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distant-rose · 6 years

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Playing Off Foul (1/2)

Notes: I’ve been working off this idea for awhile. I just needed to get it off my chest. I have so much baseball!Killian crap in my WIP drawer and it needs to see the light of day. A special thank you to @welllpthisishappening and @katie-dub for being my support system and for encouraging me to write this nonsense. My apologies to fans of the Arizona Diamondbacks and Carmelo Anthony. My shade is nothing personal. Summary: Emma Swan doesn’t know anything about baseball, only that her son Henry is obsessed and works as a ballboy for the New York Yankees. She has no interest in it, that is until her son gets whacked with a foul ball and she comes face-to-face with the player that hit it - Killian Jones. Rating: T+ Word Count: 4,600+

When it came down to it, Emma blamed David.

Though it had been Neal who had introduced Henry to baseball, it had been David’s fault that he became a Yankees fan. Since the moment he learned that Henry was interest in the sport dubbed “America’s Favorite Pastime,” Emma’s brother had taken to bringing her son to every baseball game he could afford and spending the rest of his money on more merchandise than their tiny two bedroom apartment could afford.

It was David who had told Henry about the ballboy job opening at Yankee Stadium and like a fool, Emma had allowed her teenager to apply. She didn’t think he would get past the application review but two weeks later, Henry had gotten the call in for an interview which was followed by an official job offer and a celebratory dinner at Fazio’s. She wasn’t been sure how was more excited about it - Henry for having an opportunity to meet his heroes and get paid for it or David who now had an inside man on what was really going on in the Yankees’ locker room. Emma had been less enthused about it.

Though the team that spent half of its games on the road, the stadium seemed to have constant need of Henry and it wasn’t uncommon for him to come stumbling back into the apartment at one or two in the morning on a school night. Furthermore, the players had an habit of giving him more money in tips than Henry knew what to do with on top of earning an whopping $21.50 an hour. Emma nearly blew a gasket when she find out one of the players had given her son a thousand dollars to keep quiet about some girls coming into the locker room for a “private tour.” She didn’t want their boorish behaviour and outrageous spending habits rubbing off on her son. She already had Neal to contend with, she didn’t need to add a bunch of immature rich assholes to the mix. However, there were silver linings to Henry working at the ballpark. Being a ballboy required him to be on top of his grades and it kept him out of trouble for the most part. More often than not, his Saturday nights were spent cleaning bases and polishing cleats rather than going to parties. She also no longer had to worry about Henry asking for money to hang out with his friends since he made more than enough to fend for himself. Another added cherry was that nothing pissed off her Diamondbacks loving ex more than knowing their son was working for “the Evil Empire.” Still, Emma didn’t like it.

She especially didn’t like it when she saw “Yankee Stadium” on her caller ID when she was in the middle of a honey-trap operation to catch a guy who had been charged with credit card fraud.

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Swan?” It was a voice she didn’t recognise but he sounded vaguely nervous.

She bristled slightly at bit at the misnomer. “It’s Miss Swan and yes, this is.”

“Right, sorry, Miss Swan, my name is William Smee and I’m a clubhouse assistant manager over at Yankee Stadium. I’m calling in regard to your son-“ “What happened?” Emma cut him off in a clipped tone.

“There was an accident. A foul ball caught him unaware and he was knocked unconscious. An ambulance was called and he’s on his way to Bronx New Lebanon.”

Fear spiked up her spine as he spoke but she tapped it down, immediately going into crisis mode. She couldn’t afford to get hysterical. Henry needed to keep her cool. Before Mr. Smee even finished his last sentence, she had picked up her purse and was shrugging her coat back on.

“How long ago was this?”

“Twenty minutes ago. We wanted to make sure Henry got immediate attention and was looked after before we did anything else. His health is our top priority and rest assured, Miss Swan, the organisation is willing to pay any medical bills or anything-” “I literally do not care,” Emma cut him off again. “Just give me the address.”

“It’s on Tiffany Street, I believe, ma’am.”

Emma got up, so focused on the situation with Henry that she had forgotten all about her “date.” She turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. Emma hissed when his grip was a little more forceful than necessary, fingers digging into her skin.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked rudely.

“My son is in the hospital. I need to go.”

“You have a son?”

“Yes. He’s fourteen and was just in an accident at Yankee Stadium. Now, let me go.”

