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snowbellewells · 1 year

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Self Promo Sunday: “Nothing Stands Between”

This two shot was a spec fic I wrote during the summer between seasons 4 and 5, when we didn’t really know where Emma had disappeared to after taking on the Darkness, or what would happen next, or how the rest of them would find her again or get her back. Though it didn’t end up playing out this way, I still had fun writing it, and thought it might be fun to revisit and give some art as well. Hopefully someone else out there may enjoy seeing it again as well...

Summary: Killian and Henry will go to any length find Emma and bring her home again. There's nothing in all the realms more powerful than True Love, and they're counting on that to help them no matter what they face.

Also available on AO3 or ff.net, if one of those is your preference

by: @snowbellewells

1. you never said goodbye

“and in between the soul and the sky…

I know we can make through the night,

‘cause you never said goodbye…”

The metallic clang of the heavy silver dagger striking concrete still rings in his ears like the door of a prison cell slamming shut around his heart. Killian Jones feels his legs give – his muscles water as all the strength drains from him – and he falls to his knees in the middle of Main Street mere feet from where his Swan has vanished. He is unable to turn his eyes from the empty space where she last stood, nor from the curved edge of the infernal blade now bearing her name on its cursed surface, and all that now appears in the place she has vacated. At first, the stricken pirate doesn’t even realize that a guttural noise akin to the cry of a wounded animal is escaping from his own throat; then, Killian senses a presence near him. He feels a strong hand that must be the Prince – her father’s – clamp firmly on his shoulder. Killian’s mouth snaps closed in surprise at the gesture of comfort from this man who has now lost his cherished daughter a third time, and when his teeth clack against each other and the keening ceases, he realizes the wail must have belonged to him.

His head bows, and shame momentarily stains his face, before he raises his visage, and glances over his shoulder to gaze into his friend’s pained royal face. Only 300 years of struggle and accustoming to hurt allow Killian to bring his features under control and to nod at Dave in assurance that he has mastered himself again.

Oh, it will be a fleeting calm; he knows this all too well. Torment still churns and surges just beneath the surface, under his skin. He may be a fearless captain, intrepid adventurer, and survivor; he may have an image to uphold and a reputation to maintain, but he has never felt pain, fear, or anger equal to this. In his long, long life and all his loss and brushes with death, nothing has rocked him to the core and left him as helpless as he feels in this moment. His love, his true anchor, is gone, and what is more, Emma has taken on a curse that may do gods know what to her before they can reach her. That she did it to save them all is as selfless and brave as he has always known her to be, but it leaves him feeling even more impotent in his inability to aid or support her in her sacrifice. It is only realizing he is not alone, that others have lost her too and are also grieving, that enables him to shoulder his agony and stand again on shaking limbs, at least until he can indulge his agony again in private. He has a duty now – to her family as well as Emma herself. Gods help him, she has made him part of something as she offered to do when he took them to Neverland and began his ascent out of villainy following his golden-headed angel. He will stand by her parents and her boy (Henry, his heart squeezes at the thought of what this will do to Henry) and together they will find her in the darkness and bring her back.

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As he had feared and yet anticipated, the lad he has grown to care for as he once did his father too, is crushed by her loss. Killian can see the creases of pain and undeserved guilt on Regina’s face as the boy leans into her embrace at the end of her labored, halting explanation. He, the Charmings, Robin and Regina, staggered wearily back into Granny’s dining establishment where they had left Henry regaling Roland, Archie, Marco, August, Leroy, Ruby, and Belle, who is holding his gurgling young uncle, with the tale of his time within a story – a hero in his own right – with success and pride, and a twinkle of mischief that is all Emma. None of them want to ruin his happiness, but neither can they keep him in the dark, nor lie to him.

As Henry finishes recounting his tale, he looks up at the group who have re-entered the diner and spares them having to find a way to broach the difficult topic by asking, “Where’s Mom?” curiously.

Snow’s pretty face falls and she buries her face in David’s shoulder, trying to hide her tears. Regina’s eyes fall to her feet, unable to meet her son’s until Robin places a gentle, steadying hand on her arm and she steps forward and finds a way to begin.

Killian never lets his gaze stray from the lad, watching the emotions flicker over Henry’s face: the hurt, the confusion, the bitterness over the fact that his mom is once again caught up in a fight she did not begin or deserve to weather. Then Killian sees something take over Henry’s face, an expression he did not know he had needed to draw on until it had appeared. Steely determination, and the unwavering hope which has carried them all this far, takes over the boy’s features, and the lad speaks firmly after clearing his throat and setting his shoulders. “Then we’ll find her,” Henry says simply, looking up at each of them in turn, as if swearing them to his quest. “That’s what this family does.”

Dave lets out a choked sounding bark of a laugh, but then nods, letting Henry know that of course he is right.

Killian hates to overstep his bounds, but he knows that Henry has included him with his words, both in his family and in this venture. “Aye, Lad,” he affirms, speaking gruffly past the lump in his own throat. “That is exactly what we will do.”

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The next morning finds Killian and Henry bent over the desk in his captain’s cabin, studying the numerous maps of the realms that he has collected in his centuries of travel and exploration, realizing what a frustrating and daunting task they have set for themselves. Killian brushes an agitated hand through his already disheveled dark hair, staring down at the particular aged piece of parchment currently holding their interest. The map is of Camelot, which seems the most practical place to search for the famed sorcerer Merlin; however, there is no guarantee that it will lead them any closer to Emma. Granted, she had admonished them to free her from the darkness just before she vanished, and according to the Apprentice, Merlin is the key to them doing so, but doing anything that does not directly bring them closer to her is the opposite of what either he or her boy want.

Nevertheless, he is diligently attempting to show Henry how to map a course, and finding with a pleased sense of pride that Emma’s boy is proving to be a natural. The lad is sharp, inquisitive, and has an excellent memory for all that Killian has previously shown him. They are presently embroiled in finding the best way to reach King Arthur’s legendary castle once docking in his kingdom, and seeing that it may take much more time than either of them would wish, when Henry suddenly clutches the map in his hands, as if to rip it in two.

The young man’s shoulders shake silently as he leans forward to brace himself on the desk, head bowed as if hiding his emotion from the pirate. Though the tears that must be falling make no sound, the lad is obviously trying to hold onto his control for all he is worth. Killian wants to reach forward, to gather him into a masculine embrace and offer comfort of some sort, but he does not know if it will cause the lad more pain or if it will do any good at all, when his comfort is certainly not what the boy truly needs.

Finally, Henry draws in a heaving breath, and the words coming rasping from his throat in great gasps, “She’s gone….Killian…My mom…she’s just gone! She brought…all of you…all the way…to Neverland…to save me…when I was taken. …And we…we’re just waiting! …Not going after her…she could be hurt…she could be dying! ...We need to find her!”

Unable to stop himself, Killian pulls Henry in and holds on tight, clutching the lad against his chest awkwardly, but in a hopeful attempt to soothe, rubs his good hand over the boy’s shoulders. “We will, Lad. I swear it. She will not be lost from us forever – no matter where she is, we will reach her.”

2. bring me home

‘will you let me follow you

wherever you go,

bring me home…”

“Emma, no!” the hoarse cry is ripped from his chest before he can think, and is echoed in Henry’s pained exclamation behind him. Killian is already moving, dashing toward her in the next instant, even as the very fabric of the forest glade around them and the air they breathe seems to ripple and wave with expelled energy. It may be only because he is in motion that it doesn’t knock Killian off his feet. He hears Henry stumble, but as concerned as he is for his young compatriot, he cannot take his focus from his Swan now. They have come too far, and she is finally within reach. He knows without question that her boy feels the same.

His vision goes hazy for a moment as the sky above them darkens, wind whips up in buffeting crescendo, and thunder rolls overhead. Even as he is about to touch Emma, something stops him. Killian watches in a near trance as she gives him one last, quick look, then closes her eyes and does as Merlin had instructed her. He sees her lips moving fervently, though he cannot hear her words, and then is shocked when an immense, foreboding black cloud is expelled from her mouth. It rises quickly, and he recoils a bit in apprehension. However, unlike the grasping, hungry ropes this darkness was in Storybrooke when Emma offered herself and it wrapped her in its talons, this cloud is disintegrating, disappearing into nothing before his astonished eyes.

The old wizard was right after all. The key is in the recipient of so much tempting, intoxicating power willingly giving it up after not taking it on in an evil way that adds to its hold. He knew his princess was strong and true, but that she has done what no others could bring themselves to since the Dark Curse’s creation is mind-boggling. Every time Killian thinks he cannot possibly love her more, or be more astounded by her, Emma proves him wrong again.

He is so thrilled by this moment of triumph that he almost manages to forget his concern at the warning Merlin had given along with his advice. Emma has done it! She has freed herself of the darkness and defeated it so it can never be visited on another in such heinous fashion. Surely, she is safe now and they can go home.

Killian’s eyes turn back from the sky to his love, already speaking to her with joy and relief. “You did it, Swan! Bloody brilliant, Lass, as always…” but the words die on his tongue at the sight of her.

Emma gives him a brief, tremulous smile, a gentle sheen of tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Killian…” she breathes out hoarsely, her voice rough and raw, but hers again, not the horrifying rasp it had been when they first found her in true Dark One form in Camelot’s forests, hiding where she would not come into contact with anyone she might harm while she sought control over herself. She doesn’t continue though, and Killian reaches his hand out to forestall her, to make her save her strength. She is deathly pale, trembling like a leaf in a stormy gale, and almost seems to fade away in front of him.

Her eyes roll back in her head, and her breath whooshes from her body. Killian barely manages to dive forward and catch her in his arms as she crumbles lifelessly. He gathers her shockingly light form to his chest, trying desperately not to think of Merlin’s dire warnings now racing through his brain. Henry is at his side in the next instant, reaching out to touch Emma and whispering, “Mom?” so hopefully it nearly breaks the pirate’s ancient, scarred heart.

Emma looks as though the very life has been drained from her along with all the darkness and excess magic. He can only bury his nose in her golden hair, breath in a strengthening whiff of her comfortingly familiar scent, and carry her back the way they have come, hoping against hope there will be something Merlin can do. She has to hold on just a little longer; she must. All her bravery, her sacrifice, her fight to survive, cannot be in vain. He will not survive without her.

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“It is as I feared,” the learned mage of Camelot sighs, sitting back in his chair from where he had been leaning over Emma’s frighteningly still form. Though his eyes hold the knowledge and experience of the ages, his face and body appear almost youthful – nearly as handsomely well-preserved as Killian himself, despite how long Merlin has truly lived. “So much leaving a person at once takes an immeasurable toll. She has truly conquered the Darkness, which none have ever been able to achieve. Yet, as others have found, the human thirst for power, control, and influence feeds on such power. It wove itself into the very fibers of her being; she expelled it, but as these powers have never been rejected before, it is hard to know if the damage can be survived. The force of the Dark Curse has been feeding on evil and desperate souls for ages.”

Killian bows his head, fighting to retain control, if only for the sake of Henry sitting across from him holding his mother’s hand. The very real desire to attack one of the world’s most powerful magicians almost overwhelms him, but it will do no good. Moreover, even if he had stressed the risks before giving Emma the possible solution, Killian knows within himself that it would not have changed her course of action. He bites his lip, holding back harsh, disparaging words or howls of pained despair. She is still hanging by a thread; her light is not snuffed out completely, and so he cannot give up hope.

“There must be something you can do,” he grits out in a tone that manages not to be overtly hostile. “Are you the fabled Merlin of Camelot or no?”

Henry’s big brown eyes rise to seek his, incredulous that the pirate would question such a legend, and then flit over to Merlin as well, pleading in them if there is any possibility the wizard is holding back.

The wise, knowing eyes show deep sympathy, not wanting to hurt this man and boy who have come so far for this heroic, self-sacrificing woman, this Savior. He is truly impressed by their faith and belief, the sheer force of the love that has carried them this far. He does not dissuade them to injure; he only wants them to understand the very real chance that it might be too late, beyond what any of them can do.

Sighing, he passes a hand over Emma’s brow, his forehead wrinkling in thought as if he reads something below the surface which cannot be heard aloud. “Alas, it is not up to me,” he states gravely, meeting and holding both pirate and young prince’s gaze in turn. “Whether she will wake again rests entirely upon Miss Swan.”

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Emma stirs restlessly in her unconscious state, head tossing from side to side on the flat feather pillow of Merlin’s cot. She murmurs ceaselessly, eyelids twitching as though she sees things moving behind them at all times, but nothing that either Henry or Killian can decipher as they keep vigil by his side. They can’t know that within her own mind, Emma is seeing one distressing, horrible scene from her history after another – scenes that she had hoped never to revisit…

She is three years old and looking on as Beatrice Swan hugs her goodbye, regretful sadness in her eyes, but still firmly turning away from the little girl she had professed to love, leaning into her husband’s side and resting her hand unconsciously on her stomach. Even at three, Emma feels a stab of jealousy at the unborn being stealing the closest she’s ever had to parents and a place to belong; her foster mother’s hand rubbing that slightly distended area seeming to mock her even as they already do the most hurtful thing they could. They’re leaving her behind – alone – as people always do. And once they get in the car and disappear down the driveway of the group home, Emma stands a long time before she goes in, not wanting anyone to see her until she’s sure they won’t see her cry.

She’s six and lies curled up in her bed, the single blanket covering her is threadbare and doing little to keep away the chill in the room she shares with four other girls. The others already don’t like her, a few years older and already buddied up when she’d come to this home a few months back. They are sleeping soundly in the bunk beds, oblivious to the way she tosses and turns on her cot in the corner. At this moment, it doesn’t even occur to her to be bothered by the fact that she’s always left out, always expected to make do with what’s left over. The cold that keeps her shivering this late November night isn’t even what is stealing her sleep. They sent her to bed without anything for supper again. She hadn’t meant to talk back; she’d only been trying to explain herself, but a slap across the mouth and the gnawing hunger she’s suffering now makes her bite her lips against the whimper that keeps trying to escape. It feels as though her stomach is twisting around trying to eat itself. She will live – these particular foster parents aren’t stupid enough to starve them for long enough to attract attention – but she’s still growing and the lack of food is a particularly cruel form of torture.

She is twelve and hiding in a middle school bathroom stall as her two supposed friends giggle and cackle over how easy she has been to fool, how naïve she is for thinking they could really want to be seen with her, how pathetic she looks in her thick, ugly glasses and patched, borrowed clothes…

She’s fourteen and cringing in the closet of her bedroom, hoping the drunken lumbering footsteps of the monster she’s been assigned to this time will pass by her closed door…

She’s seventeen and handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser, shaking with fear and knowing that this time there won’t be any running, any escape, knowing they’re taking her to jail where they’ll lock her away where no one can be bothered with her inconvenient presence anymore. Even Neal has left her behind; she knows without the proof the next few years will bring that he isn’t coming back for her…

Merlin, Henry and Killian can see her agitation growing worse; even as Emma lingers in a nether world they cannot see. Her brow creases, soft, whines of distress escape her, and tears run in rivulets down her cheeks from under her closed eyelids. As much as her son and her love want to offer comfort, she still seems unaware of them, and they are helpless to bring her back.

Another flashback washes over her…this one more heartbreaking than all the others. She is barely eighteen and she watches, clinging to the last vestiges of her will and courage, fastened to a prison hospital bed, as they take her little boy away. She barely saw the top of his head, covered with the barest wisps of soft brown hair and already his cries are fading as he is carried from the room. She couldn’t bear to look on him, knowing her resolve to give him his best chance would crumble if she let herself see his innocent face. Still, to never know what her little boy will look like, what he’ll be named, hear his voice…It isn’t just his tiny body that has been pulled away from her; it feels if it a piece of her soul has been ripped out as well…

The endless, nightmare rush of images ceases at last. Lost in a dim fog, Emma doesn’t really know where she is or what has caused the change, only that she is vaguely aware of a comforting pressure on her left hand, when before she could feel little else, and a similar warm press at her forehead touches her for a lovely, fleeting moment. She draws in a shuddering breath, then another, and slowly, surely feels a bit more of herself coming back into focus. For the first time in the seemingly endless floating eternity she has been lost in, Emma wants desperately to open her eyes. If only she could make them obey…

A coaxing voice reaches her ear, wrapping her up, urging her to come back to the speaker with beautiful, lilting tones. She wants to desperately to reach him, can feel the desire rising within her, even as his face remains frustratingly beyond her reach. Another joins, younger, more hopeful, but no less convincing. This one calls her ‘Mom’ and she feels her heart flutter, not understanding for a moment how to reconcile that with the terrible memory that fleeing darkness had just forced her to relive.

Suddenly Emma finds she wants desperately to return to the people who own these voices, to herself, to her life, even if the visions which have been visiting her are a part of its past. Struggling mightily, she begins to move, enough so that those watching over her can see her valiant effort.

“Killian!” Henry exclaims, breathless excitement in his voice and joy on his face. “Look! She’s starting to wake up!” He clutches her hand tightly in his again, calling to her more urgently. “Mom! Mom! Can you hear me?!”

Killian leans forward, watching his Swan avidly as more animation begins to flit across her face than he has seen in the several days they has spent at her side. He hardly breathes, barely daring to hope. He wants those lovely green eyes looking back at him, to see her again, more than he can remember ever wanting anything before. “Emma?” he asks, so softly only she would be able to hear him.

She shoots upward as she finally claws back into reality; her eyes flying open and scanning everything around her, chest heaving wildly as she draws in quick, fevered gasps of air. Her worried movements only still when she sees first her little boy – not so little anymore – and then her pirate. Their faces are both marred with fatigue and worry, but all the same looking awestruck with happiness to see her again. Her memory rushes back to her; she knows where she is, what she was fighting against, and how far they must have traveled to be sitting on either side of her. The painful reminders of her lost childhood settle back into their places as the rest of her life and the good that have begun to temper the bad return to her as well.

Shakily, she raises a hand to lovingly rest in Henry’s hair, then trace along the side of his face, biting her lip at the sheer love that wells up in her, seeing him safe and well and with her. Killian doesn’t begrudge her the moment with her boy, doesn’t interrupt, he simply bends his head to rest against the crown of hers, as if he’s content to simply have her awake and to breathe her in.

However, it doesn’t take long before that’s not enough for Emma. Gathering Henry to her side, she turns to study Killian, wanting to look on his beautiful face after so long apart. She sucks in a breath, not sure what to say, how to express the ache missing him has been, how to tell him that holding onto he and Henry in her mind is all that kept her sane, all that kept her from letting the Darkness take her over once and for all.

In the end, she doesn’t say anything before he swoops in and captures her mouth with his in a firm but tender kiss. “I love you as well, Emma Swan,” he affirms, having had to wait too long to say it back to her.

There is no response she can make to that without falling apart, so instead she nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, relishing the feel of both of them in her arms at last after so long alone. None of them notice the gentle, approving smile on Merlin’s face as the old sorcerer stands to leave them, knowing all will now be well.

“I hoped it…but I was afraid I’d never see either of you again…” she murmurs, trying not to let her voice crack. The reunion still feels so sweet that she doesn’t want to spoil it with what she has been through.

Killian interrupts her, smoothing her hair back from her face and soothing her with his quiet voice and gentle touch. “Don’t think on that anymore, Love. Not now. We’re together once more…and we’re going home.”

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#self promo sunday #cs two shot #ouat s5 spec fic #nothing stands between #captain swan angst #captain swan fluff #captain cobra

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jrob64 · 2 months

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Pet for Rent, Chapter 1/4 (The Meet Cute) A CS Modern AU Story

For those of you who read "Sowing Seeds of Trust", you might remember that my dog Zeke had a starring role in it. To my great heartbreak, he died of cancer last June. When we rescued him, the shelter had named him Ernie, and he will be referenced with that name in this story.

Life without a dog proved to be very lonely, so at the end of August, we rescued another dog. The sad story of the dog in this story is what really happened to our new dog. He was named Norman and we renamed him Winston, just like in the story. That's actually him in the pic set with his 'ducky'.

This was supposed to be a short, sweet story, but somehow turned into 4 chapters. Updates will be once a week.

Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom and also to @beckettj and @zaharadessert for helping me understand the football (soccer) system in England.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 7754

ALSO POSTED TO A03 & FFN

Story begins under the cut

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Emma Swan flopped down onto her sofa with a sigh. Since their beloved dog Ernie died three weeks ago, she had come to dread her eight-year-old son Henry’s bedtime. Every night when he said his prayers, he ended with, “God, please tell Ernie I love him and miss him, and please send me another dog. Amen.”

Her son knew the chances of getting a dog were slim to none because of his soccer practices and games, and Emma’s schedule for her new job at the sheriff’s station. They had no time to train a puppy.

Understanding why he couldn’t have a dog didn’t make his heart hurt any less. Her heart was just as broken, knowing the sadness and loneliness Henry was experiencing.

After decompressing for a few minutes, Emma’s searching hand located her phone on the end table. She unlocked it and opened her Discord app, selecting the icon representing the parents’ group of Henry’s second grade class. Sitting up a little straighter, she typed a message: Does anyone have ideas of how to help Henry get over the loss of his dog? He keeps praying for a new one, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog to get one with our busy schedule.

She watched the screen intently for a couple of minutes, but when no names appeared to show that someone was answering, she tossed the phone onto the couch and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

Forty minutes later, after cleaning up the kitchen, going through her nightly routine and changing into her pajamas, she went back into the living room. Television held no interest for her, and realizing she finished her last library book the previous evening, she picked up her phone to mindlessly play a game. Upon unlocking it, her screen opened to the Discord page and she saw three replies to her question.

The first two simply expressed sympathy for the loss of Ernie, but the third one offered a helpful suggestion. Have you thought about ‘renting’ a dog for a day? The animal shelter just outside of town offers that option. We did it for my mother when her Maltese died. The post ended with the web address for the shelter.

Emma immediately pulled up the site and, after searching the homepage, clicked on the tab for ‘services’. Scrolling down the list, she saw ‘Rent-a-Pet’ and selected it. As she read the description of how the program worked, she idly twisted strands of blonde hair around her index finger.

It sounded like a great compromise for their situation. For a donation to the shelter in the form of money, bags of pet food, treats or toys, one of the available animals could come home with them for several hours. The dogs and cats were guaranteed to be docile and house-trained, and could be adopted by the ‘renter’, if desired.

Clicking on the link taking her to the bios of the pets currently housed at the shelter, she filtered it to include only canines. Pictures of nearly two dozen dogs filled the screen, each more adorable and aww-worthy than the last.

Quickly ruling out any that were guaranteed to shed fur all over her house or were bigger than her son, her search was narrowed to nine prospects. She knew her rambunctious son would be keen to play outside with the dog and walk him or her to Storybrooke’s dog park, so a tiny fru-fru pup was out of the question, too. That left six.

She selected one at a time, reading about their breed and temperament. When she brought up the picture of the fourth candidate, the big, chocolate brown eyes and happy expression nearly made her heart melt.

‘Norman’ was a mixed breed and very little was known about him, because he was found tied to a stop sign in the middle of Portland, Maine. He was guessed to be a cocker spaniel mix and was approximately 1-2 years old. His black fur looked sleek and Emma knew he probably wouldn’t shed. A short video showed him romping and playing with another dog in the fenced play yard of the shelter.

Saving the page, she brought up the calendar on her phone and checked their schedule for the rest of the week. Henry had an early soccer game on Saturday, which would be over by 10:30, leaving the rest of the morning and afternoon free. Switching back to the shelter website, she hit the ‘Rent-a-Pet’ button again and began filling in the information, selecting ‘Norman’ when it gave her the choice of animals.

She decided not to tell Henry about the plan, opting to surprise him with it instead.

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“Great game, kid,” Emma complimented her son, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Your pass to Avery was a nice assist. That goal turned out to be the game winner.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Henry grinned around his mouthful of granola bar. “That’s the first time all season we beat the orange team.”

“I know, and I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?” Emma fished her car keys out of her jeans pocket, before picking up her lawn chair and water bottle.

“Are we gonna get ice cream?” he asked, before cramming the rest of his snack into his mouth.

“You just ate a granola bar and a banana, and lunch will be in just an hour or so,” she laughed. “I have something else in mind.”

