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supremeuppityone · 4 years

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Written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events Prompt: “You’re safe.”

This is a sequel to Chapter 70: Summer of Salvatore, found in A Beautiful Symmetry. Thanks for all of your asks about this one and I appreciate your patience in how long it took me to come up with the idea for this!

Caroline just wanted to casually date the mysterious new guy from work. Something nice and normal. But the universe had other plans.

Chapter 115: Part 2 - Summer of Salvatore

"Crime is common. Logic is rare."

— Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

“You didn’t hesitate when I gave you the address,” Caroline observed, taking a sip of her coffee. “I mean, I know you’re new to town, but everyone knows the south side of the city is a bit shady.”

Klaus let out a chuckle, amusement dripping from his voice as he asked, “Detective Forbes, are you concerned for my safety? I can assure you, given your act of valor at that crime scene, I can’t imagine a safer place than at your side.”

She could feel her cheeks grow hot, and she ducked her head shyly. She’d relied on instinct when Stefan had attacked them, and while she never went for the kill unless she had to, there was no denying the relief that washed over her once she saw he was dead. He’d been a monster. “I’m just glad I was there to stop him.” She fiddled with her nails, a nervous edge to her voice as she asked, “As much as I hate that you were there, I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable going back with me? I’ve been asked to provide a detailed report of my findings and I could really use your perspective since you may have observed something I missed.”

He looked surprised by her invitation and she hurriedly explained, “I mean, the methodology established to empirically score copycat crimes is measured in seven factors ranging from sociology, biology and psychology, not to mention influences of the media and even geography, and I just don’t want to overlook a single opportunity for a thorough report given the potential ramifications this case could have on future criminal justice procedures.”

Klaus flashed her a dimpled smirk, taking a drink of his coffee as though contemplating something. “Of course. You’re a widely respected expert in your field, sweetheart, and I’m flattered that you asked.”

She could feel her cheeks grow hot at his perusal. “Um, sorry...I didn’t mean to ramble on about forensics and crime scenes on a date.” Tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, she muttered, “Guess it’s been awhile for me,” and then immediately squeezed her eyes shut, mortified.

He reached across the table to hold her hand, winking as he said, “I don’t mind a bit of murder on a first date.”

She returned his smile, hardly believing her luck. It was really difficult to meet someone who wasn’t turned off by forensics, and this was the first date she’d had with a coworker who hadn’t been a misogynist who instantly discounted her research. “Can I ask how you got into this field? Have you always been a dispatch driver?”

“It’s a recent change for me, but I’ve always been interested in the more historic aspects of murder. For example, are you familiar with ling chi? It’s known as —”

“Slow slicing or death by a thousand cuts initially practiced in 10th century China,” Caroline interrupted excitedly.

Klaus smiled, his gray eyes lighting up at her enthusiasm. “I always found it fascinating to see the ingenuity involved in finding blades sharp enough in that era to gradually shave away the bits of skin and muscle tissue.”

“Exactly! Murder weapons are such an essential part of forensics,” she replied a bit breathlessly, her heart beating a bit faster when she saw the unmistakable lust in Klaus’ gaze. She was giddy at the thought of finding someone who shared her enthusiasm for criminal science forensics. She noticed Klaus suddenly stiffened as he studied something intently behind her. She glanced at the reflection in the window, frowning as she realized someone had walked in wearing a Halloween mask and the black tip of a small caliber gun was peeking out of his sleeve.

Seriously? Of course this would happen on her date. Taking a calming breath, she slowly slid her phone over to Klaus, murmuring quietly, “Call 911.” Using carefully controlled movements, she quietly removed her concealed sidearm, promising, “You’re safe. It’s going to be ok, I promise.”

The would-be robber had just raised his gun to the cashier when Caroline yelled, “Police! Put down your weapon and turn around slowly!” She could read in those tense muscles that the suspect would run, but before she could make a move, he hopped over the counter, putting the cashier between them as he made his escape. Registering the clatter of his weapon being dropped in the commotion, she raced after him, briefly pausing in the brick alleyway to determine which way he went.