“Look, Emma, I don’t know what your malfunction is but I know a lie when I see one. You’re wearing an old ass dress and false stones after all. How about you sit down and actually give me a chance. I’m a really nice guy with some cash to burn.”

“Listen, dude, let me go and I will forget about this.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do me, sweetheart?”

Emma let out a short humourless laugh. This guy didn’t realize how lenient she was planning on being. When she heard Henry was in the hospital, she had decided that she would let this skip go and focus on her son. Now, she wasn’t going to be so generous. On top of being a massive credit scam artist, he was also an asshole and she wasn’t going to let that fly.

She pulled out her cuffs and attached one to his wrist faster than he could blink. He stared at his wrist dumbfounded while she attached the other end to his seat. When he tried to take off, Emma tripped him. She watched in smug satisfaction as the chair landed on top of him. She placed a heeled foot on top of it to keep him in place as she took out her phone once more and called her brother. He picked up after the second ring.

“Is Henry okay?” He asked immediately, not even bothering with pleasantries.

Emma blinked in surprise. “You know about that already?”

“Yeah. It was just on ESPN.”

“Shit.”

“Where is he? I saw him get pulled off. He okay?”

“I’m heading to Bronx New Lebanon now,” Emma replied, applying more pressure on the man beneath her foot. “I need a big favor though. I need you to pick up a Mr. James Graves from Piccola Cucina.”

“On it.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” The skip growled.

“Hey! You had your chance!” She snapped back. “You should have just let me go and see my son!”

The maitre d’hotel came over with a cautious expression, holding his hands up in front of him as if he was approaching a wild and dangerous animal. Emma flashed him a smile in hopes of defusing some of the tension. He gave a tentative one back.

“Is everything okay here, Miss?” He asked nervously.

“Hi. My name is Emma Swan. I work for Nationalwide Bail Bonds Agency. This gentleman, and I use that term loosely, missed his court date and there’s a warrant out for his arrest. There’s an officer on the way. I needed to leave like twenty minutes ago because my kid is in the hospital. So, no. It’s not okay.”

The maitre d’hotel’s eyes went wide and he glanced between her and the man underneath her boot a few times, looking entirely unsure on how to handle the situation. Emma sympathised. This wasn’t the type of joint that was used to rough clientele and this wasn’t normally the sort of spot that Emma would bring her skips but James Graves had insisted on this spot, probably in an attempt to impress her into sleeping with him.

“I’ll going to talk to someone...I will be right back…”

“I’ll be here,” Emma muttered bitterly, taking out her phone and glancing at the time. She didn’t want to leave Henry alone in the hospital.

“You could still let me go...and see your kid...and I will be willing to forget all about this…” James Graves wheezed from under her.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You had your shot, buddy. You blew it. Now, you’re going to hang tight until Officer Nolan comes.”

The maitre d’hotel returned four minutes later, two large stocky men flanking him. Both were wearing black shirts and white aprons that were covered in grime; the customary mark of someone who works in the back of a restaurant. Neither of them looked happy, both eying Emma’s skip with disdain.

“Miss, I know you need to leave so I talked to some of the boys in the back who are willing to babysit your friend until the authorities arrive so you can get to your son.”

It was the nicest thing a stranger had ever done for her. She gave them her first genuine smile of the night.

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. We’ll keep an eye on him. Go see your boy… and perhaps come back for some eggplant parm when you’re able.”

With her skip issue settled, Emma raced to where she had parked her car. Her eyes nearly bulged when she saw a parking ticket tacked to her windshield but it was nothing she couldn’t sort out with David later. It was just another annoyance and one that she needed to set aside until she saw to Henry.

The drive to the Bronx was as painful. It was as if the some unmerciful god knew how stressed she was and decided to add to it. FDR Drive was backed to hell with bumper-to-bumper traffic. She watched in frustration as the ETA on her Waze app crept up minute by minute, screaming against her steering wheel. If only she had gotten a Hummer instead of a Volkswagen Bug, then she could just crush everything in her path and be with her son already.

It took her nearly an hour and twenty minutes to get to Tiffany Street and then another ten minutes to find parking before resigning to put her car in an overpriced garage that only took cash. The men at the lot were unsympathetic to her plight. They rolled their eyes at her explanations, telling her to that the local convenience across the street had an ATM and to come back when she could actually pay them.

