re more awake, but…” Holding out his clenched hand in front of him, he turned it over and opened it to reveal a ring, with a decent sapphire stone set in gold. It was beautiful, and delicate, and she loved it.

“Oh, babe,” Rose gasped softly. “That’s wonderful.”

“Do you really think so?” Surprisingly shy, he held it out to her. “If so, I want you to have it. If not, there’s plenty more in the family vault, but- I wanted you to have this one. I��ve wanted you to have it for… a while.”

“Are you sure?” She took in carefully, holding it up to her eye to examine it better. “It looks old. Not in a bad way, just in a valuable way.”

Her husband slid his hand over her waist, pulling her closer. “Yes. I didn’t give you an engagement ring, because… but now that our feelings have been resolved, that it’s all out in the open, I want you to have a pretty ring to show off.”

Rose looked down at the simple gold band she’d been wearing for the last week, and felt her heart melt. “I’m very happy with the ring I already have,” she told him softly, “because you gave it to me. I think this will be a perfect addition.” Then she handed it back.

“Wait, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she held out her left hand to him, grinning. “Go ahead, put it on me. ‘S only right.”

He did, carefully guiding it up her finger and over her knuckles, settling it at the base of her wedding band before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing both rings gently. “Perfect.”

“I agree.” Bringing her hand to her face, she admired how they looked together – like they belonged next to each other. “That wasn’t necessary, but… thank you.”

“You deserve the world,” he shrugged one shoulder. “A ring- a family heirloom at that- is nothing.”

Smiling, she leaned forward, kissing him sweetly. “Let’s get some sleep,” she sighed against his lips. “Then when we wake up, I’ll thank you properly.”

He kissed her back. “No thanks necessary.”

“Oh, I think it’s very necessary.”

Friday evening

“Do you think I look okay?” Rose fussed, critically examining her reflection in the mirror. Sarah Jane would shortly be arriving for dinner, and she wanted her first hosting event to go smoothly, looking and acting the part. She’d chosen a cocktail dress, one of the nicer ones she owned – it was a dark navy, with silver threaded accents, paired with sapphire studs Malcolm had gifted her with the night before the wedding. Those and her rings were the only jewelry she wore, and she fingered the neckline of the dress. “Is it missing something? Something that might make it better?”

Malcolm grunted, and she watched in the full-length mirror as he finished tying his laces and stood, coming up behind her. “Well,” he considered, setting his hands on her hips and rucking up the fabric slightly, enough to show the tops of her thigh-high stockings, “I do have one thought…”

“Oh, do you?” she rolled her eyes, grinning. “What’s that?”

“I think- and this is just my opinion, mind, what do I know about fashion- but, it seems to me it might look better on the floor.”

Rose burst into laughter, spinning out of his grip. “Later,” she promised, smoothing the fabric back down her thighs. “For now, behave. Our guest will be here any minute.” Even as she spoke, the sound of crunching gravel echoed up from below.

Her husband held his hands up in response, backing away with an incorrigible smirk. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that,” he warned, returning to the bed to pull on his sport coat. “But in all seriousness, you look incredible.”

“Thank you.” She offered him a smile in return, letting her eyes drag over him. “And may I say, you clean up well.”

“Yes, well, one must look one’s best for company,” he affected a terribly posh accent, making her giggle. “Now, would you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you to dinner, my lady?”

Rose snorted, half-choking on her glass of wine. “I’m sorry, you what?” she gasped, head spinning to stare at her husband. “No. No way.”

“He did!” Sarah Jane laughed, looking smug. “And it was his idea! All we said was-”

“Bullshit,” Malcolm snapped back, eyes pleading with Rose. “Bull. Shit. I have no memory of this!”

“Because you were absolutely plastered!”

“And even if this ridiculous accusation were true- which it’s not- it would solely be because someone called me more boring than plain toast!”

“Sorry, what did we miss?” Jack asked, as he and Ianto slid back into their seats. “We had some Estate business to attend to.”

Watching Ianto discreetly wipe at his mouth with his napkin, Rose arched an eyebrow at her cousin-in-law. “Is that so?”

He merely gave her a bawdy wink in response, making his buttoned-up boyfriend’s ears go pink. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Malcolm stole a police horse at uni,” Rose blurted, even as her husband denied it.

“Rose!”

Jack gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “Malcolm Tucker! I don’t believe it. D’you have any evidence?”

Rose laughed as Malcolm pouted, his lower lip protruding further when no one came to his defense. Though the conversation continued around her she just watched him, reaching out for his hand. He stared at it for a moment before his expression softened, and he took it, thumb rubbing over the bands of her rings, straightening the newer one as the stone had listed to the right. Their eyes met, and she smiled, growing lost in his gaze. It was so freeing, to be able to show her love with him, to not have to hide her adoring looks or make up excuses to see him or be with him. They could just be, and she hoped it never changed.

“So, Rose, is this your first trip to Scotland?”

Sarah Jane’s voice broke the spell, and Rose had to blink several times to bring the rest of the room back into focus. “Sorry? Oh, uh, yes, it is.”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she smiled, leaning forward. “I mean, I’ve mostly been on the property other than the trip into town the other day when we met and the drive up from Inverness Airport, but… I think we will be making frequent trips back here. I’d love to see more.”

Malcolm cleared his throat, and she glanced over to find him wiping his mouth. “Actually…”

“What?”

His thumb moved over the back of her hand, the only giveaway that he was nervous about what he was going to say.

“Well, I was thinking about our conversation the other day, and… what would you say to leaving here early? I think Jack and I have pretty much wrapped up our business, and while it would be nice to just hang out here, what if instead we went on a driving tour?”

“A driving tour?” she repeated, heart leaping in her chest.

He nodded. “You, me, your twenty-three suitcases and Bessie on the open road. We’ll stay at B&Bs, and see everything you want to.”

Rose stared at him, nearly overwhelmed with joy at his suggestion. “That sounds wonderful,” she breathed, “but no- not everything. Let’s leave some for our next trip.”

“You like the idea?” He looked so earnest, eager to please and hopeful, her heart nearly gave out with love.

Throwing down her napkin, she stood and walked to him, settling across his lap and wrapping her arms around him. “I love the idea,” she whispered, kissing him. “Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

Like a switch had been flipped, the energy and conversation in the room changed as they started planning – Jack went running for his laptop while Sarah pulled a tablet out of her purse, and within minutes they were planning routes and must-sees, calling out suggestions of things Rose might be interested in.

Sitting back in his seat Malcolm watched Rose bounce between Sarah and Jack to hear their ideas, Ianto plugging everything into Google Maps and finding the optimal itinerary. She looked happy, her face flushed and eyes sparkling, like a general commanding her troops just as she did every year during the Gala. He’d always found that sexy, how she could be so confident and in charge when the moment called for it, despite her always fretting if she was the best person for the job.

Perhaps he was biased, but he felt she was the best person for any job, wholly capable of doing anything she set her mind to.

“Hey, Malc,” Jack called, breaking him from his reverie. “How far south do you want to go?”

Malcolm waited a beat to be sure Jack wasn’t being fresh, but when his cousin didn’t break into a smirk, he shrugged. “I was thinking of a large loop, staying just above Edinburgh and Glasgow. Going along the eastern coast, then as far down as Stirling, maybe, if she wanted to see the castle? Through the Trossachs then up to Glencoe, then out to Skye. Return to Inverness, meet someone there to take the car, and we fly home.”

Rose made a soft noise, and he grinned. “Yes, dear, we can stop by Loch Ness – even go to the museum, if you like. We’ll drive up along it from Skye.”

“Yes!” she gave a little fist pump, before blushing. “I mean, sure, that sounds fine I suppose.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a rite of passage,” Sarah said soothingly, patting her hand. “I know I had to go when I first got here – of course, I was only coming for uni, fully intending to return to London at the time. Still, I was quite excited – and I swear I saw something.”

Malcolm scoffed, rolling his eyes despite his grin. “It was probably the sleep deprivation,” he retorted. “You were the one insisting we bring the baby. Poor wee Clara cried the whole night through.”

“The whole trip through,” his friend shuddered. “Six twenty-year-olds and an infant. Two hundred kilometers each way.” Then she smiled. “It was terrible fun. God, I miss being that age.”

“Clara and I did stuff like that,” Rose grinned, sinking into the nearest chair. “Friday afternoon after our last class- or sometimes before- we’d just hop on a train and go somewhere. Rent a room for a night or two, do some exploring, then head back for Monday classes. Sometimes it was just into London – funny how you can live there your whole life and have no interest in it, then move away for uni and just to want to go explore there.”

“We only travelled as a group a few times – no money – but it was always fun,” Malcolm said. “Especially when Missy would get her nose out of joint and insist on staying home with Clara, awful as that sounds.”

Sarah, Rose, and Jack snorted as one. “We’ve all met Missy,” Jack said reassuringly. “We understand.”

Ianto looked around, uncertain. “Er, I haven’t.”

“Count your blessings,” Rose said dryly, before looking down at her list. “Right, now be honest- is there time to see all of this in the remaining week we’re off?”

Malcolm just laughed. “You know, I bet if you ask really nicely, your boss will let you take more time.”

“Is that so?” she asked, giving him that grin that always made his pants tighten – the one where her tongue gets caught between her teeth, sparking eyes laughing at him, and he would give her the world if she asked.

He just smiled back, holding her gaze, until Sarah felt the need to groan.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, get a room you two!”

“So, honestly,” Malcolm asked when they were once again alone, curled up together in their bed, bodies sated for the moment. “Is this how you’d like to spend the rest of our honeymoon?”

“What, in bed?” Rose chuckled, rolling over to face him. “No, seriously. I think this… driving tour is a brilliant idea. Just you and me, playing tourist… I mean, I wouldn’t have said no to bikinis and fruity cocktails and white sand, but yeah, this is good too.” Snuggling closer, she rested her head on his chest. “I love the idea. I’m so excited. I’m sorry to be leaving here, but… we can always come back, right?”

“As often as you like.”

She sighed in contentment, leaning forward to press her lips over his heart. “Then, often enough – at least every year or two. It’s so beautiful, and peaceful. And you might make an equestrian of me yet.”

Malcolm bit his lip, chewing over his words before tentatively offering, “You know, we can travel wherever you want. Whenever you want. I mean, much of our work at the Foundation can be done from anywhere with an internet connection. Whether that’s the Scottish Highlands or the Maldives.”

“I will take that under advisement,” Rose nodded, walking her fingers along his sternum. “How about I make a list, and you make a list, and then we’ll compare them and go from there?”

He breathed out. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Do I hear a ‘but’?”

He stayed silent, unsure if it was worth bringing up, before deciding to broach the subject from a non-direct angle. “Maybe we should expand that list not to just travel, but to… other things we may or may not want to experience together?”

“D’you mean like sex stuff?”

“No- I mean, sure, that’s fine, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.” Just say it, you coward.

She looked up at him, eyes searching his, and after a moment, she said, “If you mean babies, that is definitely happening. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t! But, I don’t want to pressure you,” he hurried to say, grateful that she had been able to read him, hadn’t made him say it. “But, yes, that is something I would like. With you. If you want.”

Shifting under the blankets, Rose clambered on top of him, straddling his waist and leaning down, kissing him slowly, decadently, the kind of kiss that lingers long after the lips part. “Like I said, definitely happening. Though, like, in a year or two, if that’s okay. I want some time to just be an us first, you know? Deal?”

“Deal.”

They sealed it with a kiss.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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lickrustdavid · 4 years

Text

Apple Juice and Graham Crackers

Rated: T for Language Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: Injury, Light Medical Talk, Mentions of Nausea and Vomiting (AO3)

It’s about half way down, a mile left, that everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Patrick doesn’t see the root this time, arched up from the ground, and he trips. Instinctively, he throws his arms out to catch himself, but the angle is wrong and it happens too fast for him to fix it. He hears a faint scream- Alexis. She tells him later it was his own.

Hiking is something that Patrick loves, he’s done it for years, and while he enjoys the outdoors and the exercise, his fiancé doesn’t. It doesn’t bother him, he understands that it’s not for everyone, and David had definitely proved that on their hike to the proposal. They’ve started closing the apothecary early on Tuesday, the least busy day of the week. Of course Patrick talked to a few customers, getting a feel for how people would react to the store being closed, which had been surprisingly well received.

It’s nice having a day that they’re not rushed to get out of bed and are able to wake up slowly, have some intimate time together. The other upside is that Patrick gets to hike. It’s a way of exercise and somewhat of a recalibration for him, leaving for a couple of hours or so, allowing David to see Stevie or his family alone. David’s made sure to be clear that he’s happy to skip the hikes, assuring Patrick he wasn’t feeling left out, and that he’d rather spend the few hours working on organizing his closet or doing extra skin care and eating pizza.

The past month though, it’s been different. Instead of hiking alone, Alexis has been accompanying him, and while at first he was unsure but still gladly willing to give it a chance, now he enjoys her company and he likes getting to build a relationship with another Rose. They’re closer in age than he and David, only by a year, but they both like to remind him, making jokes about being an old man.

This particular Tuesday, the sun is shining and it’s a nice sixty five degree day, the middle of September cooling down from the heat of summer. He and David both wake up around the same time, spending some time kissing and cuddling, savoring the time they get to spend together like this. After finishing the morning with blow jobs, they lay back against the bed, both smiling.

“That was….wow,” David breathes out, laughing a little. Patrick knows how he feels and he can’t help but lean back over, fingertips skimming the man’s skin again, pressing warm, slow kisses to his mouth, traveling down his jaw and then to his neck. “Mm, babe, we need to get up,” he reminds, but it’s breathy and high as he squirms a little.

“You’re right,” Patrick mumbles, finally pulling back after a few more kisses. “You have that thing with Stevie right? It’s further away than Elmdale?” He tries to remember, getting up and stretching, just his boxer briefs on. David allows himself to admire the view before getting up too, feeling a little grumpy for having to stop their morning.

“Mhm, it’s some…” David waves his hand, trying to remember. “Some place like an hour and a half away, I don’t really remember. It’s for the motel though, so ugh. Now I’m regretting saying yes.”

Patrick laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll have fun. You know you will, you’ll get food and you’ll gossip and be judgemental at whatever you’ll be doing,” he teases, pressing another quick kiss to his fiance’s lips before moving to change. David huffs but doesn’t say anything else as he goes to start his skincare routine. Patrick leaves sooner than David, giving him a quick kiss on the lips despite David’s noise of protest, in the middle of washing his face. “It’s not going to mess up your face David, it’s a kiss,” he laughs, kissing him one more time before leaving to go pick up Alexis.

While they drive, Alexis puts on some music from her phone, mostly songs Patrick doesn’t know, but he does get to belt Umbrella by Rihanna. Alexis records it and sends it to David, earning a reply of ‘I’m not sure if I’m scared or turned on’. They get to the mountain, both happy for some fresh air. It sometimes catches Patrick off guard, how different Alexis is to what he’d assumed she’d be like. He would have never guessed she liked hiking, but here they are, about to do a two mile hike. They walk at a good pace, definitely not leisurely strolling as they start their ascend.

“So like….is David a screamer?” Alexis asks curiously, glancing over at her soon to be brother-in-law, a sly grin appearing. It takes Patrick a minute to realize what she’s even asking and he blushes, mouth hanging open a little, trying to decide how to respond. “I mean, it’s not that embarrassing, I’m don’t want like...every detail of your sex life, because, ew. But I’ve always wanted to know.”

“I...uhm….” He debates on what to say. He knows David would be weirded out with his sister knowing, but it’s not like he hasn’t made it known to others. “Promise you won’t tell?” Patrick blushes a little and Alexis’s smile widens.

“That’s all the info I need,” she laughs, but then shakes her head. “I’m not going to tell my brother I know he screams when he has sex Patrick, I’m not that gross,” she wrinkles her nose, ponytail swishing back and forth “Besides, this is our time. Nothing gets said to anyone,” she shrugs as if it’s obvious. It’s oddly sweet.