Running in the most likely direction, she stopped short when she saw Klaus casually holding the suspect against the rough brick. Arm wrenched up his back in what appeared to be a painful wrist hold, his face was scrunched as he howled. Stepping over the mask that must have fallen off in the struggle, Caroline wryly observed, “Did you run track or something? How’d you manage to beat me here?”

Klaus shrugged, a small smile on his face as he replied, “Perhaps I’m faster than I look.”

_______________________________

Something weird was going on. Caroline brushed some of the ashy residue into a sterile envelope, sighing as she mentally went over everything she knew about desiccation and growing more and more frustrated as she couldn’t find a rational explanation. Stefan sustained a gunshot to his tibia. Which should’ve crippled him. Instead, it seemed to enrage him further and when he leapt at her, she issued a fatal headshot.

She felt little remorse at having brought down a serial killer; especially one that had posed an imminent danger to both Klaus and herself. What she found disturbing was the accelerated decomposition of Stefan’s remains. What the hell happened? By the time dispatch had arrived, Stefan’s corpse appeared as though he’d been dead for more than a century. Frowning, she studied the chalk outline notating where the remains had been prior to her team’s removal, and Klaus’ amused voice interrupting her thoughts. “It’s almost as though you expect the evidence to talk back, sweetheart.”

Carefully pressing an evidence seal to the envelope, she replied, “All evidence speaks; it’s just a matter of understanding what’s being said.” She settled more comfortably on the plastic sheet, blue eyes straying back to the powdered residue that clung to the grooves in the wooden floor. “Accelerated desiccation is almost unheard of in forensics. I can’t account for what happened to Stefan’s body. The remains appeared to have been subjected to an even source of airflow or aerated soil to damage the soft tissues in that manner.”

He leaned back on his palms, stretching his legs out next to hers, and the almost-touch of his body made her shiver. Crime scene, Caroline — get it together. “There’s emerging studies regarding destructive micro-organisms contributing to desiccation. I actually read an interesting take on this in Drs. Parker and Sommers’ joint work in the latest Forensics Quarterly,” he ventured, a small smile gracing his lips as though pleased with himself.

It was a statistical improbability that someone with those cheekbones would read Forensics Quarterly. When they wrapped up the scene for the night, she planned to drag him back to her place to ride his test tube until it broke. “Seriously?! You’re trusting Parker and Sommers’s research? You might as well say a Kardashian is a respected forensics authority.”

He let out an amused chuckle, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “You are a delight, love. It’s rare to find someone so enthusiastic about this type of work.”

Her lips burned from the kiss, and her pulse raced when she thought of where the night would take them. She’d never met someone who seemed to genuinely appreciate the science behind the macabre. “It’s hard for people who aren’t in the field to understand. There’s a certain beauty to it; the way the research can lead to a hypothesis and eventually a satisfying resolution.”

“There was a...case I worked on in which a body had been drained while hanging right-side-up. Utter poppycock as everyone knows the most efficient draining method is —”

“Upside-down,” Caroline cheerfully interrupted, “because the subclavian and carotid arteries’ location is ideal. No self-respecting killer would attempt draining without having a basic understanding of anatomy.” A slight tingle went down her spine as she realized that Klaus seemed to appreciate her dark humor. It was nearly impossible to succeed in this industry without developing at least a hint of gallows humor.

He shook his head in bemusement, and she barely resisted the urge to poke at those innocent-looking dimples. But they still had work to do. Clearing her throat, she leaned over to access her files, zooming in on the dental images from the remains. “I’ll admit I’ve seen some unusual remains during my career, but nothing like this.” She pointed at the obvious deformity, adding, “It’s a clear case of megadontia, but I can’t imagine someone willingly allowing their condition to grow out of control like this to the point that they have large, curved canines. Given the depth of the unnatural growth, he must’ve been in incredible pain.”

Stefan had smiled at her. With those teeth that had been so sharp. Too sharp. Caroline had been proud of how she’d handled the situation, but something primal had overtaken her when she saw those canines. Fangs. She shook her head slightly, ignoring the cold pit in her stomach that inexplicably had formed. Klaus looked decidedly uncomfortable, and she cursed herself for being so oblivious. Clearly, Klaus was traumatized by what had happened and it was selfish of her to expect him to bounce back right away after seeing such violence.

