Finally, @killiancygnus, I have part four of your birthday fic! You said you were buckled up for the angst, right?
Summary: Killian Jones canât figure out why heâs waking up in a cold room in a tux with his best friend Emma Swan in his closet. Maybe we need to rewind the night ⌠Based on the song âOwn Worst Enemyâ by Lit. The idea of the game is for Fran to choose which lyrics I tackle next. Part four is based on these lines:
Itâs no surprise to me, I am my own worst enemy
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
And guess what, Fran? Iâve got part 5 almost finished for this line: Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me
Tagging the usuals (I hope): @jennjenn615 @kday426 @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @welllpthisishappening @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @teamhook @bethacaciakay @optomisticgirl @whimsicallyenchantedrose @delirious-latenight-laughs @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @wellhellotragic @branlovestowrite @shireness-says @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @distant-rose @tiganasummertreeÂ
âSo let me get this straight, little brother. You and Emma got drunk and decided to ⌠get married?â
Killian groans, taking fistfuls of his hair and tugging. âIt would seem so.â
Liamâs pacing nervously back and forth across his living room, lecturing him like heâs a teenager again. But honestly, none of his words are penetrating Killianâs brain. How can they when all he can keep focusing on is the fact that Emma left so abruptly? Liam had extended his hand and helped her up off the floor of the closet that had been Killianâs when he was in high school. The Pearl Jam posters were still hanging inside. Emma had swayed to her feet, groaning as she clutched her head.
âWhat am I wearing?â she had grumbled. Then she had looked over at Killian on the bed in his rumpled tux and covered in her lipstick. âOh shit!â she had cried, and before he could even open his mouth, she was racing out of the house so fast Killian was surprised she hadnât left skid marks.
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âOkay, back up, you did what?â
âI donât know.â Emma whines, grabbing one of Rubyâs throw pillows and pressing it against her face.
âMaybe?â Emma mumbles from behind the pillow. âWe got drunk and we kissed at the docks, and then, well, it all got a little fuzzy.â