He mutters a ‘ridiculous’ under his breath, but he’s only amused, no heat behind the word. “How are things with your business? Anything new since last week?” Patrick asks, stepping around a root that’s sticking out of the ground.

“I think I’m going to start working on a social media thing for a bar in Elmdale, they want to talk to me on Friday,” she smiles, looking excited. “I mean, they’re pretty popular, so it’ll be a bigger thing than most of the stuff I’ve done...well, if you exclude my moms stuff,” Alexis explains. Patrick gives her a high five.

“That’s awesome!! You’ll have to let us know how it goes. And no matter what we’ll take you out for drinks,” he decides, knowing they can invite Stevie too. If it all goes well, he’ll ask Mr. and Mrs. Rose too. “They’d be crazy not to hire you, you’re amazing.”

The hike continues and when they reach the top, they sit down on one of the benches to catch their breath. Alexis drinks some water and Patrick grabs a cliff bar from his bag, munching on it while looking at the scenery, even though they’ve admired it for almost two months straight. Eventually they start making their way down, passing only a couple other people, smiling to acknowledge them. Both walk past the small waterfall, happy to let the misty air cool them off a moment. It’s about half way down, a mile left, that everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Patrick doesn’t see the root this time, arched up from the ground, and he trips. Instinctively, he throws his arms out to catch himself, but the angle is wrong and it happens too fast for him to fix it. He hears a faint scream- Alexis. She tells him later it was own.

Alexis lets out a gasp and he hears an ‘oh my god, Patrick!’ but the only thing his brain can focus on is the sudden and intense pain that blooms from his wrist into his fingers and up his arm. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck….” he whines out, still on the ground. Alexis crouches down next to him, watching as he cradles his wrist to his chest, already swelling. He turns away from her, hazy but still aware of what’s about to happen and he can’t help the gag that rises from his throat, half digested cliff bar coming up.

“Okay uhm….” Alexis’s voice is panicked and shrill and he wants to comfort her but everything is muddled under the excruciating pain. He feels a hand on his back as he wipes his mouth on his right shoulder. “Let’s get to the car..” she says quickly, helping him up. Patrick stumbles a little as Alexis helps him up, directing a frown in his direction. He’s ashen-faced and nauseous, dizzy from the pain. “Do...do you think it’s broken?”

Nodding, Patrick squeezes his eyes shut tightly as another intense wave of pain rolls through his hand. “Definitely broken. Broke the same w-wrist in high school,” he clenches his jaw and continues walking down as quickly as his body will let him. They pass another person and earn a worried look but Alexis completely ignores them, focused solely on getting him to the ER. It takes almost twelve more minutes of walking before they see his car and he fumbles with his right hand, trying to get his keys out of his pocket.

“I’m driving,” Alexis says before he can ask her, taking the keys and opening and shutting the passenger door for him before getting in too. “Okay, the uh...the closest ER is Elmdale, so it’s probably like...thirty minutes from here….” she calculates as she pulls out and onto the road. Her whole body is shaking and her eyes are wide as she merges into the highway a moment later.

Holding his arm to his chest, not daring to actually touch his wrist, he turns his head to her. “I’ll be okay...I’m not dying,” Patrick promises, even if it feels like he is. The car hits a pothole and David sucks in a breath, a noise escaping his lips somewhere between a moan and a strangled cry, wrist bouncing against his chest.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” she grimaces, almost going to rub his arm but stops when she realizes that would only make it worse. The ride feels like it takes two hours, but it only takes twenty five minutes, Alexis not caring if she was going 70 in a 50 zone. Patrick’s gone deathly still and quiet, looking like someone who should be in a casket with how pale his is. It feels like his heartbeat is in his hand, throbbing every other second. He thinks this is worse than in high school, when Matt Collins shoved him onto the ice during hockey practice for not letting him score the most goals in their previous game, effectively breaking his wrist. He’d sat out six games because of him.

Alexis parks quickly right at the entrance of the ER, double glass doors opening at the motion. “Go in and I’ll be right there okay? I just need to park and I’ll be right there,” she promises. He almost tells her he can walk from where she parks, but then nausea swells in his stomach again so he gives her a tight lipped nod and gets out.

Getting to the front desk, the woman looks at him and instantly frowns. “I b-broke my wrist...uhm..” He feels nauseous again from walking and standing and talking. His color must change because suddenly she’s telling him to hold on and offering a smile, coming back a second later with a pale pink deep pan, handing it to him. Suddenly Alexis is at his side, arm on his right shoulder, looking at the nurse.

“Yeah, hi, uhm, he needs to see a doctor, like, now. His wrist is broken, and if they don’t fix it it can get messed up,” she explains to the nurse who looks at Patrick and then Alexis.

“Right..are you his wife?” She asks, making Alexis wrinkle her nose and frown.

“What? No, no, he’s my brother’s fiance, we were hiking,” Alexis looks distinctly annoyed that the woman isn’t taking him back. Patrick fumbles for his wallet, knowing everything that they need before he can even get in rotation. Pain shoots through his arm again as he jostles it.

“I h-have my insurance card,” he grits out, handing the woman the card and his license. She takes it and makes a copy, handing them the papers they need to fill out. “Alexis, can you grab that? I really need to sit down,” his voice is a little desperate and she nods, taking his cards back.

“Fill that out, bring it back up. We’ll get you in as quickly as we can. We only have one other person here for an injury, and if it’s any consolation, after seeing your wrist I’m going to let them know you need to get it looked at pronto.” The nurse smiles, making both of them feel a little better about it all.

“Thank you,” Alexis directs at her while herding Patrick into the waiting room, making sure to sit as far away from everyone else as possible. “Okay, here, I can fill it out for you,” she assures as they both drop into chairs. It takes the better part of twenty minutes for her to write down everything he says, his voice quiet and pinched. He thinks to look down at his wrist and oh. Okay. Now he understands. His wrist is bruised purple and green already, swollen completely. Patrick sees it’s not only his hand though, his pinky is swollen almost as badly as his wrist, bruised as well.

Alexis hurries back to the nurse with the paper and then sits back down next to him, looking anxious. “You’re really brave. I would have been sobbing,” she smiles at him, booping his nose. Patrick can’t help but smile back, feeling suddenly exhausted. The pain is still reverberating in his arm, aching mixed in with a sharp stinging sensation. She picks up her phone, which makes Patrick shake his head.

“Please don’t tell David yet. I...he doesn’t need to worry. I’m okay. I’ll call him after I get it wrapped up.” His voice lets on how much pain he’s in, how stressed and miserable he is, so Alexis nods and they sit there waiting.

“Patrick Brewer?” Patrick looks up, seeing a woman in dark blue scrubs with a chart at the door. He stands, feeling shaky, and then looks at Alexis.

“I’ll stay out here, no problem,” she says.

“I….would you mind...coming with me?”

Alexis’s face changes from cool to absolutely fond, lip jutting out. “Aw button, sure,” she stands too, following him back into triage. Sitting on the gurney, feeling hazy from the pain that’s not let up for over an hour, Patrick leans back, eyes shutting. He goes through the questions she asks, answering them all with a clenched jaw, breath shallow.

“Is there....can he please have like...something for the pain?” Alexis asks while it’s quiet, just the sound of the woman typing on the keyboard.

“Unfortunately we can’t give anything till the doctor sees him. It should be pretty soon though, I just need to put his info in and then we’re going to take him for an x-ray.” She assures. “Your husband will be just fine.”

“Oh we’re not together,” Alexis shakes her head.

Patrick’s taken down for an x-ray and Alexis is moved to a room a few doors down, left to bite at her thumbnail and worry about how badly Patrick’s hurt himself.

When he’s brought into the new room, Patrick feels close to throwing up again. The nurses had been gentle, but they’d still had to reposition his wrist a few times to get his bones at all angles. He really just wants to sleep. Sitting down on the gurney, he thanks the nurse as she lets them know the doctor will be in soon.

“I’m sorry….for making you do all this,” Patrick’s voice is hoarse, and his eyes open to find hers, giving her a grimace of a smile. He’s not sure how he’s going to make it up to her, but he will. Alexis looks at him like he’s crazy, shaking her head. She looks younger than she is, sitting in the black plastic chair.

“What was I going to do, leave you there? You’re basically my brother Patrick. I’ve...I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life. I mean...I have, but...recently. Like..seeing you on the ground screaming and freaking the fuck out?” She shudders a little, nose wrinkling at the memory. “Honestly I just wish I could have done more. But you’re here now and you’re going to get it fixed. And I’m going to be the first one to sign your cast,” Alexis grins, diffusing the slight anxious worry that had built up.

“Tha-” They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. A petite woman with long brown hair walks in, holding black pictures in her hand.

“You must be Patrick Brewer, nice to meet you,” she says and her voice is comforting, like she was born to be a doctor. “I’m Dr. Meyers. You must be his wife,” she turns to Alexis who shakes her head for the third time that day.

“No, he’s my brother's fiance, but we get that alot,” she smiles, looking at Patrick and rolling her eyes fondly.

“Oh! Well nice to meet you Alexis. So,” Dr. Meyers walks up to the small lightbox on the wall and puts the first x-ray up, turning it on. The photo shows Patrick’s hand with an obvious white line out of place. Patrick winces, still leaning back, afraid if he moves again he’ll throw up.

“This is what we call a distal radius fracture. It looks like you’ve had one before, from the scarring I see?” She asks, making Patrick nod.

“I played hockey in high school,” he explains, making her laugh.

“That’ll do it. It doesn’t seem to be a bad enough move for you to need surgery, but we’ll definitely be setting it and putting you in a cast. We also…” she switches the x-ray photo to the other one, a closer photo of his fingers. “..will be doing your pinky as well, as it’s a pretty clean break too.”

Patrick’s face goes blank, making Alexis frown. He doesn’t say anything, so she takes it upon herself.

“Yeah, uhm. When you say set...like..putting it in a cast?”

“Unfortunately, with breaks like these, it’s easiest to move the bone back where it needs to be, and then cast it up, so it can regrow and heal.”

Patrick almost wishes he could take a photo of her face, if it wasn’t such a serious issue and he didn’t feel like crying from all the pain he’s in.

“But like...he’ll be asleep for it,” Alexis’s mouth is drawn into a line.

“It’s fine Alexis, I know what’s going to happen,” Patrick jumps in, giving her a reassuring grimace, once again nauseous. He knows how this goes. He’ll be awake, he’ll get a numbing agent, and then he’ll endure the most unpleasurable minute of his life, he’ll probably pass out like he did in high school, get re-x rayed and then he’ll be put in a cast.

Alexis is still frowning when he looks at her, but she nods and looks back at Dr. Myers. “Can he have medicine now? The nurse said he could once he saw you,” she worries at a piece of hair, fingers playing with it as she asks.

“Of course, I’ll get the nurse to bring some in, and then we’ll be in to start.”

“Thank you,” he says to Alexis, wondering if somehow she’s his guardian angel or something.

By the time he’s had his hydrocodone tablet and the shot to numb his bone, they work on setting his wrist and finger. Alexis has to look away, and Patrick doesn’t blame her. Though it’s not extremely painful, the sensation of it, the noise and the odd tugging, makes his stomach drop, makes sweat accumulate on his upper lip and forehead. He tries to push through it, but there’s an unsettling noise and then he’s blissfully unaware of everything.

Patrick blinks his eyes, feeling like he’s underwater. Moving his eyes, he sees Alexis and a nurse looking at him, Dr . Meyers by his side with apple juice and graham crackers. “Patrick, how are you feeling?” She asks. He wants to say ‘like shit’ but decides better of it.

“Uhm...weird. I passed out,” he says knowingly, to which the woman nods.

“Yes, but we managed to get it done while you were out. We’ll be putting a cast on as soon as you have some of this to get your blood sugar up,” she explains. She raises the gurney’s back up so he doesn’t have to move positions, and then Alexis is flouncing over, holding the juice for him while he eats the cracker with his right hand. “Do you have a color preference?”

Little pieces of different colored fiberglass wrap are hanging from a string, allowing him to see all the choices. He would choose white, but that would get gross, so instead he chooses the dark blue. Alexis snorts, smiling when he looks at her. “At least it’ll go with your clothes,” she teases.

Finishing up the juice and crackers, he starts feeling a little less miserable and gross from passing out. He’s out of it from the meds, but he’s not in pain, so really it’s a win. They put the stocking net on his arm, hand and pinky fingers, wrapping it in blue casting tape, then adding another layer of wet tape. After rubbing it smoothe, Dr. Meyers smiles at him gently. “We’ll get your papers that explain how to take care of it, even though I’m sure you remember the basics. You’re welcome to go to any urgent care or come back here in 8 weeks, just bring these papers back so we know it’s time.”

As they wait, Patrick looks at Alexis, who smiles. “I’m sure David will love it,” she teases, making him smile tiredly. “Oooh, hold on,” she grabs her phone where she’s been scrolling on instagram, switching it to her camera. “I wanna take a photo of you.”

Patrick tries to give a thumbs up with his casted hand, but because of his pinky, it looks more like he’s saying ‘hang ten dudes’. His face is bleary from exhaustion, adrenaline crash and hydrocodone, but he’s got a lopsided smile on his face. The doctor walks in a minute later, handing him the discharge papers. “Alright Mr.Brewer, you are free and ready to leave. I’m giving you a prescription for a couple of pain tablets to get you through the first couple of days if needed, then you can switch over to tylenol every 8 hours,” she explains.

They leave around four, making it back to Schitt’s Creek at almost five. Patrick’s asleep in the passenger side, but Alexis wakes him up when they get into town. “Alexis, can we get lasagna?” He loves lasagna and it sounds so good.

“Yeah, we can get lasagna. How about I go into the cafe and get it, and you stay out here and rest okay? Then we can get you in bed to eat it,” she suggests.

The photo of Patrick at the hospital gets sent to David by Alexis once Patrick’s in bed. He’s changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, thankfully able to do it by himself, propped up with pillows as he devours his portion of the lasagna. Quickly after sending the first photo, Alexis snaps another photo of David, sending it as well.

Patrick’s phone is on his nightstand when it starts ringing not twenty seconds after the photos say delivered. He fumbles for it, accidentally knocking it on the floor. “Fuck.” Alexis looks at him like a wounded puppy, laughing as she grabs it for him and he unlocks it. “Hello?”

“Oh my god, Patrick. Oh my- are you okay?! What happened?” David’s voice is loud and shrill in his ears.

“I...I fell, broke my wrist and finger. Alexis took me to the ER. I’m okay now. She got me lasagna too, she’s the best David. I’m so glad I’m going to be her brother,” Patrick feels like he has no filter as he talks, but can’t be bothered. Alexis plucks the phone out of his hand.

“He’s kind of high on hydrocodone right now,” she explains to her brother.

“What the fuck does he mean he broke his wrist and finger?! What happened?!” David demands, telling Stevie to drive faster.

“He tripped on the way back down the mountain and tried to catch himself. God David it was so fucking terrifying. One second we were talking and the next he was on the ground yelling and freaking out and like oh my god his wrist looked so gross. I had to help him get to the car because we were like a mile away, and then I took him to the ER,” Alexis says almost all in one breath.

“And...and he’s okay? You were with him?” David’s voice is suddenly quiet and Alexis frowns.

“He’s okay, I promise David. He’s...tired and high on pain meds, but he’s fine. And yeah, of course I was there. I was there when they had to fucking reset his bones which was so gross I like almost stepped out of the room. He passed out but they gave him juice and crackers. He’s home now, so please come see your little button, he misses you.”

“He passed out?!”

Alexis winces at the sheer pitch of his brother's voice. “Yes David, please try to keep up. He’s fine now,” she sighs, finally getting tired from the day's adventure.

“Okay, my fiance just broke his wrist, you don’t get to be mean!”

“I was literally there with him and spent three hours in an ER David, I took care of him. Don’t be such an asshole!”

David gets quiet for a second, and Patrick chooses that moment to yell ‘I love you David’ across to the phone.

“I’ll see you soon, tell him I love him,” David’s voice shakes a little.