However, before she could apologize, Klaus abruptly stood up, helping her to his feet even as he seemed weirdly fixated on the front door. Suddenly, a forceful blow had the wood splintering, and two musclebound, intimidating men with dark eyes walked in. Their vacant, mindless stares were somehow more disquieting than their size.

“Caroline, there you are,” drawled a familiar voice, and she didn’t miss the way Klaus stiffened as he moved in front of her.

Peering around Klaus, her eyes widened in surprise as she exclaimed, “Dr. Maxfield? What are you doing here?” What was her biology professor from Whitmore doing at her crime scene?

He still wore the same smug grin she’d done her best to forget all those years ago. There always had been something vaguely threatening about him, but Caroline inevitably dismissed it as the typical sleazy college professor creeping on naive students and made sure to steer clear whenever he tried to get her alone multiple times. But now there was something more. Something dangerous. As he took a cocky step toward her, Klaus growled in warning. Wait — Klaus growled?

“Forgive my intrusion, but I’ve been following your fascinating work for some time now, and your research of the Ripper of Monterey’s murders over the past century caught my attention,” he explained, eyeing his two companions in a manner that was both reverent and dispassionate — he might as well have been examining a piece of art. “I’m certain your research will aid me in locating other ripper vampires capable of successfully hosting the Ripper Virus my lab has created.”

Ripper vampires? Ripper Virus? Not to mention his ridiculous assertion that murders spanning more than a century could’ve been the work of a single individual. What the hell was going on? Caroline kept her hand next to her sidearm, studying Professor Maxfield and his companions to determine the threat.

Suddenly, black veins appeared underneath the dark eyes of the two men who bracketed Professor Maxfield, their sharp canines inexplicably long. What the hell? Those were fangs. She was staring at fangs. Fear gripped her heart, but she was proud of how steady her grip was as she raised her gun.

She flicked her gaze to Klaus, who seemed strangely at ease. He rocked back on his feet, hands casually clasped behind his back as he sneered, “Words cannot express the trouble you find yourselves in, gentleman.” With his signature smirk, he added, “I’m Klaus Mikaelson.”

It was when Klaus shockingly revealed a double set of curved fangs along with feral gold flashing in his gaze that Caroline began to understand. She was safe. Professor Maxfield and his companions were not. The intruders stepped back uncertainly, no longer flanking Professor Maxfield like vicious guard dogs. “Ah, you’ve heard of me. Fantastic,” Klaus said, his chest swelling with pride.

While Caroline felt her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest, she somehow wasn’t afraid with Klaus beside her. He’d positioned himself between her and the intruders, clearly comfortable in this dangerous situation, but also not willing to risk her safety. He leaned into her, and her body instinctively curled into his.

Klaus’ voice carried a solemn promise that despite the insanity around them, Caroline couldn’t help but believe as he told her, “You’re safe. It’s going to be ok, I promise.”

#kcbingo2020 #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic #thx for requesting a sequel!#klaroline does crime scene investigation #plus awkward murder flirting

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ckingsbridge · 6 years

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State of the Author

Hi, everyone! As I hinted yesterday, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately regarding my career goals and plans. Right now I’m at kind of a turning point, for two main reasons:

First, I’m finally starting to feel better, mental health-wise. August was a very dark month for me – one of the worst I’ve ever had, in fact. But after much trial and error, we’ve hit on a combo of medications that seems to be improving my mood without causing the terrible physical side effects that were plaguing me with earlier attempts.

I’ve also started biweekly talk therapy, and some testing revealed that I have a mild attention deficit that’s gone undiagnosed my whole life. I’ve always thought that my difficulties concentrating were caused by my depression, but it turns out the likelier explanation is that depression was aggravating a separate pre-existing condition. So I’m anticipating further improvement once I start treatment for that, although it’s currently stuck in insurance preauthorization limbo.