“Whaisit?” he queried, the unswallowed food muffling his voice.

“Well, I know how much you miss Ernie, and Violet’s mom told me about a program at the animal shelter that lets you rent a pet for a few hours,” she answered slowly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “So, I signed up to get a dog for you to play with until three o’clock this afternoon.”

Henry stopped in his tracks, swallowing down the rest of his snack as his eyes grew wide. “Really? You can do that?”

“Yeah, we’re scheduled to pick him up at eleven. What do you think about that?”

His exuberant shout of joy and sprint to the car was all the answer she needed.

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Emma couldn’t keep up with her son once he unstrapped his safety belt, exited the car and bounded toward the front door of the shelter. He was already ringing the little bell on the counter for service before she made it inside and chided him lightly for not waiting for her.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and light blue eyes entered through a door, the barking of dogs stifled when it clicked shut behind him. He gave them a dazzling smile and greeted them warmly with a hearty ‘good morning’.

Emma reached forward to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan and this is my son, Henry.”

“David Nolan,” he responded, shaking her hand, then doing the same with Henry.

“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Nolan, the same as yours,” the boy told him.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in second grade at Storybrooke Elementary, would you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

“Ah, well, that means your teacher is my wife!”

“Wow, cool!” Henry exclaimed. “She’s the best teacher I ever had!”

David’s grin grew even wider. “That’s good to hear. She tells me all about her students every evening and she thinks yours is the best class she’s ever had!”

“It’s quite a coincidence, meeting you here,” Emma commented with a smile.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret I met the two of you. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Emma pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen a few times. Then she laid it on the counter and turned it to show David. “I signed up for the Rent-a-Pet program. Here’s the email with my confirmation.”

David peered down at the screen and used his finger to scroll down a bit. “I see you chose Norman,” he commented, looking up at her.

“Um, yeah. Is he a good dog? I don’t want any messes in my house or car.”

“He’s a great dog,” he assured her, reaching back to the wall behind him to lift a leash off of a hook. “Gets along well with other dogs, seems to love kids, and is generally a very happy little guy.”

Henry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we take him to the dog park? Ernie always loved going to the dog park.” His countenance dropped, a small cloud of sadness passing across his features.

David shared an understanding look with Emma. “Of course you can take him. I’m sure he will love it! Would you like to come back with me to get him?”

The boy turned to look at his mother. “Can I?”

“Sure, kid. I think I’ll come back, too, if Mr. Nolan doesn’t mind.”

“The more, the merrier,” David said cheerfully.

He waited until they joined him on the other side of the counter, then opened the door to the large room full of animal cages. Immediately, the sound of barking, howling and meows filled their ears.

“They get very excited when they know someone is coming back here. I think the animals closest to the door are spies and tell the others,” David joked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Emma walked behind Henry, watching him turn his head left and right to peer at the occupants of all of the pens.

“Aw, Mom, look at that little puppy! He’s so cute! Aw, that dog seems sad. I bet he doesn’t like being in a cage. Look Mom, they have cats here, too.” His litany was continuous as they slowly walked down the aisle between the enclosures.

Finally, David stopped in front of a pen and turned to them, gesturing toward the dog inside. “This is Norman. He has a sad story, but he’s kept his sweet temperament, haven’t you, boy?”

As if in answer, the black dog stood up, his tail starting to wag as he realized the man was talking about him. Henry dropped to his knees in front of the cage, placing his hands against the wire. “Hi, Norman! My name is Henry. Would you like to come home with us for a little while?” The dog’s tail was wagging so fast, his entire body wiggled. “I think he understands me, Mom!” Henry said excitedly.

As David slipped inside the pen to clip the leash to Norman’s collar, Emma asked, “Has he ever been rented before?”

“Several times,” David answered, straightening up once he had the leash attached. “He’s always done really well.” Opening the door of the kennel again, he allowed the dog to go ahead of him, out to where the boy still knelt.

“Hi, boy,” Henry crooned, running his hands over the dog’s head.

Emma bent down and stroked the sleek fur on Norman’s back and sides. “He’s so soft,” she commented.

“He appears to have the coat of a cocker spaniel,” David said, “but he’s definitely a mixed breed.” He watched the boy and dog interact for a few seconds before holding out the looped end of the leash. “Would you like to lead him out to the lobby, Henry?”

He looked up at Emma with hopeful eyes. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“How is he on a leash?” she asked David. “He won’t pull my kid’s arm out of the socket, will he?”

David laughed. “He does fairly well, but if he gets excited, he can get pretty rambunctious. He’ll be fine just going to the lobby, but you might have to walk him out to your car instead of Henry.”

“Sounds like a deal, kid,” she said, giving him a nod of approval.

Henry eagerly accepted the leash and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Norman. Come on, boy. You’re gonna like it at our house. We still have some of Ernie’s toys and balls.”

Emma and David trailed behind. “How long ago did you lose your dog?” he asked.

“Almost a month and Henry is really struggling with it. He and Ernie were best buds.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough, especially for a kid.”

“And his mom,” Emma added. “I never realized how much I loved that dog, until he got sick and I knew we were going to lose him.”

“Hopefully, Norman will give you both a few hours of enjoyment and help ease the heartache a bit,” David said, before hurrying forward to pull the door open for Henry and the dog.

While David printed off the paperwork, Norman sniffed around Henry, who sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling when the dog licked his ears. “Ernie used to do that too, remember, Mom?”

Emma smiled down at him. “Yeah, you must have very tasty ears. Maybe you should start washing them better.”

“I won’t need to, after Norman washes them!”

She turned back to finish signing the papers. “It’s nice to hear him laughing again. He hasn’t done much of that lately,” she confided to David.

“I think this will be good for both of you and Norman. He really likes being around people. I’m very surprised he hasn’t been adopted yet.”

“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”

David shrugged. “This tends to be a slow time of the year for adoptions. Summer is over and school is back in session, so people don’t have as much time to welcome a new dog into their house.”

“That’s the boat we’re in right now,” Emma commented.

“Once it gets closer to Christmas, people will come in looking for pets to give as gifts. That’s good, but also bad, because about a quarter of them are brought back when they realize a pet is more work than they anticipated.”

“We got Ernie from the shelter when Henry was two. He was already five years old, house-trained and had all of the annoying puppy behaviors out of his system.”

“Most people want puppies instead of adult dogs, but there are a lot of advantages to getting an older dog.”

“Norman doesn’t seem to be very old.”

“I’d say at least two, but he’s pretty chill. Once he runs out of energy, he becomes a couch potato.” David collected the paperwork and tapped it on the counter to straighten it. “Well, that’s all I need from you. Norman is yours until three o’clock.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted, causing the dog to start barking.

Emma reached down to take the leash. “Don’t get him all riled up right before we put him in the car, kid.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry apologized. “I just can’t wait to get him home! Can he sit in the back with me?”

“Sure, but first you need to thank Mr. Nolan.”

Henry popped up from the floor and looked back at David. “Thanks, Mr. Nolan! I’ll take good care of Norman, I promise!”

“My pleasure, Henry. Have fun!” David grinned.

Mother and son exited the building, with Norman leading the way, tugging excitedly on the leash. “Slow down, pup,” Emma laughed.

Henry ran ahead to open the door of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle, sliding the front seat forward and clambering into the back. As soon as Norman reached the car, he hopped in and sat on the seat beside Henry like he’d done it every day of his life.

“Well, that was easy,” Emma commented, removing the loop of the leash from her wrist and tossing it beside the dog. After closing the door, she circled around behind the car to get into the driver’s seat. She looked into the rearview mirror and choked up at the sight meeting her eyes. Henry had his arms wrapped around Norman’s neck with his eyes closed and his head resting against the dog’s.

Emma was sure the time with Norman was going to be good for both boy and dog, but she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when it came time to bring him back to the shelter.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma was barely able to get Henry to eat when they got home, and had to reprimand him for sneaking Norman bits of his sandwich. The dog, for his part, sat politely while they ate, not begging or whining. She was impressed with his behavior, remembering how she had to break Ernie from begging at the table when they first adopted him.

Henry and Norman bonded quickly as they chased each other around the small backyard, playing with a tennis ball and squeaky toys from Ernie’s toy basket. Emma sat on their small patio, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of happy barking and her son’s laughter. She pulled out her phone and took a picture, posting it to the Discord group and tagging Violet’s mom to thank her for the idea of renting a pet.

Just after two o’clock, Emma suggested taking Norman to the dog park before going back to the shelter. They played there for forty minutes, then the three of them returned home and piled back into the car. Once again, she caught sight in the mirror of her son hugging the dog and sighed, but instead of dreading Norman’s return, she decided to enjoy every minute of happiness it was bringing to Henry…and herself.

Their time with the dog was over all too soon. After Emma parked the car at the shelter, Henry got out of the car and trudged to the door with the leash gripped tightly in his hand. Norman seemed to sense the boy’s mood and walked slowly beside him, his head hanging low.

David was at the desk to greet them again, an understanding look at his face at the dejected look of all three of them. “Was he good for you?” he asked.

“He was great,” Emma answered, rubbing her hand soothingly over her son’s back. “Wasn’t he, kid?”

“Yeah,” Henry quietly agreed, his eyes trained on the floor.

“You know, you’re welcome to rent Norman, or any of our other dogs, anytime you want,” David said.

Henry looked up. “But what if someone adopts him?”

“Well, that would be a good thing for Norman,” Emma reminded him.

“I guess,” Henry sighed. He knelt down beside the dog, wrapping him up in another hug. “I’ll miss you, boy, but maybe I’ll see you again.” The dog licked his cheek, eliciting a small giggle. Then Henry stood and held the leash out to David. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan. I had a lot of fun with Norman.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” David said, accepting the leash and moving around the counter. Patting the dog on the head, he added, “I hope we’ll see you again, soon.”

Henry turned pleading eyes to his mother. “Can we do it again next weekend, Mom?”

“You have Avery’s birthday party next Saturday, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry nodded, then bit his lip in contemplation. “The next weekend, then?”

Emma laughed. “We’ll see.” She leaned down to pet the dog’s head. “Be a good boy, Norman. You’re welcome at our house anytime.”

After saying their goodbyes, they watched David take the dog toward the door leading to the back. Norman turned and gave them a sad look before following the shelter worker through it, tearing at Emma’s heart even more.

She swallowed hard and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

The sadness soon wore off and for the next several days, Henry talked almost incessantly about all of the fun he had with Norman. Emma checked their schedule and saw that Henry had another early game three weeks later, which would be the last game of the soccer season. She relayed that news to Henry, asking him if he wanted to rent Norman again that day, and was answered with a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’

She nearly forgot to make the reservation, only remembering three days before, while waiting to pick Henry up from practice. Quickly, she pulled up the website and filled out the form, glancing up often to see if Henry was coming off the field because she always liked to meet him as soon as he did, instead of waiting for him in the car.

Emma was especially glad they decided to rent Norman Saturday, since Henry’s soccer team lost their final game by one goal. His downcast look was soon replaced with excitement when she reminded him that they would be going to the shelter.

When they arrived, he bounded out of the car and waited impatiently for his mom to join him, before practically sprinting to the door. It took a couple of minutes before David emerged from the back, beaming a smile when he saw them waiting at the counter.

“Henry! Emma! I’m very happy to see you again!”

“We’re here to get Norman,” Henry said excitedly.

A puzzled look crossed David’s face. “I’m sorry, but Norman is already being rented by somebody else today,” he informed them.

“What?” Henry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Then he turned to Emma. “But Mom, you said we would be getting Norman.”

Emma was already pulling the email up on her phone. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Nolan. I reserved Norman when I filled out the form. See?”

She turned her phone for the worker to see it. David looked at it carefully, then pointed to the screen. “It looks like you didn’t ask for a specific dog.”

“I didn’t?” she questioned, then looked at her phone more closely, her heart dropping when she saw the blank space beside the ‘requested animal’ inquiry. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry when I filled it out and I must have missed that question.”

“We have several other dogs,” David consoled. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with one of them.”

“No I won’t,” Henry pouted. “I only want Norman.”

“Henry…” Emma started, but was interrupted when the door behind her opened.

“Good morning, Dave,” said a deep voice with a distinctive British accent.

Emma turned to see the newcomer and nearly swallowed her tongue. The man standing before her had to be a mirage, because surely someone that handsome didn’t really exist. He had a lean physique clad in dark jeans and a maroon henley, with a tantalizing view of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline. A black leather jacket completed his ensemble. His chiseled jawline was covered with a pleasing amount of scruff and his dark, windblown hair was falling over his forehead. He sported a wide grin and, between that and his deep blue eyes, Emma was mesmerized.

She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance. Henry’s early game meant she had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, donned an old hoodie and stuffed a beanie over her barely brushed hair that morning. Her face was free of makeup, unless you counted a few stray flecks of mascara that stubbornly refused to come off when she washed her face the previous evening.

“Hey, Killian,” David greeted.

The man’s - Killian’s - eyes had settled on Emma, a glint of curiosity evident in them.

“Oh, um, come on Henry,” she said, after several moments of silence. “Let’s get out of this man’s way.”

“But Mommmm…” he whined.

Emma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the counter. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”

“I’m in no hurry, Miss,” Killian began.

“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m afraid I created a problem that might take a while to straighten out, so please, go ahead.”

“In that case, thank you very much,” he smiled. Turning his eyes to David, he asked, “Is Winston ready?”

Emma was surprised to see the genial shelter worker furrow his brow at the other man. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”

Killian shrugged. “He looks like a Winston to me, and he answers to that name when he’s at my house.”

David glanced at Emma and Henry and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently changed his mind. Grabbing a leash off of a hook, he said, “Give me a minute,” then he pushed the door open and disappeared into the back.

“Are you adopting a dog today?” Henry asked Killian.

“Alas, no. I just moved into a small apartment here three months ago and am still trying to get everything organized and put away. Being in a new town has been a bit lonely at times, so I’ve been coming here now and then to borrow a dog for a few hours.”

“That’s why we’re here, but somebody is taking the dog I want,” Henry grumbled.

“Henry, that’s enough,” Emma reprimanded. “You haven’t even looked at any of the other dogs.”

“None of them will be as good as Norman.”

Killian’s brows raised. “Did you say Nor-”

Just then, the door behind the counter opened and David came through, trying to control a very excited dog.

“Norman!” Henry cheered, dropping to his knees. The dog started jumping toward him, wildly licking his face as soon as he reached the boy.

“I thought you said he was already rented today,” Emma questioned David.

“He is,” he replied, looking pointedly at Killian.

Emma followed his gaze and saw the other man watching the interaction between Henry and the dog with a sheepish look on his face. The pieces began to click together and she asked, “Wait a minute - is Norman the dog you’re renting today?”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like we’re here for the same dog.”

“But you called him by another name,” Emma continued.

“He’s the dog I’ve rented every time and he just doesn’t seem like a Norman to me, so I started calling him Winston,” Killian explained.

All three adults stood looking at the whirlwind of fur jumping all over Henry, who was giggling so much, he could hardly catch his breath.

Finally, Killian spoke. “It seems as though Win-, I mean, Norman, has made his choice. Please let Henry and…his mother have the dog today, Dave.”

“Emma,” she informed him. “My name is Emma Swan, and you don’t have to do that. You had him reserved first. Besides, Henry needs to learn he can’t always have his way.”

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my time with the dog, knowing how sad it would make Henry,” Killian responded. He took a step forward and offered Emma his hand to shake. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

As they shook hands, David cleared his throat. “Um, I have an idea of how to work this out. It’s a nice day, so why don’t all of you take Norman to the dog park together?”

Emma and Killian both whipped their heads around to stare at him. He seemed to shrink back a bit before stammering, “I mean, that way you could all spend time with him and get to know each other at the same time. You’ve been saying you’d like to meet more people in Storybrooke, Killian, and that’s where Henry and Emma live.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I’ve gotten to know Killian pretty well because he sings in the church choir with me and Mary Margaret. He’s a good guy.”

Emma slowly turned her eyes back to the very handsome man whose hand she suddenly realized she was still holding. She dropped it quickly, as she felt a blush heating her cheeks. Then she looked at Henry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman sprawled across his lap. He was looking up at her with hope in his eyes.

Meeting Killian’s gaze once again, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, Emma.”

“You wouldn’t have to go all the way back into Storybrooke,” David said. “There’s a small dog park at the end of the walking path, where a lot of people take dogs they’re thinking of adopting.”

“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded. “Norman would like that, wouldn’t you, boy?”

Emma took a look at the pair and groaned, “It’s bad enough when you use the puppy dog eyes on me, kid. Now you’ve got the dog doing it, too.”

Killian chuckled lowly, the sound of it making Emma’s stomach flip in a very pleasant way. “I would hate to disappoint the two of them, so I’m game if you are, lass.”

Emma chewed her lip in contemplation for a few seconds, before saying, “Okay, but on one condition - you let me pay half of the rental fee.”

“I already paid the fee online,” Killian said.

“So did I, so I guess that takes care of that.”

“Not really,” David said. “You both paid, but you’re only renting one dog. I should reimburse each of you half of the fee.”

“Keep it,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time, then both laughed.

“The shelter can always use a little extra money, can’t it, Mr. Nolan?” Emma asked.

“Please call me David. And of course we can, if you’re both sure you don’t mind.”

As soon as they affirmed their answer, David walked around the counter and picked up the end of the leash. Handing it to Emma, he said, “In that case, Norman-slash-Winston is yours for the next four hours. You can bring him back sooner, if you like, but I’m sure he’s going to love getting out for a while. Oh, and if you get hungry, there’s usually a couple of food trucks near the dog park on Saturdays. Have fun!”

Emma and Killian thanked him, then went out the door with Norman straining at the leash, and Henry skipping along beside him. They quickly found the sign marking the path and started walking it.

After several paces, Killian turned to Emma and asked, “Is it me, or do you feel like David just set us up?”

“One hundred percent,” Emma laughed.

“How long have you known him?”

“David?” she questioned. At his hum of affirmation, she said, “Henry and I rented Norman three weeks ago and that was the first time I met him. David, I mean, not Norman. Well, it was the first time we met Norman, too. His wife is Henry’s teacher. Again, I mean she’s David’s wife, not Norman’s.” She knew she was rambling, but the thought of spending several hours with the gorgeous stranger was making her nervous.

Killian laughed. “That’s a relief. I borrowed Win-, uh, Norman three times and he never once mentioned being married.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh - mostly because what he said was funny, but also in relief that he responded to her embarrassing prattling with humor, instead of judgment.

“So, if Dave just met you, he probably doesn’t even know if you’re married or dating anyone. That was a little presumptuous of him.”

“Are you fishing for information, Mr. Jones?” Emma teased.

“Killian will do,” he grinned. “And…perhaps?”

Before she could answer, Henry ran back to join them. “Can I take Norman, Mom? He’s walking really well on the leash, so I don’t think he’ll yank my arm out of the socket.”

She looked at Killian, who raised an eyebrow with a bemused look on his face.

“That’s something I said when we picked Norman up the last time,” she explained. Handing the loop of the leash to Henry, she said, “Don’t get too far ahead of us, kid.”

“We won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Emma turned her attention back to the man beside her. “To answer your non-question Killian, no, I am not married or dating anyone. It’s just Henry and me, and always has been. When I told his father I thought I might be pregnant, he didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was or not.”

Killian absorbed this news for a few moments before responding, “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds as if the two of you might be better off without someone like that, anyway.”

“Oh, definitely. Henry is more mature at eight than his sperm donor was as an adult. I was young and foolish, but I had to grow up fast once I became a single mother.” She watched her son trying to get Norman to walk beside him, then turned to look at Killian. “Sorry, that is a lot more information than I’m sure you wanted to know.”

“No need to apologize, Emma. I did ask, in a roundabout way.”

“So what’s your story? Did you move here from England, or am I misreading your accent?”

“You got it right,” he chuckled, then took a deep breath. “There was nothing left for me in England. My brother moved here soon after our mother died two years ago, and once I found out my girlfriend was actually a married woman, I needed a fresh start.”

“Ouch,” Emma commented.

“Aye, and now I’ve probably shared more than you wanted to know.”

“We’ll call it even, and promise to talk about much lighter subjects for the rest of the day,” Emma said.

“Deal.”

“You said your brother moved here. Does that mean he lives in Storybrooke?”

“Aye, he followed his heart and it led him straight to this quaint little town.”

“Who does he date, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s engaged to the town librarian, Belle French.”

“Liam is your brother? I guess I should have figured that out since your last name is Jones.”

“It’s a very common name, lass. Yes, Liam is my brother. I gather you know him?”

“Belle is one of my best friends, so I know him through her. She used to babysit for Henry quite often, when I was a waitress at Granny’s.”

“Ah, the famous Granny’s Diner!” Killian exclaimed. “I visit that establishment frequently. She makes the best lasagna.”

“I think you meant to say the best grilled cheese and onion rings,” Emma grinned mischieviously.

“I’ve yet to try those particular delicacies,” he smirked.

“Try them,” she advised. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”

Looking ahead, they saw they were nearing the dog park and picked up their pace. They caught up with Henry and Norman just before reaching the entrance. There were about a half-dozen dogs running around the park, some loose and others on leashes.

“I think it would be a good idea for Mr. Jones to take Norman before we go in,” Emma told Henry. “He’ll be able to control him better if he gets too excited.”

“Okay,” Henry said, willingly handing over the leash.

“Thanks, lad,” Killian smiled.

Henry went through the first gate, holding it open for his mom, followed by Killian and Norman. When they were all in the buffer zone, Henry opened the next gate leading into the main part of the park.

“You’re raising quite the gentleman, Emma,” Killian commented, after he entered with the dog.

“He has his moments.”

They all watched Norman as he began sniffing around excitedly, then pulling on the leash when he noticed the other canines sharing his space. He nearly yanked Killian off of his feet with his enthusiasm to meet new friends.

The next twenty minutes were spent chasing the dog and trying to settle him down. After a few of the other owners left with their animals, Henry found a tennis ball and engaged Norman in a game of fetch. The adults sat on a bench to observe the pair, laughing at the clumsiness of the dog.

Emma noticed Killian rubbing his shoulder. “Alright there, Jones?”

“I think he might have pulled my arm out of the socket, Swan,” he quipped.

“Very funny, smart guy,” she said, making him laugh again. They watched for a few more minutes before Emma asked, “Do you have a job in Storybrooke? I started working at the sheriff’s station three months ago and I don’t remember seeing you around town.”

“I’m an architect. I was able to keep my job with the firm in England by working online and attending meetings with clients and my colleagues via Zoom. All of my time is spent in my office at home. It’s not ideal, but I appreciate my boss being willing to make concessions for me.”

“Do you plan to get a job here eventually?”

“Aye, if I decide to stay.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m used to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Living in Storybrooke has been quite an adjustment.”

“I get that. We moved here from Boston when Henry was two. Granny’s granddaughter, Ruby, was our neighbor there, and when she decided to move back, she talked me into coming with her. At first, I had a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet. That was one reason why I adopted Ernie - just to have a little more noise in the house.”

“Ernie?” Killian questioned.

“Oh, he was our dog. We had him for six years, but he died a couple of months ago.” She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and swiped to reveal her lock screen. “This is a picture of Henry with him.”

“Beautiful animal,” Killian commented sincerely, taking in the photo of the brown and white spaniel. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Emma sighed, locking her phone and returning it to the pocket. “Henry grew up with him and he’s had a really hard time with it. Someone suggested renting a pet from the shelter to help him work through it, and that’s how we ended up renting Norman.”

“They seem to really like each other.”

“Yeah, they got along great the first time. That’s why I signed up to get him again, but I was in a hurry when I filled out the form and forgot to ask for a specific dog.”

“Ah, that explains the mix-up,” Killian remarked.

Another half hour passed while they chatted easily, until Henry came over and flopped down on the ground, quickly joined by Norman. “I’m hungry, Mom. Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure, kid. Put Norman back on his leash and we’ll go find those food trucks Mr. Nolan mentioned.”

They soon located the food trucks just down the sidewalk from the park. After discussing their options, they decided to get pulled pork sandwiches from the barbeque place. It was obvious that people who took their pets to the dog park frequented the food trucks, because each one had bowls of water set out in front of them and containers of dog biscuits on their condiment tables.