Thirty minutes later, Patrick and Alexis are watching Pirates of the Caribbean on the laptop, both watching solely for Will Turner. They’re almost to the part where Elizabeth requests parlay, when David walks in, looking frantic and wide eyed. They both look up from the bed, Alexis propped up on David’s pillows, the laptop in between them.

“Patrick,” David moves quickly, tense shoulders relaxing, getting to see for himself that Patrick isn’t in any worse shape. The man in question looks up and smiles, sitting a little taller. “Oh my god, how are you feeling honey?”

“Good. Kinda floaty. They gave me good medicine,” he smiles. His eyes close, tired from everything, relaxing now that David’s here.

David presses a kiss to Patrick’s lips and then raises his head to look at Alexis.

“Thank you….for today. I know I don’t say it,” David takes a breath, tears pricking at his eyes. “But I love you. And...you helped practically save my fiance today. I owe you like...ten selfish days okay? And thank you for getting him lasagna,” he adds, kissing Patrick’s head.

“...I love you too David. Thank you. And yeah, you definitely owe me at least ten. I had to rub his back while he puked from pain. Ew. But...I wouldn’t have done anything different. And how could I not get him lasagna?! He was looking at me with his cute button face!”

She gets up gently in case Patrick’s asleep, then hugs David tightly. “Also every nurse and doctor thought we were married, which was weird. Like….he’s cute but no.”

“Okay, I seem to recall you trying to flirt with him when we first met him,” David’s eyes narrow and she laughs.

“He’s literally my brother David, stop,” she gives him a disgusted look. “Oh, also,” she moves towards the door, grabbing her bag. “I stole your Stella McCartney sweater because you totally owe me,” Alexis grins and then bolts out the door. “Byee!!”

#my fic #sunshine twins

1 note · View note

beyondconfessor · 6 years

Text

Visceral

[8/20]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Sara Lance/Alex Danvers

Summary: Alex believed them to be two sides of the same coin.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Alex awoke feeling bittersweet from the dream. There was a pang in her heart for something lost, though she’d never had it to begin with. Like all the dreams of Sara, it felt something that had happened last week. Her memories didn’t slip away like a real dream, but they felt distant. The wounds in her heart didn’t.

“What’s with the face?” Winn asked.

Alex looked over at him, her mouth parting with a lie ready on her tongue, but it was as if the words turned to ash. “Just a dream.”

“Oh,” Winn said, nodding his head. “Look, I know it’s hard for you, with… And I don’t have much experience there, but…but for what it’s worth, you made the right decision.”

Alex gave an incredulous look, before the meaning of his words hit her. Maggie, she realised and fell that all too familiar feeling of longing. Maggie who had felt warm and safe. Maggie, who’d she been prepared to marry, easily. She missed her, and yet, she didn’t feel the wave of heartbreak come rolling over.

Had her heart caught up with her brain at last?

“It’s not about Maggie,” she said. “But…thank you.”

Winn showed off a smile before looking at the GPS app he had open. The highway was relatively straight and they were managing to keep out of the cities, sticking to roadside cafés for the time being. Still, they were only day one, edging on day two, and she could already tell that Winn was exhausted.

“Pull over at the next stop. I’ll take over.”

“What? No, it’s been like four hours.”

“You’re more tired than I am. The next stop is in twenty miles, just…pull over. We’ll re-fuel and stack up on coffee.”

As it was, Winn allowed her to take over, and Alex drove for another twelve hours before switching again to squeeze in more sleep. Between the both of them, Alex could fall into a deep sleep for a few hours, waking refreshed to take over and Winn could fall into a shallower one for almost six hours whilst listening to whatever playlist, podcast or audiobook he was up to, coming out of it groggy, but ready for a few more hours.

In the rest of the trip, Alex dreamt of Sara only once more. Sara was…quieter. In the dream, they drank and spoke snippets of their lives as they sat in the same room, Sara having fallen asleep at the table again –– though she assured her it that she had since slept in a bed. “More than I can say,” Alex told her.

It’d been received with a half smile, as Sara’s mind was far from present. Rather than pushing her to say what was happening, Alex poured her another drink and began telling her a story an embarrassing story about Kara recent discovery alien alcohol.

It felt like a lazy dream. One where the distant felt grander between them as whatever sat on Sara’s mind, continued to bother her.

Alex awoke as dawn was breaking. They were pulled over at a petrol station. The bright light must have awoken her, she thought, looking over to where Winn was at the counter, paying for gas. Getting out of the car, Alex stretched her legs, arching her back. Her ass was sore from sitting down for so long. She couldn’t wait to arrive at the hotel they’ll be staying at.

“You’re awake,” Winn said, handing her a coffee and a takeaway container of bacon and eggs. “Don’t worry, we’re still on schedule.”

Alex shook her head, stifling a yawn. “A meal that doesn’t come in a packet is important after so many days on the road.”

Winn nodded, taking a tomato sauce covered hot chip, and stuffing it into her mouth. “So important,” he echoed.

Alex shook her head, climbing into the driver’s seat as she took the keys from Winn. Her eyes stung from post-sleep exhaustion, but the roadside coffee, which tasted like tar, was doing a decent job of waking her up.

“How much further?” Winn turned to ask her. She looked at the maps app on her phone to see where they were at.

“Not much further. We’ll hit the border checkpoint today. Before then, we should stop and change to look like our cover.”

‘Right, husband and wife. Coming up for a wedding.”

“Exactly.” It was an easy enough cover. One that allowed Winn to shrug and play the guy who didn’t know much about anything, and gave room for Alex to lie as required. All Winn had to do was remember that his name in this was David Whyte, with her own being Rachel Whyte. They would just disappear in a sea of names with other people, dressed in bland clothes that didn’t stand out.

Alex had to forgo all her favourite jackets, sticking with a few jumpers she’d raided from Kara that would go well with a few pairs of “mum-jeans”, button up pastel shirts and sneakers. She even brought out the blonde wig to give her very image of middle-class woman who just wanted one weekend away from her kids.

Winn, however, dressed drown from his usual style, with a pair of baggy jeans, faded shoes and a plain, white medium t-shirt that he paired with a Make America Great Again cap. “No one will want to talk to me with this,” he said, pointing to his hat as he came out of the restroom. Alex noted that he’d also forgone shaving, giving an unkempt bristled look to his face that went well with his attire.

There they were, she had to admit, catching their reflection. They looked like another two middle class conservatives who thought that the world revolved around them alone.

Getting through the border was easy. They were stopped, their passports were looked at and then they were allowed through with a nod. The person’s smile seemed stiffer than Alex was used to, which was reiterated again when they checked in at their hotel a few hours later, having arrived in the city.

This wasn’t a conservative city, but Alex did notice that when people caught sight of Winn’s hat, most of them ducked their eyes away, not wanting to engage in any sort of conversation longer than necessary. A few, however, gave a small nod before moving on.

Excellent.

Alex and Winn moved their bags into the room. The bedroom, being a family room, had a king bed, kitchenette and a pull out sofa. Winn very gently requested the bed for his back, having twisted a muscle on the drive over. It didn’t bother her too much. The sofa mattress was surprisingly firm and comfortable as she tested it out for fifteen minutes as Winn set up his gear.

Alex set up her surveillance gear. They’d be relying on Merkel to get a bug in the room without the CIA knowing, but it was nothing the woman wasn’t experienced in.

“How long until they arrive?” Winn asked.

“The DEO was told to expect them tomorrow, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d be setting up base, soon,” she said. It wasn’t a hotel, like they were staying at, but rather a building marked down for demolition. Alex could already see that there workers in fluorescent yellow and orange walking around the building. It rose a red flag, as all the checks for the building should have been completed weeks ago by the construction crew and it wasn’t meant to be demolished until next week, the day after everyone was set to leave.

She watched the workers go around, some of them hanging out and chatting to one another as others moved materials around. Even with the telephonic lens she had, she could barely get a glimpse of what was going on inside the building.

However, Alex had spotted one of the side entrances they were using and had set up some of her gear to keep a watch there. After-all, they were only here as support. No doubt the DEO would be careful to watch the back entrances. But after a few minutes of watching, Alex put good money on the crew being CIA.

“So I get that we’re doing general surveillance to see if the CIA is sneaking about. But what about the take down that’s happening. How are we going to get access there?”

“You won’t,” Alex said. “I will be. J’onn gave us the blueprints of the map. We already know what the DEO will be doing, and Merkel will keep us up to date if there’s any last minute change of plans. Don’t worry about it. Go, have a shower and get some food for us.”

“I can keep watch,” he pointed out. “Besides, no offence Alex, but you’re just as much in need of a shower as I am.”

Alex knew it. She also was feeling the familiar thirst for a whiskey since it had been three days –– not including dreams –– since she’d had a drink. It’d been a while since she’d been on recon duties and had to suppress that need. She never drank on duty, she barely touched a drop while on call, but recon: endless waiting, staring, waiting, watching, waiting. Not even paperwork, just sitting still and staring through a lens…

It was meandering work at best, one she faced as someone else might have faced their tax obligations after it had built up for a few years.

“Go to the bathroom first. I’ll go in next.”

With only a brief hesitation, Winn took to the ensuite bathroom as Alex watched the alleged construction workers. They would need to get a better look. There was a coffee shop across the road on the western side that she could see. It’d be a good as place as any to get a better look.

After Winn came out, who appeared to have not taken a shower but maybe brushed his teeth or something, she took a shower and savoured the feeling of hot water and soap on her skin. Just having the shower made her feel more awake that a coffee, but nonetheless, she dressed again in her clothes, tucking her hair away in a cap before pulling the wig on. Then, she carefully applied make up until she was satisfied that no one would recognise her.

Winn did a double take at her as she came out of the bathroom whilst pulling a white, crocheted beanie onto her head for the added touch.

“You…look different as a blonde,” he said.

She smiled, feeling her lips slide against the gloss she’d applied. “Thanks David. I’m glad that you finally noticed.”

“That is…creepy. Does Kara know you can do that with your voice?”

Alex laughed, dropping her voice back to her own, natural pitch and tone. “Not really. Kara doesn’t tend to see me in any undercover roles.”

“No, that makes sense,” he said, nodding. “So, where are you off to looking like that, eh?”

Alex smiled at his attempt to dress his voice. “Coffee shop. You good to keep watch here?”

“Yep. Definitely. Bring me back one of those frappes?”

“Sure,” she said, shaking her head as she exited out of the room.

She went downstairs, exiting out of the lobby onto the street. It was a nice street, clean with a steady stream of people. There was the odd tree here and there, but mostly there were tall buildings. If Alex was to take a guess, she would say the demolitions site, only six stories tall, had been sold to some commercial entity that was looking to build taller buildings for either office spaces to lease out, or apartment complexes.

At the lights on the corner of the street, she made a small glance to crew at the site. Out the front of the demolition building there was what looked to be telecommunication engineers looking over a hole into where the fibre-optics were. Bright, yellow and black fencing was laid out around them as they dug around the telephone and internet cables, seemingly doing something.

Then, the pedestrian light flashed and she walked with the a group of others, all of them seemingly individuals in a crowd, rather than couples or groups, as they made their way to the other side of the road and then waited at the lights to get to cross over to what had been diagonal from her original lights.

She pulled out one of the burner phones J’onn have given her in a sleek, lavender case with all her undercover identity and “bank” cards that would be of no use if her phone was stolen. The ID was more for protocols. If something were to happen, even something as simple and terrible as her being hit by a car, as soon as her name was input with the DOB in her location, it would alert DEO that something had happened and they would probably need to cover it up.

The lights flashed and Alex made her way across to where the shop was. The coffee shop looked to be a small business. A quick glance over the options told her that Winn’s desired mocha frappe was not going to be an option. They were a simple place, marketing as a healthier, organic option with allergy-aware meals.

Going into the line, Alex made use of her phone by take a instagram worthy selfie to get a better look at the construction behind her. Nothing of immediate interest but she had a small view from the camera.

“Hi, how are you today?” the shop assistant asked as she arrived at the front of the line.

“Can I get two tall flat whites, full cream in both. One without sugar, one with two in a to-go cup, preferably with the takeaway holder?” She asked.

“S-sorry?” the woman said, caught off guard and having only taken down half of her order.

Alex repeated the order, slower with condescension lacing her tongue to fit in character. The woman, who had smiled so brightly in beginning, had dimmed by end of the transaction and a small pocked of guilt dripped down Alex’s throat. She wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last, rude customer. But she’d been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

It was one thing to be undercover, it was another to actually be rude to a hospitality staff member. The woman, no older than twenty-five if she had to guess, with thick rimmed glass and a round face looked as if she was regretting her own existence.

Alex remembered face-to-face customer service work; it only served to make her feel more guilty as she realised that she’d been, well, a mega-bitch as she’d once bitched about her own customers back then.

Taking out cash, she handed over the requested amount over, before then placing an additional hundred-dollar bill, out of guilt, into the tip jar and walked away to the stand where everyone else was on their phones, waiting to hear their name or order called out by the barista.

She caught a glimpse of the woman’s pleased surprise as her eye noted the dollar amount on the note, and the woman’s expression seemed much less dimmed, though it certainly wasn’t as bubbly as it had been before. And really, what was a hundred dollars going to do in the long-end?

Alex knew she shouldn’t be careless, just in case someone here, or working in the café was undercover as well, but in all honesty, at the end of the day, she felt that giving the tip was the right thing to do.

When her coffee order was called out and handed over in a cardboard takeaway box, Alex had enough information for the moment on the site. She went back to the hotel, to where Winn was and gave him his coffee. “No mocha frappe’s, sorry.”

“Worth a try,” he shrugged, taking sip of the coffee and leaning back against the couch. “What did you find out?”

Alex took a sip of her own. It was made well, good coffee beans done by an experienced hand. Much better than the tar coffee she’d had that morning.

“They’ve already set up,” Alex told him. “We can still run surveillance, but they run a tight ship. It looks like they’ve been here a few days. I don’t know how they’re covering from the original construction crew, but it’s the CIA, so who really knows what they get up to.”

Winn nodded. “They’re probably bugging us back, somehow. Isn’t that what government agencies do. bug each other as much as we do it to the international and criminal people.”

Alex frowned. “Probably,” she said, taking another sip of coffee. “Anyway, go take a shower and we’ll work out shifts.”

Winn was in the shower close to forty-five minutes before he stepped out of the bathroom, bringing in a gust of hot steam along with his very pink self. Alex had to admire his dedication to the hot water, he looked like he had a light sun burn across his skin.

“So you drove last, I slept last, so you sleep first,” Winn decided.

“I can go without sleep longer than you.”

“So your shifts can be longer, who cares. But you should try to be as regular in sleep as possible before shit goes down.”

There, Alex found her own arguments weakened. She should sleep. Keep herself at least moderately rested to face whatever challenges were thrown at them. For next half hour, they discussed a decent twenty-four hour surveillance that allowed enough time for Winn to also do his thing while Alex overlooked the construction site. Bathroom breaks were factored in, much to Winn’s instance, and times to get food since they didn’t want the hotel staff seeing the surveillance gear set up.

After making sure the Do Not Disturb sign was hung out of the room, Alex set up the sofa bed for herself and climbed into it to find, with relief, that it was actually comfortable. Within moments she had drifted into dreams, and then her dreams eventually stopped as she awoke in the room to Sara looking at her surveillance.

“Where’s Winn?”

“Who?” Sara asked, taking a peek through her scope to across the road. Unless Alex had seriously overslept, it shouldn’t be this dark. There should have still been some light out.

“You met him, in that Nazi world. He was the guy who helped us.”

“Oh, haven’t seen him,” Sarah shrugged. “Guess you didn’t dream him into the space?”

It was probable, but in Sara’s world, she’d dreamt of Amaya and Ray. Though there was a good chance that they had actually been asleep, maybe she couldn’t faction in an awake Winn.

“You do have some nice goods,” Sara said, unlatching her sniper to get a look at it. “I once owned something like this, way back in my old life, but I prefer to be up close and personal now.”

“Up close and personal gives them a chance to fight. We’re trained to shoot to kill, not to mortally wound.”

