Here is my piece for the Captain Swan Concert Series! This is inspired from the song New Year’s Eve by Nina Gordon. From summer 2000-2001 I did a theatre internship in Rhode Island and it was my first time away from home and I knew within two weeks that, while I loved theatre, I didn’t want to do it for a living. This album got me through the internship. I listened to it non-stop for most of the year. I had wanted to write this as a New Year’s Eve story, but between Secret Santa and January Joy I didn’t have time. So, I was really happy when the concert series was announced.
Thank you @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta! Without you my stories would not be what they are.
Summary: Normally, Emma Swan would have her long, blonde hair curled or put up in some elaborate braid. She’d be dressed to the nines and practically taking over as the host of the party. She hadn’t always been like that. She used to be the biggest wallflower. Sitting alone in a corner and waiting for the countdown at midnight so she could wish everyone a Happy New Year and then leave to go to the comfort of her own apartment and bed. But then she met Killian Jones.
Normally, Emma Swan would have her long, blonde hair curled or put up in some elaborate braid. She’d be dressed to the nines and practically taking over as the host of the party. She hadn’t always been like that. She used to be the biggest wallflower. Sitting alone in a corner and waiting for the countdown at midnight so she could wish everyone a Happy New Year and then leave to go to the comfort of her own apartment and bed. But then she met Killian Jones.
It had been at another New Year’s Eve party. A new co-worker of David’s wife, Mary Margaret. They both taught in the history department at the local university. It may have been a general ‘you’re new in town so come to this party and meet people’ or it could have been a set up. Either way, Killian had been smitten with Emma at first sight. And even after he’d given a few smug one-liners and she’d thrown his drink on him (she wasn’t going to waste her own drink), they’d somehow ended up talking until midnight where they both apologized for their behavior and Killian made the resolution to ask Emma out on a date.
At first she thought it was weird that the man she’d thrown a drink on was now asking her out. But he was damn sexy, what with those ocean blue eyes, dark chocolate brown hair, and scruff on his face. She was already having daydreams about how that scruff would feel against her cheek and… other places.
And then, despite all her issues about being abandoned at birth, all her fears from growing up in the foster system and not experiencing love, all her reservations that she didn’t deserve someone like Killian, especially after her first love ruined her for future relationships, he broke through her walls and she loved him. She should have known it wouldn’t last.
Oh, Killian had his issues too. Mother dying young, father abandoning him and his brother, said brother dying when Killian was only 18, then his first love also dying from a rare heart condition. But he was still open to love. Had experienced it, even if it didn’t last. And Emma knew he loved her too. Knew it from the way he kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her taste. From the way he always got her a hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon after she ordered it on their first date for dessert. Knew it from the way his fingers made her body sing when they were in bed together. How he wouldn’t fall until she did when they made love. And from the way he whispered it into her hair after said lovemaking.
And for the last two years they’d been blissfully happy. She’d helped host parties with Mary Margaret. Hosted parties with Killian at their own apartment (and partied so loud the neighbors called the police; too bad Emma was the police). Emma had forgotten to be on edge waiting for the other shoe to drop, to ruin the happiness she’d finally found. She’d even imagined a proposal on the horizon, especially when he asked her to a fancy restaurant for a fancy dinner.
Except it wasn’t a proposal. At least, not the kind Emma was expecting. It was the grant proposal Killian had put in that would have him working in England for the next year at the British Museum. And Emma, in her infinite wisdom of bad relationships, broke up with him. Told him she didn’t do long distance and she wouldn’t guarantee she’d still be single when he came back.
Thinking back on it now, with all her friends laughing and screaming and having a raucous good time at Mary Margaret and David’s New Year’s Eve Party, she realizes what a fool she’s been. It has been three months since that night.
Three months since she moved all her stuff out of their apartment, like a coward, while he was at work.
Three months since she took over Mary Margaret and David’s spare room.
Three months of not answering his calls or texts.
Three months of being in total agony of not speaking to the one person she loved the most.
Three months of imagining him with someone other than her.