Plus, two weeks ago I adopted the new love of my life – a three-year-old terrier mix named Molly. She’s recovering from surgery to remove a bunch of bladder stones that smushed her bladder all out of shape, so she needs to be taken outside on a frequent, regular schedule. Since I work from home, that makes us a perfect fit! She’s the sweetest, cuddliest little dog; she gets me out of the house multiple times a day and gives me something to focus on outside my own head, which is definitely a big help.

Between all these developments, I’m starting to bounce back, and one of the biggest signs of my improving health has been regaining interest in long-term career planning. Which brings me to the second reason I’m at a turning point – I’m at a place where I need to go all-in if I want to move forward.

Until now, I’ve always held myself back from fully committing to the goal of being a full-time career author. I’ve never given it 100% of my focus and effort, for various reasons – the biggest one being good old fear of failure. For the most part, I’ve tended to insulate myself from the outside world and pretend I’m writing in a void. While that was a workable approach when I was just starting out, now I’m getting in my own way.

The response to the Seven of Spades series (including cool news I’m not allowed to share yet) has made it clear to me that it’s decision time: Am I ready to get serious and go all-in? The answer is a resounding yes, which means it’s time for me to make some changes.

I’m putting the breakdown of my plans beneath the cut to save space on people’s dashboards. If you’re interested, please read along (especially Patreon members, as a lot of this pertains specifically to you) and offer any feedback you might have!

Goal #1: Finish the Seven of Spades Series

This is obviously my number one priority. As I mentioned earlier today, we had to push back the release date for A Chip and a Chair several months due to my recent health issues (so apologies for that!). CAAC’s rough draft is at about 68,000 words right now, at the very beginning of the third act. I’ve set myself a strict word count goal that I’ll be pulling out the stops to meet every day. I’m aiming to have the rough draft completed and turned in by mid-October.

Goal #2: Revitalize My Patreon Community

This going to be a huge focus of mine going forward. Patreon is actually my most reliable form of income – without it, there’s no way I could be a full-time author. So I’m going to be investing a lot more time and effort into growing the community and adding value to membership, especially once I’ve finished CAAC.

I’m participating in two Patreon-run creator workshops this month: “Membership Reboot” and “Special Offers”. I’ll be discussing ideas from these workshops over the coming weeks, as well as reaching out to my patrons for their input and advice.

Other plans I have for Patreon include:

Establishing a set schedule for content updates (I’m thinking twice a month)

Revamping the community layout to make it easier to navigate and access old content, especially for new members

Adding additional rewards and incentives for membership

Introducing content other than new stories (this is a longer-term plan that I’ll focus on more after completing CAAC)

Goal #3: Focus on Branding and Marketing

This is something I’ve put off for a long, long time, but can no longer realistically avoid. To start, I need a recognizable author brand that’s consistent across my various platforms, so my first step is going to be commissioning a logo design.

Ideally, I’d love to support an independent designer in the community. I’m going to make a separate post later today explaining what I’m looking for, and if anyone has any recommendations for me for great graphic designers who’d be interested in the work, that would be awesome!

Longer-term, I need to set up my author website, which is something I’ve procrastinated on for literally years. I already own the domain, but I’ll be holding off on this for a bit so I can ensure the website design works cohesively with my logo.

Finally, there’s no longer any reason for me to conceal my RL identity. I’m considering having headshots taken to use for professional purposes, and I may even reveal my real name – although I’ll continue writing as Cordelia Kingsbridge!

Goal #4: Post a Weekly Progress Report

From now on, I’m going to be posting a regular “Sunday Update” on Tumblr – just a quick, simple breakdown of what I’ve been up to over the past week and what I have planned for the week coming up. Two of the things I miss most about my LiveJournal days are the accountability and the consistent interaction with readers, and I think this might do the trick on both fronts.

Super Long-Term Goal: Offer Story Consultations

This is an idea I’ve been kicking around recently – the possibility of offering a variety of writing consulting services, from targeted advice to ongoing coaching to in-depth manuscript assessments. It’s not something I would even consider implementing until after CAAC is finished, but I think it would be fun!

So that’s where I’m at right now! Ideas? Suggestions? Questions? Let me know!