“So was I,” Sara said. Her face was still as it met Alex’s and there was something there, not quite a reflection or a mirror, but something familiar at least that made Alex realise that they weren’t all that different. Two sides of the same coin, maybe. Government agent versus assassin for hire, there was only a thin veil that really divided the two in terms of morality, Alex thought.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. Sara eased, pushing away from the sniper to stand up.

“No harm done,” she said. “I guess neither of us really know what the other’s life was like.”

For a moment, Alex felt herself about to joke about Sara sleeping inside of a mountain again, before she realised that it wasn’t the time or place. Instead she sat back, quietly watching as Sara moved around the hotel room.

“No booze?” Sara asked.

“Nope. Recon duty involves me remaining dry.”

“Lame.” Sara shut the minibar, which had its alcohol removed at Alex’s request on the drive over. She knew herself too well to allow even a price tag marked up by 300% for a bottle of wine to remain in the room when she was this bored.

Not that she found herself bored as Sara threw herself on the king-sized bed and stretched out. “Nice bed, at least.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Sara offered a smile, but there was something brittle in its appearance. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Peachy,” Sara responded.

Alex came and laid down beside Sara, folding her arms underneath her head as they both looked up at the ceiling. “How’s the whole thing with your team and Mallus?”

Sara was quite, her lips pursed as if she wanted to hold back the worlds before she looked up at Alex. “We have the death totem now,” she said.

“The death…totem?”

“Yeah, it’s like Amaya’s Spirit Totem or Zari Air one, but it can summon the dead as ghosts and, I don’t know, do all this other stuff.” There was a pained way that Sara waved her hand with a careless gesture. Alex didn’t know what to think of the totem, but she knew that something that could summon the undead was on a whole new level of dangerous.

“Can it summon anyone?” she asked.

“You got someone in particular you want to see again?”

Alex frowned, thinking back at all the people that had left her. “No. But there are enough ghosts in my head without having to be actually confronted by them.”

Sara turned, rolling over to look at her with a weak smile on her lips. “I suppose everyone has skeletons in their closest.”

“Not the way you and I do.”

Alex wasn’t a fool. She knew what an assassin for hire meant and the possibilities of such a profession. No doubt, Sara had more than one skeleton in her closet. It wasn’t something to brush past, and yet, what did it matter if Sara’s hands were covered in more blood than hers, or vice-versa. Both were still covered in blood. Neither one of them was innocent.

What mattered is who they were trying to be, now.

“Do you know the difference between an assassin and a government agent?” Alex asked.

“Is this a set up for a joke?”

“Partially.”

“One has better outfits,” Sara responded.

Alex smiled briefly, she didn’t envy the white leather, finding comfort in her uniform.“Government sanction,” she answered. “That’s the dividing veil between morality. Maybe not even morality, but at least legality. There’s a twisted dynamic of power, too.”

Sara blinked, before considering the underlying words of what she was saying. Her lips became pursed, a line forming between her brow. Alex could see that Sara wanted strike back with a defence but that she needed to consider the depth of what was being said, first. Or consider Alex’s feelings, maybe.

The thought came as Alex found their fingers wound together, unsure if she had reached out, or if Sara had herself. But suddenly, the woman was playing with her hand again, before giving it a final squeeze and pulling away.

“One day, we’ll share our stories over a bottle of whiskey in person,” Sara said, as if to say that she needed to know Alex better first before she could come to a conclusion. “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to say the same after that.”

“Maybe you’ll see it my way.”

“Maybe,” Sara said, sounding like she didn’t believe that at all.

They were from two different worlds, in more ways than one.

Alex watched as Sara closed herself off, pushing back emotionally to allow herself to rest on a bed. Then, as the quiet elongated between them, Alex snuck a look at the woman and watched her drift asleep. Sara’s face seemed to ease, as her muscles gave way to sleep, her lips parting with the exhale of a slow breath.

And then, Sara fell into her dream again and the world slipped away from Alex too, as she fell back into her dreams. They were not good dreams, they were not nonsense ones, but neither were they nightmares. Only a reminder that she had once been someone else, before Supergirl had come to the DEO, before there had been another option to all of this.

Alex awoke to the beginning of dusk, as the sky turned topaz and rose.

Winn was at the scope, looking down at the other building, muttering to himself as if he’d always been there. There was a jarring moment where Alex adjusted to this reality, before she considered her dream. Her brain had certainly been capable of drawing other individuals before, and it had no problem with Sara’s colleagues twice before.

So…what was going on there?

#alex danvers #sara lance #supergirl fanfic #legends of tomorrow fanfic #supergirl #legends of tomorrow #morgans fics

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stormears · 6 years

Text

Modern AU Sakura as a kid

A fic scene I don’t think I’m going to use, about 2.5k words long.

The fic has been stuck for years as I wrote and re-wrote the opening scene 7 or 8 times, maybe more. I just started a new one tonight, so this here is the most recent “failure” scene attempt. Never satisfied. The act of capturing all I want the scene to capture and my brain and fingers never succeeding just drains and disappoints me. The notes document I have for the story is 24 pages long and 5 years old.

This scrapped scene could just be seen as a day in the life of Modern AU Sakura when she’s about 11 years old. An immigrant in an obviously American school because it’s my choice and nyehh. She wants to be cool and accomplished and becomes a brat when even slightly ruffled or annoyed. These ideas are slightly-kinda-meh explored here, but that’s a characterization of tween Sakura I am very set on.

She’s red today, like she often is. Red is her favorite color and incorporated into many of her outfits and ideas and wants, which make up most of the things she has at this age. The day was warm, like her. It was sunny, the way she wanted it. Her mother was leaning against the top, metallic bar of a fence nearby while Tenten’s mom walked one of the horses towards her by a lead hooked to the black halter. Sakura stood on the sand, wearing one of her best red tops, hardly containing her excitement while she waited to be shown what to do.

The beast was huge. His shadow covered most of her but it was his real and physical girth that gave her shoulders that gentle rattle of fear. Sakura realized that in her attempts to learn something about horses online, she’d only learned how tall they could be compared to an adult, not a kid her size. He was fifteen hands, average, but so tall to her. He was at least an arm’s reach away but she felt his breath on her face and neck. He had dots of dark brown and white like a mocha latte mist.

“So this is Giovanni,” said Miss Ama. She was a woman with braids and boots and big hands that held the lead with easy strength Sakura knew she did not have. “You know what breed he is?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sakura said. “He’s appaloosa. He’s so pretty.”

“He’s won some awards just for being pretty,” Miss Ama said.

“Cool, he totally deserves those.”

“Let him smell you first. Then you can pet his nose, but be gentle.”

“Sakura, turn around!” called Mebuki from the fencepost. Giovanni turned his ears towards her. Mebuki’s bright blue, obnoxious camera faced them. “I’m zoomed in, I want a good photo of you all.”

“Wait till I’m touching him first!” Sakura called back and then swiftly put her attention back to the horse. Her left hand went up first and Giovanni made a few sniffing noises, but did not acknowledge her further. Sakura laid her knuckles a few inches above his nostrils and her jaw dropped a ways down. His nose was softer than ten kittens put together. Twenty feet back, the camera went clickk! And spat out a square photo immediately. And so was documented Sakura’s first experience touching a horse. Her mother had paid a suitable sum for a one-on-one visit with one of the trainers, after Tenten offered up the chance at her own family’s farm, and some videos convinced her daughter that it might actually be cool.

Miss Ama patted Giovanni’s neck and let Sakura do it, too. She told Sakura things that a novice with no experience would need to know about horses, or would find appealing. She showed her Giovanni’s shoes and how it did not hurt horses to have shoes nailed into the hooves. She fingered the bridle and the lead and showed that it gave her a means of control without harm. She pointed out withers, fetlock, forelock, croup—“top curve of the booty!”—and congratulated Sakura when she memorized and pointed the parts out herself. She wanted to walk Giovanni herself, but Miss Ama only let her walk beside her while she led Giovanni around the little paddock. Sakura kept her hands on him and felt that he was so warm and so much of him rippled and swayed beneath the skin. She understood that he weighed almost half a ton through her hands. So much of him moved underneath her touch.

“He’s so, so cool. I wish I could ride him to the fair,” she gushed. Miss Ama laughed but did not entertain that. “But just riding, period, would be great. Mom, can we come here again? For actual horseback riding?”

“We’ll see,” Mebuki replied, and her daughter scowled.

That it was an issue of safety did not occur to her, as her mother’s job set her so beyond the realm of safety that Sakura considered herself the only mentally stable person in their house. So it had to be a money problem. Those were the two chief adult concerns, but sometimes asking her parents nicely and showing them evidence that what she wanted was totally reasonable would shove those problems away. She could come back here and ride a horse if she really wanted to.

Much too soon, the walking ended and she and Giovanni were led back to the fence where Mebuki stood with her sandals half buried in dirt, and the talking started. Husbands, houses, jobs, anything except horses or cool things. Sakura gave them patience she didn’t think they deserved and when that wore out, left them. She walked around them to keep petting Giovanni, who attended to her with his ears only. She passed minutes looking at him and thinking things: he was so gentle and must be great to actually ride, he had insane hammer feet at the ends of his legs, she could ride him into a battle like a knight if she had any battles to do, and her mom as making them late for dinner. When it was done, she pet him on his nose to say goodbye, and said goodbye the regular way to Miss Ama, and asked her to say hi to Tenten, please.

The group parted. Sakura wasn’t watching Miss Ama lead Giovanni out of the paddock towards the open stable doors. She watched her mother’s car sitting on the opposite side of the gravel driveway and wished that she could drive. She opened the door as soon as the unlocking click sounded for her.

“Sooo, riding lesson?” Mebuki said, pulling gum out of her purse.

“I’m gonna need something to do this summer. Or, I mean, before summer.” Sakura stammered a bit, suddenly. Her first tactic was out of her mouth already and already unnecessary, somehow. “Wait, you mean I can do it? I can sign up?”

“Don’t see why not,” Mebuki replied. She tossed her purse to the backseat and settled herself at the wheel.

“You said ‘we’ll see’ and that means ‘no,’ most of the time.”

“We’ll see mean’s we’ll see, and now I see that I don’t see why not.”

“I’m totally signing up! I’m so telling Ino!”

“But just so you know, if you don’t like it in the end, please tell me. You don’t need to drag it out, or hide it you changed your mind, okay? You can change your mind.” Mebuki broke eye contact and pressed the backpedal, pulling the view of the farm away from them. Sakura ignored it to grin casually at her mom.

“I mean I don’t think that’ll happen, but okay.”

Sakura did tell Ino the next day. It was a Thursday, which was almost Friday, and sunny again. She rode the bus to school like always and sat with her backpack and her iPod since Kiba wasn’t there that morning to talk to her, nor Mara or Emily. Her bus mostly carried younger kids, and she was mostly past the point of relating to the third graders’ jokes and how they insipidly whined and kicked at the seats in front of them. She squeezed past two of them when the bus stopped by the front of the school.

The school was large, made of brown brick and white stone trim. There was a long lane in front of it for buses to gather in the mornings and the end of day, and stone structures above each door to shade anyone entering from heat or rain. Preschoolers dropped off for the early morning daycare dominated the playground that early, so no one else was allowed in, and any remaining children milled on the concrete outdoors or were herded away by the morning chaperones. Sakura passed all these things by and only observed the four front doors. Two young kids were going in ahead of her, and moving at half her pace, so she opened the door next to them to bypass them. One of them laughed, but she ignored him.

Inside was the main entryway and the office next to that, and then a four-way intersection of halls. She looked around.

“We’re watching Harry Potter today, and the second one tomorrow!” someone shouted in her direction, and Sakura had turned towards the voice after the first word.

She yelled back, “So what, I’ve already seen both of them! Our class gets to bring our own movies for spring break anyway.”

“No you don’t,” the boy scoffed as he neared, but he grinned at her. He slowed his pace and pivoted to face her more, but Sakura walked past him without stopping. “Hey!”

She half-turned to look at him again. “Have fun at your grandma’s! If I don’t see you at recess,” she said, and then was finished with him. She turned into her own classroom, leaving the clingy fourth-grader behind and turned to fifth-grade concerns. Ino had actually gotten here first today. She was at her seat in the second row, sitting on the desk, kicking her legs, wearing purple bracelets again. Sakura rocketed towards her. She almost flipped her backpack off her back and it and her shoulder accidentally bumped into Gina.

“I’m gonna start horse riding!” she gushed to Ino.

“You’re what?” Ino said, stopping her kicks.

“Horse. Riding,” Sakura said, emphasizing with her hands. “Hi, Gina, sorry, didn’t mean to push you—”

“Do you have like, twenty books in there?” Gina hissed, rubbing her shoulder.

Sakura eyed the not-wounded shoulder and then eyed Gina. “There’s three. And they’re small, so chill out, you’re not even hurt. I’m gonna get more horse books before school ends tomorrow, though.”

“Since when do you ride horses?” Ino asked. “Did you buy one? For real? Oh my god, is your mom gonna jump out of a plane on a horse now?”

“Oh my god! No!” she replied, but she was cackling already. “It’s not—geez—for mom! Tenten let me go to her place and she has horses. And I really loved the one that her mom showed me, so I wanna try riding, too. He was a big old guy named Giovanni, spotted all over. He was an appaloosa.”

“I thought that was a food? Like a kind of a quiche?”

“No, it’s a horse, moron!” Sakura settled on the desk opposite Ino. Her backpack was nestled in her own seat one row down. The strap with her keychain on it had flopped onto Jeremy’s desk and he shoved it off once he noticed. Sakura did not notice. “So anyway, I’m gonna be doing that for a lot of spring break, but we can still hang out most days! The latest you can do a lesson is like 5 p.m.”

“I mean I won’t hate you for it if you take pictures while you’re there. They have to be good ones. I don’t want to see you picking up its poop or whatever barn people do.”

“Gross! I’m not doing that part. They have the horse all ready for you when you get there, and I’m not gonna do the cleaning.”

“Good, I’d disown you if you came to my house smelling like poop. Anyway, my mom’s doing a flower arranging class for old people now, and she says if I help I can keep some of the tips.”

“Really? How much?”

“A lot,” Ino preened. She crossed her legs. “If I stick around for a whole class..five bucks each time.”

“Like, each week?”

“Twice a week.”

“What? That’s a whole movie ticket. Or more. Like, you’d never need to get a job.”

The bell rang, and students still in the halls outside began to move. Ino spoke over the sound, “Jobs are for old men! And barn people!”

Mrs. Eastland came up from from where she’d been talking with another student and whisked around to face the class, swirling her massive skirt. Sakura scrambled to her seat to sit at attention, Ino floated into hers, and Gina eyed them both. Mrs. Eastland bid them all to look at the board for just one math lesson before they picked the movies they’d watch for tomorrow, the day before spring break. The rest of the day moved just as it should. There was even chicken nuggets for lunch.

The hours of the day moved and then settled in the evening, when Sakura was home from school. She left her room, leaving the door open and went downstairs with the whiteboard that she kept hanging on her wall. She held it in front of her as evidence. Her mother, sitting on the couch with a magazine, doing nothing, looked like evidence, too. She approached and pushed the blank board towards her mother’s face. Mebuki did not acknowledge it.

“Who erased my board?” she said.

“Santa, probably,” her mom chose to say.

“I wrote all my spring break plans on it! I wanted to keep that!”

“It fell down when I was vacuuming in there, it got kinda scuffed on the floor. I thought you could rewrite what was on it.”

“I liked the way my handwriting looked on it,” Sakura grumbled. And glared.

Mebuki looked up from her magazine. “You do have great handwriting. Not sure where you got that from.”

“Me neither. You and dad write like serial killers. It’s embarrassing.”

“God, we do.”

“How can your customers even read what you write? Like, maybe you say a lesson cost a hundred bucks and they think it says three hundred or something?”

Her mother’s gaze returned to the magazine, and Sakura’s with it. It looked like a travel magazine, one of the nicer ones with smooth paper and wide photos taking up two pages. An outdoor market, somewhere she didn’t know. “Well, we print out the invoices, so nobody has to read my crap writing. And if that situation even happened, then they’d pay me three hundred and I’d be like, psyche, I’m keeping your money.”