So here she is, staring out the window watching the snow fall while wearing lame black leggings that say ‘Happy New Year!’ on them in gold glitter and an oversized black sweater, when she had specifically bought a tight, form fitting red dress last summer to make Killian’s eyes pop out of his head when he saw her in it, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and counting down the minutes until the new year so she can say her goodbyes and go wallow in her room.
“Such a shame to hide such perfect breasts in a sweater like that, love.” A British accented voice says from behind her. Emma’s back goes rigid, her ears perk up, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Killian?” she says in a small voice. It’s hard to speak, she’s afraid her voice will crack, that he will see…
What the hell is she so afraid of letting him see? That she missed him? That she was wrong? That she should have tried to make it work?
“Yes, love, it’s me,” he replies softly. Emma stands up and turns around to see Killian standing there behind her. He looks just as amazing as ever in his black jeans, white button down shirt and his cozy, professor sweater (the one she always teased makes him look like an old man, but that she stole and cuddled into whenever she missed him). His hair has gotten longer, curling up behind his ears, and his scruff is now a fully grown beard. She also notices the dark purple circles under his eyes that probably match the ones she’s been sporting lately.
“You’re here,” she says almost in disbelief. She can’t stop staring at him, she’s almost afraid that if she takes her eyes off him he’ll disappear and this will just be a hallucination brought on by too much alcohol.
“I am,” he says. Emma can tell he’s treading lightly. With the exception of his opening line, he doesn’t want to spook her (but he can modify anything from The Princess Bride and get away with it).
“I’m sorry,” Emma says immediately, looking directly into his beautiful blue eyes, the ones she’s missed seeing every morning and every night, looking at her as if she were a goddess on Earth. How could she have ever doubted him? The tears are falling freely now. “I’m so sorry, Killian. I got scared that you were leaving, and you know I have abandonment issues. I stupidly thought if I left first then leaving would be on my terms and it wouldn’t hurt as badly.” She takes a deep breath as she sees tears streaming from his eyes as well. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. Can you ever forgive me?”
Emma is sure she looks a mess, what with the tear streaked and, no doubt, red blotchy face she must be sporting. But looking at Killian, she can tell that’s not what he sees. He reaches out a hand to cup her chin, and she leans into it, just like she used to. Killian takes that opportunity to surge toward her.
His lips are on hers before she can even blink. She throws her arms around his neck as he moves his to around her waist. Emma is trying to pour every ounce of love, every lonely night she’s spent, every bit of herself into the kiss, hoping Killian understands.
Emma doesn’t know how long they kiss; hours, minutes, seconds. She just knows that when they’re done, foreheads touching, she looks into Killian’s deep blue eyes and hears him say, “You infuriating woman.”
Emma’s heart clenches immediately, thinking this is all some elaborate ruse, some way to get her back for what she’s put him through these past few months, until he continues with, “I was going to propose that night. I had the ring in my coat pocket, and I was going to propose and ask you to come with me to London, but you wouldn’t give me the chance to speak. And then you just stopped speaking to me and I didn’t know how to get through to you. Everyone kept telling me that you needed to work through it, but you didn’t have all the facts. You thought I was going to leave you and I never had any intention of doing that.” He closes his eyes, tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you, Emma Swan, and I will always love you, and I will never leave you, no matter what.” He kisses her again, soft and sweet, not as full of need as the last kiss, but still full of love all the same.
“I’m an idiot,” Emma says smiling, “a big, scared idiot with relationship issues. But I promise that if you take me back that I won’t be anymore.” She exhales a shuddering breath and then asks the question she knows needs to be asked. “That is, if you still want me after everything I’ve put you through?”
“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. It’s always been you.”
They kiss again. And they continue kissing through the countdown, and the screams of Happy New Year, and the singing of Auld Lang Syne. And eventually the others see that Killian is not only back in the States but at the party, and he and Emma are kissing and have obviously made up.
And on the following New Year’s Eve, Emma’s hair is done up in an intricate braid, she is dressed in a stunning white dress while Killian is wearing a tuxedo and watching his almost wife walk down the aisle toward him with all their friends in attendance.