#writing #RL #career goals

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distant-rose-archive-blog · 6 years

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Dodgeball

Notes: My best friend in all of the internet and fic soulmate literally had the week from hell and it pains me that she’s just having such a rough time while I’m six hours and an ocean away and can’t do shit about. Anyway, this dumpster fire fic is dedicated to my bestie @welllpthisishappening who is my favorite person aside from Dan and deserves all the love and good fortune in the world. This isn’t my best writing, but if it makes her smile, that’s all I care about. Special thanks to @cocoa-and-rum for riffling through this nonsense and making it more coherent. Tagging @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt, @idristardis, @1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob, @imhookedonaswan because they asked to be tagged in this nonsense and are incredibly supportive. Summary: Killian Jones has been a pain in Emma Swan’s ass since grad school. A game of dodgeball changes that. Rating: T Word Count: 3,100+

Looking back at it, Emma Swan doesn’t know how she ever thought the incident was her fault. In all honestly, it was only a matter of time before she retaliated and he got what he finally deserved.

Killian Jones had been torturing her since kindergarten. When they were six, he had pulled her pigtails. In middle school, he had doused her with water balloons. Now, in their senior year of high school, he had decided the best course of action would be to taunt her during gym class. It didn’t matter whether they played water polo or handball, he would wait for her outside the locker rooms during gym class and taunt her until Coach Teach’s whistle blew ten minutes before the period ended.

Today was no different and as Emma walked out of the girls’ locker room, he was waiting for her; leaning against a row of stacked bleachers with his arms across in front of his chest and that signature lazy smirk spread across his face. He was already dressed in his gym clothes and Emma was doing her best not to look at the snug fit of his athletic shorts.

“Ready to lose, Swan?” Killian asked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, lips pursed into a deep frown as she regarded her childhood rival. She unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and began filling it at the neighboring bubbler.

“Not on your life,” she replied. “If anything, I can’t wait to wipe that smug look off your face.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” he chuckled. “You like my face.”

She scoffed, looking down at her water bottle, focusing on it to fight the blush that was threatening to stain her cheeks.

“I don’t know what drugs Jefferson’s been selling but you should reconsider. They’re really messing with your brain if you think there’s anything about you I like,” she replied, still looking at her water bottle.

“Not on drugs, love,” Killian responded, not even remotely phased by her barbs. “You know school policy. Athletes can get randomly tested. Can’t risk that,” he replied, chuckling.

“Right, Captain,” Emma replied, sneering at his title as she capped her bottle and turned to face him. “I forgot. You’re naturally this stupid.”

“I love how charming and kind you are, Swan,” Killian replied, his blue eyes dancing mischievously. “You’re just full of love and kind words.”

Emma snorted.

“Yeah, and you’re full of shit.”

Unwilling to give him another moment of her time, Emma pushed past him, shoulder bumping roughly against his. She immediately went to join her friends on the bleachers, teeth grinding and fists clenched. Regina, Ruby, and Mary-Margaret were all sitting near the top, waiting for her as they always did. The latter two were chatting away while Regina was pushing back her cuticles with her thumb nail. As Emma stomped up the metal stairs, they all turned to look at her, taking in her dark mood. Regina looked up arched a perfect thin eyebrow at her. “Boyfriend teasing you again?” she asked dryly.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Emma hissed.

“Right,” Regina said with an unimpressed snort, turning her attention back to her nail care.

“He’s not,” Emma reiterated.

“Bullshit,” Ruby coughed into her fist.

Both Mary-Margaret and Emma glared at her but before Emma could make the Brutus complaint she was dying to make, Regina spoke again.

“You’re doing as excellent of a job convincing us as you are yourself.”

“There’s nothing to convince! He’s an idiot and he’s super annoying!” Emma replied with a huff.

“Two words,” Regina said with a small smirk. “Sexual. Tension.”

“Sexual tension? For real, that’s what you’re going with? You’re saying we have sexual tension?” Emma scoffed, placing her hands on her hips.