While they waited for their food, Henry tried to teach Norman to sit, rewarding him with pieces of the biscuits when he obeyed.

“He’s very good with him,” Killian noted.

“He prays for another dog every night, but our schedule is so busy right now. Plus, it’s such a big responsibility and I’m not sure Henry is ready for it. I might be wrong about that though, seeing how he is with Norman.”

After eating, they followed the sidewalk a little further and spotted a playground. Emma and Killian sat on a bench, with Norman sitting between them as they watched Henry play on the equipment.

“You know, we’ve lived in Storybrooke for six years and I never knew this playground existed,” Emma commented. “We don’t come this way very often, because whenever we go out of town, we take the road going south.”

“It appears to be fairly new,” Killian observed. “Perhaps they constructed it when they built those apartments over there, because they don’t look like they’ve been there very long.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I remember when they were being constructed a couple of years after we moved here, which means they’re less than five years old.”

They lost sight of Henry for a few seconds when he climbed a ladder up into a tower. Suddenly they heard him shout, “Hey, Mom! Look what I found!” and saw him coming down a twisting slide with his arms over his head, clutching a tattered looking soccer ball.

He landed at the bottom and came running over to them. “Someone must have forgotten this at the top of the tower. Wanna kick it around with me?”

“Sure, kid,” Emma answered, hopping up from the bench. “It looks a bit deflated. Are you sure it’s even going to roll?”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Placing it on the ground, he gave it a kick and watched it roll across the grass. “See?”

A black streak flew past him, with Killian following close behind shouting, “Wins-, I mean, Norman! Come back here!”

The dog ignored him, but stopped when he got to the soccer ball. He was trying to pick it up in his mouth when the three humans reached him. Killian was able to kick it away from him, directly to Emma, who stopped it with her foot, then booted it over to Henry. Norman ran from one to the other, in hot pursuit of the elusive ball.

The ‘keep away’ game kept them entertained for a long time. They ran, shouting instructions to each other and laughing until all of them were completely out of breath. Norman was able to intercept some of their passes, but they always managed to get it away from him before he was able to pick it up and run off.

Finally, Emma declared that she had to take a break. Picking up Norman’s leash, she said, “I think we should take him back to the food trucks to get a drink and buy a couple of bottles of water.”

“Aww, Mom,” Henry complained. “I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t I stay here? Killian will stay with me, won’t you, Killian?”

“First of all, you should call him Mr. Jones, and secondly, you’re putting him on the spot, which isn’t cool,” Emma admonished.

Henry looked appropriately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.”

“Thank you, Henry, but if I may be so bold, I don’t mind you calling me Killian. That is, if it’s okay with your mother.”

Henry looked to his mom, who considered for a few seconds, then gave him a nod of approval.

Killian put his arm across Henry’s shoulders and walked him the short distance to where Emma was standing. “I’d be happy to go get the water, Emma.” He took the end of Norman’s leash from her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

While he was gone, Emma sat on the bench watching Henry continue to kick the soccer ball around. Killian and Norman returned a few minutes later, handed her a bottle of water and sat down beside her.

“Do I owe you anything for this?” Emma asked, unscrewing the lid.

“Not at all. I think I can afford to buy a lovely lass a bottle of water.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at his use of the adjective, still rueing the fact she met such a handsome man while looking like she just rolled out of bed. As she was getting ready to take a drink, Henry kicked the ball and sent it sailing over their head, causing Emma to duck and spill some of the water in her lap.

Henry ran over, stopping in front of her. “Oops. Sorry, Mom. I was trying to kick it at the teeter-totter.”

Emma brushed at the water droplets, looking around to locate the teeter-totter, which was at least twenty feet away from the bench. “Not even close, kid.”

Killian stood up. “Perhaps I could give you some pointers, lad. I was a rather good football player when I was younger .”

Henry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I play soccer, not football.”

Killian chuckled as Emma explained, “Killian grew up in England and over there, soccer is called football. They call what we play ‘American football’, don’t they, Killian?”

“Aye, lass. Sorry to confuse you, Henry.”

“Oh, I never knew that. So, how good were you?”

Killian rubbed a finger behind his ear, ducking his head a bit. “I played in a semi-professional league for a couple of years and actually tried out for a professional club, before I decided to go to Uni and become an architect instead.”

“Wow! Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “You probably know even more about soccer than my coach!”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows a bit more than a volunteer coach for a youth league team.” She took the dog’s leash back from Killian. “Norman and I will sit this lesson out.”

Killian attempted to wink at her. “As you wish, Milady. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”

She smiled fondly, watching the two of them passing the ball back and forth for a while, before pulling out her phone to catch up on her social media apps.

When she looked up a few minutes later, she saw Killian giving Henry instructions for controlling the ball as he dribbled it down the field. Apparently, they were using two trees as the goal and Henry was moving toward them quickly, while trying rather unsuccessfully to keep the ball under control. When he kicked it from quite a distance away, the ball hit one of the trees and ricocheted away.

Killian went to retrieve the ball and took it back to where Henry was waiting. He squatted down in front of the boy and began talking to him, gesturing now and then to different parts of the field.

Henry listened intently, nodding once in a while. When Killian finished speaking, he stood up and did a short demonstration of how to move the ball back and forth from foot to foot. Then he patted the boy’s shoulder, walked the ball further away from the trees and set it down.

Henry lined himself up behind the ball and looked up at Killian. After getting a reassuring smile from him, Henry started dribbling the ball across the ground with shorter, more controlled kicks, while Killian jogged beside him, shouting encouragement. This time, he got the ball much closer to the trees, before giving it a powerful kick that sent it shooting right between them.

Killian whooped as Henry raised his arms in victory, giving a triumphant cheer. What Emma saw happen next put a lump in her throat. Henry flung his arms around Killian’s waist, hugging him tightly, and Killian returned the hug, rubbing his hand over her son’s head as he looked down at him with a proud smile on his face.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

#pet for rent #jrob64 #csff #CS fluff #CS smut #CS modern AU #captain swan fanfic #art by jrob64 #ouat Captain Swan fanfic #Captain cobra

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happy-emmdings · 6 months

Text

It’s fluff hours!!💓🥺

Emma painting Killian’s nails based on @dykelilypage’s wholesome headcanon that still lives in my head.

#I know this was a while ago but… this took me a while😆#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #cs fluff #cs headcanon #ouat fanart #nya draws

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searchingwardrobes · 3 months

Text

I'm back!!! After months and months of creative exhaustion and writer's block, this story came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. It's just a little one shot of pillow talk in Camelot that's a little fluffy, a tiny bit angsty, and a whole lot of tenderness. I hope you all enjoy it!

Rated T

Killian wished for the first time for those garish artificial lights of Storybrooke. As Emma said, he was becoming a 21st century man, and he had come to enjoy the ability to see his beloved in all her glory, even after the sun went down. Here in Camelot, however, he had to rely on his sense of touch alone to map the marks on Emma he had come to know so well.

“You and I, we understand each other,” Emma had said once, and the longer they were together, the more they saw it to be true. Though many a woman had warmed his bed, he still felt self-conscious the first time Emma saw the scars that riddled his body, yet she had smiled in that knowing way she had, and had cheekily said, “let me show you mine.”

His thumb now grazed the puckered one on her shoulder, a form of punishment by a foster father using the tip of his cigar. He nudged her hair aside with his nose, then lightly brushed his lips across the faint white line behind her right ear, caused by a broken beer bottle.

“I thought I ducked in time,” Emma had chuckled when she told him the story, “until I felt the trickle of blood dripping down my neck.”

He knew what it was to make light of a person’s past, as if childhood slavery was just one of those things that happens sometimes. There was nothing normal about it, however, just as there was nothing normal about Emma living in an alleyway at the age of ten ducking from beer brawls.

Emma shifted in his arms with a contented sigh. He wished she could sleep, but since the darkness wouldn’t allow herself that reprieve, at least she could find solace in his embrace. “You silence the voices in my head,” she had told him, pressing her nose to his collarbone. If that was the case, he would not leave her side, though the sleeping arrangements hadn’t made her father very happy at first.

Killian’s fingers danced along the jagged scars along her upper back, the newest ones, from when a skip she was chasing pushed her into a plate glass window. That story elicited a shrug and bragging rights that she only missed a few days of work. Bravado – he understood that defense mechanism as well.

They really did understand one another.

Emma reached around for his arm and pulled his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. She pressed their joined hands to her chest, and he noticed the slightest change in her bearing. An almost imperceptible stiffening, and did her pulse just kick up a notch? She shifted again, this time as if she were uncomfortable.

“Are you alright, love?”

Emma released his hand, and using her magic, she lit the candles in the room. Then she rolled over to face him, her hands fluttering, as if she didn’t know whether to touch him or not. She finally balled them up in the sheet that covered her, pulling it up to her chin.

“Do you know the song ‘Brandy’?”

Killian chuckled. “You know my only knowledge of this realm’s music is you and Henry. Right now your lad is educating me on something called punk? Apparently, it was a favorite of his father’s.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, Neal loved that stuff. I prefer the classics.”

“Like those beetle people?”

“The Beatles, Killian, and yes. Also Motown, Elvis, Creedence Clearwater Revival. I don’t know why, I just always liked the old stuff.”

“And this song? ‘Brandy’? Is by one of these singing groups?”

“Uh, no, but it's kind of the same genre, I guess. I don’t know even know who sings it, actually. I thought maybe you’d heard it at Granny’s or something. It’s about this girl and a sailor, so . . . “

“Ah.” He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He was glad she’d lit the candles, though he still couldn’t see her well. Well enough, however, to see the furrow of her brow and the way her lips turned down. This was obviously about more than a song. “Most sailors I know prefer rum, though. Brandy is a little high brow for our modest tastes.”

Emma rolled her eyes, which was precisely what he’d been going for. “Brandy is a woman. She lives by the sea and serves drinks to sailors. In a tavern, I guess.”

“Aptly named.”

Emma adjusted her pillow beneath her head and rolled over. She continued the story gazing up at the ceiling instead of looking at him.

“The song tells the story about her and the man she falls in love with. He’s a sailor, and he loves her, but always leaves her.”

Killian is beginning to see where this is going. He shifts closer to her, propping his head up on his blunted arm so he can look down at her as she speaks. With his hand, he strokes her arm gently.

“The chorus,” Emma continues, “is what the man always says to her: Brandy, you’re a fine girl. What a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, my lady is the sea.”

There are many things Killian could say. The first thought that comes to his mind is that the man in the song is either an idiot or a complete cad who most likely has a girl in every port. He’s known the type. People probably assume he’s the type, but he was always careful that his one-night stands had the same expectations he did. He actively avoided women who would be a “good wife.” Not every sailor had good form, however. He could explain all of that to Emma; tell her that the song is unfortunately a common tale, but it’s never been his.

He knows, however, that none of those things are what Emma needs right now. So he waits, without moving, his hand still caressing her arm. Emma releases a puff of angry breath before speaking again.

“I’ve always hated that song.”

“Emma, love,” Killian says gently, shifting onto his back and reaching for her, “come here.”

She comes to him a bit shyly, and he smiles at her gently as he cups her face with his hand. In her gaze, he can see hesitation. Fear. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness whispering doubts, or if it’s her same old insecurities, but this is one battle he knows how to help her fight.

“My life,” he says, kissing her cheek, “my love,” he kisses her nose, “my lady,” he kisses her forehead, then pulls back so he can gaze into her eyes, “is you, Emma.”

Her eyes well up with tears, and a hesitant smile teases the corners of her mouth. “The Jolly Roger was your home for so long. You had nothing holding you back. Nothing tying you down.”

Killian shakes his head. “Emma, you said once that you and I understand one another. You, like me, were an orphan. What is the one thing all orphans want more than anything else?”

“A home,” Emma breathes without hesitation.

Killian nods, then kisses her fiercely, pulling her to himself, his hand tangling in her hair, pouring into his kiss all his hopes and dreams for their future. When they part, breathless, Emma presses her forehead to his, her smile finally full and joyous.

“So I didn’t freak you out when I mentioned that white picket fence?”

Killian tucks her against him, wrapping his arms fully around her. As he kisses the top of her head, he thinks of the real estate ads he and Henry have been looking at, one house in particular that looks fit for a princess, with a view of the sea.

“Not at all, love. I want that too.”

Emma snuggles further into his embrace, her hand splayed on his chest, right over his heart.

“Good,” she says, with that edge of smugness he’s always found so endearing.

He tries to stay awake, for her sake, but the warm, flickering light of the candles, combined with the softness of her in his arms, lulls him more than the ocean waves. Just as sleep pulls him under, he murmurs against her hair.

“You’re my home now, Emma. My life, my love, my lady.”

Tagging: @snowbellewells @jrob64 @teamhook @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thislassishooked @thisonesatellite @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateherokillian @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084

I don't even know who is around anymore, so let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list!!

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #once upon a time #captain swan fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #fluff #sweetness #intimacy #pillow talk #canon compliant

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 4 months

Text

Weekend Getaway (1/3)

AO3 | 2 | 3

RATING: M

SUMMARY: When Emma's roommate drags her to get a live Christmas Tree, she ends up trapped at a Christmas Village for the weekend. Fortunately, the village had a bar and a bartender that Emma wants to get to know better.

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert - DM me if you would like to be added/removed from the list.

"You're coming with me," Ruby announced as she banged into the flat. The front door crashed against the wall before closing behind her. Wearing a red knit sweater with a Christmas tree on it that actually lit up and arms heavily laden with shopping bags, she was the bright spot - literally - of Christmas Cheer that Emma was certain she did not order.

It wasn’t that Emma hated Christmas or anything quite so dramatic. But if given the opportunity to skip directly to New Year’s Eve after Halloween, she would happily accept. There was no escaping how dreadfully lonely her life had become since she’d driven away from Storybrooke after - Nope, not going there.

"We are getting a live tree this year! Get your jacket, let's go." Ruby continued, not waiting for Emma to acknowledge her.

"Those are fire hazards. Plus, where would we put it?" Emma gestured at their tiny, crowded living space.

Ruby grunted as she deposited the bags on the nearest chair. She grabbed Emma's boots and threw them at her, "Put 'em on."

Scowling and grumbling, she clicked off the TV and shoved her feet into her boots.

It was impossible to deny Ruby anything. They came to the city together a few years ago to get over their broken hearts and discover a life outside of their small town. They'd helped nurse each other through the heartbreaks, acted as both wing-woman and excuse for one another - depending on what the night demanded, and endured the challenges of being artists in a big city together. Ruby had landed a part on an off-broadway play and Emma was in her second season at the New York City Ballet. It took several failed auditions, many pints of ice cream, and the constant support from one another to get them this far.

"Let's burn down the building then."

"That's the spirit!"

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

They drove for hours, leaving the city behind for the snow-covered, rolling hills of the upstate. While singing and dancing to old favourite songs, they passed several signs advertising various Christmas tree farms. Ruby would shake her head and drive by them. After the tenth one, Emma finally asked where they were going. “I found the perfect farm online.”

At Emma’s sceptical look, Ruby continued, “I promise, there is something special about the one we are going to," Ruby explained. "I can just feel it, you know?"

Emma released a resigned sigh. Ruby was impulsive and spiritual, believing her intuition was a powerful force that should not be ignored. Emma needed something a bit more concrete to guide her decisions.

Ruby slowed at a lane that was much like any other they had passed all day, except this one sported a faded red pickup truck with rounded fenders that was wrapped in fat, colourful light bulbs. A hand-painted sign welcomed guests to the Jones' Christmas Tree Farm for sleigh rides, hot cidre, hot chocolate, and to cut and carry home their very own tree from its stand on the stained wooden slats in the bed of the truck.

As they bounced along the uneven lane, Ruby cleared her throat. “Don’t kill me…”

“No promises.” Emma tore her attention from the endless rows of firs and spruces lined outside her window to glare at her old friend. The ice in that glare would have stopped the hearts of mere mortals. But, this was no mere mortal. This was Ruby Lucas and nothing could hinder Ruby’s excitement once it gained momentum.

Ruby smiled brightly at Emma and pulled a duffle bag from behind Emma’s seat. “I booked a cabin for us for the weekend. We were just saying that we needed a little break and they had so many fun things and, wait until you see the farm, it is beautiful!”

Emma had planned to set up a station on her couch and binge-watch garbage telly. Not spend a weekend on a farm, much less a farm that would doubtlessly be filled with families and couples buying trees the entire time. This was definitely worse than the countless movies featuring smiling men and women in red or green sweaters in front of a highly decorated tree that were beginning to populate every channel she surfed, right? Yes, she decided, it was. Ruby had driven her directly into the ridiculous small town that featured in the background of one of those ridiculous movies and was making them stay for the entire weekend. This was not what she had in mind when they were talking about their holiday. Sun, sand, and sangrias had featured in her dreams. Not snow, cidre, and Santa.

“They’d better have hard cidre or spiked egg nog,” Emma muttered.

“Like I would spend a sober weekend in a cabin on a farm!” Ruby shot Emma a wounded look.

Emma snorted and shook her head. “Well, that’s something, at least.”

“Oh, hush. This will be a weekend to remember.”

The lane opened up to reveal a stunning farmhouse with snowy Christmas trees in rows lining the hills sprawling in every direction. A red barn stood out brightly in stark contrast to the white landscape. It would have been breathtaking, Emma thought, if not for the Christmas Village that stood before the barn under twinkling fairy lights.

"Our cabin better be out of town."

"Well...it is close to the Holly Jolly Tavern, I think."

"RUBY!"

"I know how much you hate Christmas and we are changing that this year. Your heart will grow three sizes and Tiny Tim will live after all."

"Wait...am I the Grinch or Scrooge?"

"Yes." Ruby laughed, throwing the car in park. "I'll check us in, why don't you go find your Christmas spirit?" She mimed taking a shot before getting out of the car and walking toward the farmhouse, leaving Emma in the passenger seat of the old car, quickly growing cold, wondering why she allowed Ruby to pull her into these ridiculous situations in the first place.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

The Holly Jolly Tavern was, thankfully, more Tavern than Holly Jolly. Sure, a decorated tree stood tall in the corner near the fire crackling in a large hearth and large multi-coloured bulbs were strung along the walls. And, of course, the drink specials had cutesy holiday names and instrumental Christmas songs played softly in the background. But, the bartenders weren’t dressed as elves or in tacky holiday sweaters and the tables and chairs were your standard sturdy wooden pairings found in drink establishments everywhere.

Emma sat at the long bar and scanned the wall of spirits trying to determine what best fit this situation.

“What can I get you, love?” The low voice was charmingly accented, and it sent chills down her back. She turned toward the bartender and met brilliant blue eyes that stilled her heart. He wore a crooked smile that made her think very dirty thoughts about his lips and the amber scruff framing the sharp line of his jaw.

“Whatever your favourite drink is,” Emma answered with a flirty smile. She thanked whatever gods were watching that her voice sounded steady, her mouth was suddenly so dry that she'd expected it to crack.

He nodded at her request and started pulling together ingredients for her drink. She watched him at his task, mesmerised by his movements and the way he focused so completely on his task. She wondered what it would be like to have that focus directed solely on her and her pleasure. She felt her cheeks heat at the thought and turned away in an attempt to hide it, but his eyes danced with mischievous humour as he handed over her drink, telling her that she was caught. Luckily, he was kind enough not to comment.

She studied the bright red drink, cranberries and mint floated in the glass, and a thin lime garnished the rim of the tall glass. It looked refreshing and exciting. She wondered if this was truly his favourite drink or a cocktail he had mixed for her using that special power great bartenders had - that uncanny ability to know exactly what a patron needed based on a single glance.

“A Cranberry Mojito,” he told her, leaning on the bar before her. Her eyes lingered on his well-defined arms and the unfair way they were stretching his deep blue knit sweater. “What brings you here, um?”

“Emma,” she answered for him, “And, oh, I don’t know. I guess that I have always dreamed of living in one of those ridiculous towns from those cheesy Christmas romances.”

“Pleasure, Emma. Killian,” he said in that musical voice. “I take it this trip wasn’t your idea, then?”

“Nope. My roommate surprised me as we were pulling in - Ohhh! This is good.”

He smiled in triumph at her approval. “The trick is making the simple syrup from scratch with fresh cranberries.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Emma said before taking another sip of the deliciously sweet and tart drink. “Is this truly your favourite drink?”

“Tonight, it is.”

“Your tastes change so often?” She teased, her eyebrow lifting to emphasise her innuendo.

“I’m not so fickle as that, love. I am partial to rum, but not so dull as to only take it one way.” Killian replied, meeting her gaze. The heat in the depths of his sapphire eyes made her stomach tighten in response. This man was too good to be anything but trouble.

Mmm, but it would be some good trouble.

“That looks fantastic! Can I get one, too?” Ruby’s voice shattered the tension building between them.

“Coming right up, love,” Killian answered immediately. His eyes lingered on Emma’s a moment longer before he turned to mix Ruby’s drink.

“It’s a Cranberry Mojito,” Emma explained, turning to look at Ruby. “Here, try some while you wait.”

Ruby’s eyes were wide and she was biting her lips together tightly to suppress what Emma knew to be a wolfish smile. Emma shook her head subtly, pleading with Ruby to not say a word. Ruby nodded excitedly at her in approval of whatever she had read into the exchange she interrupted earlier. Emma frantically shook her head - whatever you are thinking, stop thinking it!

When Killian returned, setting Ruby’s drink on the bar before her, Ruby pounced. “So, what is your name?”

“Killian,” he answered with amusement laced in the melody of his voice.

“And what does your girlfriend think of you making eyes with your patrons, Killian?”

Emma sputtered and coughed as she tried not to choke on the sip she’d taken before Ruby’s obvious question. Ruby turned to Emma, earnest concern etched on her face, while her eyes danced with humour, “Are you okay, Emma? Need some water?”

Narrowing her eyes at Ruby, Emma shook her head. Her breath was still taken by the liquid burning in her lungs. A few strangled coughs later, Emma ground out that she was just fine. Killian slid a glass of water to her anyway, the sweet gesture sinking Emma further into… well, whatever was happening between them.

“Good,” said Ruby briskly and she turned to Killian expectantly.

“I’m not a man to make eyes with someone while involved with another,” his accent clipping the words.

He hadn’t liked that accusation one bit. The realisation warmed Emma as much as the rum spreading in her blood. He wouldn’t cheat on her and leave her too embarrassed, too ashamed, to face the town she had lived in her entire life. He may be trouble, but he was honourable trouble and that she could handle.

“What kind of a man are you then, Killian?” Ruby asked. She sipped from her cocktail and pinned him with a look that dared him to rise to the bait.

“Don’t do that, Rubes,” Emma snapped. Her temper was rising - she felt the need to protect Killian from Ruby’s intrusive questions. Killian sent her a grateful look before excusing himself to serve a man flagging him down on the other end of the bar.

“Ooh, you like this one,” Ruby whispered far too loudly as she waggled her eyebrows ridiculously. Emma could not help but laugh and the strange frustration that had so quickly risen in her dispersed.

“No. I just thought that was unfair of you,” Emma said simply.

“Mmhmmm.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the disbelief in Ruby’s tone. “Fine. Think whatever you want.”

“I do and I will.”

“So, what is there to do in a Christmas Village?” Emma asked in a very smooth and effortless transition from the previous topic.

Ruby perked up and started rattling off various activities that she had booked or seen on her walk over to the pub. Emma listened half-heartedly - her attention straying to the barkeep continuously. She caught him looking her way once and he sent her a devastating smile before returning to his work.

He served them several more rounds as the night grew older, but he was unable to linger longer than getting their order or setting down their drinks as the Holly Jolly Tavern stayed busy once the sun went down.

When they left, staggering into the night, Emma felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t seemed to notice her exit.

Would it have been too much to ask for him to come out running to see her home safe like some Victorian gentleman? She snorted at that very drunk, very ridiculous thought and followed Ruby to the cabin she would call home for the next few days.