Needless to say by the time she finally got into the hospital, Emma was in a foul mood and was ready to go to war with anyone who got in her path. Her anger must have been plastered all over her face because anyone who saw her gave her a wide berth and the nursing staff seemed to shrink under her gaze when she demanded to know where her son was. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She just wanted to know her kid was okay.

She was led down the hall by a harassed looking nurse who was trying very hard to make small talk with her but Emma was having none of it. The nurse stopped towards the end of the hall and gestured to the last room, mumbling something about seeing to other people. She paid the woman no mind though.

She was surprised to hear laughter coming from her son’s hospital room. It wasn’t the laughter of a teenager but rather a grown man, one she didn’t recognise. Frowning to herself, she entered the room to find her son sitting up in bed and playing cards with a stranger.

Henry’s face brightened when he saw her.

“Mom! You made it! Did you get your guy?”

Emma didn’t acknowledge the question. Her attention was focused on the man sitting at her son’s bedside. He appeared to be the same age as her and dressed in the most expensive pair of sweats that she had ever seen. The New York Yankees logo was emblazoned across his chest and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. He had messy dark hair and well-manicured stubble that seemed to enhance the line of his jaw. He was giving her a tentative smile and brushing his hands against his knees nervously. In the back of her head, Emma acknowledged he was incredibly attractive but she was more concerned with who the hell he was and why he was in her son’s hospital room.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Mom!” Henry sounded scandalized.

“Ermmm…” The man ran one of his hands through his hair. Emma noted the massive scarring that seemed to encompass webbing between his thumb and index finger and seemed to radiate in angry lines across his knuckles. He stood up and held out his other hand for her shake. “Killian Jones.”

She didn’t take it. Instead she crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrows at him. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Henry let out a loud groan and looked like he was about have a fit.

“Mom! Are you kidding? He’s the best second baseman in the league! He has the highest on-base percentage and leads the AL in stolen bases! He’s, like, one of the top twenty best hitters! How do you not know who he is!”

Emma glanced back at the proclaimed baseball superstar and squinted a bit. Now that Henry had mentioned it, he did look a little familiar. She was pretty certain that he had seen his profile on her son’s bedroom wall. Though, he looked more intense on the poster than he did in real life. If anything, he now looked awkward and embarrassed. Killian’s face flushed under the praise and he took back the hand he had held out in order to scratch behind his ear.

“I’m pretty sure Jose Altuve would disagree with you on the best second baseman thing.”

“Okay, maybe not the best second baseman but you’re up there. You have an insane record in double plays and you play for the best team in baseball,” Henry conceded, picking up the deck of cards that had been scattered across his rollaway table.

“I appreciate the show of team spirit, Henry.”

“Okay, I get it,”she said, cutting into the bizarre display of male bonding that was happening in front of her. “What is he doing here?”

Both Henry and Killian looked uncomfortable at the question, the two of them exchanging glances. Emma felt her stomach tying itself in knots. She had a feeling she was not going to like what they had to say.

“I just wanted to make sure your boy was okay…” Killian replied slowly, as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. “...and you know, make sure that there was no hard feelings or anything…”

“Excuse me?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Killian. It was a foul ball. I should have been paying attention more.”

“Perhaps but still, I would never forgive myself if anything bad had happened to you.”

“You’re the one who hit my kid?!” She hissed, looking at him with murder in her eyes. She was five seconds away from decking him in the face.

Killian seemed to sense her aggression because he put his hands out in front of him in surrender. “Not intentionally! I promise!”

“Right,” she replied in a clipped tone before turning to her son. “Do you mind if I borrow Mr. Baseball here for a moment so we can have a...chat?”

Emma wasn’t certain who looked more nervous, her son or the professional baseball player who was shifting in place like a guilty toddler.

“As long as you promise not to kill him… if he dies, we, for sure, won’t make the playoffs this year.”

“Glad to know that’s all my life is worth to you, Henry.”

“Just being honest.”

She gestured for Killian to follow her out into the hallway. He followed her but she could see the clear reluctance that embodied his stride. He reminded her of the children who sat in front of the principal’s office, waiting to be screamed at. She closed the door behind them, so Henry wouldn't listen in on their conversation. She leaned against it, crossing her arms in front of her chest and glaring at him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He looked startled by the question. “I already told you. I’m here for your boy, Mrs. Swan.”