“In spades,” Regina replied with a snort. ”If anyone else pulled the crap that Jones pulled with you, you would have had your foot so far up their ass that they would be throwing it up. But no, not Jones. You let Mr. Baseball Captain pull your pigtails like you’re still in second grade. It’s honestly nauseating how obvious you both are. Big money says that you’ll hook up come graduation. Smart money says it will happen before Christmas vacation.”

“Are you kidding me!?” Emma exclaimed in disbelief. “There’s actual money down on this!?”

Before she could get her answer, Coach Teach’s whistle blew and they were all called to attention.

“Alright, listen up!” Coach Teach called, voice booming loudly and echoing off the walls of the gym. “Today is dodgeball day. Now, you all aren’t morons. You know the rules. One team to each side, no crossing over the line, whoever gets hit is out, if someone catches your ball, you’re out. And no headshots, you punks.”

“Honestly, his professionalism is astounding,” Regina drawled, rolling her eyes.

Emma and Ruby snickered in agreement. Mary-Margaret elbowed her in the ribs, giving her a look of disapproval. Regina just rolled her eyes in response.

“Today, we’re going to make it interesting though,” Coach Teach with a smirk. “Today, punks, we’re playing boys versus girls. Guys versus gals. Chicks versus dicks. However, you losers want to call it. Girls on one side, guys on the other.”

Emma groaned, head smashing against Regina’s shoulder as their classmates murmured excitedly, noise resounding through the room like the busy buzzing of bees. Already Emma could hear the snickering and jeering of the boys in the class and the nervous sighs of the less athletically inclined girls in the class.

“God help the boys,” Teach chuckled. “Now, come on, lazy bones, let’s line up.”

“What are you gonna give me when my team wins, Swan?” Killian called over to her as the class descended onto the court from the bleachers.

“A kick in the teeth,” Emma shot back with a sardonic smile.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Regina mouthing “sexual tension” to Ruby and all joy she felt at getting an upper hand on Killian faded into annoyance. She flicked Regina’s arm.

“Seriously?” she snapped.

“Christmas vacation, Emma, Christmas vacation.”

They lined up on the boundary lines at each end of the gym. Emma took a runner’s position between Ruby and Mary-Margaret, ready to spring into action and kick some ass. Her combined annoyance at Regina and Killian would serve her well in the match and she couldn’t wait to knock some people out.

On the other side of the gym, Killian took a similar position, leaning forward and catching Emma’s eye. He sent her a wink and if she wasn’t in school, she would return with an Italian good will gesture of her own.

“At the whistle and not before, brats,” Teach shouted, taking position at the half court line and eying both sides reproachfully. “Three…two….one…”

The whistle blew and Emma pushed herself forward, sprinting as fast as she could towards the line of balls at half court. She grabbed a ball and immediately propelled herself back in order to get out of the line of fire. She had learned from her first dodgeball session that staying close to the half court line was a terrible idea.

There was something about sports that made Emma’s brain shut out the rest of the world and focus on the objective in front of her. The objective for this game was simple: search and destroy.

Her first victim was Victor Whale, a smart ass from her chemistry class. She hit the jerk straight in the shoulder, but she didn’t allow herself the satisfaction of first bloo; she immediately reached for a neighboring ball and pegged William Smee in the back as he was reaching to pick up a stray ball.

When she reached for another ball, a loud whizzing noise and a gust of air brushed against her as another rubber sailed dangerously close to her ear. Startled, she forgot about the ball and straightened up to look for the source of the throw.

Killian Jones smirked at her. “Nearly got you there, Swan!” he teased.

It was in that moment that Emma Swan had a new objective. She wasn’t just going to seek and destroy, she was going to seek and destroy Killian Jones. She immediately grabbed neighboring ball and hurled it as hard as she could.

She missed him by a mile.

“Seriously, Swan?” Killian laughed. “And here, I thought you were a varsity softball pitcher!”

His mocking smile made her see red. She picked up another ball, gritting her teeth at him.

In the movies, this would have been the stereotypical dramatic scene where everything slowed down and all sounds distorted in some strange effect to make the audience realize that something pivotal was about to happen.

Except this wasn’t a movie. No, this was real life and everything happened faster than Emma could really think about.