#emma swan #killian jones #captain swan #captain swan au #cs au ff #cs ff #cs christmas #cs fanfic #killian x emma #there will be fluff #there will be smut #there will be a happy ending #fic by Jas

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kazoosandfannypacks · 11 months

Text

“Blanket Fort Fluff” by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: Teen Word Count: 1788 words Summary: When Emma realizes Killian's never made a blanket fort before, she sets up a blanket fort for their next night-in together. Author’s notes: A few months ago, we were watching my cousin's young son, and I asked the lad if he wanted me to make him a blanket fort. He seemed confused by this question, and I realized his parents and uncle and aunts had all failed him, in that he had never had a blanket fort before. He was delighted when I made him his "very own room" with some tray tables and blankets. Always on the lookout for fanfiction ideas, I realized that our favorite pirate has probably never had a blanket fort before either, so I decided to write a fic to remedy that. Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

Killian sat on the couch next to Emma, his arm wrapped around her as she scrolled through the pin-interesting application on her talking phone. How Emma and Henry were able to focus on watching a moving picture show while also focusing on their phone screens was still a mystery to Killian.

Emma's talking phone buzzed- a digital message from Henry, one with a picture.

"You do realize your mother is actually right here in the room with you?" Killian asked Henry, who sat in his own chair a few feet away. "Why don't you just get up and show her whatever it is you want her to see?"

"It's just easier to send a text message," Henry said, "Less work."

"Makes sense," Killian said, secretly wondering how any step that involved using more technology was something someone could consider less work.

He saw Emma smile at whatever it was Henry'd sent, then reply with a picture of a face that was laughing while crying. She showed the message to Killian; it was an image of text that said: "I've decided to no longer be an adult. If you need me I'll be in my blanket fort- coloring and eating fruit loops."

"A fortress made of blankets?" Killian asked.

"You guys didn't have blanket forts back in our world?" Emma asked.

"Of course not," Killian said, "we had fortresses made of practical materials, like wood and stone. What's a blanket fort supposed to protect against?"

"Bad days," Emma shrugged, "sadness, I guess?"

"And adulthood," Henry tacked on.

"Ain't that the truth, kid."

"So kids in this realm just build forts out of blankets," Killian asked, "for fun?"

"All the time," Emma said.

"Fascinating." Killian said.

He didn't bother trying to continue the conversation, as the movie was just getting to what Emma and Henry referred to as "the good part," the final confrontation between good and evil, and Killian wanted to give it his full attention.

💕🦢💕🏴‍☠️💕

That conversation was all but forgotten after a week, when Killian took Henry sailing to give Emma a day to herself. He then dropped Henry off at Regina's- and now Emma and Killian could have a night to themselves.

"Emma, love," he called as he entered, "I'm home!"

He was in for a bit of a shock when he entered the living room. It looked like someone had set up a tent over the couch. It was made of blankets, hung on a clothesline strung across the room, fairy lights from last Christmas strung along the blankets' edges.

One of the blankets lowest to the ground moved, opening like a flap to reveal Emma peeking out underneath.

"Surprise!" Emma said.

"Indeed I am," Killian said, "what's all this?"

"Remember when I told you about blanket forts?" Emma crawled out from under the blankets, wearing a robe and pajama pants.

"Aye," he smiled as she walked over to him, "I take it this is one of them,"

"Not too shabby, if I do say so myself." Emma placed her hands on his shoulders and gave him a kiss. "I figured it might be fun to do something special tonight."

"Every night with you is special, love," Killian kissed her cheek, "I'll join you in the fort as soon as I've washed up."

"Don't be long."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

💕🦢💕🏴‍☠️💕

He'd noticed when he went upstairs that Emma had laid out his own fluffy robe and pajamas pants for him, as well as his slippers, so after a quick shower he changed into those, then hurried downstairs, not about to keep his Swan waiting too long.

Emma was waiting for him at the entrance to their blanket hideout, holding a bag of microwaved popcorn

"That was quick," Emma remarked, "I almost didn't have enough time to make popcorn."

Killian smiled. "You'd be surprised at how motivated a pirate can be when he's got a blanket fort and the most beautiful woman in all the realms waiting for him."

He gave his wife a kiss on her now blushing cheek. Ever looking for a chance to be a gentleman, he took the bowl of popcorn from her so she wouldn't have to carry it herself.

She smiled and pulled back the "door" to their fortresses and gestured for him to enter first. He did so, and she followed after him.

He hadn't expected it to feel so much cozier than the blanket fort than it usually did in the living room- and yet, something that felt like home hit him as he walked into the blanket walled room, which contained the couch, a pile of pillows and blankets in front of it, and more fairy lights around the inside.

"In the spirit of nostalgia," Emma said, taking his hook in her hands and dragging him across the fort by it, "we'll sit on the floor."

"And color in a coloring book while eating fruit loops?" Killian joked as he followed Emma to the pile of pillows and blankets in front of the couch

"I was thinking I could pull up a movie on my laptop, and maybe we could have popcorn and snuggle instead," Emma said.

"Aye, I like that plan," Killian smiled.

Emma took a seat on the floor, and Killian followed her down. He found a comfortable position reclining against the back of the couch, and it soon became a lot more comfortable, as Emma sat down next to him, nestling into his arms like they were the only place she could possibly belong.

Emma pulled out her laptop.

"What movie are we gonna watch tonight, love?" Killian asked.

"I don't know," Emma said, "picking which movie we watch every time is such a huge responsibility."

Killian could tell she was being sarcastic, but he still understood the sentiment. As much as he wished he could be more helpful in picking movies, he really knew nothing about the topic in question at all.

"In the name of nostalgia," Killian offered, "maybe a movie you liked as a kid?"

"That narrows it down," Emma rolled her eyes, then looked at him and smiled as she added, "but I appreciate the suggestion."

"I just wish I could be more help."

"You're all the help I need," Emma said, patting him on the leg.

Killian pressed his forehead against the side of her head and took her hand. "And you're all that I need." he whispered.

A slightly flustered smile crept across her face, just as Killian had calculated would happen, and she set her laptop down and turned towards him, so their noses brushed against each other.

"You're all I need too," Emma said.

"The most incredible woman in all the realms needs an old washout like me?" Killain thought, shaking his head and smiling.

"What?' Emma asked.

"Have I told you recently that your eyes sparkle like the morning dew on the grass?" Killian asked, brushing his hair out of her face with his hook, "Or that your smile is like the silver lining in the clouds after a week of storms? Or that your hair shines like the sun in winter, and that flush of red creeping across your cheeks right now is the most beautiful color I've ever laid eyes on?"

Emma placed her hand on his neck.

"I don't know," she replied, "have I told you recently that your eyes are like a dip in the lake in the summer? That your hair's like a field of flowers that I just wanna run through," and she slid her hand back and her fingers charted their courses already through his hair, "and that your lips are like a ship, like a home I want to fall into?"

Now he was blushing too, trying as he may to keep his cool.

"I believe you have, love," he said.

"Have I?"

"At least once or twice- but about that last line," he then tapped her lips, then his, with the flat of his hook, "something about falling into my lips?"

"Oh?" Emma leaned forward, her smiling lips hovering next to his, just close enough to drive him mad. "And what was that?"

Killian smiled, "I think you know," he raised an eyebrow.

"Do I?" she raised an eyebrow in return. "Do I really?"

"Now you're just toying with me," he said, "you know how it gets to me when you play coy with me."

Emma's smile widened, "You wanna kiss me so badly it's almost pathetic."

"I don't want to kiss you badly," he said, letting go of her hand so he could cradle the back of her neck instead, "I want to kiss you well- oh so very well."

Her breath spiraled across his lips like a hurricane, and her fingers twirled around his hair and twisted across his neck like they'd gotten caught in the storm. She smiled, then whispered, "Go for it."

She didn't have to tell him twice. He pulled her lips into his like the tide draws a ship to her home port, less like he was pulling her and more like he was leading her exactly where she wanted to be anyways.

And it was right where he wanted to be too. Half a decade ago, he wouldn't've dreamt of a moment like this one- holding Emma Swan- his wife, Emma Swan- in his own two arms, in the living room of their house, her lips on his, her hands on his neck, wanting to be here, wanting to kiss him, to hold him, to love him! In two centuries spent trying to get what he wanted, he never would've guessed that what he wanted was as simple and beautiful as this.

She slid her hands down to the edges of his robe, pulling him even closer than he already was, curling her lips even tighter around his.

He shifted her ever so slightly, Emma giggling a little as he laid her down, her head now resting on the couch, himself almost laughing as well as he wrapped himself around her. His lips stayed on top of hers, his face on hers, his chest on hers- his heart on hers.

"Oh," she sighed. She let go of his robe, only so she could run her hands underneath it, all along his chest and back, tracing out routes she was well acquainted with. "Thanks for the help."

"Help with what?" he asked, with a low voice, and with messy kisses as his lips danced across hers.

Emma wrapped her arms around him tighter, pulling him even further onto her, then left his lips so she could plant a field of kisses just below his ear, before whispering a response into it.

"I don't think I'll have to worry about picking a movie tonight."

💕🦢💕🏴‍☠️💕

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #cs ff #fanfiction #post canon #canon compliant #henry mills #once upon a time season 6 #fluff #kazzy writes

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cosette141 · 1 year

Text

Operation: Poptarts | OUAT fanfic

Fandom: Once Upon A Time Author: cosette141 Words: 1k Summary: Henry was mostly happy that Killian had moved in with him and Emma. His only reservation was that Killian won't stop throwing out his poptarts. S6 Captain Cobra

AO3

(under the cut!)

a/n: slight tag to "Dark Waters"/S6, when Killian threw out Henry's poptarts.

Henry was mostly happy that Killian had moved in with him and Emma.

It was nice most of the time, having Killian around. For one, Killian was a surprisingly good cook, and surprisingly organized, whereas even Henry was more organized than Emma. The house had never been cleaner since Killian had joined them.

The three of them had dinner together every time Henry wasn't with Regina, and they also had weekend movie nights per Henry's request, since Killian had much to catch up on in that regard. Killian's commentary over the movies and TV shows was usually more amusing than the actual films.

Not to mention the fact that having Killian around had also started to feel less like having his mother's boyfriend living with them, and more like a… father figure. No one would replace Henry's true father, but if anyone could, Henry could easily say that Killian was it.

Not that he was ready to admit that to the pirate just yet, but it was true all the same.

So, all in all, Henry was mostly happy that Killian had moved in with them.

There was, however, one thing that always put that mostly before happy.

And that had to do with his poptarts.

Or, more specifically, his lack of poptarts.

It all started the day that Killian had watched him during the time the Evil Queen was wreaking havoc over the town, and Killian had thrown out two perfectly good poptarts of Henry's.

If that was the only instance of this particular issue, Henry would have been fine with it.

Except, it wasn't.

The next morning, Henry had gone looking for the box of poptarts in the cupboard, knowing he'd had two packs left in it, but the whole box was gone.

When Henry inquired about it, Killian had informed him that the rubbish was gone, that it wasn't 'real food' and he couldn't knowingly let Henry go around eating it, and he'd made the three of them a fish breakfast.

Emma had given Henry an apologetic smile that she'd smoothly shifted to a fake-happy one to Killian when he'd looked in her direction, and Henry had swallowed his disappointment and eaten with them.

Instead of trying again, Henry decided to get a new box of poptarts, and hide them.

Which worked, for all of one day.

Because the next day when he had gone to his hiding spot, under his bed, he instead found a note reading: Can't hide anything from a pirate, mate.

Henry, however, did try.

At first, Henry was more than irritated about it, but it quickly became a challenge to find a place to successfully hide the sugary snacks away from the pirate. But no matter where he hid them, he would encounter a note in the place of each one, some of them congratulating him on getting better at hiding things.

It had shifted from an annoyance to almost like a game between the two of them as the weeks went by, something they'd never voice aloud, and something Emma stayed completely out of, though Henry often saw her rolling her eyes at them.

However, after nearly two months of the back and forth, Henry had finally found a hiding place that Killian didn't; a barely-noticeable loose floorboard in the attic, under two heavy boxes and cloaked in shadows.

For three days, Henry was able to enjoy poptarts without them disappearing.

And as exciting as it should have been, it was now a disappointment not to find a note in their place.

Henry pulled the box out from the floorboard, and stared at it for a moment, rather than taking one out to eat. He suddenly considered hiding it somewhere else that Killian would find it.

"This was a good place, but I'll remind you that you can't hide anything from a pirate, mate."

Henry jumped a mile in his skin, jerking to his feet and spinning around, knocking one of the storage boxes to the ground.

Because Killian was leaning against the doorway, watching him with an amused grin.

"You knew?!" exclaimed Henry, still breathless, his heart beating fast from the startle.

"Aye," said Killian with a chuckle. "A good pirate finds treasure by knowing well the person who has hidden it. And you, my boy, I know quite well."

Something about how Killian said that reminded Henry of how he'd once felt when Neal called Henry his son, his boy. Hearing it from Killian made Henry smile.

Killian lifted himself from the wall, saying, "However, this one did take me the longest to find." He took a few steps toward Henry, raising a brow at the box of poptarts. "You really find these worthy of such effort?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "Have you ever even tried one?"

Killian's raised brow turned to Henry, and there in his eyes was the obvious answer that no, he has not.

With a grin of his own, Henry pulled out a pack, and opened it. He gave Killian one, and took a bite out of one for himself. "Try it," said Henry.

Killian stared at it like it was a deal from Mr. Gold, but when Henry prompted it again, Killian looked at him. But then, something relented in the older man's eyes, as if he was just doing it for Henry, and he took it. Tentatively and quite reluctantly, Henry watched Killian take a small bite.

Henry stared at him expectantly. "Well?"

-././.

The next day, Henry looked up from where he was at the kitchen table, doing his homework, when Emma called his name. She was standing in front of the open cupboard, brows raised high.

"Yeah, Mom?" asked Henry distractedly.

Emma pulled out a box of poptarts. "Um," said Emma, brows still raised. "Really, kid? I don't think hiding it in plain sight will work." She gestured it to him like they were contraband. "Here, hide your poptarts somewhere better."

Henry looked up again, rolling his eyes. "Those aren't mine."

Emma's brows raised again, this time in puzzlement. "What?"

"They're Killian's," said Henry, amusement at his lips. At Emma's shock, he said, "I made him try one. Joke's on me, though, cause then he took the box from me and told me to 'stay the bloody hell away from them cause they're his now'."

Through her shock, Emma laughed. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was." said Henry through his grin.

Emma shook her head to herself, as if she knew she was surrounded by two idiots, and she moved to put them back in the cupboard.

But Henry suddenly had an idea.

"Wait," said Henry, getting up. Emma paused, and Henry held his hand out for the poptarts with a grin that he must have picked up from Killian. Emma seemed to notice the mischief in that look, and she smiled too, handing him the box.

It was time to get a little payback.

Still smiling, Henry ran off to find a hiding place that was even better than the attic before Killian came home.

-.-././.

Emma was in the kitchen when Killian came home that night, after he'd been out with Smee and a few of his crew for the day.

She and Killian greeted each other with a kiss and a brief chat about their days. But afterward, Emma saw Killian go to the cupboard where she'd found the box of poptarts. He opened it, about to reach inside when he paused, realizing it was gone.

He hesitated in confusion for a moment.

But then, a knowing look crossed his face.

And she watched him smile.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper

#captain swan #cs ff #captain cobra #killian jones #henry #ouat ff #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #cosette141 ffn #humor #fluff #poptarts

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donteattheappleshook · 1 year

Text

Barefoot in the wildest winter... a captain swan Christmas AU

Summary:

She wasn’t supposed to come back. It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother finding out that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights.The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs, to knock on the door. There’s still time to run. “Swan?” “Hey, Killian.”

Rated M (E?)

Merry Christmas @killiansprincss ! It’s me, not the problem this time but your Secret Santa 🎅

I’ve SO enjoyed getting to know you over the last few weeks and getting to talk CS, Christmas and Taylor Swift! 🥰

I hope you like this little story I’ve written you for the @cssecretsanta2020 I tried to fit in as many of your favorites as I could: soft Killian, forced proximity/only one bed, fluff/smut/angst (with a happy ending of course), and a little nod to some favorite holiday movies, a splash of favorite side characters and scenes, and (obviously) a little inspiration from the queen of love songs herself

And a hundred thousand million thank yous to @the-darkdragonfly who saved this fic when it went off the rails and made it not terrible <3 It never would have come together without you holding my hand through all of it.

Read on Ao3 were my italics work!

❄️❄️❄️

It’s not that bad.

It’s just a little snow.

The Bug is reliable and she’s got winter tires.

She’ll be fine.

Shit, she just missed her turn. They need more street lights around here - the snow covering the signs doesn’t help either. She ducks her head, trying to see better, looking for any landmarks she recognizes. Emma thought she knew Storybrooke off by heart, but it seems a decade away has left some of her recollection hazy.

The snow had come out of nowhere, blanketing the ground in the amount of time it took her to walk in and out of the Sheriff’s station, the flurries massive and wet as they hit her windshield. What little light her headlights manage to shine through the dark is blinded by angry streams of flakes, falling furiously against them in the harsh wind, the consistent rattling noise unnerving.

She used to wish for winters like this, town blanketed in snowfall, schools closed and days spent hiding out with friends. ‘Here.’ A gift pushed awkwardly into her hand, an embarrassed smile, flakes swirling around a little version of the town they both lived in. ‘Now you’ll always have snow.’ Now she just needs to get away. The magic is gone. No more dreams of white Christmases.

She can see the water - she thinks - to her left. There’s a road along the shore, one that leads out of town in a more round-about way, and so she makes the next left turn she can, weaving through the narrow, empty streets until she finds herself on Misthaven road with a triumphant cheer. Okay. She’s got this. This way leads right out of town and towards he highway and she can -

Emma slams her foot down on the break, eyes suddenly reflecting bright in her headlights and the car swerves on the slick ground. She doesn’t have time to see what it was, cursing as the bug swings frantically from side to side, fighting with the wheel to get it back under control as it skids towards the ditch piled high with snow. But there’s no stopping it.

The impact is jarring, her whole body rocking forward with the force of the sudden stop. She grips the wheel, heart racing as she puts her head down against it to take a breath. You’re okay. It could have been a lot worse, she rationalizes when she looks up to find her windshield and front windows completely clouded in white. She could have hit the water.

She manages to get her seatbelt off, falling forward into the dashboard with a grunt. The door won’t budge when she tries it, the snow packed tightly on either side, so she pulls out her phone to call for help. She finds it on the floor instead, screen shattered and ominously black. Of course.

Climbing through the car, over the back seats to the trunk, she manages to pop it open and heave herself out. Emma looks back at her little bug as she sits on the bumper, uses it to step back onto the road. I’m sorry, I’ll come back for you. She just needs to find a phone. Do payphones still exist? This town has been stuck in the 90s for decades. Or someone has to come by eventually, a snow plow, another person as determined to get out of here as she is…

Her coat isn’t warm enough, arms wrapped around herself as her hair, freezing in icy tendrils, whips across her face as she struggles to keep her eyes open against the onslaught of wet snow. Where are you? No answer comes, her memories of this road too hazy to see through the storm. So she walks, picking a direction rather than standing and losing extremities one by one.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was never supposed to come back here at all. She should have ignored the call, let someone else take the bounty on the skip that had decided to go hide out in her hometown, a place she’s managed to avoid for over a decade now. She’d gotten out, run as far and fast as she could, hurt one too many times by this cursed little town where all her happy endings were taken from her.

Christmas morning, the day after her first and only boyfriend had dumped her - the last in a long line to leave her behind in Storybrooke - because he ‘wanted to see what was out there’, she’d taken a train to Boston and never looked back. She wasn’t supposed to come back.

It had been a stupid plan, thinking she could get in and out of Storybrooke without anyone knowing she was here. Just catch the skip, bring him in and go back to Boston without her brother ever finding that she’d lied about not being able to come home for Christmas like she did every year. And yet here she is, wandering the streets of Storybrooke on Christmas Eve, lost and alone.

She’s not sure how far she’s gone when she sees the water, a clearing in the trees, a straight shot to the beach. The waves bring memories with them as they crash against the shore, the sea always refusing to be frozen by the harshest of colds. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere. Arms wrapped solidly around her, a hand taking hers, ‘come with me,’ sitting in the cold sand throwing rocks at the waves with his hands on her ears, ‘they’re going to fall off, Killian,’ and her heart on her sleeve.

Emma looks up at the building across the street. If she squints she thinks can see a light on. There’s some kind of cosmic joke being made at her expense. There has to be for this day and this storm to have led her here of all places, on tonight of all nights. She still has a snowglobe on her mantle, a gift given to her by a boy she’d spent most of high school infatuated with, and the years after navigating an ineffable friendship.

How long has it been since she’s seen him? Not since that morning she left, the one where everything had almost changed. It did, she supposes, but not the way she’d been so suddenly terrified it could in those few breaths between a question and a goodbye. He may not even live there anymore. She knows he’s still in town from what David’s told her and the occasional social media stalking, but that’s about all she knows about him now.

It’s your best bet. At least whoever’s there might have a phone she can use, know a tow that she can call to get her bug back on the road and her on her way back to Boston. The walk to the building feels all too familiar and she struggles to push back the memories of the last time she was here as she works up the nerve to make her way up the stairs. Still, her heart pounds in her chest and her stomach tightens reflexively when she knocks on the door. There’s still time to run.

“Swan?”

“Hey, Killian.”

***

They were at the Christmas market, Emma grumbling to Ruby about the fact that there hadn’t been any snow that year as they picked through a pile of novelty keychains. “It just doesn’t feel like Christmas without it.” She picked up a little skull and crossbones, holding it up for her friend’s appraisal.

David called them over, offering to buy everyone hot chocolate, all thoughts of shopping abandoned - “Who would you even get that for?” “I don’t know.” She just thought it was cool. This was the first time she had her own set of keys to a front door. It slipped so easily into her pocket, a habit picked up between foster homes. Take whatever you can get your hands on. You might not get the chance again.

“Hey, Swan.” Only one person called her that, whispered too low for anyone else to hear. “Nicely done.” Killian smirked at her, nodded toward her pocket, eyebrow raised.

Crap. “You’re not going to tell David, are you?” She couldn’t lose this one too.

“Why would I do that?” Thank god. His face softened. “It takes a while.”

“What does?”

“To stop feeling like you have to.” Something passed between them then, an understanding. David had said they had a lot in common. “Here.” He put something in her hand, smile awkward, cheeks red. A snow globe, one of the ones Ingrid from the ice cream shop made, a vague rendition of Storybrooke in the center. “You’re right about Christmas.” He touched a finger to the back of his ear. “Now you’ll always have snow.”

“Did you steal this?”

His laugh was loud. She liked it. “No. It’s a gift.”

She smiled at it, face flushing furiously - a gift from David’s new friend, the nice one with the pretty eyes who smiled a lot. Shaking it a few times to make the little flecks of white dance around her currently green town, Emma looked up at him, lip catching between her teeth. “I love it.”

“Here.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the stolen keychain, wanting to be able to give him something in return.

His slow smile sent something twisting in her stomach, mischievous, like they had a secret. “Your loot, Swan? I’m honoured.”

“Well if you don’t want it -”

“No, I do,” he said quickly, grabbing it before she could take it back, ears red, running his thumb over the little skull. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.” Idiot.

***

He’s staring at her, like he can’t quite decide if she’s real, a literal ghost from his past appearing on his doorstep after a decade without a word. He looks good. She knew he would - he always had. But the last time she saw him he was twenty-two and the years have been unfairly kind to him. He’s grown a beard, a ginger scruff that covers his cheeks, both them and his ears reddened by the cold like he’s just come inside.

She shifts uncomfortably as the silence drags on and he continues to stare, brow pulling down in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

She’s not sure if he means the literal here at his door, or here in Storybrooke, or here suddenly in his life again, so she answers all three. “I ran my car off the road a little ways up the street. I was hoping you might have a phone.” She holds hers out. “Mine didn’t survive.”

“You what?”

“There was a deer or something… Can I come in?”

Killian blinks at her, finally registering her question, her answer to his. “Aye,” he says, stepping back to let her pass. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just, you know, cold. And stuck.”

It’s different. The first thing she’s come back to in this town that isn’t exactly the way she left it. The large, single room is furnished in old wood and leather, the heavy curtains along windows keeping out the fury of the storm. There’s art on the walls. When she’d been here last it had belonged to a guy in his twenties: second hand couch, posters of bands and movies tacked up with push pins.