“You should give some of that to me, so I can buy a magic board that keeps grownups off of my stuff.”

“I was about to put a magic spell on the oven to make it cook some shepherd’s pie.”

“Oh. Is it in there? I can turn it on.”

“It’s preheating already. Hey, come look at this. This is Santorini, Italy. Just look at this place.”

Sakura sat down, nestled her board in a crack between cushions and looked. One turn of the page showed her buildings uphill and down, red and blue and bright, sunny ocean and people and hair moved by the wind. She listened to her mother read the captions and watched her turn the page. An eye looking down through the ceiling watched her breathe.

Giovanni is a leopard appaloosa.

Thank you for reading.

#fanfiction #Sakura Haruno #Naruto #Firebreather #Well not anymore #writing

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the-captains-ayebrows · 7 years

Text

Five Verbs (3/6) - To Refuse

A/N: Heyyyy... it's been awhile. So, here's a quick recap: In our last chapter, Emma was settling in to life at the Jewel of the Range ranch. She and Killian have developed a rapport and routine, but the simmering attraction to her new boss was getting a little too much to handle. He took her into town for a night out, and as much as she tried to find someone else to help her 'scratch the itch' we all knew whose bed, er, couch she'd end up on at the end of the night. But that was just a one-time thing, right?

Spoiler alert: SMUTTY SMUT ahead. I'm not sure when an M rating turns into an E, but this might be pushing it. Saddle up.

~13K words

Catch up (or refresh your memory) on Tumblr [Ch1] [Ch 2] or AO3

To Refuse - In order to feel like you can consent, you also need to feel like you are allowed to refuse. It isn’t a matter of only saying “No”, but also “Not now,” “Not yet,” and “Not like this.” Give yourself permission to tell a friend, “I’m not ready to talk about that yet,” or, “I’ve got too much on my plate right now.” To tell your lover, “I’m not comfortable with that,” or, “Let’s try something else.” Saying no and establishing boundaries is an essential dimension in a relationship.

“Twenty minutes ‘til housekeeping. C’mon!”

Giggling girlishly, she darted inside the shabby motel room after him. Showed him the dream-catcher the previous occupants had left behind. Delighted herself in the amusement she saw in his warm brown eyes.

“Anywhere you want to go, babe. Pick a point on the map or else we’ll just keep driving until we find a home.”

She looked down at the map he dropped on the bed in front of her and felt his arms wrap around her waist, the warmth of his body soaking into her back.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Her breath hitched at the way his hand dipped dangerously low on her abdomen. “I want you, Emma. Just you.”

She wanted to look into his eyes to see the truth of his words shining back at her, but his hands began to roam her body, his tongue tantalizing the delicate skin behind her ear. She knew she should stop him, but every sensation was so new, so exciting. It felt so good to be wanted, but…

Emma furrowed her brow in confusion. His hands- they didn’t feel like she remembered. His voice was softer now. A different timbre. Her heart began to race. She couldn’t see him. She needed to see him. This was different, this wasn’t how it went.

She tried to turn in his arms, but found herself lying on her back on a couch, her head cradled on someone’s arm, hot breath on her neck. She turned her head as he raised his and saw not brown eyes, but startling crystal blue…

Emma’s eyes sprang open and she sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp, struggling to control her breathing. A dream. It was just a dream. The covers pooled around her waist, leaving her shivering as the sheen of sweat covering her body began to cool in the night air.

What the hell?

Her brain loved to torment her with her last good memory of Neal, that part was familiar enough. Her first time. The first time she ever felt free and happy and wanted. The only time she ever said ‘I love you’ to a man. The last time she let a man lie to her.

The dream always started with the good stuff and ended with her getting loaded into the back of a squad car. Funny how it sort of blurred over the little details. Like Neal stepping out to see if he can swipe a pack of cigs from the gas station on the corner and never coming back. Like the knock at the door that wasn’t him, but the police. Like the watches stashed in her bag. Emma slid her hands up over her face and into her hair, scratching at her scalp as if she could scrape the images from her head.

She huffed a sigh. As it usually did, the dream left her beating herself up with the same old questions. Were the signs there and she ignored them? Was he just that good of a liar? Maybe.

Emma flopped back down against her pillow and pulled the covers up to her chin. She’d told him about her superpower. How she could always tell when someone was lying to her if she was looking them in the eye. He’d rolled his eyes about it at the time, used to tease her about believing in magic shit like that. Funny, though, how he got less and less inclined to look her in the eye.

But what the fuck was up with tonight? Why would her sleeping mind change the ending? She rolled onto her side burrowing further under the blanket. Oh, she could think of a reason.

She sighed heavily remembering the way Killian had held her, kissed her. The way he’d looked at her afterwards. Neal had looked at her that way once. Graham, too. As much as she hated that dream, she’s glad in a way. It was a good reminder to her. Not to trust anyone. Not to get too close to anyone. They let you down or let you go. A home is for other people, not her. Emma didn’t regret last night. She just needed to remember not to let Killian get under her skin, as much for his sake as for hers. How hard could that be?

Emma glanced at the clock on her nightstand, cringing at the glowing green numbers. Too early to get up, but too late to go back to sleep. She flopped onto her side, facing away from the clock again in a childish attempt to ignore it and get at least a little bit more shut-eye, but restlessness pulled at her. Despite the softness of her bed, she couldn’t get comfortable, mentally or physically. She struggled against herself. Her mind yelled at her to shore up her defenses. Stop thinking about Killian, or at the very least remember that she’d be leaving soon. That whatever she did with him had an expiration date.

Her body, however, had other ideas. Her skin flushed at the memory of Killian’s calloused hands caressing her. Her nipples tightened at the thought of his lips and tongue pulling and teasing them. Emma allowed her fingers to trail down her stomach and slip inside her underwear, heat pooling between her legs as she indulged the fantasy. She was embarrassingly wet just from the memory of how he’d made her body feel, legs shaking even though her own hand was a poor substitute for his touch. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out his name as she came all too quickly.

By sunup, Emma was… well, freaking out might’ve been an overstatement, but not by much. She called Snow, hoping to catch her before she left for work.

As soon as Snow greeted her with a far too cheerful hello for 7:00 am, Emma launched right in. “I hooked up with Killian.”

There was a muffled coughing sound and Emma briefly wondered if she’d actually made her friend choke on her tea. “Oh! Um… why?”

“I don’t know. It’s been awhile? I was feeling good? Or actually, not good. I was kind of mad at him? But then he was all smirky and ‘you couldn’t handle it’ and I don’t know…”

“Did it mean anything?”

“No! I mean, he’s my boss and we’re friends. I guess. Sort of. It was just a hookup. Like third base, tops.”

“Okay… well, have you talked to him about it since it happened?”

“It just happened last night. And I was hoping to avoid the whole talking about it thing.”

“Uh huh. But you were hoping it would happen again.”

“Maybe. It was pretty damn great.” Emma groaned in frustration. “I don’t know.”

“Emma, you need to talk to him otherwise things are going to get weirder and weirder between you. Not to mention he’s your boss. That makes it more complicated. He could get the wrong idea about what services he’s paying you to do.”

God, that had never even occurred to Emma, but no. Killian wasn’t that guy. She wasn’t sure why she was so certain about it, but she knew it in her bones.

“No. No, it’s definitely not like that. He’s not like that.”

“You still need to talk about it like adults to make sure everyone is on the same page.”

Emma relented with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for being my mom-friend.”

“My pleasure. And Emma? It’s okay if it did mean something. You know that right?”

“Aaaannnddd then you go and ruin the moment. Talk to you later.”

--/--

Emma took a little more time than usual getting dressed after that, still turning over everything Snow had said in her mind. Her friend was just so annoyingly rational sometimes. Always trying to insist that Emma be an actual grown up. Ugh. Adulting sucked.

When she’d brushed her teeth so thoroughly her gums nearly bled and had braided and unbraided her hair four times, she couldn’t stall any longer. Emma wandered down the stairs to the kitchen hoping that maybe Killian would already be out in the barn getting ready for morning chores, but no such luck. He sat at the breakfast table, a picture of domestic tranquility complete with a half-drunk cup of coffee at his elbow and his phone in his hand, thumbing at the screen. He looked up when he heard her approach, and her step faltered.

He was wearing that t-shirt she hated. The one that had probably been navy at some point, but now was the soft grey-blue of a storm cloud. She hated the way it pulled taut across his well-toned shoulders. Hated the way it set off his eyes, the golden ring around his pupils nearly glowing against his blue irises like the sun bursting through after the rain. Hated most of all the way she wanted to rip the shirt off of him and slam his arrogant ass against a wall and find out exactly what that cluster of freckles on his neck tasted like and…

Okay, yeah. Maybe Snow has a point.

Emma didn’t even bother fixing herself a cup of coffee. She sat right down across from him at the table. Better to get this over with quickly.

She took a deep breath. “SnowsaysIhavetotalktoyou.”

Killian cocked his head to the side and set his phone down on the table. “Come again?”

Aaaand isn't that just the issue. Fuck my life. “Snow says we have to talk about the thing. That we did. That thing.”

It would have all been so much easier if his eyes didn’t twinkle at her like that.

“Ah, so you told your friend about me?” A grin tilted the corner of his mouth deepening the dimple just beside it.

“Shut up. But yes, I told my friend and she made me promise that I’d talk to you, so… yeah.”

Killian leaned back in his chair almost too casually. “There’s nothing really to talk about, love. We’re both consenting adults. We obviously have a certain chemistry. You're a red-blooded woman with needs, and I was more than happy to lend a hand as it were. Despite the well-intentioned moralizing of our best mates, I don't see anything wrong with us having a bit of fun from time to time. Do you?”

He stood, taking his mug with him, and raised a teasing eyebrow at Emma as he passed her on the way to the sink. She rolled her eyes in return, then stood and followed him. She noticed he’d used the plural ‘mates’ and the implication it carried that David had said something, too, but she couldn't even begin to deal with that thought right now. Better to stay on message.

“So you don't think it's weird at all to, you know, have sex with your boss?”

Killian placed his mug in the sink and turned to face her hitching a thumb on his belt. “Swan, if you think that was sex then the American educational system really is as questionable as they say.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Aye, that I do, and I don't mean to play word games with you, so let me be clear.” He stepped toward her looking her squarely in the eyes. “I enjoyed our dalliance very much and I’m rather certain you did, too. As I said, I think the two of us can have a lot of fun together. The other night was just a taste, and when I finally take you-”

“When?” Emma scoffed. The nerve of this guy. The gall. The-

“Yes, when. When I do, I want to take my time with you. I want to touch every inch of that creamy skin until I’ve mapped out each place that makes you moan, and oh, shall you moan, darlin’. I want to hear it.” With another swaggering step, he edged into her personal space. “I want every sigh and curse and keening until you shout my name as you come around my fingers again. Want to feel the way you squeeze me, all hot and tight and wet. But I won’t be done with you. Not by a mile.”

Emma’s breathing sped up as she swayed involuntary toward to him, the velvet purr of his voice going straight between her legs. She should stop him. Tell him to fuck off or call him an arrogant bastard or shit, do something besides lick her lips and-

“What next?” she asked, a hitch in her voice. He raised a dark eyebrow at the sound, but she pretended to ignore it.

“Next as you lay quivering, I would kiss my way down your stomach, perhaps a bite here and there. Leave my mark under one of those perfect breasts, or maybe...” One last step and they stood face to face, her feet between his. He rested his hands low on her waist, thumbs sneaking beneath the waistband of her jeans to caress the sensitive skin near the jut of her hips. “Right here. Somewhere no one else can see.”

Emma swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cant her pelvis into his touch, but he just kept talking.

“I wouldn’t taste you, not right away. I’d place a hand on each of your lovely thighs-” at this he trailed a hand down, delicately stroking her jean clad leg with the back of his fingers. “And gently work the tension out of them while spreading you wide, so I can take in the beauty of your womanhood. I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cunt, Swan, though I hardly got a proper look last night. Once I’ve looked my fill and you’re nice and relaxed, then I shall taste you. I’ll suck that sweet rosebud of a clit between my lips, and lick and nip and delve into the center of you until you’re a glorious writhing mess again and I won’t stop until you’re pulling my hair and begging me to fuck you. To fill you up over and over until I know you'll be feeling it hours later and thinking about it even longer. Those clever little fingers of yours just twitching to touch yourself at the very memory of me inside you.”

It was almost as if he knew exactly what she’d been up to in the wee hours of that very morning. Emma could feel the crimson flush extending from her hairline down her throat to her decolletage. His eyes followed it, lingering momentarily on the curve of her breasts visible at her neckline before returning his smirking gaze to her face. He paused, seeming to take a certain amount of male pride in the obvious effect his words had wrought on her. He could be as smug as he wanted, but if he bothered to check his reflection in that moment, he might have noticed that his own pupils were blown wide, eyes nearly black with desire.

Emma tried not to move under his heated stare, only carefully shifting her stance enough to give herself a teensy bit of the friction she deeply needed. This was ridiculous. At this rate they'd be literally rolling in the hay by lunchtime. But would that be so bad?

Emma stepped back far enough to get out of his reach, trying to shake herself out of the daze, but still… the man did kinda have a point. They were both grown-ass adults, perfectly capable of enjoying each other’s company without things going sideways. Well… maybe literally sideways, but that’d be something else altogether.

She crossed her arms under her breasts, taking no small amount of pleasure from the way his eyes dropped straight to her cleavage again for a moment. Guys can be so easy. She eyed him appraisingly. “Just a little fun, huh?”

He shrugged and offered her a cavalier smile. “Just a little fun.”

“There would have to be ground rules.”

Killian huffed a laugh and leaned back against the counter. “Sounding less fun now, but alright.”

“No strings. No expectations. No spending the night together afterwards.”

Killian nodded his agreement. “Fair enough. And I’ll add one more, because as you astutely pointed out, I am your boss and I don’t want there to be any question on this point. No one does anything they don’t 100% want to do.”

That was just what she needed to hear. This was definitely going to work. They were definitely on the same page. No problem. Emma smiled at him wickedly.

“So, hypothetically, what if what I want to do isn’t all that stuff you said a minute ago? What if all I want is a good hard fuck against the barn door?”

The smile that slowly spread across his face was all white teeth and dark intent - a pirate’s smile - and it sent a little thrill of anticipation through her. “Then, hypothetically, I’m at your service.”

--/--

If Emma thought there had been tension between the two of them before, it was nothing compared to the energy sizzling in the air as they went through the motions of their regular chores over the next few days. The question had changed. No more will they, won't they. The only thing left to answer was when, where and how. It felt to Emma almost like a stand-off. Neither one of them seemed to want to be the one to initiate, as if there was an implied admission in being the eager one, the one who wanted it more. Talking about wanting sex in the abstract, even sex with each other, was one thing. Actually being the first to grab onto the other and say, “I want you,” came with a certain amount of vulnerability.

What if he changes his mind? What if he doesn’t want me? What if he wants more than I can offer him? What will happen when I leave? What if-

“Swan! Shut that gate, will you?”

Emma snapped out of it and realized she’d been standing there like an idiot holding the pasture gate open long after the horses had trotted past her. She swung it closed, slamming the rusty bolt home with more force than necessary, then looked over to see Killian (and when did he become ‘Killian’ and not ‘Jones’?) swaggering up to her with that damn smirk on his face.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?”

It was easier to tease him back than admit the real cause of her distraction, so she cocked an eyebrow and put some huskiness in her voice. “Oh, you know. Just kinda tired. Someone kept me up late last night.” And there. There was the swipe of his tongue across his teeth that she was going for.

Killian ducked his head in semblance of a bow. “You’re welcome.” He turned and walked away from her, leaving Emma to roll her eyes at his back, and yeah, okay, maybe sneak a quick peek at his ass. “Now, come along, Swan. We’ve got salt licks to put out.”