She threw the ball at Killian with the same intensity that she had thrown a softball when she played outfield in junior high, imaging her arm as a whip rather than a hammer just as her coach had taught her. She could still hear Coach Fisher murmuring in her ear, reminding her that speed didn’t come from just throwing it hard.

The ball went hurtling towards Killian and he raised his hands to catch, but his reflexes weren’t nearly as fast as everyone thought. The ball flew through his fingers and smashed into his face.

In the movies, there would have been a sickening thud; in real life there was, but it didn’t come when the rubber connected with Killian’s face. Instead, it happened when the back of Killian’s head collided with the hardwood floor.

Emma had always thought that seeing Killian Jones in pain would give her sick satisfaction, but theory didn’t match reality. Emma didn’t feel joy at seeing Killian on the ground, cradling his head in pain. She only felt horror and guilt.

Emma didn’t think. She immediately crossed the half court line and knelt at Killian’s side, trying to assess the damage. He winced when he looked up at her.

“You pack a lot of power, Swan,” he said weakly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Shut up,” she replied, helping him into a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a bump on the head, love,” he assured her with a weak grin. “No need to worry about me, I’m a survivor.”

“Swan! What did I say about hitting people in the face!?” Coach Teach huffed, looking between her and Killian with a look of disapproval. “And about crossing over the line?”

“I know! I’m sorry, Coach, it was an accident!” she replied weakly.

Coach Teach snorted, eying her as if he didn’t believe her. Emma didn’t necessarily blame him. There were no other words to describe her relationship with Killian Jones beside acrimonious.

“Look, he might have a concussion”-

“I don’t have a concussion, Swan,” Killian cut off, sounding somewhat annoyed.

Emma glared at him. “You could!” she hissed. “You smacked your head pretty hard and your eyes are kinda dilated.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Alright, I’m done with this old married couple routine you guys have perfected,” Teach stated bluntly with a roll of his eyes. “Swan, you’re out of the game anyway so just take Jones to see Nurse Ratched and have this over with.”

Emma gave the gym teacher an uneasy smile as she helped Killian to his feet. He tried to brush her but Emma remained firm in her attentions, forcing him to lean against her. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’re pretty insistent on being my nursemaid, aren’t you Swan?”

“Look, I lost my cool and I don’t want to be an asshole, so it would be great if you didn’t make this more difficult than it has to be,” Emma responded tersely as she led him out of the gymnasium.

The first five minutes of the trip to the nurse’s office was quiet, but Emma knew it was only a matter of time before that peace was disturbed. She wasn’t the least bit surprised when Killian opened his mouth.

“If you wanted to get me alone, Swan, there were better ways to do,” he announced with a weak chuckle.

“You’re a pig, Killian Jones,” she stated, letting out a huff.

“And you’re wonderful, Emma Swan.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she remarked sharply.

“Wasn’t trying to flatter you, Swan,” Killian said with a small smile. “Just spitting the truth.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably at his words, not knowing how to respond so she decided not to say anything. Mercifully, Killian let the discussion drop and they made it to Nurse Ratched’s office in relative silence.

Nurse Ratched, naturally, was not happy to see them.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked bluntly, gesturing to Killian.

Emma was almost taken back by her lack of tack or bedside manner. “I’m pretty sure he has a concussion,” she said hesitantly.

Nurse Ratched huffed impatiently.

“I have a food poisoning crisis down the hall, so I honestly don’t have time for this,” she said, once more gesturing to Killian. “Look, I will examine him when I get back from dealing with puking children, but for now, what I need is for you to stay with him and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. The last thing I need is a kid in a coma.”

“But I have to get back to class!” Emma protested.

“Are you seriously complaining about not being in class right now?” Nurse Ratched asked in disbelief. “You should be thanking me on your hands and knees. Look, you brought him to me. He’s your problem until I come back, got it?”

“Got it,” Emma mumbled.

Nurse Ratched merely shook her head, mumbling something about “ungrateful students” as she walked past them. Emma and Killian watched her leave incredulously before sharing a look and an awkward laugh.

“Sorry you’re stuck with me, Swan,” Killian said after a moment, scratching the back of his ear.