She looks over towards the back of the apartment, the bed in the same place it had always been but new. She let out a squeal falling onto the mattress, the distance further than she expected. Laughing, ‘you need a bed frame.’ A rushed promise, ‘I’ll go to Ikea in the morning.’ Better not to pay attention to that.

“Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Just need a tow.”

“Do you want a towel?” She thinks she needs to answer yes to one of his questions or he might not stop asking them. Her hair is soaked, snow melting in her lashes, probably smudging mascara down her cheeks.

“Sure, thanks.” She kicks off her boots. Her socks make an unpleasant, wet sound when she sets her feet on the hardwood, damp fabric squishing between her toes and she makes a face at them.

Killian notices. “Do you want to borrow a pair of mine?” More questions.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m fine,” quickly pulling them off and draping them over her boots. She won’t be here long.

“Cell service is down, but you can use the landline,” he offers, nodding towards the phone in the kitchen.

“You have a landline?” she smirks before catching herself. But he sees it, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“Comes in pretty handy when we lose power.” There’s just a ghost of that cheeky smile she remembers as she pads barefoot across his apartment, too modest to be smug but close.

“Fair point.” She stares at the thing. Oh, right. “Do you have a number for a mechanic?”

He hurries over to join her in the kitchen, searching through a drawer until he pulls out a business card. “Here.” Gus’s Auto Repair.

Gus can’t come get her car out until tomorrow. “Got to be on standby for emergencies and since you’re clearly somewhere safe and not stranded on the side of the road freezing to death -”

“I don’t count. Got it.”

Perfect. Could also have done without the somewhat patronizing comment that she shouldn’t be out driving in a blizzard.

Killian’s waiting for her to fill him in when she hangs up, handing over the promised towel. “Looks like I’m stuck,” she tells him, wringing her hair out.

“Sorry, love,” he sighs. “I’m sure you had people waiting on you to get home for Christmas. Do you want to call anyone? Let them know you’re okay? Make as many calls as you need.”

She almost debates lying, pretending that yes, there is someone at home waiting for her to get back, having a fake conversation with her own answering machine rather than admitting the slightly pathetic truth. “No, it’s okay. It was just going to be me this year.”

She’s gotten used to being on her own though. She did it for a long time before she’d ever had any family to spend the holiday with. She’d started out alone, after all, found just outside the town line, a few hours old, abandoned and wrapped in a blanket with her name on it, a small suggestion that maybe someone had loved her at one point. But nobody had come forward.

There had been a series of foster homes after that, none sticking, in and out of Storybrooke for the entirety of her childhood. She’d had one good year, the Sheriff taking her home for Christmas, no social worker around when the latest family left her at the station. She’d always liked him, the kind man with the beard and the funny accent who let her hold his badge and chase him around the station.

But when he’d died it had been a series of foster homes again until she’d met David in high school. Older enough and big enough to scare off bullies, he’d brought her home for dinner until his mother decided she should stay. And Emma had stayed, until David got married and moved out, until Ruth passed away shortly after, and then it was just her again, alone in Boston celebrating Christmas, eggnog and a plastic tree.

Neither of them say anything for a moment, her last comment hanging between them until he finally breaks the silence. “I was going to warm some cider. Would you like some?”

“You got anything stronger?”

“It’s mostly rum.”

“Then yes.”

She takes a moment to wander the apartment rather than standing awkwardly in the kitchen with him, tracing her fingers along the back of the old leather couch with heavy blankets draped over it. She tries to reconcile her memories of the twenty-two year old she knew and this man he’s become. And while they don’t quite fit, they make sense. He’d always been this way, warm, inviting, comforting.

“Nice place,” she says as casually as possible, as though she’s never stepped foot in this room before. He’s put up Christmas decorations, lights and pine branches, little wooden trees and reindeer sculptures. Emma looks over at the massive fir in the corner. “Your tree doesn’t have any decorations on it,” she tells him absentmindedly, because focusing on that is much easier than focusing on how familiar and comfortable the place feels.

“Aye, we’re decorating it tomorrow,” he explains, scratching behind his ear in the same way he always did when he was nervous. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one. “Your brother and Mary Margaret are coming for dinner.”

She takes a seat on the sofa, pulling her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees, bare toes curling over the edge of the cushion as she tries to figure out what to do next. Right, she’s stuck in Storybrooke for the night. “Sounds fun.” The words fall flat.

He hums, then stops what he’s doing, deep breath, hands gripping the edge of the counter, bracing himself for whatever’s about to come. “Why are you here, Emma?” The question is hard, she can tell, his jaw clenching and shoulders tight.

“In Storybrooke?”

“For starters, yes.”

“I was chasing a skip,” she sighs. “He was hiding out here and I thought I could catch him, collect the bounty and be back in Boston before the end of the night.”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I didn’t really have any other plans...”

“What about David and Mary Margaret? Do they know you’re in town?”

“No. And I don’t want them to. I said I couldn’t come - it would just hurt their feelings if they found out.”

“And that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“The only reason you’re in Storybrooke.” She nods, wrapping her hands around her cold toes, resting her chin on her knee, his gaze hot on her, reading her in that way he’d always been able to. “Alright.” He brings over a steaming mug, sets it down on the table in front of her. “So what now?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” she winces.

“Just stay here, love,” he sighs, like his offer is an apology. “It’s hell out there. I’ll take the couch for the night. It’s better than freezing to death in your car,” he adds when she doesn’t answer right away. Emma bites her lip. She’d been considering it - he knows her too well. Killian raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to try not to take offence to you deciding which is actually worse,” he tells her and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, her answer also an apology, for disappearing from his life without a word, for bursting back into it without explanation. “Thanks.”

“Good,” he says, then breathes, “bloody ghost of Christmas past,” into his mug.

Emma takes a sip of her cider, immediately coughing when the burn of spiced rum hits her throat. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” she coughs again and he smirks, taking a more dignified drink of his own. “Listen, I appreciate you letting me stay here and not freeze to death or whatever,” she tells him when he takes a seat next to her on the couch, leaving as much space between them as possible. “But I don’t want to ruin your night if you have plans…”

“Nothing important.”

“What were they?” She’s horrible, doing this to him twice.

He shrugs. “I usually spend Christmas Eve on my own before the big hoorah tomorrow. Drink spiked cider, watch a Christmas movie… I usually take a walk along the coast first but, well, between the storm and you showing up here like the Little Match Girl, I think I’ll skip that part this year.” He smiles crookedly at her, the same way he had another Christmas Eve so long ago. And her heart gives a little lurch as the memories come flooding back.

***

Maybe she was being irrational, maybe she was overreacting; people broke up all the time. But it was the coldness in his tone as he did it, the dismissal, like he never actually cared at all, like she was a placeholder until he could go and find something better that made it hurt so much.

She was already outside, having left Neal’s place as quickly as she could, already halfway down the road, halfway towards god-knows-where before she even realized that it was snowing, that it was cold. But it wasn't like she could bring herself to go back. She couldn’t go home either. Not to that house where Ruth would have been only a year ago, would have known what to say and what to do to make everything better - that house where it was just her now.

He’d just ended it. Just like that. As though they hadn’t spent almost a year together, as though they didn’t have plans to go to Boston in the morning for a little Christmas holiday. As though they didn’t already have tickets. He ‘wanted to see what else was out there’. She knew what he meant but didn’t say. He wanted to see who else was out there.

She was stranded. Stuck on a windy road in this horrible town with nowhere to go, nobody to call. Everyone was gone or celebrating with their loved ones. She was running out of those. She knew there was really only one person she could call - one person who would pick up and come find her, regardless of the fact that she’d never actually called his number before.

Headlights shone down the winding road, the sound of a car slowing echoed on the quiet street. The engine turned off, the door slamming shut before footsteps crunched in the snow. “Swan?” Killian came running over. “Swan, what happened?” She hadn’t told him much on the phone, just asked if he could come, and he looked so worried now, so much like he actually cared, like she actually mattered, that it chipped away at the walls around her heart just enough that she couldn’t keep the hurt out anymore.

“I didn’t know who else to call.” The tears overwhelmed her and she let him pull her against his chest. Maybe it should have felt strange, but instead his arms felt solid around her. His fingers stroked through her hair the way Ruth used to and it was something she needed more desperately than she realized. All that soft affection that he always showed her, that she’d always held for her brother’s friend - the one who always smiled at her, always teased her, always cared - flooded her as she tightened her grip on his jacket.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked when she’d finally managed to stop crying, to pull her face from the collar of his shirt she’d definitely ruined. He wiped at her tear stained cheeks. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked before cocking his head at her and raising a brow. “Or maybe for me to murder someone?” She snorted out a laugh, his smile relieved if still tentative.

“I’m fine… Neal and I just broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, and then, “Would you like me to murder him?” She snorted another laugh. “I never liked the guy anyway. Wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“He’s not worth it.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

��No, I’m sorry. Thanks for coming to get me, I just... I can’t face home right now.”

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I was on my way home. Do you want me to take you somewhere else? Granny’s maybe?”

“It’s almost midnight,” she pointed out. She couldn’t believe she called him this late - and on Christmas Eve. But she just… needed him. Nobody else would have been able to make her laugh just now.

“Right.”

“This is so stupid. I’m not even crying over him. I don’t know why I’m crying at all,” she insisted, rubbing harshly at her eyes in frustration. “I just - this town fucking sucks. I need to get out.” Her laugh was bitter. “Neal and I were supposed to go to Boston in the morning. We were gonna spend Christmas there together. I even have the stupid ticket.”

He considered her for a moment and she thought maybe he got it, the urge to escape for a little while, forever. He reached out and took her hand in his. “Come with me.”

They walked along the edge of the water, waves crashing against the shore, surface refusing to freeze despite the cold. Killian didn’t say anything, just kept her hand in his and led her further down the beach until he finally came to a stop, looking out at the sea. She followed his gaze.

“What are we doing?”

“Looking at the water.”

“Okay… Why?”

He huffed a laugh, sitting on the snow-covered sand. “I thought you might find it soothing.”

“It’s cold.”

“It is,” he agreed, nodding but not moving to get up. With a sigh she plopped down beside him, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “I come here whenever I’m pissed off and need to get away,” he shrugged.

“You get pissed off?” She didn’t think she'd ever seen him lose his temper. He was always so calm, even when he had just as much reason as her to want to curse out the whole world. Killian smiled, picked up a rock and tossed it into the water. She did the same, and then did it again, the splash satisfying against the roar of the waves before it was swallowed up by the rest of the sea. She sighed, shutting her eyes and letting the sound of the water fill her ears and calm her anger, dull her hurt a little.

“You know this is still Storybrooke though, right?” she reminded him.

He shrugged. “Maybe. But the water always kind of feels like its own place, everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s easier to imagine being somewhere else here.”

“Poetic,” she teased, turning back to watch the water a little longer, the waves pulling at something in her every time they slipped back from the shore, like they were trying to drag the words from her chest. “I feel like an idiot. I think I knew he wasn’t a nice guy, deep down.”

“You’re not an idiot, Swan. You fell in love. Happens to the best of us.”

“Maybe.” Was it love though? Or had she just clung onto someone in the hopes that she could make them stay, that they’d be the first not to disappear on her. “I think this town is cursed.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Cursed?”

Emma threw another rock into the ocean. She didn’t know how to explain it to him, something she’d started believing as a kid, when every family she found left her here alone, as everyone she cared about in this town was ripped from her one by one. It became a lot easier to try not to love them, to keep David and Ruby at arm’s length after Ruth died, to choose a guy she knew she couldn’t completely open her heart to. And to ignore the way she felt whenever she was around Killian, the pull and the longing, how easy and tempting it would be to just pour her whole heart out and trust him not to judge her, not to hurt her.

“Well,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his, smile crooked. “That’s one of the nice things about Christmas, magic in the air and all that. Probably enough to break a curse.”

It was so cheesy and she wished she could believe him, but years of heartbreak just made it impossible. Emma looked away from him, pulled her coat more tightly around herself, a shiver running through her and she changed the subject.

“Do all of your philosophical ideas involve Christmas and frozen beaches?” she asked, tucking her chin into the neck of her coat. “Because we probably could have looked at the water from inside. And then I might still be able to feel my ears.”

He laughed and she breathed a sigh of relief - he was gonna let her off the hook. He wasn’t going to make her talk about her stupid cursed life in this stupid cursed town because he got her. She didn’t need to explain it to him. She never did.

“Baby,” he teased.

“They’re going to fall off, Killian,” she insisted. “And it’ll be your fault.”

His hands came up to either side of her face, fingertips chilly but palms warm as they covered her ears and her heart stuttered in her chest.

“Better?”

She nodded, swallowed. Slowly, his amused smile slipped and she could tell he was trying to read her. Emma slipped her hand into one of his, holding them both against her cheek. She would blame the waves, drawing her stupid, battered heart out of her chest, or maybe the cold, urging her towards all of the warmth inside of him, but suddenly she was leaning across the space between them, pressing her lips to his.

Killian froze and she pulled back, panicked. Shit. Shit, she’d completely misread that. It was stupid and impulsive and now she’d probably ruined whatever it was they had, this little bit of good that she’d just tried to grab onto.

He didn’t let her go, pulled her back to him, mouth hot against hers, fingers sliding from her cheek to weave through her hair, the other curling around her waist. It should have felt strange, it was probably a mistake, but it was Killian, and this felt long overdue. So she let him pull her closer, let him hold her like he had on the side of the road and kiss her like he was trying to break whatever curse would eventually rip him away from her.

***

“Guess I kind of ruined your night alone.”

“I don’t mind the company,” he promises. “So long as you don’t comment on the movie.”

“Why would I - Oh, no.”

“Oh yes,” he beams, reaching for the remote. “Every Christmas Eve.”

Emma groans as the music starts, an English accent giving a monologue about airports and then the dreaded words flash on the screen. Love Actually. “This is literally the worst Christmas movie ever.”

“This is the best Christmas movie ever.”

She rolls her eyes but does her best not to say anything as the movie begins, Killian getting up at one point to make a bowl of popcorn - with Milk Duds mixed in so they get all melty. Her silence doesn’t last very long, the rum making her bolder, making her forget the awkwardness. She finally reaches her breaking point.

“This is so stupid. They can’t even understand each other. And they’re just saying the complete opposite thing the whole time.”

He looks over at her, exasperated, head rolling over the back of the couch. “People don’t have to be able to say they love someone out loud for it to be real.”

She doesn’t have an answer for that, staring at him for a moment before shutting her mouth and turning back to the movie. He has a talent for saying things without saying them. It’s only a few minutes before she can’t help herself again.

“Okay, but even you have to admit this one is terrible.”

“There’s… something romantic about loving someone from afar.” He’s not even buying it.

“Sure, but this is just stalking.”

“It’s just one story.”

“Out of a hundred other terrible stories. Like this girl. Just don’t pick up your phone and -”

“Swan, I will make you sleep in your car.”

“I just don’t get what the appeal of this movie is. Everyone makes such a big deal out of-” She’s interrupted by a handful of popcorn shoved into her mouth, Killian licking melted chocolate off his finger.

“There,” he says, pleased with himself. “Now if you promise to be quiet for the rest of the movie, we can watch Home Alone after, alright?”

Emma just stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He did not. When he looks up at her, back on his half of the couch but not quite as far away, a smirk starts to tug at his lips, stretching wide when she spits the popcorn out into her hand.

“You’ve got chocolate all over your face,” he tells her, barely holding back a laugh.

“Whose fault is that?” She drops the handful of mushy popcorn into her empty mug, wiping her palms on her jeans.

Chuckling he reaches out again, wiping his thumb over the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he says - he’s not - looking at her with very serious, and very insincere, apology.

His attention drops to her mouth, hand settling on her cheek, and traces his thumb along her bottom lip where she’s sure there’s more chocolate. But all she can focus on is how close he is and how much she wants to replace his thumb with his mouth and her breath hitches. ‘Are you sure?’ whispered between heated kisses, his name broken on her lips, her fingers desperately fisting in his hair, falling apart on his tongue, the heat of him inside her, gentle touches and praise breathed against skin as they came together again and again.

His eyes dart back up to hers and she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as the amusement in his eyes fades and then she’s waiting for him to do something, even if they probably shouldn’t, even if she definitely shouldn’t.

But she doesn’t stop him when he pulls her mouth down to his, lips slanting across hers as he drags her closer. They knock over the bowl, popcorn scattering across the floor when she climbs into his lap, fingers digging into his hair, his digging into the skin at her hip as he presses himself against her, tongue seeking hers.

This is probably a bad idea. In fact it’s definitely a bad idea, because she’s been exactly here before and she knows how it ends. But his lips are on her neck, tracing the line of her jaw, and she lets out a small whimper, hips rolling over the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. He catches her mouth again with a growl, one she knows all too well, and his hand slips under her sweater, calloused palm rough against the skin of her back as he arches his hips up into her, hard and hot against her centre.

She wrenches her lips from his, her fingers finding the buttons of his shirt and hurrying to undo them. She lifts her eyes to his face, finds him watching her, his own gaze dark and heady, hesitates on the next button. “I’m going back to Boston in the morning.”

“I know.”

Her heart beats frantically against her ribcage, as she tries to read his expression beyond the obvious want and temptation. So long as they’re on the same page, she tells herself. That’s all that matters. This isn’t like last time.

***

They stumbled through the door, practically running from the beach, giggling like kids the whole way. He’d kissed her for ages out there by the water, until she told him she thought she would lose her fingers from the cold and suggested they go somewhere warmer.

Now that they were inside though - the apartment new, some of his things still in boxes on the floor - he hesitated. So she took his face in her hands like he’d done before and kissed him, feeling the doubt melt away as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close.

They fiddled with zippers of puffy coats, laughing as they unravelled too-long scarves, boots kicked off as they crossed the length of his apartment, Emma letting out a squeal when they fell onto the mattress, the distance further down than she’d expected.

“You need a bed frame,” she laughed, lip caught between her teeth.

“I’ll go to Ikea in the morning,” he promised, claiming it for himself, fingers going to her hair as he deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t what she expected. She’d never kissed anyone this long before, hadn’t ever taken things quite this slow. But he seemed content to continue kissing her for the rest of the night. When she arched up against him he sucked in a breath, pulling back to look at her, “Are you sure?”

There wasn’t any question, not for her. She kissed him again, clothes pulled off slowly, his mouth finding her neck, her stomach her breasts, hands hot on her skin, pulling her closer - always closer.

He asked again, settling between her legs, a kiss to her thigh - “This okay?” - words breathed hot against her center, waiting for her nod before putting his mouth on her. Killian took his time, finding what made her breath hitch, what made her cry out and what made her hips arch up desperately against his tongue, building her up slowly, bringing her over the edge and leaving her trembling.

She kept waiting for him to take what he wanted, to rut into her and find his release, surprised he’d waited this long already. Instead his lips mapped her skin, discovering places he hadn’t yet, drawing his tongue across her body like ink, leaving marks wherever he found a gasp or a sigh - a secret trail for him to follow, hidden from the rest of the world.

He traced the marks with his fingers, mouth falling over hers and they slipped between her thighs, leaving her writhing when he found that sensitive bundle of nerves. She fell apart again, fingers deep inside her, lips speaking praise against her skin until she was left a shaking, boneless mess.

“Gods you’re beautiful, Swan,” he breathed into her ear like a confession, one he’d held onto for a long time.

Emma snuck a hand between them, taking hold of him once more and canting her hips up until she felt him brush against her heat. His groan echoing hers as he slid in just the tiniest bit. “We can stop if you want.”

She shook her head, taking his face in her hands and meeting his lips in a messy kiss. “Please don’t,” she breathed into his mouth, fingers fisting too tightly in his hair.

He took her slowly, the same way he’d kissed her, the same way he’d done everything. She wasn’t used to slowly, to the way his lips kept finding her own, tracing along her neck, hand finding her breast and tongue rolling languidly over the sensitive peak as he moved inside her.

This wasn’t fucking, this was something she’d never done before, something tender and gentle. He made love to her, drawing out her pleasure, staving off his own until she was shaking, nails digging at his back, forehead pressed to hers as he brought them both over the edge.

He stole an exhausted, sated kiss from her lips before settling beside her, pulling her to him. Emma lay her head on his chest, tracing absentminded patterns through the small smattering of dark hair as she tried to school her breathing, to keep her eyes open.

His fingers ran over the length of her arm, turning every few minutes to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Are you okay?” he asked.

She let out a low, lazy giggle. “How would I not be okay right now?”

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined when you asked me to pick you up tonight,” he sighed. He was berating himself. She could hear it in his voice, imagining himself a villain for coming to her rescue, for healing her heart just a little bit - and then making her come three fucking times.

Emma raised her head, meeting his self-conscious gaze and smiling softly. She leaned in, kissed him, relieved when he kissed her back, hand weaving through her hair again like maybe he was trying to keep her there a little longer. When she pulled away he gave her a crooked, hopeful little smile, only growing when she pressed her lips to his again, tasting it.

Tucking herself back against his chest, he curled his arm more tightly around her, fingers tickling along her spine. “Merry Christmas, Swan,” he whispered into her hair.

***

She kisses him again, finishing with the fastenings of his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. He leans forward enough to shrug it off, not breaking the kiss except to pull her sweater over her head and then dragging her back to him as soon as she’s free of it.

Emma traces the line of his shoulders, over his chest and the hair that blankets it, nails scratching down his stomach, relishing in every inch of soft skin and hard muscle beneath her fingers. His mouth wanders the length of her neck again, tongue teasing the line of her collarbone and down through the valley between her breasts, leaving goosebumps and fire in his wake.

She gasps when he tugs one of the cups of her bra out of the way, taking her nipple between his teeth. She lets out a curse, back arching into him, hips grinding roughly against the outline of his cock through their jeans. Her fingers fist in his hair, holding him there as he licks and sucks at the sensitive peak.

His hands slide along the outside of her thighs, palming her ass and squeezing as he drags her slowly, firmly over his length before standing, taking her with him, legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His mouth finds hers again as he walks them across the room to his bed, kneeling on the edge before dropping her onto the mattress.

His hands quickly find the waist of her jeans, tugging them open and Emma catches her laugh between her teeth as she helps him slide the tight denim past her ankles. He tosses them aside while she pulls the remaining fabric from her chest. Killian pauses, looking her over slowly and she does the same.

It’s really not fair how much better he looks after so much time - he was already handsome enough when he was young. Now the angle of his jaw is sharpened, his shoulders broader, the hair on his chest darker and thicker. Her tongue runs over her bottom lip wantonly before she tugs him back down to her.

He lowers himself between her open thighs, the scratch of his chest against her breasts and his beard against her neck making her writhe beneath him. Killian’s hand slides over her waist, down across her stomach before going in search of where she’s wet and aching for him.

“Fuck,” she breathes as his fingers tease their way between her legs, turning to hiss “yes” against his ear when he finds the sensitive bundle of nerves there, rolling it under his thumb.

“Tell me if you want this.” - making sure, always making sure - as he slides a finger inside her, adding a second and thrusting slowly, dragging against her walls in toe-curling torture. It takes her a moment to find her voice as he continues to fuck her with his hand, thumb and fingers working in a steady rhythm, a knot tightening in the pit of her stomach.

“God yes,” she tells him, remembering how good he felt inside of her, how full and perfect and right. She scrambles for the button of his jeans, popping it free and making quick work of the fly before sliding her hand inside. She finds his cock, hard and straining in her palm, and he lets out a choked moan when her fist tightens around him.

“Now?” he asks, voice strained, and she nods, not able to find her own with his fingers working her faster, the circles he presses into her clit holding her right on the cusp of her climax.

Her hands shove at the waist of his pants, using her feet to push them further down. He slides away from her, standing to kick them off, and she bites her lip, moaning at the sight of his length bobbing against his stomach. She hears his slightly desperate groan before he’s on her again, mouth claiming hers, hot and messy, tongue sliding past her lips and drawing a whine from her chest.

Taking himself in hand and lining his cock up with her entrance, he hesitates only until she cants her hips, trying to take him inside herself. Her hand finds his back, the other grabbing at his ass as she hooks a leg around his thigh and urges him forward.