“You say that but I know how you assholes work. Everything with you is image. Henry keeps a tight lip on what happens in that locker room but I know that you and some of your buddies pay him to keep quiet about the nasty shit that goes on in that.”

“Pardon?” His lips formed a thin line. His nerves were giving way to irritation but Emma didn’t care.

“You heard? I’m not an idiot. You‘ really not here out of any concern for my son. You’re here to cover your ass and keep up your good guy image. I will not have you use my son as a publicity stunt.”

“Publicity stunt?” He repeated. He looked positively offended by her words. “Listen, Mrs. Swan-”

“It’s Emma. Not Miss Swan, especially not Mrs. Swan,” she cut him off. “I’m not married. Everyone at that fucking stadium always assumes I am. It’s annoying.”

“Alright, alright, fine, Emma,” he conceded, looking more frustrated. “I’m not here for a publicity stunt. Do you see cameras? Reporters? Any media specialists?”

“No,” she admitted.

“That’s because no one knows I’m here. Especially not any reporter. If anything, I’m in big trouble because I skipped media. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming here except one of the base coaches and only because he asked where I was going.”

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?”

“Most definitely,” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“Then why are you here?” she whispered again.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say it to you but I genuinely like your son, Mis-Emma. He’s a nice kid. He’s always got a smile on his face and never complains or asks for anything except what else he can do...some of the ballboys after a while try to cut corners or try to go out partying with the team but not Henry… he’s been with us just for this season and it feels like he’s always been there…If he had been seriously hurt…” Killian paused, rubbing his hand over his jaw and looking distressed by the very idea. “...I was serious when I said I would never forgive myself.”

Emma studied him for a moment, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. She felt slightly guilty about accusing him of using Henry in such a way when he seemed so earnest in his attachment to her son.

“I didn’t want him to take the job,” she admitted. “He’s got enough going on… And now this...”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, slightly startled. “What?”

“Henry told me you were apprehensive about letting him work in the clubhouse… he thinks you only allowed it to piss off your ex.”

“Henry told you that?”

“I don’t think you understand how closely your son works with the team, love. Like I said, he’s a good kid so I tend to gravitate towards him instead of the others...we talk a lot about things...from freshman baseball tryouts to his writing...”

“You know about Henry’s writing? Henry doesn’t talk to anyone about his writing, not David, not his father.”

“Well, I think he’s more open with me about it because I’m admittedly a Babylon Five and Stargate Atlantis junkie so he’s more comfortable sharing things with a fellow nerd… from what I understand your ex was quite disparaging of his Doctor Who obsession...not that he has much taste, considering he’s a Diamondbacks fan.”

“You’re a sci fi nerd AND a professional baseball player?”

“They aren’t mutually exclusive,” he teased. “What? What did you think we only watched ESPN or Fox Sports or something?”

“Honestly, yes.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and smiling at her. Her breath caught a little and her stomach did annoyingly flips that it hadn’t done since high school. She was stunned how she went from wanting to murder him for hurting her kid to literally squirming at the sight of his face. She needed to get a hold of herself.

“We should probably go back in,” she replied. “You know, so he doesn’t think I murdered you and the team’s playoff chances…”

“Probably a good idea.”

Henry looked anxious as they opened the door, craning his neck to see past Emma. His shoulders visibly relaxed when he saw Killian, alive and well, behind her. She couldn’t help her snort of amusement.

“Did you honestly think I was going to kill him?”

“With you anything is possible, Mom. You did almost run over Carmelo Anthony that one time..”

Killian’s eyebrows rose as he regarded her with a look that was equals concerned and amused. “You almost ran over Carmelo Anthony?”

“That’s not my fault! He was on his phone and walked in front of my car!” Emma defended. “He’s lucky that I have amazing reflexes and was able to stop in time or else he would have been out for all of 2016.”

“I think at that point Knicks fans would have thanked you. I’m pretty they were trying to get rid of him by then. He was a cancer to the team,” Killian responded with a smirk.

“You follow basketball too?”

“I follow most major sports, love. Except maybe golf. But that’s because I firmly believe if you can drink and smoke while playing it, then it isn’t a sport,” Killian remarked.

“Babe Ruth used to eat, drink and smoke between innings,” Henry teased.

“That’s because Babe Ruth was a baseball god and could do whatever he wanted.”

“If you say so.”