Emma shrugged, not knowing how else to react.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled. “It’s actually mine. I shouldn’t have thrown the ball that hard at your face. So, yeah...sorry about that.”

Killian mimicked her small awkward shrug.

“Eh, I should have caught it. I mean, what kind of baseball player am I?” Killian replied with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Well, from what I hear, you’re more known for your batting average and your base stealing skills than you are for your glove,” Emma mumbled.

Killian blinked, staring at her owlishly. “Was that a compliment?” he asked in disbelief.

“No! Just facts,” Emma replied defensively. “Sure, you can be a real jerk face sometimes, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a relatively decent player.”

Killian just laughed, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe a word that was coming out of her mouth. Emma looked away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After a moment, Killian spoke again.

“You know I only tease you because I know you can handle it, right?”

“Oh? Is that why you do it?” Emma asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, actually,” Killian smirked. “Believe or not, I kinda fancy you when you’re yelling at me.”

“You’re so weird,” she said, shaking her head.

“And you’re so...beautiful. Really no other way around it, you’re beautiful,” he replied, looking her with more sincerity than she was capable of handling at the moment.

“Stop doing that,” she replied, looking away.

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” she replied, gesturing to his face vaguely.

“Stop looking at you like what?” he questioned.

“Stop looking at me like you actually mean that,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“But I do,” he insisted. “I mean, I wouldn’t bother with you otherwise. Come on, Swan, do you really think I would give you the time of day if I didn’t think you were worth it?”

Emma just shook her head, focusing all of her attention on the ridiculous and completely outdated poster hanging on the wall that proclaimed the dangers of herpes.

“You know you owe me now…since you pegged me and totally rattled my brain,” Killian said after a moment.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“You could make it better,” he said with a smirk.

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Emma rolled her eyes.

“You should kiss it better? Kisses have magical healing properties, you know,” he said with a grin.

She gaped at him.

“You’re full of shit.”

“God’s honest truth. It’s well documented.”

“Oh yeah? According to what medical journal?” she challenged.

“Well, it’s not in a medical journal, but it is well documented. Just ask Cinderella and the Disney crew. Kisses are magical and have medicinal properties. I mean, they stop people from dying and all.”

“And let me guess, if I kiss you, you’ll suddenly be all better, and maybe turn from being frog-lipped into actually decent human being or even a prince?” she asked with a sarcastic smile.

“I would say I’m wonderfully prince-like already, but you never know until you find out. Go on, Swan, kiss it better,” he said with a grin.

Against her better judgement, Emma let out a huff and grabbed the sides of his face, pulled him roughly forward and quickly kissed the back of his head. Killian blinked for a moment, but when he finally registered what she did, he laughed. It was a nice laugh and Emma cracked a tiny smile at the sound of it.

“That’s not where it hurts, Swan,” he said, shaking his head.

“Bullshit! That’s where you hit your head!” Emma argued.

“Yeah, but it’s not where it hurts,” Killian replied, eyes burning with humor. He then tapped his lips and smirked at her. “That’s where it hurts.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re full of shit.”

“God’s honest truth,” he said with a sly smile.

“You’re a liar, Killian Jones,” she said with a shake of her head before giving him a slyn grin of her own. “Besides you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps, you’re the one couldn’t handle it,” Killian replied back, still smirking.

If anyone asked her why she did what she did, Emma would argue that he challenged her to do it and she was not one to back down from a challenge. If anything, Emma Swan met every challenge she was given head on without fear or blinking.

On top of that, Emma Swan was tired of Killian Jones smirking at her and since she didn’t get any satisfaction from hitting him in the face with a standard issue rubber dodgeball, she decided to try a new tactic.

Once more, she roughly grabbed him by his cheeks and jerked him forward. This time, instead of landing on the back of his head, her lips landed on his.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, was how Emma Swan and Killian Jones got detention from Nurse Ratched for displaying inappropriate displays of affection in public.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs fanfictio #cs au #my fic #my shit #I apologize for this dumpster fire #but this is for laura #who is the best #and deserves the best #but she got me instead #love you bae

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