They both cry out when he finally sheaths himself inside her, thrust rough, cock thick and long as he slides out slowly only to push back in hard, hips snapping against hers. God yes, she thinks as he fucks her. This is what she’d expected last time, the desperate race towards the edge, her whole body rocking every time he drives back into her, the roll of his hips powerful and so fucking good.

She starts to writhe beneath him, the knot coiling so tightly inside her that she can feel it about to snap. His lips are at her neck, his hand reaching for one of her breasts, palm rolling over her nipple and then pinching it between his fingers as he moves faster. Her nails dig into his sweat slicked back, cries growing louder and more frequent, his curses and praise spoken into her skin between the slide of his tongue and the scrape of his teeth until her back bows sharply, pleasure ripping through her as she comes apart around him.

Emma can feel him following after her, fucking into her at a frantic pace until his own release takes him and he goes stiff in her arms. He collapses on his back beside her, his breathing ragged as her own as they both lay there and wait for their hearts to stop racing and the sweat to cool on their skin.

Killian rolls onto his side, hand reaching for her, fingers spreading over her stomach just below her breast, different from the way he’d pulled her to him last time. His thumb traces absentmindedly along the underside of her breast and she knows they understand each other - or he understands her at least. A one time thing. She’s leaving in the morning.

Killian clears his throat, voice still raspy when he speaks. “Bloody hell, I didn’t know you hated the movie that much.”

She laughs, boneless, exhausted. “Anything to get out of watching it.”

He raises himself up a little, looking over towards the TV. “I don’t think it’s over yet, actually.” He raises a brow. “We could probably still catch the big finale.”

Emma groans, long and suffering. “Please no. I literally can’t think of a worse way to spend the night.”

“Oh?” he asks and she can tell just by his tone what he’s thinking, even before his arm snakes around her waist and he pulls her back to him, rolling and bracing himself above her. “What did you have in mind, then, love?” There’s that cheeky smile again.

His lips are already teasing, feather-light over the spot below her ear, grinding his hips suggestively against hers before she can answer. She’s tempted to let him continue, to let him make her fall apart again and again for the rest of the night. But, “I’m leaving in the morning.”

He nods, giving a nip to her jaw as he answers, “Aye, so you’ve said. Many times now.”

“So this - tonight - needs to be a one time thing.”

Killian pulls back, searching her face carefully. He brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I know you’re not staying, Swan. I won’t ask you to.” Not again, lingers where the words stay unspoken. “This was all just a freak, horrible series of events brought on by bail skippers, snow storms and devilish good looks that landed you into my bed tonight. And in the morning you’ll be on your way back to Boston and I’ll be here trying not to replay everything in graphic detail while I sit next to your brother at Christmas dinner.”

“Ew,” she laughs, shoving at his shoulder.

“But it’s not morning yet,” he finishes, tongue tracing the inside of his lip, gaze fixed on her mouth, waiting. A one time thing for a second time. A bad idea, a dangerous one. A desire she’s going to give into again, one she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to resist. She’ll never stop wanting him, not so long as she stays here.

“No,” she says, sliding her fingers into his hair, tongue sneaking out to tease the seam of his lips. She’ll be gone tomorrow, tonight doesn’t matter. “It’s not.”

***

He’s already up when her alarm goes off in the morning, Emma blinking crankily against the light shining through the windows. It takes her a moment to remember where she is, wrapped up in the familiar spice of salt and leather that clings to the sheets and her pillow, skin bare against the warm blankets. He’s standing by the stove puttering around with something and she watches him for a minute. It’s strange, still being here. She’s not used to her one night stands lasting into the next day.

“Merry Christmas,” he greets when she’s pulled her clothes back on and padded into the kitchen. She manages to mutter. He hands her a slip of paper. “Gus called, said to give him a ring when you were up and he’d come by with the tow.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s coffee,” he tells her, gesturing towards a pot. Her second thank you is more enthusiastic and he laughs. “I know you wanted to get up and on the road as soon as possible.” Emma hums, pouring herself a cup and drinking deeply.

“Can I ask you something?” she ventures, thinking of returning to Boston, of leaving this town once and for all for the second time. He nods. “Why are you still in Storybrooke? I thought you’d have left a long time ago.”

Killian shrugs. “I thought about it a couple of times. It just never felt right. This was the first place that felt like home.” Emma plays her fingers over the rim of her mug, nodding like she understands. “I know that wasn’t the case for you.”

She hesitates, trying to figure out how to explain her complicated feelings about this town. “Storybrooke never felt like home to me,” she admits. “Graham’s place did for a while,” she shrugs. “But that didn’t last very long. Without him it was just a house. Ruth’s did too. But with her gone…”

Killian’s expression softens, sympathy without pity from someone who knows what it is to lose those you love. “It doesn’t feel like her anymore. And I love David but that home is his and Mary Margaret’s now and for me it’s just…” A house, too large and full of too much grief. “I always figured home was someplace I would miss when I left it. But they’re all just buildings,” she shrugs.

Killian nods, looking pensively into his cooling mug of coffee. “I suppose it’s not the places but the people in them that make it home,” he says, finally looking up at her, the only person in this town she’s ever really missed, and the silence hangs heavy between them.

She can’t read his expression, his eyes more guarded now than they used to be, his heart no longer on his sleeve like it had been when they were young. And she thinks that’s her fault. She cut him out of her life for a decade, of course he wouldn’t trust her like he used to. And yet here they are, right back where they were that morning.

She doesn’t know how he feels now, doesn’t know for certain how he felt about her then. But she does know how she felt, how seeing him again has brought back so many of those old feelings, ones she’d always hoped would fade with time, that she’d managed to ignore until now when they risk becoming fresh and raw once again.

And she worries… most of all she worries that if she lets them come flooding back - break through the wall she so carefully constructed around her twenty-one year old heart - that she’ll want to stay.

“Knock knock,” a voice calls, too cheery for the early hour. Killian turns panicked eyes on her.

“What is she doing here?” Emma hisses.

“I don’t know! They weren’t supposed to get here until tonight.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Mary Margaret continues, already pushing her way inside. “The door was open and we thought with the storm you might need help getting things ready and -” She stops dead in her tracks, David nearly running into her before looking up and staring in shock at the sight of his sister.

“Emma?” Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you were in New York.”

“Um…” she hesitates, trying to come up with a story that won’t hurt their feelings - a reason to be in Storybrooke. “Surprise?”

The lie comes almost too easily, Emma and Killian exchanging guilty winces over her family’s shoulders. She meant to come down to surprise them. The storm got in the way and she had to crash at Killian’s for the night. Parts of it are true. It was all planned. She’s thrilled to be home for Christmas. Most of it isn’t.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the day.” Her grimace is taken for guilt. She can’t spend another night here.

There’s lots to do - or so she’s told, more the type to order in when she hosts her family for the holiday - and they put her to work. ‘Don’t worry, Swan, you can do the easy bits.’ ‘I can cook!’ ‘Whatever you say.’

Her insistence backfires, gagging when they ask her to help prep the turkey, nearly losing a finger chopping vegetables - ‘Give me that,’ Killian takes it from her. ‘Who gave Emma a knife?’ ‘You should be really glad I don’t have one right now.’ - until she’s banished to cookie duty.

“Think you can manage icing without injury or illness?” Killian’s smirk is shit eating and she takes the sugar and milk from him.

“Is it supposed to be this runny?”

Once Mary Margaret has fixed the icing, she’s left with a piping bag and several tins of gingerbread. She’s halfway through, Killian’s hands on the back of her chair, looking over her shoulder at the little man she’s decorating.

“Did they send you here to check on me?”

“Just some run of the mill quality control.” She’d gotten bored a little while ago - ‘two eyes, three buttons and a smile, that’s all you need to do’ - deciding to get more creative. “What on earth are those supposed to be?” he asks, eyes wide as she traces icing in the shape she wants.

“A bow.”

“Swan.” He’s barely holding back his laughter, face red and she narrows her eyes at him. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.”

“What?” Emma looks down at her cookie, at the four others she’s already made - ‘they’re bows!’ - but the icing has spread, the wobbly squares at the top rounded, the two hanging ribbons melded into one. “Oh my God.”

His roar of laughter sends the others over, crowding around her horrible creation. Killian’s barely able to hold himself up anymore.

“Oh,” Mary Margaret says, trying her best when David loses his shit too. “Well, it’ll certainly be the most phallic gingerbread we’ve ever had.” Everyone’s laughing now.

“Got something on your mind, Emma?” her brother snorts and she shoves the cookie in her mouth, destroying - some of - the evidence. “Maybe you should help,” he tells his friend, returning to the kitchen.

“Aye, Swan,” his voice is low, whispered against her hair, breath ghosting over her neck, “got something on your mind?" She tries to hide the way her cheeks heat, goosebumps down her spine. She does now.

They make a pretty good team, Emma supplying the ideas while Killian does his best to execute them. The task quickly becomes a game of finding what she can stump him with. ‘Are you really gonna be smug about being good at icing cookies? That’s the bar you want to set?’ ‘I’m a man of many talents, love, some I’d be more than happy to remind you of.’ She gives up when he turns the chubby little cookie into a skeleton. “Fine, you win. I’m sure this skill will take you far in life.”

People start arriving sometime in the late afternoon, the apartment filled with the smells of Christmas dinner, every shelf of the oven and every burner on the stove in use - her skills in the kitchen finally appreciated when she made them all mac and cheese in the microwave for lunch. Every guest wears the same expression of shock at seeing her standing with the others.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ruby demands, tactful as ever. Nice to see you too. Emma can tell by the look Ruby gives her that she doesn’t buy this being a planned surprise, but her friend pulls her into a hug regardless, a murmured promise that they’ll be talking about it more later whispered over her shoulder. When Granny asks why she didn’t stay at the inn, she repeats the story about the storm and the accident - ‘Where did you sleep?’ Ruby knows. ‘The couch.’ - and then quickly changes the subject.

Two waist-high heads of strawberry blonde curls come hair barreling through the apartment, Killian returning the identical little girls to their parents, one swinging from each of his arms.

“Girls, we’ve told you before,” Elsa scolds, “Uncle Killian is not a tree.”

“Aye, only his head is made of wood”’

“Is that the best you’ve got, brother?”

Emma watches them play, the girls infatuated with their uncle, smiling into the rim of her wineglass as they attempt to tackle him onto the couch only to be tossed onto the cushions over and over.

She’s caught, Killian looking over, eyes meeting hers, his own lips quirking up tentatively and she feels that same soft warmth from all those years ago spreading through her chest. She doesn’t know what it is, not exactly, but she knows that she’s missed that smile for the last ten years.

One of the twins hurls herself at his stomach sending him falling backwards with an ‘oof’ and Emma has to bite back her laugh, turning and pretending she’s been listening to the conversation when someone asks her a question.

Killian’s apartment is small packed in with what feels like half the town, and when it’s time for dinner everyone finds a spot to sit or stand, plates balanced in their laps or set down on a counter or an end table, whatever surface they can find. Emma manages to snag a spot on the couch, Granny and Elsa next to her, wrapped up in an intense conversation over the benefits of real versus plastic trees.

“How are you fairing?” He takes a seat on the arm of the sofa, one leg still on the ground, plate resting on his knee, and handing her a glass of wine.

“Much better now,” she beams, taking the drink from him. She’s never had so many conversations about her childhood in her life, everyone determined to reminisce about the way they used to spend Christmas, the dinners and the ice skating and the secret party that Ruby would always throw in the basement of the diner. ‘Turns out Granny knew all along.’ The old woman only shrugs, impish smile on her usually dour face.

Some of it hurts, remembering the mornings with Ruth, the presents and the hot chocolate - and the mornings where there were no trees, no presents, no smiling foster parents or siblings. She’d suppressed all of them for so long, determined to forget the way her happiest moments were taken away, forever tinged with sadness so that she’d forgotten how good they’d once been.

When David talked about the Christmas market they all used to hurry to, buying each other cheap gifts from the weird collection of crafts and things people found in their attics, she felt a twinge in her chest. A little snow globe pressed into her hand, red ears and cheeky smiles. A little skull and crossbones she’d taken because she thought she had to, then given away to the first person who ever really understood. She realizes that a part of her does miss it - the people, not the places, like he’d said.

“I’m sorry you got stuck here. I know it’s hardly how you wanted to spend your Christmas.”

“It could be worse,” she admits.

“Here, I saved you one.” Killian hands her a little gingerbread man from the corner of his plate.

“Awe, you’re giving me a little gingerbread dick?”

“It’s clearly a bow. Get your mind out of the gutter, love.”

They’re all decorating the tree - Killian’s nieces arguing over which would get to climb on his shoulders to put the star on top - when she sneaks off to the bathroom, the only place in this apartment with a door that closes.

She just needs a minute to herself, needs a second to reconcile her dislike of this place and the fact that she’s actually enjoying herself. It’s never been safe to let her guard down, but it just keeps slipping around him, and it’s getting harder and harder to put it back up. And she doesn’t know why - after all this time…

Something catches her eye when she looks in the mirror - ready to give herself a talking to, to remind herself why she has that guard at all - a piece of a chain hooked over the corner, the rest fallen behind the back of the frame.

It’s a necklace, long and worn, the silver tarnished from years of wear. A little skull and crossbones hangs from the end. He kept it. All these years. It slips into her pocket, as easily as it had that day at the market, another secret kept between them.

“Are you coming back with us?” David asks when everyone has started to make their way home, the hour late, the glasses empty.

“Actually, I think I’ll stay for a bit. My car is still here…” Emma looks from her brother to where Killian is clearing dishes, his eyes lifting to hers for only a second before dropping them quickly. She doesn’t say she needs to get going, can’t quite bring herself to - can’t quite bring herself to leave, to have this be their final goodbye. “If that’s okay?” His guard is slipping too. She can almost read him again when he nods, enough to know that he might not want her to leave just yet either.

They’re curled up by the fireplace, the dishes done and the room tidied. There’s only the two of them and the silence of the empty room, their voices sounding so much louder against it with everyone gone.

“Do you want to call Gus?” he asks, looking at the time after they’ve talked about the party, gossiped about all their friends. “If you want to get back to Boston tonight you probably shouldn’t wait much longer.”

Oh. “Right.” She tucks her hair self-consciously behind her ear, staring at the fire.

“Unless…”

She looks up. Unless? There’s no question posed, the sentence never finished. But neither moves for the phone. She can’t leave. Not without telling him. Not without knowing if it’s all in her head. Not when it means leaving him behind. Not again.

“Killian, I -” Just say it. “I’m sorry.”

His guard is back up, weak and struggling, but it’s there. “For what?”

“For how I left things - for how I left you.”

Warm fingers tracing over her skin, sitting on the edge of the mattress in the cool morning air, bare toes on the floor, always braced to run. ‘You know you could stay, if you wanted...’ Heart screaming to be heard, too terrified of what could happen if she stayed, if she let herself love him like she wanted to. An apologetic shrug, a glance over her shoulder, shirt pulled over her head, boots laced. ‘I already have the ticket.’

“You don’t have to apologize, love.” It slips again, a small sigh as he shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. It was one night, however I felt about it… whatever I might have wanted or hoped for was on me, not you.” But it wasn’t just one night, not really. She can’t make herself say the words. Felt, wanted, hoped, past tense. “I always wondered though.”

“Wondered what?”

He can’t look at her and it hurts. “If you left because of me. If you regretted it or if I did something.”

Her heart sinks. She was such an idiot. “Is that why you never called?”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

“I never regretted you, only that that night made it so much harder to leave.”

“Why did you leave?”

“Because of you,” she says finally, the heartbreak clear on his face even as he nods in acceptance. “Remember how I told you I thought Storybrooke was cursed?” Another nod. “Almost everyone I’ve ever cared about in this town is gone - died here, left me here.” Her parents, the Swans, Graham, Ruth, Neal… “I had to leave. And I couldn’t ask you to come with me because -” Her hands shake, her biggest fears spoken out loud. “What if it wasn’t Storybrooke, what if it’s just me? What if I’m the one that’s cursed - to lose everyone I love… I couldn’t lose you too.” But she had, in a way that was so much worse in the end.

“Lose me?”

“I thought it was safer to stay away from you, from everyone I loved - for them… and for me. I know it doesn’t make any sense but I -” He puts a hand over hers, fingers twisting in her lap.

“No, it doesn’t. But I get it.”

She forces herself to look at him. It takes a while - to stop feeling like you have to. And she’s so sick of running. “I would take it back if I could.” She pulls the necklace from her pocket, slips it into his hand, his breath hitching. “Because the truth is…” Deep breath. “I miss you. So much, Killian.”

The silence stretches on too long, her whole world hanging on whatever he’s going to say next, his thumb tracing over the pendant. “Emma.” He hesitates again. Just say something. “I’ve thought about you every day since you left.” Something sparks in her chest, hope. “I think maybe I couldn’t leave,” his fist closes around the necklace, “because I was hoping you’d come back.”

His words are rushed, spoken in a breath before his hands are in her hair and he pulls her to him, his kiss long and deep and perfect. She missed this. She missed him. She tries to apologize again, ‘I’m sorry’ whispered against his lips, but he steals the words from her tongue. ‘Later. We can talk later.’

Later is good, later means after, later means this is more than just right now, more than just tonight. No more one time things - this is the third time, after all.

He lays her down in front of the fire, hands more cautious than they’d been last night, peeling the clothes from her body until she’s bare beneath him and he can find the map he drew so long ago, lips tracing the lines that have faded from her skin.

They make love like they had the first time, no desperate attempt to fuck away the feelings they couldn’t voice, no need to rush for fear they would run out of time. She presses all of her apologies into his body, feels the forgiveness in his touch, fingers tight in her hair when she takes him in her mouth and begins to learn him as well as he does her.

He breathes words that aren’t quite love but could be into the space between them, Emma rocking above him, hands on his chest, his at her hips, dragging him towards the edge with her. Sitting up and pulling her to him, skin pressed to skin, repeating the same words against her lips, against her neck and breasts, ‘I love you,�� spoken somewhere in the moments before they find release, neither sure who said it, only that it’s true as they fall apart, clinging to one another, no intention to let go.

“Does this mean you’re staying in Storybrooke?” he asks when they’re laying intertwined on his floor.

Emma lifts her head, resting her chin on his shoulder and giving a small, hopeful smile. “Do you want me to?”

“Aye, I do. But only if you want to stay.”

She presses a kiss to his chest, above the pendant that now hangs around his neck. “I want to stay with you,” she tells him quietly, heart still timid, unused to being seen. “No matter where that is.”

“There’s always Boston.”

“You’d come to Boston with me?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thumb tracing along the length of her jaw, over her lips as he watches her with what she finally knows is love. “I’d have come with you to Boston ten years ago, Swan. All you had to do was ask.”

She kisses him then, her words not enough to do justice to the way his burn through her, fill her from the inside out. He rolls them, settling above her, beginning his exploration again, fingers and mouth finding her where she’s hot and desperate for him, driving her to the edge with careful strokes of his tongue and languid touches that leave her writhing and begging for more.

She comes apart at his hands once again, kisses trailed up her body before he claims her lips with his and pulls her into his side. Limbs tangled, skin warmed by the fire, her fingers trace patterns over his heart, patched up to match her own. ‘I could get used to celebrating Christmas like this.’ He presses a kiss to her temple, words breathed into her hair, ‘Then we will, love, every one.’

❄️❄️❄️

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from my tag list!

@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @goforlaunchcee @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr

#cs secret santa #captain swan #cs fanfic #cs christmas au #the ghost of bloody christmas past #only one bed #cs angst #cs smut #cs fluff #cs ff #ouat au

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hooked-on-swanics · 5 months

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Chapter 2 of my Underworld/5b rewrite is up! If you like whump, if you like angst, if you like feels, this is for you.

I hope it hits you in the heart <3

#ouat #killian jones #captain swan #emma swan #once upon a time #ouat fanfiction #captain hook #ouat s5 #underworld fanfic #fanfic #whump #killian whump #angst #feels #some fluff

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captainswanfluffyfebruary · 2 months

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Under the Weather

This is just a little post-Neverland one-shot, taking place sometime after they've returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan's gone, and there is no second curse. It was probably inspired by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook managed to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. And it was cold January weather this morning that brought it back to mind to re-post this morning. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I'll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy.

Read on A03 and send some fluffy love to @snowbellswells

#captain swan fanfic #captain swan fic rec #captain swan fluff #captain swan fluffy february #csff #captain swan #cs ff

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snowbellewells · 1 year

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Self Promo Sunday: “Prestidigitorium!”

When I originally wrote this little one shot after Season 5′s premiere episode (5x01), I remember being both excited and anxious for what was to come for Emma and those who love her most. I couldn’t help wanting to write a bit of sweet fluff for them, in the midst of all the angst that I’m now sure is on the way. (Boy, we couldn’t have even guessed at how angsty Season 5 would really get, could we?) I loved that little Emma in the flashback was seeing The Sword in the Stone, and the title of this is from that movie’s song Merlin sings while showing Wart how to pack magically.

Also available on A03 or ff.net (As part of my One Shot Collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts) if you prefer to read on one of those platforms.

Summary: Canon Divergent 5a Missing Moment /// Sometime in what I hope is the near future, a simple family movie night after Emma has defeated the Darkness…

The little yellow cottage by the water seems lit from within on this chilly autumn evening as night begins to fall over Storybrooke, Maine. Though it hasn’t been home for long, Emma Swan’s first place of her own – that isn’t a tiny apartment in some huge, bustling city – is already exactly the cozy sanctuary she envisioned. It hasn’t been more than a couple of weeks since she moved her things in, settled into the space, and she is only now starting to feel that she really will be alright. She will be able to stay here in this little town, and she won’t have to fear hurting the ones she loves, because the darkness is finally, completely gone from inside her.

Most of that credit goes to her two True Loves seated right in front of her, part of the gathering in her little home tonight. Her sexy and sweetly devoted Captain, and her precious son who never stopped believing in her, are the ones who kept her fighting even when her battle against the Dark One curse began to feel hopeless – when she might have otherwise lay down in defeat and been subsumed by the horrific and overwhelming power that had coursed through her veins, aching to take her over.

Tonight is not about that though, even if she cannot help ruffling Henry’s hair with such an overflow of affection that it makes momentary tears well in her eyes as she pauses by the back of the sofa where he sits with little Roland Hood, waiting for everyone else to settle in with them to begin movie night. Killian is sitting quietly on Roland’s other side, clearly trying to appear extra calm and still, Emma can tell, because of the little boy in their care. Finally feeling like herself again, Emma had offered to babysit so Roland could join their little party and Regina and Robin could have a much-needed night alone to truly reconnect, talk, and heal. It made her feel even more accepted and restored to normal when Regina didn’t hesitate to accept her offer at all. Still, Roland hasn’t spent much time with any of them except Henry, and Emma finds it insanely adorable how hard her former pirate boyfriend is trying not to spook the child, to the point of keeping his hook shielded from view at his other side. As if sensing her thought, Killian tilts his head up against the back of the couch to look at her hovering over his shoulder.

“You’re thinking quite loudly, Swan,” he quips playfully, though she sees the unasked question in his eyes behind the jest. After all they have been through recently, he is especially attuned not to let her thoughts veer back toward guilt and fear over where she has been or what she has done, not if he can help it.

Emma bends down to kiss his forehead affectionately, happy to bestow any bit of encouragement or sweetness on him after the lengths he went to in order to bring her back and what he endured when she was not fully herself. She doesn’t want to dwell on those memories now, and so she keeps the kiss brief and innocent, standing again swiftly and shaking her head clear of the heavier thoughts. Tonight is meant to be happy – a celebration – and she intends to keep it so.

“How’s the popcorn coming in there?” she calls toward the kitchen where her dad is trying to work the microwave and prepare their snack, while keeping her little brother occupied as well.

“Yes, Dave, need a hand?” Killian quips, the old joke of his only having one to spare familiar and accepted between them.

“Everyone just needs to hold their horses a minute!” David admonishes, no real scold in his eyes though as he strides into the room, one arm holding little Neal balanced on his hip, while carrying two huge bowls of mouth-wateringly scented buttered popcorn, one in each hand. “I’ve got it under control.”