With some measure of reluctance, Emma clambered into the cab of the faded blue-green Dodge. If working side-by-side this morning had her skin tingling and her mind spinning, she didn’t want to think about what sitting two feet away from him on the big broad bench seat in his pickup would do to her. Snark seemed like her best option.

“Are you sure this thing can make it off-road to where we need to go? It’s gotta be like 300.”

Cranking the ignition, Killian kept facing forward, but cut his eyes in her direction. “She’s a fair sight younger than your geriatric yellow Beetle.”

“Your truck is a ‘she’?”

“All automobiles are ‘she’s’, Swan.”

Emma crossed her arms and stared out the window. “My Beetle is non-binary, thank you very much.”

He was quiet for a minute as the truck heaved forward and began bumping along the ranch road, but soon Emma could feel his eyes on her.

“What?”

“It’s got a name, doesn’t it? Your non-binary Beetle.”

Shit. Emma kept her gaze fixed out the window and mumbled something under her breath. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed that she cared about her car. Hell, that thing had been the only home she’d had for years. It was just that this all felt a little too-

“What was that, love?”

Emma finally turned to glare at Killian, daring him to laugh. “Buttercup. It’s name is Buttercup.” Emma uncrossed her arms and gestured matter-of-factly with her left hand. “It’s yellow and I like flowers, so…”

He reached out and caught her wrist with his right hand, turning it to run his thumb over the little flower tattooed in black ink there. “So I see. Does it mean anything? Your tattoo?”

Emma gave a small laugh. Well, at least this had a safe answer even if the way he was still caressing the pulse point of her wrist felt anything but.

“Yeah, it means I was a dumb fourteen-year-old who liked flowers.”

Killian grinned as he released her wrist, and she relaxed, grinning back.

“Such rebellion in one so young.”

Emma shrugged with a wry smile. “Well, at the time it seemed like a good way to give my foster mom the finger, so…”

Emma’s smile faded as she realized what she just revealed. How the hell had that come out of her mouth? Her heart pounded and she started to retreat into herself, but Killian seemed completely unfazed by her admission.

“S’alright, Swan. I may have engaged in a bit of rebellious behavior in my youth as well.” And then he winked at her, or at least tried to wink. More sort of a semi-blink with sass, but close enough. The simple acceptance inherent in the gesture had the tension melting out of Emma’s body again.

She looked down at his hand where it curled around the the gear shift, his thumb tapping against the knob in time with some twangy country song on the radio, and for the first time she really took note of the swirls of black and red ink extending up the inside of his forearm. She’d seen the mark or part of it before, but never paid it much attention. Now she could see it was a heart with a dagger piercing it, the name “Milah” scrolled across the middle.

“Rebellious behavior, huh?” Emma tapped two fingers against Killian’s tattoo, and cracked a half smile. “Is that how you got this?”

She wasn’t sure what exactly she expected, but the sudden flash of pain and darkness that crossed his features wasn’t it.

“Aye. Something like that.” There was no rudeness to his brusque answer, but everything about his tone and body language communicated that this subject was off limits.

Emma nodded and didn’t press. If anyone could understand about having a past you didn’t want to discuss, it was her. Still, it somehow knocked a brick or two loose in her defenses that they’d now both (intentionally or otherwise) let the other peek through the keyhole in their walls. What a strange and foreign idea, that there might be someone else out there who got it.

They drove in silence for a while after that, stopping here and there to drop off a salt lick or for Emma to hop out and open a gate. It could have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. An unspoken understanding had formed that they each needed a little space, and Emma could sense Killian was as grateful for it as she was.

One more gate led them into the field where they’d released the horses that morning, but as Killian drove over the cattle guard and Emma closed the fence behind him, the truck made a sickly spluttering sound and wisps of smoke snaked out from beneath the hood. He cut the engine and jumped out of the cab.

“SHIT!” Even from several yards away, Emma could hear his tirade clear as a bell. “No. No no no no no. Don’t you do this to me, godammit.”

By the time Emma made it to his side, Killian had the hood open and was angrily swiping at his forehead with the heel of his hand. “What happened?”

“A hose blew out and sprayed coolant all over the place. Bloody hell, this is a clusterfuck.” He slammed the hood closed with a snarl.

Well, shit. Emma knew enough about engines to know that this couldn’t be fixed in the middle of a freaking pasture. She needed to get Killian focused on problem solving instead of just being pissed. “So, what do we do? I’m guessing a tow truck isn’t coming all the way out here.”

Killian roughly tugged his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to calm himself. “No, I’ll call Dave. Perhaps he can get out here with his dually and pull us into town. There’s a repair shop just down the street from Granny’s.”

“Okay. You call him, I’ll start walking. Someone’s gonna have to let him in the gate when he gets here.”

She turned to go, but quickly felt a hand on her arm spinning her back around. “Now hold on a minute, Swan. I’ll call him, sure, but I think I’ve got a better idea than walking.”

“Oh really? What, you’ve got a magic carpet in your pickup bed?”

“Darlin’, I could show you some magic in that truck bed, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. How do you feel about riding bareback?”

“Is that some kind of euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Emma rolled her eyes at him, then looked around seeing nothing but open field up to the tree line. “Wouldn’t we need a horse for that?”

In response, Killian placed the thumb and middle finger of his right hand into his mouth and blew an ear-splitting whistle.

Emma flinched at the piercing noise. “Jesus, Jones. Could you warn a person before-”

But then she heard it, a distant thrumming growing rapidly louder. The unmistakeable sound of hoofbeats approaching. She whirled around in time to see Roger break past the tree line, barreling toward them.

Killian smirked. “You were saying?”

Emma favored him with a half smile, tilting her head in acknowledgement. “Yeah, yeah. That was actually kinda cool.”

Roger slowed his pace as he got closer, finally coming to a stop next to the tailgate. Killian opened up the diamond plate steel toolbox taking up the first quarter of the bed, and retrieved a small bucket of horse treats. Roger seemed to perk up at the sight of it, but Killian held out a hand to tell him to stay put.

“Want to feed him one, Swan?”

It sunk in that Emma was about to have to crawl up on top of the large animal and hope to God he didn’t toss her off into a cow patty in just a minute. So, as much as those big blunt teeth and heavy hooves concerned her-

“Yeah. Anything to get on his good side.”

Killian held out the bucket and she gingerly picked up one of the odd-smelling nuggets.

“Just place it right in the middle of your palm and keep your hand flat.”

Emma did as instructed, slowly approaching Roger who gave her a couple of sniffs, then lowered his muzzle to her hand. He snuffled and nibbled far more gently than she would have ever guessed, and it was a strange and but not unpleasant feeling.

As Roger finished his treat, she glanced back at Killian to find him leaning against the side of the bed watching her intently. “Can I give him another?”

Killian smiled warmly at her and extended the bucket again. She took another treat and offered it to Roger. This time she expected his warm breath and tickly lips, but not-

“He’s licking me!”

Killian laughed and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Can’t say as I blame him. So, now that you two are bosom friends, what say we take a ride?”

Killian put the treat bucket back in the toolbox and grabbed an extra set of reins, clipping them onto Roger’s halter. He then pulled out his phone and made a quick call to David.

While he was busy with that, Emma wandered over to Roger’s side, petting his neck and withers. She marveled at the softness of his coat and the warmth and strength of the muscles just beneath, but soon she felt another warm body behind her. Before she could protest, Killian’s hands were at her waist, boosting her up onto Roger’s back.

She took the offered reins from his hand with a scowl. “I could’ve just used the truck’s bumper as a step.”

Probably to irritate her further, Killian did exactly that, stepping up on the bumper while holding on to the edge of the bed, then throwing a leg over Roger to seat himself right behind her.

“Aye. You could’ve, but where would be the fun in that?”

He settled in close to her, his body wrapping around hers, and Emma… had not thought this through. Killian scooted forward incrementally and gave Roger a nudge with his heels to get moving. She threaded her fingers loosely through the coarse strands of Roger’s mane to give herself something to grip. Now her ass was pressed to Killian’s groin, his chest inches from her back. Right hand on her hip, left arm circled around her to hold the reins, and just… Emma had really, really not thought this through.

If the growing tension in his body was anything to go by, Killian hadn’t either. All the energy from earlier that had dissipated in the wake of personal revelations and broken-down trucks, came rushing back. Something about the slow rolling gait of the horse beneath them and how it practically had her grinding between Killian’s legs. Something about the heat of him against her back, or the way his hand was gradually inching from her hip to splay across her abdomen. It made Emma’s pulse accelerate and her breathing shallow, a flicker of heat igniting inside her.

For a moment, Killian shifted back away from her, his hand suddenly absent from her side. It took a second to click in her mind what he was doing. She had a quick flash of insecurity before, oh… okay. Well, that was interesting. Pressed intimately together once more, she now very obviously felt the proof of her effect on him. With a little self-satisfied smile, she leaned back rocking her hips into his lap to feel his hardening length against her ass.

“Careful there, love. A man could suffocate in all that blond hair of yours.”

Trying to keep the mood light, Emma gathered her hair to one shoulder. She pulled aside her shirt collar and cast a teasing glance back at him. “Better?”

A moment of hesitation passed, another flash of oh-my-god-what-am-I-doing, but before she could laugh her implied offer off as a joke, Killian nuzzled into her neck, his warm breath making her shiver. His lips soon followed, kissing a slow, lazy path up behind her ear, each touch of his mouth tingling and stoking a growing desire within her.

Emma tightened her grip on Roger’s mane, keeping her voice as level as possible. “Eyes on the road, cowboy.” This was getting quickly out of hand, but damn if he kept kissing her like that, she might not mind if it did.

She felt Killian shrug behind her. “Roger knows where he’s going.” He traced just the tip of his tongue along the ridge of her ear making her skin prickle with goosebumps, then he leaned around to catch her eye. Her neck was immediately unhappy at the absence of his lips. “Unless you want me to stop?”

Nope. No, don’t stop. Stopping is bad. Wait, Emma. Be cool. She attempted a wry smirk. “I didn’t say that. But just…”

He resumed nibbling and sucking at her neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her forget why she was trying to argue with him. God, he felt good. There was nothing wrong with feeling good for a little while, was there?

Roger twitched underneath them, probably shaking off a fly, but the movement helped ground Emma to the here and now. As much as they’d agreed to the occasional ‘fun’, she had to keep her wits about her. “Is this safe?”

She felt the scratch of Killian’s stubble as he smiled against her skin. “There is nothing about you that is safe, Emma Swan.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and Emma forced a laugh, one last pretense that she had any kind of upper hand. Whatever. He had the hard-on first. I’m counting it as him caving.

“I meant, are we gonna fall off the horse, smartass.”

Killian tightened his arm around her in response, pulling her impossibly closer. Upper hand? Lower hand? The only hand she cared about in that moment was his on her body. She felt every lean muscle of his torso pressed to her back, the swell of his bicep against her ribs. He raised his head to whisper in her ear, his thumb grazing torturously back and forth against the underside of her breast. “You don’t think these arms can hold you? Don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t let you fall.”

Emma was glad she couldn’t see Killian’s face in that moment. It allowed her to willfully take his words at face value. No good would come of reading anything into them. Into this. Don’t think. Just let go. All she let herself think about was how much she wanted him to move his damn hand a little bit further. North or south, she didn’t care which.

As if reading her mind, he slid his hand up to fully cup her breast and at the same moment bit down sharply at the junction between her neck and shoulder. Emma moaned aloud, a spike of pleasure jolting her system, but Killian calmly shushed her. He gestured with the hand holding the reins toward Roger’s ears which were flicking back and forth.

“Now see that?” he purred in her ear, “That’s where we might get in trouble. He doesn’t care for loud noises, so I’ll need you to be nice and quiet for us.” His hand remained at her breast, alternately massaging and teasing her hardening nipple with his thumb. “Do you think you can do that, love?”

Emma pressed her lips together, stifling the dirty sounds threatening to spill from her lips, and nodded quickly. Heat swirled and bloomed at her core, and she arched her back pushing her chest into his hand, wordlessly begging for more.

Killian hummed low in the back of his throat, moving his hand to undo a couple of buttons on her shirt. “That’s a good girl.”

He slipped his rough, calloused fingers inside the placket of her shirt and under the thin cotton cup of her bra. Mmm.. yeah. Keep going, she thought over and over, softly humming in pleasure. She bit her lip hard, letting her head drop back against Killian’s shoulder as he continued to caress and knead her. He rolled the stiff peak of her nipple between his fingers, every touch going straight to her clit.

The seam of her jeans pressed too hard against her oversensitive core, the rocking movement of the horse beneath her only worsening the throbbing ache between her spread legs. This wasn’t the friction she wanted. No, needed.

“I- I need…” she breathed, tugging at his wrist to stop his ministrations. It took every ounce of her concentration to remember how to work the zipper on her jeans, distracted as she was by the way his hand now rubbed up and down her thigh. Taking him by the wrist again, she moved his hand low on her stomach, hoping he’d take the hint from there.

A deep rumble of laughter shook his chest, then slowly, one fingertip at at time, he slipped his hand into her underwear. Her hips rolled forward toward his touch, and she snaked one arm up to cup the back of his neck, needing something, anything to ground herself.

He groaned against her shoulder at the first brush of his fingers against her sex. “You’re a bloody marvel.” He murmured gently as he began to stroke her, and Emma closed her eyes, surrendering to her body’s wants. “So wet and responsive. I like you like this, Swan. All wanton and needy. Do you want to come like this, darlin’?”

Between shallow breaths, Emma nodded. “Yes.”

His fingers moved more quickly, one sliding easily inside of her. “Come on now, love, I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”

Talking was the last thing on Emma’s mind and she’d probably have been furious with him if he didn’t feel so fucking good. “I want you to make me come. Right now. I need you to-”

He curled his finger inside her, hitting just the right spot and Emma was practically whining now. “I need you to keep touching me.”

“Good. So very, very good. God, you feel like heaven.” He added a second finger, stroking hard and fast and it was all Emma could do not to buck her hips and fuck herself on his fingers. “Come for me, love. I’ve got you.”

And that was all it took to send her over the edge. Emma’s world shattered and rebuilt itself as Killian slowly wound her down, her body going limp in his arms. He kissed her softly on the cheek as she came back to herself, the gesture sweet and almost chaste. Completely at odds with his dirty talk only moments ago. In fact, neither of them seemed keen on speaking, simply resting against each other. He pulled his hand back from her soaked underwear, but left it draped lightly across her lap.

Emma felt him raise his head and his back straighten. She hadn’t actually looked around since, well, since he started kissing her neck, and she was surprised to see they were almost back to the barn. As amazing and boneless as she felt (and a little awkward because holy shit I just got felt up on horseback), there was still a pleasant buzz of arousal stirring in her veins. Twice now, Killian had taken care of her needs, and today just like before, he seemed to not ask for anything in return. She appreciated that more than she cared to express. But… maybe she wanted to do something for him.

Just before he swung himself down off Roger’s back, he leaned down to speak in her ear. “Enjoy the ride, darlin’?”

Arrogant, twinkly-eyed bastard.

Emma rolled her eyes and zipped her jeans. Okay, maybe it wasn’t only for him. Maybe twice now, she’d felt his hard length pressed against her and she wanted to see for herself what he was working with. If the cock matched the cockiness. Maybe she wanted to see if she could render that filthy mouth speechless. Something like that.

She allowed him to help her dismount, hoping the wicked ideas in her head didn’t show on her face. She looked over at the barn, particularly the sturdy metal door, and remembered the saucy comment she’d made to him that morning. Oh, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. But was there time?

“How long ago did you call David?” she asked casually.

Killian pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “About twenty minutes ago. No worries, Swan. He ought to be here in another fifteen.”

“That’ll work.”

Before he could so much as raise an eyebrow in question, she grabbed his hand and drug him into the barn.

“Swan, what are-”

She shoved his back against the door, enjoying the resonant clang of his body hitting the corrugated metal, and swallowed his surprised “oof” as she kissed him hard. It didn’t take him long to respond by wrapping his arms around her until her body was plastered against his. Graceless and a little rough, they scrambled to get closer, for more contact. Her fingers found their way into his hair and pulled a little harder than necessary, angling his head to deepen the kiss. She could feel his growl of approval reverberating through her own chest.