Killian gave Henry a light shove in response. He sat down in his original seat and picked up the neatly stack cards that Henry had been fiddling with.

“Do you want to play another hand?”

“Only if Mom deals in,” Henry smiled.

“I can play,” Emma responded, taking another chair and sitting next Killian. She miscalculated the distance between them, causing her knee bump against his. Emma was vaguely surprised when neither of them pulled away from the accidental contact. “As long as I get the official story of what happened.”

Henry’s face turned red and ducked his head down, focusing on the cards Killian was dealing.

“Okay….so with foul balls, we’re supposed to give them away to fans. And when we say fans, they mean to give them away to the little kids. You know? The four to ten-year olds. Anyway, there was this family and they had two kids and the older kid really really really wanted a ball....so I gave him one and the other kid who was maybe three, I think? I’m guessing he was three, anyway, he threw a big tantrum and I just wanted him to be happy and have a good time so I decided to give him the next ball that came our way...So that’s what I did. And this kid, I don’t think he understood that you’re supposed to keep it because he threw it back on the field...The long and short of it is that I was supposed to be paying attention to the batter. You’re not supposed to do anything but watch when someone is in the box because of safety reasons but the kid threw the ball and I went to pick it up...and the next thing I knew I was on the ground... So really, it’s not Killian’s fault, Mom. It’s mine. And I’m probably going to lose my job over it.”

“You’re not going to lose your job over that, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Things like this happen. You’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last ballboy to get hit.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” he responded, picking up his cards.

Emma was more focused on her son than on the card game, looking at him in concern.

“What did the doctor say?”

“That I have a mild concussion. They did tests and say I should be okay, but they want to keep me overnight for observation,” Henry shrugged.

“They did tests!?”

Tests and an overnight in the hospital? She could only imagine what the hospital bill was going to look like. She highly doubted her crap ass insurance plan would do much to cover the costs. She was going to be paying this off all year. She could feel it.

Killian seemed to sense her distress and played a hand on her arm. She jumped slightly at the contact.

“I’m pretty sure the organization is going to foot the bill, love. And if they don’t, I will. You don’t need to worry.”

“We’re not a charity case,” she snapped.

“I didn’t say you were. It’s just the right there to do.”

They didn’t talk much after that, instead focusing on the card game that they had started. Henry was pretty much sweeping them both but Emma had a sneaking suspicion that Killian was losing on purpose, trying to make Henry smile and laugh. It was strange to see someone interact with her son like this outside David and Neal. It did funny things to her insides.

Killian stayed with them past visiting hours, using his charm and clout as a professional baseball player to keep the nurses from kicking them out. It wasn’t until his agent, an imposing woman in a well-tailored pantsuit, came and pulled on the back of his sweatshirt, did Killian leave. Emma didn’t know who was more upset, she or Henry, that he was going.

“You’ll see me sooner than you think,” he told Henry, ruffling his hair a bit and causing the teenager to scowl at him. “You’ll be working at the clubhouse again before you know it and we still have to work on your swing. If you’re not a starting baseman by next year, I will eat my shoe.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Henry replied smartly.

Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, smile softening. “Will I be seeing you around?”

“I don’t know, do you plan on whacking my son in the head again?”

“Hopefully not,” he chuckled, ducking his head a bit.

“Then maybe…”

“Just maybe?”

“It’s better than no.”

“Too true,” he chuckled. “Well, I look forward to maybe seeing you around.”

Henry hit her in the shoulder as soon as Killian was out the door, smirking at her. “You were flirting with Killian Jones!”

“What? I was not!”

“You were too! And he was flirting back! I saw you!” he crowed. “Wait until Uncle David hears this!”

“You’re not telling Uncle David anything because nothing happened!”

“Suuuuureeeeee Mom.”

“Shut up,” she said, giving him a light shove back. “And you should be resting.”

“And you should have gotten his number.”

“Henry. Sleep.”

It turned out that Emma didn’t have to ask. Next afternoon there was a large package outside their apartment, containing a large display of flowers, a personalized New York Yankees jersey with ‘Swan’ on the back, a pack of baseball cards and an index phone with a handwritten message: Just in case, you want to make that maybe a certainty, give me call: 212-921-2012 - KJ

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfiction #cs fanfic #playing off foul #my fic #my shit #I love baseball #laura and I are gonna form the 'killian jones in pinstripes coalition'#yankee!Killian #baseball!Killian

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