Henry jumps up quickly to take one of the bowls from his grandpa and allow the man a free hand. David settles into the recliner with his young son, digging into the popcorn for his own handful and his eyes widening in pleased delight. “Wow! This is incredible!”

Henry laughs aloud, and Emma shoots her father a knowing look from around the people sitting between them. “See? Didn’t I tell you so?” She nods with playful gratification. “You can’t have a great movie night without buttered popcorn.”

“One point to the modern world,” David acknowledges with a conciliatory nod.

Killian reaches over to the bowl, putting his own handful of the hot, salty treat in his mouth. His eyes widen comically as well, and he nods vigorously in agreement. “Oh, aye, this is something the Enchanted Forest should truly be sorry they are lacking!”

Everybody crams into the cozy, but admittedly small, living room of Emma’s waterfront cottage as Henry pushes play on the DVD player and the movie begins. He’s been going through the Disney classics with little Roland, who is still wide-eyed and amazed by so much in the modern world, but clearly adores both the real world magic of animation and a catchy song as much as any other child. The selection for tonight is The Sword in the Stone, and though both Killian and her father had started to protest, afraid their recent adventures and trials – and how different Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot itself had proven to be from the legend they had known – might be upsetting or painful for Emma and all of them, Emma herself had urged them to let the boys pick. She could see the appeal in comparing the made-up story to a place they had just been able to experience for themselves.

What she didn’t say aloud was that the real ache in her chest came not from remembering Arthur’s machinations and veiled treachery or the danger they had all faced, but from the memories of this movie being the first one she had ever seen in a theater, how she’d had to sit all alone with no one to buy her snacks, laugh along with her, or be sure she was enjoying herself. She remembered all too well having to walk past the popcorn in the theater lobby with no money of her own, and the way she had so easily filched a candy bar from that other theatergoer without thinking twice. Perhaps the Darkness had always been in there with her light, long before she could have possibly understood…

As the cartoon reached the spot where Wart wonders into Merlin’s cottage and the bearded old wizard is magically packing his entire home into a single bag with his “Higitus Figitus” song, Emma can’t help curling in a little closer to Killian from where she has already wedged herself onto the couch between him and the sofa’s arm, leaning her head sadly on his shoulder.

“Alright there, Lass?” he whispers, breath warm and soft on her forehead so as not to disturb their younger viewers.

“Fine,” she answers shortly, knowing she’ll tell him later about how that scene had only served to remind her of all the times she had been packed back up from a foster home and sent away again. For now she only wants to snuggle up to his warmth and be glad he is still here with her, despite what she had almost become.

However, when she gets up later to check on popcorn and drink refills, she simply has to bring the two boys candy bars when she returns, and somehow with their smiles and excited thanks, and the arm of her pirate wrapped around her once again, the void from so many years ago is finally filled.

Tagging: @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @xarandomdreamx @sotangledupinit @scientificapricot @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @cosette141 @anmylica @xsajx @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @elizabeethan @stahlop @wefoundloveunderthelight @motherkatereloyshipper @kday426 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @tomeandflickcorner @caught-in-the-filter @ineffablecolors @nachocheese-itsmycheese @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #ouat one shot #5a canon divergent ff #missing moment ff #prestidigitorium #emma angst #cs fluff #captain cobra swan

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jrob64 · 2 months

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Pet for Rent, Chapter 2/4 (The Idea)

A CS Modern AU Story

Thanks for joining me for chapter 2! Writing this story has been a bit therapeutic for me after losing my Zeke, and adopting Winston has been, too. I hope you'll stay with me for the rest of the story.

Shout out to @kmomof4 who sent Winston the ducky toy he has in the picture. His Aunt Krystal spoiled him with a welcome package the week we got him!

Thanks so much to @hookedmom. I'm lucky to have the best and most patient beta!

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Emma, Henry, Killian and Norman/Winston spend more time together. When Henry continues feeling sad about having to leave the dog at the animal shelter, Killian proposes an idea that might solve the problem.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 6821

ALSO POSTED TO Ao3 and FFN

Story begins under the cut

Emma didn’t think it was possible for four hours with a stranger to pass so quickly. Sooner than she expected, Killian was looking at his phone and announcing that it was time to return Norman to the shelter. It may have been her imagination, but it sounded like there was a note of wistfulness in his voice.

Henry took control of the dog on the walk back, giving the adults an opportunity to resume the conversation that had been ongoing throughout most of their time together. Emma watched her son handling Norman as he wandered from one side of the path to the other to explore in the tall grass and she commented, “Henry is gonna sleep good tonight.”

“I don’t doubt that. He told me he had his last game of the season this morning.”

“That, in addition to playing fetch and ‘keep away’ with Norman, and all of the running around he did with you, will have him zonking out early.” They walked on a few paces, before she added, “I want to thank you, Killian, for spending so much time with him. Since he doesn’t have a father, he doesn’t get a lot of one-on-one time with a man, so I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure. He’s a good listener and a fast learner.”

“Yeah, I kinda wish he had more games left, so he could apply what you taught him. I’m afraid he’ll forget it by next season. You’re wonderful at teaching, and very patient.”

“Thank you, Emma. I truly did enjoy it.”

“The youth league is always begging for people to coach. Maybe you could do that next year.”

Killian looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I could, if I’m still here.”

“Any idea where would you go if you decide to leave?”

“Not really, but it wouldn’t be terribly far away. I want to stay close to Liam.”

When the shelter came into sight, Henry turned around and dragged Norman back to Emma and Killian. “I had fun today. Can we do this again?”

“I’ll have to check our schedule to see when we’ll have another chance to rent Norman,” Emma answered.

Henry shook his head. “No, I mean with Norman and Killian.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma stammered, glancing at Killian, who was scratching behind his ear. “I don’t know about that, kid. This was just an accident and Killian was nice enough to make the best of the situation.”

“But Mom, he had fun, too, didn’t you, Killian?”

“What did I tell you about putting him on the spot?”

“Sorry, Killian,” Henry apologized. “But it did seem like you were having fun.”

Killian reached forward to ruffle the boy’s hair. “It’s quite alright, lad, and you’re right - I had a very good time with you and your mother today. And Winston, of course.”

“You mean Norman,” Emma remarked.

“He still seems more like a Winston to me. Don’t you see the resemblance between him and England’s former Prime Minister?”

Emma took in the dog’s jutting lower jaw, drooping jowls and prominent forehead, and had to admit he did share some physical traits with Winston Churchill. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do see it.”

“Anyway, at the risk of being too forward, it would be nice to have another day with you and your boy, if you’re amenable to that, Swan.”

Emma thought for a moment, then said, “Henry, why don’t you take Norman to the end of the path and give us a minute, okay?”

He started to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, Norman. Mom doesn’t want me to hear what she’s gonna say.”

Emma watched him go, her mouth agape over his comment. She heard Killian chuckle and turned to look at him.

“He’s quite a bright young man,” he laughed.

“Yeah, he’s getting too smart for his own good,” she agreed. “But he’s still a little boy and I’m a protective mom. I don’t want to promise him something that’s not going to happen, so if you’re not serious about doing this again…”

“I assure you, Emma,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t dream of letting him down. If you’re willing to give me your contact information, I’ll send you some options and we can figure out a day that works.”

She eyed him critically for a few seconds, seeing nothing but sincerity in his expression. “I know Henry would really like that.”

“Only Henry?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I have to admit, I had a really good time today, too. So, um, to answer your question, I am, how did you say it, amenable to doing it again.”

His grin made her heart do a pleasant little flip. She made sure Henry and Norman were okay while waiting for Killian to pull out his phone and start a new contact. Once he did, he handed it to her so she could add her information.

After handing it back, they began walking again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him checking the phone screen. “It’s not a fake number, by the way,” she said.

“That’s good to know,” he returned with a smirk, while typing out a text to her so she would have his info. “Is that something you’ve done before?”

“Maybe,” she replied cryptically.

“In that case, I feel honored that you gave me the real thing.”

She giggled in response, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow as they reached the end of the path.

“What did you say, Mom?” Henry asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Killian and I are going to look at our schedules to find a day that works.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted. “How about next Saturday?”

“Calm down, kid. I told you we’re going to figure it out.”

They arrived at the shelter and Killian opened the door and held it for them. David was sitting at a desk behind the counter, tapping away at the computer keyboard. He looked up with a broad smile when they entered. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Thank you for allowing us to borrow Norman for the day.”

David looked between the two adults standing before him, obviously wanting more details. “Did you…all of you…get along okay?”

“Yes we did, Dave,” Killian said smugly.

There were several seconds when all they could hear was the barking of some of the dogs in the back. Finally, David sighed. “Alright, I guess I’ll just take Norman back to his cage, then.”

“Oh, uh,” Emma said, giving Killian a wink, “one of us will be in touch to schedule another day for us…all of us…to rent Norman again.”

David’s grin told them he knew exactly what that meant.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“I hear you met my future brother-in-law,” Belle said. It was Monday, and Emma had stopped at the library to return a couple of books and choose some more before her shift at the sheriff’s station.

“News travels fast.”

“Killian always eats lunch with us after church. He told us about the mix-up at the animal shelter and said he had a great time with you and Henry.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Emma said, moving to a shelf and studying the books more closely than necessary.

“He thinks very highly of you, too.”

Emma shot her a brief glance. “Oh, yeah? What did he say?”

“Well,” Belle began, clearly struggling to be non-chalant, “he said you were very easy to talk to and he enjoyed your sense of humor. He also said he had fun helping Henry with his soccer skills.”

“He was really good with Henry and I, um, I liked talking to him, too. He’s supposed to contact me to figure out another time to rent Norman together. Henry asked if we could.”

“I don’t suppose you protested too much, did you?”

Emma chose a book off of the shelf and studiously perused the summary on the back. “You know I want my kid to be happy.”

Belle crossed the space between them and laid her hand over the book, garnering Emma’s full attention. “To the best of my knowledge, you’ve never once introduced your son to a man you may be interested in dating in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Wait a second…first of all, I didn’t introduce him to Henry - we met accidentally, and secondly, who says I’m interested in dating him? We’re simply planning to rent Norman together again. It’s really not a big deal, Belle.”

“If you say so, but I have to tell you that I’ve never seen Killian so animated while talking about someone. You certainly made an impression on him.”

“I’m sure I did. Dressed in old sweatpants and a hoodie, no makeup, hair a complete disaster - I was a mess.”

“He didn’t mention that. He just talked about how he enjoyed the time he spent with you and how much he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Emma could feel her face heating and knew she must be as red as the leather jacket she was wearing. She wasn’t ready to admit that she was just as eager to see him again, too.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

That evening, Emma had just finished checking over Henry’s homework and shooed him off to the shower, when her phone dinged with an incoming text. Picking it up from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face upon seeing Killian’s name.

K: I’m hoping this message reaches Emma Swan. If I’ve reached someone else, you can blame it on her. It was followed by a smirking emoji.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, and decided to play along.

E: I’m afraid you’ve been misled. This Emma Swan must be a horrible person. She added a winking emoji.

It took a few seconds for the three bubbles to pop up, then she laughed out loud when she read his reply.

K: Oh, she is a terrible, awful person to give me a fake number.

E: She’s probably not used to giving out her number to random men who just happened to rent the same dog she did.

K: That seems to be a plausible excuse. Perhaps I should forgive her.

E: Oh, you most definitely should.

K: Very well. If I’m ever fortunate enough to see her again, I shall grant her my forgiveness.

E: That’s very gentlemanly of you.

K: I’m always a gentleman.

Emma heard the clothes hamper lid slam in the bathroom, signifying that Henry was finished with his shower.

E: I need to get Henry into bed. I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so, depending on how resistant he decides to be tonight.

K: Tell him I said goodnight.

E: That will probably get him all excited and it may be longer than twenty minutes.

K: I’m willing to wait.

Emma left her phone on the sofa and went to Henry’s bedroom, where he was getting settled under the covers. Sitting on the edge of his bed, she brushed his damp bangs away from his forehead.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“You ask me that every night.”

“Yes, and half the time you’ve neglected to do it.”

“I just have to brush them again in the morning.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you, or didn’t you?”

He sighed dramatically. “I did. Wanna smell my breath to make sure?”

“Not particularly. I believe you. Ready to say your prayers?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Name three things of thanks,” she said, initiating their nightly tradition.

Henry tapped his chin in thought. “I scored two goals at recess.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I used what Killian taught me. Oh! That’s my second thing - meeting Killian.”

“Actually, he texted me while you were in the shower.”

“He did? Did he say when we can rent Norman together again?”

“We haven't had a chance to discuss it yet. He did say to tell you goodnight.”

“Tell him I said goodnight to him, too.”

“I will. What’s your third thing?”

“Umm…we changed seats in class and now I’m sitting beside Avery.”

“Just make sure the two of you don’t get into trouble for talking too much.”

“We won’t.”

“Good. Now, what three things do you want to ask of God?”

“To help me do good on my math test tomorrow, to send me another dog, and to let us see Killian again soon.”

They both folded their hands and closed their eyes while Henry said his prayers. When he finished, Emma read him a chapter of Fantastic Mr. Fox, kissed him goodnight and left his room, turning off the light on her way out.

Picking her phone up from her couch, she scrolled through the text conversation with Killian, smiling at the light banter they shared.

E: I’m back.

When a response didn’t come through for a couple of minutes, she went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Then she brushed her teeth, washed her face, and applied moisturizer.

When she went back into the living room, she saw a new message on her phone.

K: Is it okay if I call you? I’m not fond of texting.

She noticed that the time stamp was right after she put her phone down, over ten minutes ago. Instead of answering, she brought up his contact and hit the call button.

“Hello, Swan.”

“Hey, sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“I was hoping I didn’t upset you by asking to call.”

“No, nothing like that. I just decided to do my nighttime routine,” Emma explained. “Henry said to tell you goodnight, by the way. I always ask him to tell me three things he’s thankful for from his day, and you were involved in two of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. He scored two goals playing soccer today at recess, because of what you taught him, and he was thankful for meeting you. That’s the third night in a row he’s said that one.”

“That’s very kind of him to say.”

“Well, you made quite an impression on him and he’s eager to see you again. Speaking of which, what does your schedule look like for the next few weeks?”

“It’s wide open, actually. Do Saturdays work best for you?”

“Yeah, because Henry is in school during the week and I work until five every day. I also work one Saturday a month. This coming Saturday is the one I work this month.”

“How about the following week?”

She switched him to speaker and pulled up her calendar app. “That looks good. Henry gets a haircut that morning at nine, but we could meet after that. The weather is going to start getting too cold if we wait much longer.”

“Liam has been telling me to be prepared for a cold winter. He says Maine is quite a bit colder than England during the winter months,” he stated. “Shall we make plans for that day, then?”

“Sounds good to me. Want to meet at the shelter at ten-thirty?”

“Actually,” Killian began, then paused for a few moments before clearing his throat and continuing. “I was wondering if you would agree to me picking up the two of you to go to the shelter together.”

Emma bit her lip, considering his offer. Her gut instinct was to decline because it would seem too much like a date, but her practical side said it was logical for them to make the twenty minute drive together.

She knew he was waiting for her answer and was probably having second thoughts about asking, since she was taking so long. “Um, sure, that would be fine,” she finally said. “I’ll text my address to you.”

“Okay, good. Shall we say ten o’clock? Will that give you enough time for Henry’s haircut?”

“Yeah. It only takes about twenty minutes, if that long. His barber is Jefferson and he’s pretty fast.”

“Liam recommended him and I had an appointment there a couple of weeks ago. He is fast, if a little…quirky.”

“Oh, you mean because he wears the top hat? I guess he’s trying to live up to the name of his shop.”

“Just naming his shop the Mad Hatter of Hair makes him sound a bit eccentric.”

Emma laughed. “He’s harmless, though. His daughter Grace is in Henry’s class and she’s very sweet. Jefferson is raising her by himself. His wife passed away before Grace started kindergarten.”

“How sad. Now I feel bad for judging him.”

“I wouldn’t say you were judging him, just making an accurate observation. I knew him before his wife died and he was every bit as quirky as he is now.”

They continued talking for another twenty minutes. Just like the day they met, the conversation didn’t lag at all as they transitioned easily from one subject to another. Before they ended the call, Killian asked if it would be alright to call her again later in the week and she agreed without hesitation.

Lying in bed that night, Emma smiled dreamily as she replayed their conversation in her mind. She may be venturing into self-imposed forbidden territory ever since Henry’s father abandoned her, but Killian Jones intrigued her and she couldn’t find it within herself to care.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian called Emma four more times over the next two weeks. Their conversations lasted longer each time, until they spent over an hour talking and laughing on Thursday, before their scheduled outing.

He suggested that they take Norman back to Storybrooke’s nature preserve after picking him up, which she thought was a great idea. She mentioned that she and Henry spent quite a bit of time there during the summer, hiking the trails and wading in the creek. Despite intending to visit, Killian hadn’t been able to get there yet and was happy to know his first time would be with Emma, Henry and Norman.

Saturday morning found him taking more time than usual to get ready. He chided himself for being a bit vain, but wanted to make the extra effort for the lovely lady Swan. If things went well, he was planning to ask her out on a proper date.

He had confided his intention to Belle, hoping she would give him advice about where to take Emma, should she agree. Not only did his future sister-in-law present him with recommendations, she also mentioned that she would be happy to watch Henry, and was sure Liam would, too.

Once Killian was satisfied with his appearance, he tried to occupy himself until it was time to drive to Emma and Henry’s house. After going online and paying some bills, washing the few dishes in the sink and sorting his laundry, he still had about twenty minutes left.

His heart sank when he heard the notification for an incoming text, thinking it might be Emma cancelling their plans. He was relieved, then a little apprehensive to see it was from his brother. Belle promised she wouldn’t say anything to Liam about his plans to ask Emma on a date, but they were an engaged couple and couples weren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Unfortunately, his former girlfriend hadn’t abided by that rule, since she kept one whopper of a secret from him.

L: Any plans for this afternoon, little brother?

Killian dropped his head back with a sigh. Not only did Liam insist on calling him that irritating moniker, now he had to explain that he did indeed have plans. He was sure he would have to answer questions about what they were and with whom, since he rarely did anything on the weekends.

K: Actually, I do.

L: Oh, really? What are you doing?

K: I’m renting Winston from the shelter again.

L: Great! Belle is working today. Would you mind if I came over to see the little guy?

Killian’s thumbs hovered over his screen, trying to decide how to tell his brother no without sounding rude. Even though Liam was acquainted with Emma, he tended to be over protective, and Killian didn’t want him giving her the third degree or making her feel uncomfortable. Plus, he selfishly wanted to spend time alone with her and Henry.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was almost time for him to leave. Quickly, he typed a message he was hoping would appease Liam.

K: Sorry, not this time. Emma, Henry and I made plans to spend another day together with him.

As he pulled on his jacket, he heard another notification. Closing his eyes momentarily, he opened them to read Liam’s message, then released a relieved breath.

L: I hope the four of you have a good time, so I can see that look of happiness on your face again.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Henry, Killian’s here!” Emma announced, dropping the curtain after seeing his car pull up to the curb.

“Coming!” she heard him yell in response.

She quickly ducked into the bathroom and inspected her appearance in the mirror one more time. She hoped to make a better impression on Killian by applying light makeup and pulling her hair back into a neat ponytail. Her outfit was simple - jeans, sneakers, her favorite light blue blouse, and red leather jacket.

The doorbell rang as she re-entered the living room, but before she could get to the door, Henry sped past her to pull it open. “Hey, Killian!” he said excitedly.

“Hello, lad,” Killian answered, then shifted his eyes from Henry to Emma. She saw him swallow before giving her one of his winning smiles. “Good morning, Emma.”

“Hi, Killian. You’re right on time.”

“Not being prompt is bad form, Swan.” Looking at Henry again, he stated, “Your haircut makes you look a bit older.”

Henry reached up to run both hands along the sides of his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Aye, at least a year or two.”

“Please don’t say that,” Emma said, handing Henry his jacket. “He’s growing up way too fast as it is.”

During the drive to the shelter, Henry talked about one thing after another. Emma wondered if Killian would tire of her son’s constant chatter, but his questions at regular intervals proved he was fully engaged in what Henry had to say.

Meanwhile, she spent the time admiring the man beside her. He was dressed in dark, stonewashed jeans, an army green button-down shirt, and the same black leather jacket he wore the first time they met. His scruff was neatly trimmed and his dark hair artfully combed. His rich laugh at some of Henry’s comments was a sound she was sure she would never get tired of hearing.

When they entered the shelter, David gave them a smug smile that Emma tried to ignore. She knew he was probably patting himself on the back for his matchmaking, but she really didn’t mind, because meeting Killian was, so far, a positive experience.

Norman was extremely excited to see them again, and after everyone got into the car, they were on their way back to Storybrooke. Henry was preoccupied with Norman in the back seat, so the adults finally had a chance to chat with each other. Their conversation was as free-flowing as it had been every other time they spoke in the past two weeks. Emma had never met anyone so easy to talk to, and wondered if it was because their backgrounds were so similar.

During their earlier phone conversations, she learned his father had abandoned his family when Killian and Liam were little, leaving their mother to raise them alone. She shared how she was abandoned at a fire station baby box when she was less than a week old, and had never been adopted. They both had been in situations where they were deceived and misled by the person they loved. Emma came to realize that being able to empathize with someone else made it easier to connect with them, just as she had with Killian.

The crisp autumn weather was perfect for hiking at the nature preserve. They explored all of the available paths and walked along the shores of the creek. The water was too chilly for wading, but Norman enjoyed splashing in now and then when he spotted a particularly intriguing leaf, bug or stick.

After hiking for a couple of hours, they took a break to drink Gatorade and snack on protein bars, thoughtfully packed by Killian. He also had treats for Norman, which Henry used to try and teach the dog again how to sit on command.

They stayed until the last possible minute before getting into the car for the drive back to the shelter. No one spoke for several miles, until Henry finally said, “I really wish we didn’t have to take Norman back there. He’s always so sad. Why can’t we just adopt him, Mom?”

Emma glanced over at Killian, who met her eyes for a second before directing his back to the road. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t really be fair to Norman. We’re both gone all day and he would have to be penned up that whole time.”

“But he loves us and we love him!” Henry exclaimed. “Ernie didn’t have to be penned up and he was fine during the day.”

Emma turned to look at her son. “I know, kid, but it was easy with Ernie. He was with us for several years and was older. Norman is young and full of energy, so he’s going to need a lot more attention and training. I wouldn’t trust him being in the house all day by himself.”

Henry heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.”

They were all silent for the rest of the drive. Emma saw Killian look at her out of the corner of his eye once in a while, but they didn’t carry on a conversation. She spent the time thinking about the practicality of adopting Norman, but knew she would have to stick to her guns, because it just wouldn’t be fair to the rambunctious dog to be cooped up all day.

When they reached the shelter and exited the car, Killian slowed Emma down by placing a hand on her arm, while Henry entered the building with Norman. “Emma, I’ve been giving it some thought and I have an idea, if you’re open to it.”

She shrugged slightly. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

“Perhaps, if you adopted Win-, er, Norman, I could keep him during the day while you’re at work and school. I could pick him up in the morning before you leave and drop him off after you get home.”

“Sort of like shared custody or dog sitting?” she asked, turning to face him.

He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, Killian. That seems like a pretty big commitment between people who barely know each other. You’re not even sure you’re going to stay in Storybrooke.”

He scratched behind his ear. “If I move, it won’t be for a while, since I signed a six month lease on my apartment. That would give us time to train the dog. I know we’ve just met, but I…I’ve enjoyed getting to know you and your boy. I’m hoping this is just the beginning of our friendship.”

Emma stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “I hope so, too, but I’m still not sure about the arrangement you’re suggesting.”

“I completely understand,” he said, then paused before asking, “Are you counting it out altogether, or will you consider it?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth in thought for a few seconds. “I’ll consider it,” she finally answered.

He gave her a small smile, then moved to open the door for her.

They went inside to see Henry sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman, the dog’s head resting on his leg. David was listening to the boy give him a detailed description of their day at the nature preserve and looked up to give them a big grin. “Sounds like you had quite the adventure today.”