Emma broke the kiss and grinned mischievously, licking her lips to catch a last little taste of him. He already looked properly fucked, hair standing on end, lips reddened, eyes dark and a little glazed, but she wasn’t done with him yet.

His handsome features shifted into his usual smirk. “Still hungry are we?”

He began to lean back in for more, but Emma pulled away, running her hands down his chest to hold him in place. She tilted her head as her hands reached his belt. “Interesting choice of words.”

Emma worked the buckle open and dropped to her knees on the dusty floor, the bulge of his arousal now right at her eye level. It thrilled her, knowing she had done that to him. Seeing how much he wanted her. She made quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans, but then felt his hand cup her face, raising her chin to look up at him.

All amusement had gone from his eyes. “Swan, you don’t have to-”

“Do anything I don’t want to do? I know. This isn’t tit for tat, Jones.” She raised an eyebrow in imitation of his smirk. “Maybe I want to show off a little.”

That did it. The twinkle was back in his eyes. Grinning wickedly, he raised his hands in surrender. “If the lady insists.”

“The lady does,” she said with a sly smile, sliding her hands inside his open zipper and over his lean hips. “Now be a good boy and hold still a sec.”

He inclined his head in imitation of a bow. “Yes, ma’am.”

Still trying to get in the last word, huh? We’ll see about that...She hooked her fingers over the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs and lowered them along with his jeans down to mid-thigh. His cock bobbed free and Emma took a few moments to appreciate the sight. Long and thick, but not so big it’d make a girl gag. Straight and pink and hard and straining just for her. Not that she considered herself a connoisseur exactly, but damn, it was a nice dick.

She smoothed her hands up the coarse hair on his thighs, and gave his ass a playful squeeze, knowing full well the warmth of her breath was teasing his tip. He gripped the wooden crossbeam behind him to brace himself.

Emma looked up at him through her eyelashes and pursed her lips in consideration. He was nearly panting with anticipation, conspicuously silent as he stared down at her with lust blackened eyes. She pulled the hair elastic off her wrist and sat back on her heels, quickly tying her long hair back. “I figure you’re the kind of guy that likes to watch.”

She raised up again and took him in hand, licking a hot stripe up the pulsing vein all the way to the tip. The sound he made in response was absolutely obscene, if not articulate, and she watched a small tremor shake his body. Now that’s much better. Oh yeah, she could get used to this.

Gently stroking his shaft, Emma made eye contact with him again. Though she was the one about to get a mouthful, he was licking his lips, struggling to keep his eyes open as she pleasured him. She toyed with her hair using her free hand and smiled at him sweetly. “Don’t be afraid to, you know…” She tugged twice on the end of her ponytail. “Really get into it.”

And that was the last bit of warning he got before Emma took him into her mouth.

She worked him over root to tip slowly at first, licking and sucking, a little graze of her teeth every so often. When she wasn’t using one or the other to pump his shaft, her hands roamed freely. Groping his ass, the hard muscle of his thighs, even delving up under his shirt to feel the way his abs flexed and quivered.

He rocked his pelvis toward her mouth, the small rutting movement and his white knuckled grip on the crossbeam evidence of his struggle to maintain his restraint. God, the sounds he made, though. She’d actually done it. Reduced him to nothing more than animalistic grunts and groans interspersed with steady stream of incoherent gibberish that was probably supposed to be words. The occasional ‘bloody hell’. It made her feel powerful. Alive. Not to mention more than a little aroused.

Emma pulled back slightly, keeping her fingers wrapped around his shaft and only delicately licking the head of his cock, so she could get a good look at him and evaluate her progress. “Wrecked” was a cliche, but honestly the only word for it. His face and neck were flushed and blotchy, his eyes rolled back in his head, lips parted on a pained moan. He looked vulnerable and gorgeous, completely at her mercy. His hips now bucked away from the door, pleading for her to take him in again.

When he opened his eyes to look down at her, they were crinkled at the corners with the strain of chasing an orgasm just out of reach. “Swan, you are an absolute goddess.”

She could tease him, keep him on edge a little longer, but no. She wanted to see him fall apart for her. The goddess would be merciful. One corner of her lips curled up in a wry smile.

“You’re damn right. Now show me what you like.”

She reached for his hand with her free one and placed it on the back of her head. He took her lead and grabbed hold of her ponytail, using it to angle her head as she took him once more into her mouth. She hummed around his cock, savoring the silky hardness and they both moaned. He started out tugging at her hair gently at first, but when she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, his control finally snapped. He set a faster pace, and she moaned around him again, his desperation for her the ultimate turn on. She kept one hand at his base to keep him from fucking her mouth too deeply, and used it to twist and squeeze his shaft whenever she had a chance.

Her eyes were closed by now, but she felt him widen his stance and she knew he was close. She hollowed her cheeks again, laving at him with each dip of her head until his whole body shuddered, and he came with a groan. Her mouth filled with his salty release, and she carefully licked him clean.

As his breathing finally slowed, he slumped back against the door, but held his hand down to help her stand. Emma took it and let him pull her up, her own legs almost as shaky as his. He was smiling at her, broad and unrestrained. Dopey, happy, sleepy, a little bashful. That was what? Four out of seven dwarves in one stupid smile? Emma had used quite a few words to describe Killian Jones over the last few months, but here in his post orgasmic haze, she had one she’d never used before. Adorable. What an odd thought.

“We should…” He gestured vaguely between them with one hand. “Dave’ll be here soon.” He hitched his pants back up and fastened his belt as Emma straightened her own clothes. Once they were both set to rights again, he reached out to her. “Come here.”

She placed her hand in his and let him draw her into him. One last kiss. Tender and gentle this time and if he tasted himself on her tongue, he sure didn’t seem to mind. In fact he looked kind of… she couldn’t think of the word. Her own insides felt a little funny, too, if she were being honest with herself, but that was probably just leftover adrenaline and arousal.

Killian opened his mouth to speak, but as if on cue, the sound of a diesel engine clattered up the driveway. They sprang apart like guilty teenagers, and Emma yanked the elastic from her ponytail, fruitlessly trying to make her hair look less ravaged. Killian’s hand found it’s usual itchy spot on the back of his neck. When he finally faced Emma again, his eyes widened.

“You’ve, erm…” He gingerly cupped her cheek, thumbing at the dimple in her chin before dropping his hand. “I seem to have scruffed you up a bit.”

Emma put a hand on her face where she could feel the traces of beard burn still tingling slightly. Shit.

“Right. Um, I’ll just…” She pointed her finger but couldn’t remember which direction the house even was at the moment. “I’ll just go freshen up. I’ll open the gate on the way to the house. You and David can pick me up before you head into town.”

At that, Emma practically ran out of the barn. She wasn’t sure if she was running from Killian or to keep their dalliance a secret from their friend, which was stupid either way because this was exactly what she and Killian had agreed to and it didn’t mean anything and David probably already knew that they had... dallied or whatever. But, it seemed really, really important that she get out of there right that second.

Back in the safety of her own private bathroom, she stared at herself in the reflection of her mirror, her fingers tracing the red patches on her chin and neck. Fuckstruck. The word she’d been searching for earlier, the word that described the look in Killian’s eyes after that last kiss. It was fuckstruck. And dammit if she didn’t look the same.

--/--

Two weeks. It had been more than two fucking weeks. No, make that two decidedly NOT fucking weeks. What the hell?

Emma half expected after their performance in the barn (and on the horse, geez she couldn’t look Roger in the eye for days), that life at the Jewel would turn into some sort of pornographic montage of her and Killian banging on every available surface. And it did… sort of. They did stuff. Really, really good stuff. They just didn’t do it.

Starting the morning Killian’s truck broke down, at least once a day one of them snapped and couldn’t keep his or her hands off the other a second longer. One minute, they’d be mucking out stalls and the next, Emma’s ass was on a square bale with Killian between her legs, grinding her into ecstasy while he whispered sweet, filthy nothings in her ear. Or he’d be innocently standing at the kitchen island pouring a bowl of cereal, and before he could reach for a spoon, Emma’s hand was down the front of his pajama pants, stroking his hardening cock until he completely forgot about breakfast. Or something as simple as him grabbing her hand and pulling her into a corner to kiss her within an inch of her life. As soon as they broke for breath, he’d walk away with smirking lips and teasing eyes, leaving her wet and wanting for hours (the rat bastard), but he always finished what he started sooner or later.

Oh, yeah. Each and every instance ended happily for one or both of them. It just didn’t end in sex. They sort of came and went, so to speak. Right back to business as usual. They didn’t talk about it, but they didn’t not talk about it either. They teased, they argued. He made ridiculous innuendo, and Emma rolled her eyes. Life was exactly the same as before their agreement, just with sporadic orgasms. Perfect. Simple. Never weird. Just what she wanted.

Emma was about to lose her fucking mind.

Their dalliances or trysts or whatever the hell fancy name Killian had for it happened frequently enough to take the edge off of the sexual tension between them (he was right, they did have a certain chemistry), but seriously - why hadn’t they had sex yet?

She hadn’t tried to push the issue one way or another. Neither had he. But he wanted it, right? Eventually? She wanted it. She was almost definitely sure she wanted it. In theory.

The one time she actually thought they were going to do it, fate had had other plans. That morning Emma sat at the kitchen table, watching Killian cook. God knows what he was making. Pancakes? Bacon? She didn’t care, because he looked so damn edible. Extra scruffy, extra disheveled. Wearing those sweatpants that hung off his hips and showed every flex of his ass when he shifted his weight, to say nothing of the front view. Yep, she’d get quite an eyeful if he turned around, but it wasn’t her eyes that she wanted him to fill.

Abandoning her coffee mug on the table, Emma snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, fingers creeping under the hem of his t-shirt. She pressed herself to his back, and he hummed appreciatively. Taking that as a go-ahead, she let her hands wander up the trail of hair on his stomach, coarse strands slipping through her fingers until she felt him twitch.

“Careful there, Swan, I’m a bit ticklish. You’ll make me ruin the pancakes.” If he meant his tone to be chiding, he’d failed. It sounded more like a challenge to her.

Emma extracted one hand from his shirt and reached past him to turn off the stove. “To hell with the pancakes.” He must’ve agreed because in seconds, he’d backed her against the kitchen table, plundering her mouth hungrily as if she were on the breakfast menu.

With her clinging fiercely to his shoulders, he reached beneath her thighs and lifted her onto the tabletop, never breaking their kiss and oh, God. This was it. This was finally it. Just a few thin pieces of clothing between them, none of which were doing anything to hide his arousal or hers. Her underwear were soaked. If he rutted into her any harder, they’d be testing the efficacy of cotton as a condom. It wouldn’t take much and he’d be inside her. Untie his drawstring pants, shove her ruined panties to the side and then-

“Hey, Jones! I talked to Billy at the garage this morning. Your truck will be-”

Emma froze. She hadn’t heard the door open. This was - it was - oh, shit. David looked as freaked out as she felt.

“I’m interrupting something.” Stating the obvious seemed to be all he was capable of at that moment.

Killian not so discreetly adjusted himself and glared at his friend over his shoulder. “Very perceptive, mate.”

David coughed, looking everywhere around the kitchen but at the two guilty parties at the table. “I’ll just, uh… come back later.”

Blushing redder than she’d ever felt herself blush in her life, Emma scrambled down from the table. “No, no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll, um…” she shoved her hair behind her ears. “I’ll just go take a shower.” And at that she’d scurried away with David’s embarrassed tone and Killian’s irritated one as the soundtrack of her retreat.

That was about a week ago.

Their after-dark activities had changed, too. They never fooled around at night. It kept the whole ‘sleeping over’ issue from ever arising, so that was good, she guessed. After dinner, instead of making out hot and heavy on the couch, they binge watched whatever new series had recently come out on Netflix. Who knew they had broadband streaming way the hell out in the desert?

Sometimes when they hung out in the living room after dinner, he’d sling an arm across the back of the couch and she’d kind of lean on him while they watched TV. She only did that because he was warm. Like human radiator warm. Emma had always been kind of cold natured, that was all. No big deal.

And sometimes at night, instead of taking a drink up to the widow’s walk like she used to, she’d pour two glasses of rum and sit with him in the porch swing. Why shouldn’t she? He already more or less told her he knew she was drinking his liquor, so no sense in hiding. True, the nights were getting colder as October turned to November, but it was peaceful outside and it gave her an excuse to bring her favorite old red leather jacket out of summer hiatus. The gentle rocking of the swing, Killian’s soft voice humming those old country songs, the absolute stillness that came from being so far removed from ‘civilization’… She could close her eyes and imagine that she was gliding along on ocean waves, the creaking wooden swing beneath her a ship in the middle of a vast sea. No worries, no troubles. It relaxed her. Kept the ghosts away. It’s not like she and Killian were sitting there pouring out their darkest secrets to each other. They barely spoke, really. She just slept better those nights. That’s all.

It surprised Emma, how okay she was with the friend-y type stuff. It was nice. Companionable. It seemed like a million years since she’d just hung out with a guy. Not since… anyway, it was nice. Emma loved Snow to death, but she could get a little smothery and bossy, and Killian never did that. He was simply there with a dirty joke or a casual touch. Or a less than casual touch. Not that she and Killian were friends exactly. Were they? Would it be terrible if they were?

Then morning would come and he’d look at her with the devil in his eyes and a promise in the way his tongue traced the corner of his mouth and yes. Yes, it would be terrible. They had an arrangement. The last thing either of them needed was to get… confused.

Fuck, maybe she’s already confused. Or just really, really needed for them to close the deal. Uninterrupted.

“Girl, where even are you?”

Emma blinked at the sound of Ruby’s voice and shook her head, realizing she’d been staring at a box of oatmeal for way too long to be normal. It was Saturday morning. Emma and Killian had come to town for their weekly supply run and Emma had bumped into Ruby at the grocery store. As nice as it was to have someone who wasn’t Killian to talk to, Emma couldn’t seem to keep her mind from wandering.

“What? Sorry, I kind of clocked out for a second. Guess I need another cup of coffee.”

Ruby gave her a skeptical look, but didn’t press. “Well, what I was saying before you got lost in your own head was that I think you need a break, and clearly I’m right. So, how about you meet Dorothy and me tonight at the Rabbit Hole? A little girls’ night out might do you some good.”

“Wouldn’t I be a third wheel?”

“Not at all! It’ll be fun. I promise.” Ruby paused, eyeing her appraisingly. “That is, unless you and Killian have plans?”

Emma’s eyes widened and she clamped her mouth closed to keep from gaping. “Did David tell you-”

“That he walked in on you two having breakfast? Don’t worry, he’s not gossiping all over town. He came into the diner looking shellshocked and I wheedled it out of him.”

Emma breathed a sigh of relief as Ruby continued. “That said, I do have eyes, you know. I’ve noticed how close you and Killian seem to be getting.”

“No. No, nothing like that. We’re just…” Emma tried her best to muster a casual shrug. “Having a little fun together.”

“Then he can spare you for one night. You in?”

Emma chewed on her lip as she considered the offer. Maybe Ruby was right. Maybe she did need a break from the Jewel and Killian Jones. “I’m in.”

“Perfect. We’ll meet you at 9. Wear something you can dance in!”

--/--

Emma flopped into her seat and lifted her sweaty hair, fanning at the back of her neck with her other hand. Ruby sure as shit hadn’t been kidding about the dancing. She’d tried to heed Ruby’s advice, opting for lower-heeled boots, comfortable but form-fitting jeans and a paper thin white top. Even so, her feet were screaming and she probably looked like a hot mess. But, God it felt good to let loose for a while. ‘Girl time’ was not something her life on the road typically allowed, and tonight reminded her how much she missed it. Maybe she should call Snow tomorrow?

Dorothy sat down to Emma’s right, raising her face to accept a smacking kiss from Ruby who then took a seat across from Emma. Their waitress stopped by to take drink orders, and Emma asked for an ice water this time. She felt the perfect level of buzzed at the moment and just needed something to cool her off a little.

“So was I right, or was I right?” Ruby began without preamble.

Emma smiled. “You were right. I needed this. I can’t remember the last time I had a Girls’ Night Out.”

“Well that’s a shame. Are you from one of those little Bible belt towns where dancing is illegal or something?” Dorothy said it as a joke, but something in Emma’s expression must’ve given her pause. She furrowed her brow. “Wait, you’re not, are you?”

Ruby leaned forward, loosely crossing her arms on the table. “Yeah, where are you from, Emma? I feel like I don’t know much about you besides your dancing skills and the fact that you’ve managed to wrap Killian Jones around your little finger.”

Emma felt her face immediately go red. “I do not have Kil-”

Ruby waved a hand to interrupt Emma’s stammering answer. “Nevermind. Forget about him for now. Tell us about you. What’s your story?”

Emma huffed an awkward laugh. This subject wasn’t any better, but from years of practice she had plenty of non-answers at the ready. “Well, I’m not a character from Footloose, that’s for sure.” That got a laugh from Dorothy and Ruby, and Emma relaxed slightly. “I just travel around a lot. I like the freedom of life on the road. Seeing the world and all that.”

Dorothy raised an eyebrow. “Most people who want to see the world end up in Rome or Paris, not Storybrooke.”

Emma smiled ruefully. “Yeah, well, that would require two things I don’t have: money and a passport.”

Ruby nodded. “I hear ya. I actually did some road-tripping myself for a while. I’d never been anywhere outside Storybrooke and Granny is kind of overprotective and one day I just snapped. I had to get out. I only made it as far as Kansas before I ran out of money.”

Dorothy smiled warmly and reached out to lace her fingers through Ruby’s. “And am I ever glad you did. I found this leggy brunette stranded on the side of the road, lipstick as red as her broken down Mustang and I haven’t had a quiet moment since.”

Ruby swatted at her girlfriend’s arm. “Shut up. You love me.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“So that’s how you guys met. How’d you end up back here?” Emma asked, genuinely curious. “You’re obviously not in Kansas anymore.”

Ruby and Dorothy shared a look, then both turned back to Emma. “Well, it took her awhile, but Dorothy finally convinced me there’s no place like home.”

“I’d lost my Auntie Em to a tornado a year or so before Ruby showed up, and I’d never really felt like I fit into that town. But Ruby, she had her Granny and a family business and friends - well, everything I wished I had. She’d had a pretty big fight with Granny before she left. All I did was talk her into calling Granny. Ruby’s heart knew where it’s home was.” Dorothy turned to look Ruby in the eyes. “So did mine.” She ended the story with a soft kiss to Ruby’s lips.

Ruby pulled back, thumbing discreetly under her eyes. “Now stop. You know you’re not allowed to mess up my makeup until we get home later.”

“Okay, now I’m feeling like the third wheel, you guys,” Emma teased, her smile lingering. They were so sweet together. She was happy for them, of course, but somehow watching the couple filled her with a longing she couldn’t explain. She took a deep breath and wiggled her toes under the table. “I think my feet have recovered for now. How about some more dancing?”

About half a dozen songs later, Emma excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, and Ruby tagged along after her. As Emma stood in front of the mirror trying to scrape her hair into some kind of updo to keep it off her neck, she noticed Ruby giving her a side-eye.

“What?”

“So you and Killian...”

“We’re just having some fun.”

“So you’ve said. A couple of times now.”

Emma scrunched up her face. This was not a conversation she wanted to have ever, much less in a public bathroom. “Ruby...”

“I mean, I get it. There’s not much to do in this town for fun besides drink and fuck.”

The thought popped into Emma’s mind - not for the first time - and the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Have you guys ever- I mean, have you and Killian-”

“Done the do? No.” Ruby shook her head. “Can’t say I’ve never thought about it, but no. Killian was with someone when I met him, then after that…” Ruby paused, searching for the right word. “ended, he wasn’t interested in much of anything for a long time. Somewhere in there I met Dorothy, and she’s the love of my life. But Emma? Be careful with Killian. I like you. I really do, but he’s probably my best friend in the world besides Dorothy and if you hurt him, I’ll have to rip your throat out.”

Emma raised her eyebrows in confusion. Why on earth was Ruby giving her the protective best friend speech? “You say that like he’s delicate or something.”

Ruby laughed, her posture relaxing a little. “Delicate is not the word I would use. He’s just had it rough. But…” She pursed her lips, eyeing Emma appraisingly. “Something tells me you have, too. Hell, maybe you’ll be good for each other. Shake each other up a little bit. Get him to stop hiding out on that damn ranch.”

That caught Emma’s attention. “Hiding?” She remembered the tattoo on Killian’s arm. How it seemed to be a memento of a painful past. “Ruby, what happened to him?”

Ruby sighed. “That’s not my story to tell. It’s just- it’s good to see him opening up to someone again. Now come on. Enough serious talk. One more dance before last call.”

--/--

By the time Emma climbed into her Bug to drive home, the buzz of a few whiskey sours had long since faded. Her ears still rang a little bit from the combined decibel level of a raucous crowd and blaring music, but it wasn’t enough to keep the silence of the drive home from pressing in on her. It was easier at the bar not to think, to stay distracted. Here alone in the dark, her mind kept replaying the things Ruby told her.

Hiding out on that damn ranch… He’s had it rough… He was with someone when we met, but after that ended…

His tattoo. Milah. It had to be what Ruby was talking about. Emma knew Killian had ghosts of his own. She still didn’t know his story, but she was beginning to understand. Ever since she met him, she’d felt some kind of connection to him. She spent a lot of time and energy trying to convince herself it was only a physical attraction, but there was exactly enough whiskey left in her system for her to call out her own bullshit. To be honest enough to admit to herself that the connection ran deeper than that.

...the fact that you’ve managed to wrap Killian Jones around your little finger…

Nope. That was too much. Too far. Even if Emma believed that, she wasn’t ready to think about it. But maybe she could admit that she and Killian had a something. That they understood each other. That was enough honesty for tonight.

Emma parked her car behind the house. Killian had kept the porch lights on for her, and she smiled to herself at the little act of thoughtfulness. She opened the door as quietly as possible assuming he must be in bed already, and she had every intention of sneaking straight up to her own room, but somehow that wasn’t where her feet took her. This is terrible idea. Worst idea I’ve ever had. Completely insane.

She knocked on his bedroom door.

Killian called out for her to come in, his voice sounding ragged and weary even muffled by the wooden door, but she knew she hadn’t woken him. He’d answered too quickly. She hadn’t knocked that loudly.

She turned the knob and the door gave way without a sound. He lay on his side facing her, one arm tucked beneath his head and the covers draped at his waist. He seemed to be keeping his body intentionally still and his expression blank. She couldn’t tell what color his t-shirt was, couldn’t make out the pattern of his quilt. But the shadows and plains of his face, the way the moonlight cast him in shades of blue and grey, the spark of something in his eyes - carefully restrained but still there. He was beautiful, heart-stoppingly beautiful and Emma couldn’t fight the pull toward him any more than she could fight gravity.

As she approached, he raised himself up and leaned back against the headboard. Watching her. No questions. No what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here. Just waiting for her.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed next to him, their bodies close, but not touching. Tentatively she carded her fingers through his hair, pushing the messy fringe off his forehead. He reached out and placed his right hand on her thigh, but she stopped him, gently taking his wrist and turning his arm over. Even in the darkened room, she could see him flinch as she traced her fingers over the dagger and heart on his forearm, but he didn’t pull away. She placed her hand in his and he held it tightly.

“Who’s Milah?”

Killian kept his eyes down, focused on their joined hands resting against her leg. She had about decided he wasn’t going to answer, but then-

“Someone from long ago.”

“Someone you lost.”

“Aye.” His voice was rough, his eyes dark when he finally met her gaze.

“Someone you loved.”

His expression softened into a sad smile. “Aye. Have you ever been in love?” It wasn’t a question, anymore than hers had been. They knew the answers. They each knew why the other was asking these things, but they both seemed to need the confirmation that everything they’d sensed about the other was true.

Emma swallowed and glanced down at their joined hands. The way his thumb ran back and forth over her knuckles. “Maybe I was once.”

Killian was silent for a long moment. Emma felt his eyes searching her, reading her. When she finally met his eyes she found his expression more open than she’d ever seen it, and it scared her.

“Emma, I-”

She shook her head. “Don’t.” He let go of her hand and began to turn away. Emma could see him closing himself off, retreating into himself and no. That’s not what she meant, not what she wanted, so she cupped his jaw turning him to face her again. To make him see.

“Whatever the story is, whatever you were about to say, don’t tell me tonight. Just- can you just be kissing me right now?”

Emma wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the moonlight, but she’d swear she saw a flicker of light in his eyes just for a split second as they crinkled at the corners and he leaned toward her. His whispered, “As you wish,” the last thing she heard before he pulled her into his arms and into his bed.

They kissed for ages, chest to chest, legs tangled together. Slowly, painstakingly as though trying to learn to speak with the other’s tongue. Completely wrapped up in each other and their little cocoon of sheets. When such silly things as clothing or blankets became an impediment or nuisance, these were cast aside with little fuss or ceremony.

Emma felt as though she were underwater, completely submerged in this moment with this man. Her usual fears and baggage and anxieties, everything that made her run, those were far away. As long as she stayed under, stayed in the moment, she could drift through the waves and ripples of pleasure washing over her entire body. She could feel warm and perfect and alive and wanted.

And Killian was right there with her, surrounding her. His breath on her face, his fingers slipping through her hair, trailing down her back, digging into her hip, guiding her leg up and around his waist until she felt his hardened cock sliding gracelessly against her sex. Felt him shudder at the sensation of her lush and ready and willing.

But his lips grew restless against hers and began to wander. First down the column of her throat, then taking a detour for his tongue to map the contours of her clavicle before proceeding lower to the valley between her breasts. He pressed his body against her, rolling her onto her back and she complied, her head falling back against his pillow and eyes drifting shut. She focused on nothing but the way he made her feel. Like a queen. Like a goddess.

He continued his worship of her body, cupping her breasts, kneading and suckling. The contrast of his rough hands and soft lips coaxing needy whimpers from her. Her back arched, her hips rutted against his stomach where he lay between her spread legs, and he raised up only enough to look at her. When their eyes met, she expected him to look smug, but there was no teasing in his gaze, only raw emotion and desire and for once, she didn’t look away. He seemed to be waiting for her, asking for permission and there was only one answer she could give. She nodded. He smiled.

Killian resumed kissing a path down her stomach with renewed vigor, dipping his tongue playfully in her belly button just to get her to twitch. He shifted himself further down the bed, his lips never leaving her skin, and just when the anticipation had gotten to be almost too much for Emma to bear, he stopped. Just above the blonde curls covering her womanhood.

Tense as a bowstring, she was about to scream with frustration when she met his eyes again. Open, clear and blue as a summer sky, they pleaded with her to trust him. And in this moment, she let herself. Watched as his dark head dipped down again. His mouth found a spot just inside her hipbone and sucked hard, while his strong hands held her hips in place. Marking her. Claiming her. The sharp sting of feeling him so close to where she wanted him was infuriating, maddening, amazing.

He sat back on his heels, inspecting his handiwork and placed a hand on each of her thighs. He took a few long moments to squeeze and massage the tense muscles there, all the while, his eyes raked over her, spread as she was before him. No one in her life had ever looked at her like that. The softness in his gaze something utterly new and foreign.

“So beautiful,” he whispered and she wasn’t sure if he knew he’d even said it out loud. Because this wasn’t the man who used his words as a shield. Humor and innuendo and dirty promises to cover a heart that life had treated cruelly. This was just the two of them, alone together in the dark, souls as bare for each other as their bodies, if only for this moment.

Killian lazily stroked his straining cock, using his thumb to swipe a bead of arousal from the tip and Emma licked her lips at the sight, but before she could reach for him, he resumed his place at the foot of the bed. Emma nearly cried in relief when his lips found her clit and he began to suck and lave her in earnest. That mouth of his. She suspected he had certain talents and he’d demonstrated as much on other parts of her body, but this? Could a person actually die from pleasure?

“God, Swan,” he mumbled against her between licks and kisses, the scrape of his stubbled beard against her folds heightening the sensation. “Ambrosia.” He dipped his tongue inside her and she cried his name aloud. “Could have you for every meal.”

He must’ve meant it for all Emma could tell through her lust-filled haze. He tasted her like a man half-starved, desperate, yet still wanting to savor. The bed shook and Emma wasn’t sure if it was her bucking hips or his rutting against the mattress seeking friction of his own. Words were far beyond her capacity, so she praised him with keening and moans and whispers that sounded like his name. Her release was just within reach, she knew it, could feel it tingling under her skin, but she also knew she didn’t want to fall alone.

She sank her fingers into his hair and tugged until he looked up at her. His eyes were dazed and nearly black, his mouth and chin covered in her arousal, and she knew the image would haunt her dreams in days ahead. But right now-

“Come here.” She reached over and pulled on his hand. “Come with me. Need you inside.”

And then he was with her, his body a welcome and strangely comforting weight on top of her. He kissed her or she kissed him, and he tasted like her and he felt like home. And when he finally pressed inside her, sinking to the hilt in one slow thrust, they both took in a sharp breath not because anything was wrong but because everything was right.

Emma’s world contracted, all her focus narrowing to the point where she and Killian were joined. To the quickly building pleasure within her as with each thrust and grind of his hips, he drove her closer to the edge.

“Emma.” His voice, thin with strain, made her open her eyes. “Emma look at me.”

She could not refuse him. Their eyes locked, and it seemed as if time both stopped and raced ahead all at once, and then she was coming, first his name and then his kiss on her lips as he tumbled after her. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, the force of it shaking her to the marrow of her bones. Did she even have bones anymore? Who knew. All she knew was this moment and this bed and this man curled up beside her with his warm breath tickling her neck and his coarse chest hair tickling her arm.

He kissed her shoulder and got out of bed. He said something about getting a cloth or cleaning up or whatever, but Emma wasn’t listening anymore. Because the second he flipped on the bathroom light, reality had rushed back to her. Their moment had ended.

Now she had to deal with the fact that she had just fucked- No. Emma knew fucking and that wasn’t fucking. That was...It was... She couldn’t say it. Couldn’t think the words. She sat up abruptly, scanning the floor for her discarded clothing. All the fears she kept at bay came screaming back, riding rough-shod over whatever truths she’d admitted to herself only hours ago. She could feel her entire body tensing, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress since she couldn’t seem to get a grip on her thoughts. This was nothing. This had to be nothing. There were rules. There was an agreement.

When Killian returned he noticed the change in her immediately and slowed his step. “Swan, are you alright?”

Emma looked at him standing there framed by the light from the doorway. Bare-chested still, but he’d pulled on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms that hung low on his hips. Everything in her had 100% wanted to do what they just did, and even now, everything in her 100% wanted to stay right here with him. That was exactly why she needed to go.

She grabbed her clothes from the floor, put her underwear back on and yanked her shirt over her head. “I’m fine.” With her jeans, bra and shoes bundled in her arms, she headed for the bedroom door. “I’m just going to head on upstairs and-”

Killian caught her arm, turning her to face him. “Swan, please stay.” His eyes spoke the rest of the words for him. Don’t run from me. Don’t run from this.

“I can’t,” Emma insisted. “You know the rules.”

Killian’s eyes bore into hers and she thought he was about to argue with her, but he simply released her arm, raising the hand that had held her to scratch at the back of his neck. “Aye, that I do.” He gestured toward the door. “Goodnight, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

A/N: If you're reading this, thanks so much for sticking with this story! There WILL be three more chapters. I WILL finish this thing. But, in all honesty, it ain't gonna be updated until I get my story for CS Little Bang finished. Thank you for your patience. Smut disclaimer: for safety and hygiene reasons, don't fool around on horseback in real life. It's just a story, ya'll ;-)

Tell me what you think!

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au ff #cs modern au #cs western #this may be the closest thing I've ever written to PWP

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