“Aye, we all had quite a workout,” Killian responded. “It’s quite a lovely place.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky to have it in Storybrooke,” David said. “Mary Margaret takes her class there on a field trip every year.”

Henry’s head whipped around. “Mrs. Nolan didn’t take our class!”

“It’s early in the school year,” Emma said. “I’m sure she’ll take you sometime.”

“They usually go in the spring,” David explained, as he walked around the end of the counter. “Are you ready for me to take Norman?”

“No,” Henry said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the dog’s neck.

The three adults exchanged understanding looks. They gave the boy a couple more minutes, before Emma picked up the end of the leash and put her hand on Henry’s head. “It’s time to say goodbye to him, kid.”

Henry drew back to look at Norman. “Goodbye, boy. I’m gonna miss you.” He kissed the dog on top of the head and rubbed his ears.

Emma reached down to pet the dog, then handed the leash to David. Killian stood beside her to pat Norman, too, telling him to be a good boy.

David bid them all goodbye, then headed to the back with the dog reluctantly following him. Henry looked up at Emma from where he still sat on the floor. “Mom…”

“Henry, don’t say it. I already told you why it’s not a good idea to adopt him right now.”

“Right now? Does that mean we can adopt him later?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Emma replied, giving him her patented ‘don’t push it’ look. “Let’s go, kid.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Henry pushed himself to his feet and followed her out the door Killian was holding open. Once they were in the car and on their way to Storybrooke, Killian asked, “Would you, um, would the two of you like to get a late lunch at Granny’s, when we get back?”

“What do you think, Henry?” Emma threw over her shoulder.

He turned from where he had been glumly staring out the window. “Can I get a cheeseburger and fries?”

“Sure.”

“And a chocolate milkshake?” When his mom didn’t answer immediately, he added, “Please? It’ll make me less sad about Norman.”

Killian chuckled lowly as Emma rolled her eyes, muttering, “I’m raising a con artist.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Killian mentally kicked himself the whole way back into town. What was he thinking, asking Emma to agree to what was basically a long term commitment? He probably ruined his chance for asking her out on a date, too. He was sure she would think he was coming on too strong, if he did.

At least she agreed to have lunch with him. Hopefully, she would also allow him to continue calling her. Those phone calls and the texts they shared were always the highlight of his week.

As much as he enjoyed his time with Emma, having Henry with them made it even better. Killian hadn’t had a lot of interaction with children, but it was easy being around Emma’s son. He was bright, articulate and funny - very much like his mother. He was also respectful and well-mannered.

On the day they met, Emma confided to him that she was afraid she was making a lot of mistakes as a single mom, who never had a mother of her own to set an example, but he strongly disagreed. She wasn’t perfect - no parent was, but Henry seemed to be well-adjusted and confident, so she was obviously doing many things right.

Killian saw how much Henry loved the dog and wished he could help make the boy’s desire to adopt him come true, which is why he made the offer. He had come to love the furry little rascal, too, and would seriously consider adopting Norman himself. He just didn’t know if he could take the dog with him if he decided to move away from Storybrooke.

He pulled up in front of Granny’s, cut the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, as he heard Emma and Henry do the same. Typical of a young boy, Henry took off running and was already skipping up the steps to the front door by the time Killian reached Emma’s side.

“He’s pretty excited,” Emma explained. “Eating out is kind of a treat because we don’t do it very often.”

“I hope I wasn’t out of line for asking,” Killian said.

“No, not at all. It really perked him up.”

Killian halted at the bottom of the steps, causing Emma to stop and look at him. “I also hope I didn’t upset you by making the offer to watch Norman.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “I’m definitely going to think about it. I really miss having a dog around, too. I just have to weigh all the pros and cons.”

He smiled and nodded his understanding, then bounded up the steps to open the door. Henry was at the counter talking animatedly to Ruby, who looked up and gaped at Emma in surprise.

“Hey, girl! I didn’t realize you knew the very handsome new guy in town!”

Killian could feel his ears turning red, when Emma glanced at him before replying. “Hi, Ruby. Actually, we met by accident a couple of weeks ago.”

“By accident, huh? Did you hit him with your car or something?”

“Nothing like that. We were both renting the same dog at the animal shelter.”

“Was seeing him today another accident?”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. It was planned this time.”

Killian wasn’t sure he had ever seen such a wide grin on the waitress’s face. They all gave Ruby their drink order, then Emma ushered Henry to a booth and Killian slid in across from them.

“Are you getting lasagna?” she asked.

“I think I’m going to try the grilled cheese and onion rings. Someone recommended them to me,” he smirked.

“Very intelligent person,” Emma grinned.

“Aye, that she is.”

Ruby arrived at their table with their drinks and Henry’s milkshake. She gave Emma and Killian another broad smile when she took down their identical orders. “His and hers grilled cheeses, huh? Maybe there’s some truth to the saying that couples begin to eat alike.”

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. “I think the saying is that couples start to look alike, and we aren’t a couple. We’re just friends.”

“I see,” Ruby said, glancing at Henry, who was busy spooning the thick milkshake into his mouth. “Well, they do say there are benefits to being friends.” She gave them an exaggerated wink, then turned and made her way to the kitchen.

“Ruby isn’t exactly the epitome of subtlety,” Emma said, a blush filling her cheeks with color.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“It was nice of Killian to take us to Granny’s today,” Henry said, as he was climbing into bed that night.

“Yes, it was. I was very proud of you for remembering to thank him without needing a reminder.”

“Thanks for letting me get a milkshake, even if it didn’t make me stop feeling sad about not being able to adopt Norman.”

Emma tucked the covers around his shoulders. “I know, but try not to think about it.”

“I can’t,” Henry pouted. “He’s probably crying himself to sleep tonight.”

“I think he’s probably going to sleep remembering all of the fun we had today.”

Henry stubbornly shook his head. “Nuh-uh. He’s wondering why we didn’t bring him home with us.”

“Henry,” Emma sighed, “I know you’re sad, but we just can’t…”

“I know,” he interrupted, “you keep saying it wouldn’t be fair for him to be alone all day, but he’s already alone at the shelter all day, except for Mr. Nolan, and at night, there’s nobody there at all.”

“There’s other dogs and cats…”

“That’s not the same. They’re all in cages by themselves. If we adopted him, he could sleep on my bed, like Ernie did.”

Knowing she was going around in circles with him, Emma reached over and picked up the book from his nightstand. “How about if you say your prayers after I read to you tonight?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, he said, “Fine, but it’s not gonna make me forget about Norman.”

After reading to him for fifteen minutes, hearing his prayers - which mentioned Norman and Killian several times - and kissing him goodnight, she left his room. Heading into her own bedroom, she went through her nightly routine automatically, lost in thought.

Once she was in her pajamas, free of make-up and teeth brushed, she peeked in on her son to find him sound asleep. She made sure the front door was deadbolted, turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and went back into her room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at the phone in her hand, mind racing.

Finally, she pulled up Killian’s contact and hit the call button.

She was almost ready to hang up after it rang four times, not wanting it to go to voicemail, when he answered. “Hello, Swan. I wasn’t expecting to talk to you again so soon.”

“I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Not at all. What’s on your mind?”

“Henry was still upset about Norman before he went to sleep. I feel like I’m being selfish by not allowing him to get a dog.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Because one of my excuses is that a dog is a lot of work and would need training, which it would. I’m making it seem like all the work would fall on me. Now, I know Henry is only eight, but I think he’s pretty responsible for his age.”

“From what I’ve seen, I would agree with that,” Killian cut in.

“Thank you. Anyway, I think he would be able to help train and take care of the dog, so that excuse is out the window. The other big concern I had is that the dog would have to be home by himself all day, which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I’ve been seriously considering your offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“It is.”

“Are you sure that’s not asking too much of you? I mean, you’re home during the day, but you’re working. How would you be able to take care of him?”

“I’ve had him here with me a few times already and he makes himself right at home. He’s housebroken and doesn’t demand too much attention. If he starts getting restless, I take him outside and play with him for a while. That works with my schedule because I have to take breaks now and then, when I’ve been staring at the computer screen for too long.”

She blew out a long breath. “What if it turns out to be too big of a commitment? We’ve spent some time together and have done a lot of talking to get to know each other, but we’re still basically strangers.”

“Well actually…” Killian began, then paused for several moments before continuing, “I was hoping to have an opportunity to ask you something today, but the right moment never presented itself.”

Emma’s heart began to beat faster in anticipation of what she suspected he might ask. “What did you want to ask?”

“Would you, um…would you consider going out with me?”

Standing up to pace back and forth between her bed and dresser, she chewed her lip in contemplation. She could literally count how many dates she’d had since Henry’s birth on one hand. She only went on those dates to appease Ruby, who was convinced Emma’s Mr. Right was out there somewhere, but she hadn’t been attracted to any of the men.

She couldn’t say the same about Killian. From the time she laid eyes on him, she felt an attraction that only got stronger the more she got to know him. He seemed to be the total package - kind, intelligent, considerate, and insanely hot.

“What happens if we adopt Norman, then go out with each other and realize we’re not compatible?”

“If you adopt him, I would keep my commitment to help take care of him, even if we decide dating doesn’t work for us. You have my word, Emma.”

She came to a halt at the end of her bed and turned to face the mirror above her dresser. For eight years, Henry had been her number one priority and always would be, but maybe it was time for her to do something for herself. Could that something be going out with Killian Jones?

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize how long she had been standing there considering her answer. When Killian finally spoke, his quiet voice startled her. “What do you say, Swan?”

“Yes, Killian. I will go out with you.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

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#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 2 #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

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happy-emmdings · 10 months

Text

Hometown Goodbye

on AO3

Summary: The car ride from Storybrooke to Henry's new college is a chaotic experience worthy of their chaotic family. Even without the whole royal escort of his family accompanying him into the new environment, three parents and a restless toddler are already quite enough for one small car and a very long ride.

Word count: 3 026

Author’s note: Season 7 canon divergence, in the sense that it ignores the existence season 7. Hope ended up kinda stealing the spotlight in this but... good for her.

It was bound to happen. After years of discovering curses and fighting villains alongside his crazy fairytale family, it was time for Henry Mills to embark on a new journey, wherever it may take him. College life sure did sound like a whole new kind of adventure. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stick to the plan. Now that the new chapter was just around the corner, the real world suddenly seemed more daunting than a trip to a land full of magical danger. But there is no use getting ahead of oneself, when every journey has to start first. Some start with a curse, some with a long family road trip.

He had already said a proper goodbye to his grandparents and his kid uncle in advance. Luckily, Emma had managed to gently relay to them that he wasn't comfortable with having a whole royal escort of a family accompanying him into the new environment and that yes, he'd remember to call. Three parents and a toddler were already quite enough, especially all in one small car.

"Alright, I think we're good to go," Emma announced as she slammed the trunk of her yellow bug shut.

"Are you sure you have everything, honey? Socks, all your chargers, toothbrush-"

"Mom!" Henry interrupted Regina's endless checklist that she already went over for the third time since she arrived in front of the Swan-Jones' grey house.

"I'm nineteen years old, I packed a toothbrush, okay?" he snapped.

"And your laptop?"

"Yes!"

"And your books?" Emma joined in.

"Yes!"

"And your sword?"

"Ye- No!"

Henry turned back to the house to see Killian descending the stairs with Hope and smirking at him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He must have found the endless fussing amusing. Easy for him, when he wasn't the victim of it...

"No, Hook, I'm not taking my sword to college. Pretty sure that's not allowed. But I- shit!"

"Language!" both his mothers exclaimed at once as he suddenly bolted inside the house.

"My books," he grumbled hastily, slipping past Killian and running upstairs.

"You mean these?" Killian called after him, lifting up his left arm with a backpack hanging from his hook.

Henry turned around, already at the top of the stairs and rolled his eyes.

"Yep," he confirmed awkwardly and jogged back to take the heavy backpack from his stepdad.

"Thanks," he muttered, when Killian smiled and gave him a teasing wink.

“Now we're good to go!"

"Aye, just gotta put the little pirate princess into her travel throne," Killian said, tickling Hope under her chin, eliciting an adorable giggle and an even cuter attempt at a scary growl from the tiny girl. With almost theatrical courtesy he opened the car door for her, but then he suddenly swept her up without a warning and spun her around, while holding her under his arm like a sack of flour. Little Hope spread her arms and screamed in delight at her daddy's excess.

"Killian, she's gonna be dizzy," Emma protested, but she couldn't hide the soft look in her eyes and the smile that broke through her fatigue like a beam of sunshine hitting water surface and setting it alight with a thousand sparkles.

"Apologies, love," Killian smiled innocently as he finally put his daughter into the car seat and started working on strapping her in.

"If she throws up, you're gonna be the one cleaning it up," Emma added, crossing her arms.

"Are you actually wearing that thing?" Regina gestured to his hook, raising her eyebrows. "We're going to the outside world. Don't you have a fake hand or something?"

"Aye," Killian rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder with an annoyed look.

"But I can't do a bloody thing with that useless hand-shaped piece of wood. So forgive me if I prefer..." he used his hook to pull the seatbelt over Hope who was holding his only hand in her little fingers, trying to take his rings off "...to avail myself of the ability to handle things."

Regina shrugged with a quiet whatever and Killian raised his hook to tickle Hope with it, making her squirm in her seat. Her carefree laughter rang like chimes in the wind and Killian wasn't the only one whose face lit up with a wide smile at the sound.

"Besides, I haven't sharpened it in years," he added, nodding to the blunt tip of the curved appendage.

"Yeah, we all remember Captain Pacifier," Regina scoffed, evoking the memory of Killian's babyproofed hook. When Hope was just a baby, he started wearing a pink piece of plastic on his hook to make it harmless. It just so happened that it also became Hope's favorite thing to stick into her mouth.

"Oh yeah, that worked wonders," Emma sighed.

"That it did. But as proud as I am of my pacifying techniques, I never quite grew fond of that particular moniker." Killian shot them an irritated look, but Emma's innocent smile made his eyes soften.

"Okay. Are we ready to go?" Henry chuckled.

Killian sighed in frustration, when Hope managed to slide a black-jeweled ring off his index finger, and gestured for her to give it back. Instead, she raised it to his ear as if trying to see how it would look as an earring.

"Daddy, why you never wear your birthday eawing?" she pouted at him.

"I- uh..." Killian looked up at Emma with a silent plea for help.

"Daddy is saving them for a special occasion, sweetheart," Emma chimed in. "Give him his ring back, we have to go now. Henry doesn't want to be late."

"What is special occasion?" Hope crossed her arms.

"Um, it's when something important happens." Emma explained hastily. "We can chat on the road, baby."

"Today is impowtant," Hope insisted.

"I'd say she has a point," Henry teased, giving his stepdad an innocent smile.

"Daddy, please," Hope pleaded with big puppy eyes as she slipped the stolen ring back onto his finger.

"Love, I'd be delighted to but we don't have time to- oh okay-"

Killian watched the little girl clap her hands in excitement and reach into her pocket to pull out the kitschiest pair of earrings the pirate has ever set his eyes upon in his long life. They were two little silver princess crowns with sparkly hearts at the tips. That would not have been so bad if not for the even more sparkly unicorns dangling from the crowns on short little chains along with a pair of cheap-looking hot pink feathers. For some inexplicable reason, Hope thought they were very elegant and she had convinced Emma to buy them as a birthday gift for her daddy.

Surrendering to his stubborn baby girl with a deep sigh, Killian took off the black earring he was wearing and let her attach the atrocity to his ear. He waited patiently for her to find the hole in his earlobe after a few probing stabs. But he stopped her hand by gently catching it with his hook, when she reached for his other ear.

"I don't have my left ear pierced, darling. And I would prefer not to have it done by that earring."

"Oh… okay,” she shrugged, looking a little sad.

"Here," Killian smiled and carefully put the sparkly accessory on her right ear. "There you go, pirate princess. We're in this together."

"Now we're both pirate princesses," Hope beamed at him and leaned forward to plant a big loud kiss on his nose.

"Whatever you say, love," he smiled wearily and raised her tiny hand to his lips, before finally stepping back and closing the car door, pointedly ignoring the amused looks of the other adults.

"I think you look adorable," Emma teased with her arm around Henry's shoulder and a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Oh, save it, Swan. You know I love her to bits but how can my own blood have such an atrocious sense of style?" he sighed. "Of all the jewelry we could share..."

"She's three, babe. Style isn't necessarily what she's developing right now," Emma chuckled.

"I suppose you're right," Killian shrugged and tugged at the gaudy fake feather. "Let's depart then, shall we?"

"Are you really sure you want to spend hours inside that thing with a three-year-old that is going to get bored in ten minutes?" Regina raised her eyebrows at Emma and Killian.

"I did say we should take the Jolly Roger," Killian shrugged, raising an eyebrow at Henry as if to say the offer still stands.

"No offense to your ship, Killian, but this time it'd be easier to just park right next to the campus," Henry explained. Killian swallowed any offense he might have taken, simply nodded and got into the car.

"You can always take your own car, Regina, if it's a problem," Emma shrugged, "but I am not negotiating with her about this again."

Convincing the Charmings not to tag along was one thing, but trying to explain to a very stubborn toddler that she was most likely not going to enjoy a several hours long car ride proved to be rather impossible. She had already spent the entire previous evening crying because she realized that Henry going to college meant she wouldn't see him for months. She wasn't usually one to throw a tantrum but this time she made up for all the times she had been reasonable. It wasn't until Henry offered to let her come see where he was going to live, so that it wouldn't feel like he disappeared into a void, that her sulky pout turned thoughtful and she nodded her little head.

So now, Henry, his two moms, Killian and little Hope all squeezed into Emma's old yellow bug. Emma was at the wheel, of course, with Killian in the passenger seat. Henry sat in the back between Regina and Hope's car seat and they were on their merry way. Luckily, the Storybrooke's townline released them into the outside world with no side-effects.

"Remember when you brought me here, Henry?" Emma reminisced wistfully.

"Yeah," Henry smiled. "Feels like a whole another life now, doesn't it?"

"Ha! You bet! I can't believe you're all grown up now," she shook her head slightly.

"Me neither," Regina echoed.

"Call if you ever need anything, okay?" Emma said. "But even if you don't. Just call from time to time."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm gonna miss you," Regina smiled at him and smoothed his hair.

"Guys, I'm not going to another realm. I'm gonna be home for Christmas," Henry rolled his eyes.

"Or for a weekend, if you want to visit sooner," Emma shrugged.

"It sure won't be the same, taking the Jolly out on the water without my trusted first mate," Killian said, turning in his seat to look at him with a little smile.

"Yeah, I'll miss that too," Henry assured him. "But I'll see you all before you know it. I'm ready for the next adventure now."

"Preferably one without evil witches or fairies," Emma scoffed.

"Or rogue authors," Henry added.

"Or nasty demon boys," Killian smirked.

"Or dragons or dark wizards," Regina continued.

"Okay guys, now you're making it sound boring," Henry frowned.

"If you ever miss haywire magic, you know where to find it, kid," Emma chuckled.

"I guess," Henry smirked. "Just don't get all cursed or something while I'm gone."

"We'll try our best, lad," Killian promised jokingly.

Even if the last few years had been rather peaceful for Storybrooke's standards, life was never entirely 'normal' in their small cursed town. Even without dark curses and grand evil schemes, magical shenanigans still kept the sheriff's department busy sometimes. However, nothing too life-threating has happened in the last five years, so what would once have been a real peril, was now easily converted into an inside joke. For a second Henry almost regretted making it though, as a quiet little voice in the back of his head whispered an anxious what if... But he shook his head and pushed it away. No, there have been enough curses already. They have won every fight so far and it was time for a peaceful chapter in their lives. His family would be just fine.

———

Despite their initial worries, Hope was enjoying the car ride more than anyone. She made up for not being able to run around with swinging her legs ceaselessly and when she wasn't chattering, she provided everyone with music. Hope, the self-proclaimed shanty girl, filled any moment of silence with one of her songs made up in the spur of a moment. Ignoring Regina's exasperated sighs, Emma praised Hope's singing voice. Even if it was getting a little tiresome, Emma still found it incredibly cute and the way Hope's little face lit up in the rear-view mirror at the words of encouragement melted Emma's heart. The lyrics were mostly nonsensical even from the start but after an hour, even her tireless creativity was running out and she simply started filling gaps in her songs with endless yo-ho-hos.

"Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum!" she added loudly to the end of her latest car shanty, clapping her hands on her knees and nudging Henry to do the same.

An unsure frown appeared on Emma's face as she titled her head thoughtfully. She glanced at her husband with suspicious eyes.

"Isn't that from the song about fifteen dead guys?" she whispered to him.

"You mean Fifteen Men on a Deadman's Chest, love?" he asked, innocently scratching behind his ear.

"Why do you sing about fifteen dead guys to our toddler, Killian?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"I don't," Killian lifted his hand defensively.

"Yo, ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum!" Hope shouted happily from the backseat.

"Maybe she heard you sing it in the shower," Henry suggested, leaning forward to join the conversation.

As if on cue, Hope clapped her hands. "Sing with me, daddy! Our song! Mommy you too!"

Emma gave Killian a pointed look before turning her eyes back to the road.

"Alright, I might have sung it a couple times," he admitted, his voice making a little squeaky sound as he put on an innocent smile.

"Don’t worry, she made some… adjustments to it," he added.

"Daddy, sing!"

“Please don’t,” Regina groaned silently.

Emma lifted her eyebrows again, this time with her eyes still on the windshield. The corner of her mouth quirked up a little in amusement as Hope began the song which consisted of mostly gibberish. Killian joined in for the chorus, which changed almost every time, one of the versions being:

"Fifteen beans in a princess chest Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum Sheriff star, sword and a pretty dress Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum”

Together, Killian and Hope made up a long list of various things that the princess had in her chest. Among other things there were fifteen rings, fifteen teeth or fifteen cats. Killian added a sextant, map and a gold compass, while Hope came up with strawberry ice cream ‘cause it’s the best, and of course yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum. “It’s the best” turned out to be her go-to rhyme. Emma started singing along with them and even Henry joined for the part of the chorus that remained the same.

“Careful before you raise an alcoholic,” Regina muttered, equally annoyed and amused by the situation.

“It’s just a song,” Emma waved her hand.

“She doesn’t want to drink rum, right love?” Killian said, looking at Hope over his shoulder.

“It’s bleh!” she shook her head furiously.

“I may or may not have tricked her into taking cough drops by promising her a real pirate’s drink,” Killian whispered into Emma’s ear. “Rest assured, her curiosity was sated.”

Henry caught that and made a mental note to replace the rum in Killian’s flask with cough medicine the next time he’d declare him a prank war. Emma shook her head with a chuckle.

“I thought you didn’t use trickery on women,” she quipped.

“Only when their little throats are sore and they refuse treatment,” he explained with a conspiratorial wink.

Eventually, Hope’s supply of songs was exhausted and she decided to occupy herself with trying to dismantle her doll. Henry started scrolling mindlessly through his phone with his thoughts wandering to the future of almost scary normalcy that awaited him at their destination. Every once in a while, he let his eyes get captivated by the landscape running past them outside the window in endless smudged stripes of green and grey and blue. He spun his pen between his fingers. He had a habit of keeping it in his pocket these days. Ever since he finally finished his second volume of Storybrooke’s history, he has had a strange itch to write something new, though he couldn’t figure out exactly what. He wondered if bidding his hometown goodbye was the answer or if there even was any inspiration for him in a world without magic. But perhaps it was precisely the lack of magic that had inspired him to first start seeking it out. Perhaps his own realm had its own lessons to teach him. He just still wasn’t quite sure how good he was going to be at being an adult in a normal world after growing up as a boy who’d been to Neverland and Camelot among other places. His fake memories of a normal life with Emma from the year after Pan’s curse felt more like a vague, distant, elusive dream, but he had some recollection of what it would have been like to have been a regular kid. But if the years that have passed since then have proved anything, it was that he was anything but. He just hoped he could find a way to fit in in his own world. He spun the pen again. Well, if he couldn’t, there were always other worlds to explore. And he just happened to know a town in Maine full of secrets and haywire magic that could be a gateway to any new adventure he’d pick.

#ouat fanfic #captain swan #captain cobra swan #swan jones family #emma swan #killian jones #henry mills #hope swan-jones #family fluff #nya writes

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