This is my entry for the @cshistfic event but due to a horrible bout of writer’s block, I wasn’t able to complete it by my post date. So here is a teaser of my upcoming story which I’m hoping will be up soon!
Summary:
Mature widower with good home wishes to make acquaintance of a hardworking girl or widow. No children. Object matrimony.
When Emma Swan flees scandal in New York to marry a man she’s never met in Storybrooke, Montana, she doesn’t have any illusions of finding love. But when she’s picked up at the station by Killian Jones, it finds her regardless. Despite sharing his home, his bed, and his heart, she can never truly be his.
Rated M
His
The whistle of the train as it pulls towards the station is what draws Emma from her sleep, her heart leaping in her throat as she jumps. The man across from her stares in concern and asks if she’s alright. Blushing furiously she nods and tries to clear the remnants of sleep from her mind, the images clinging in a thick fog around her.
She’d been dreaming of home. Of New York with its bustling, non-stop cacophony of people and sights and sounds, of her friends she’d left behind with little to no word. She can still picture Mary Margaret’s face. ‘You’re getting married? But why? And why not to someone here?’
She’d been dreaming of him. She hates that she still dreams of him, that in her dreams he’s still kind and charming and full of sweet promises and pretty words. That in her dreams she still loves him sometimes.
But she’s far from home now. Through the window of her traincar there’s nothing but endless fields and mountains stretched out before her. She doesn’t know anyone here, and while that was the point of her trip, of the drastic change, a chance to run away, Emma can’t help but be overwhelmed with the reality that she’s in a strange town, friendless and alone, and it’s too late to turn back now.
And as for love - well, she’s promised herself to whomever it is that picks her up at the station. She’ll make her vows and keep his house and be a good wife to him. But love, she doesn’t have any disillusions of that. She lost the naivete of her youth when Neal changed his mind.
Emma reaches into her carpet bag, pulling out the newspaper clipping and the single letter she received from her husband to be. Both have been folded and unfolded so many times that the pages are frail and falling apart at the creases. She reads them again, over and over as the train slows.
Mature widower with good home wishes to make acquaintance of a hardworking girl or widow. No children. Object matrimony.
She runs her fingers over the small newspaper print and then over the neat lines of his handwriting. Mr. Jones seems a good man. He wrote to her of his farm out in the valleys and his shop in town, and of his children who he specified were not in need of raising. He wrote how difficult it’s been to run the household since the passing of his wife and that he needs someone who can cook and clean and isn’t afraid to roll up their sleeves and work.
His first and only letter had been accompanied by a proposal of marriage and a train ticket out to Storybrooke, Montana. Emma had jumped on the first train she could with hopes that her letter with the date and time of her arrival reached him before she did.
This is the thought that makes her worry the fingers of her gloves as she makes her way off the train, carpet bag still clutched tightly to her chest. A man calls her attention, snapping her out of her anxious thoughts, an attendant retrieving her chest and handing it to her. She thanks him, searching frantically for a few cents to give him and hurries out onto the platform with everything she owns tucked under her arm.
Casting her gaze around the busy station, she realises she doesn’t know what she’s looking for - or whom she’s looking for. There had been no photograph or portrait enclosed in the advertisement or in the letter. Every man who passes by could be Mr. Jones and she wouldn’t know him from Adam. She tries not to look too expectantly at everyone who catches her gaze, especially when some of those gazes turn interested or suggestive and she hopes they’re not the one she’s waiting for.
But as the platform begins to empty of passengers and carriages ride off without her, her fears change. What if he hasn’t come at all? Or worse yet, what if he saw her and changed his mind? She hadn’t included an image in her response either, and she knows that at twenty-eight, she’s older than most mail-order brides who make the journey out west.
She’s just about given up hope, only herself and a station attendant left, the train having already moved on to its next destination, when she hears a hesitant, accented voice ask, “Miss Swan?”
Turning, she takes in the man standing before her and her breath catches, wondering if this could be her fiance. When she’d read the advertisement, she’d pictured someone older, someone more worn down by a hard life out in the fields and the loss of his wife. But this man is tall and lean, the muscles of his arms and shoulders not hidden beneath his clean shirt and vest. And he’s young, likely not much older than herself, and she can’t help the small flutter of excitement that rolls in her stomach.
“Mr. Jones?” A flush colours her cheeks despite herself as she takes in his dark hair and bright blue eyes, struck by how handsome he is. She hadn’t expected him to be handsome. She wants to shake herself. What he looks like shouldn’t matter.
He smiles, nodding, and it does something unfairly beautiful to his already attractive face. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he tells her. “The widow Lucas’ cart lost a wheel on the road. I wouldn’t have been so delayed but it took me ages to convince her to accept my help.” She frowns at him and he gives a small laugh. “You’d understand if you met her,” he promises. Emma returns his grin despite herself.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” he adds, gesturing vaguely with his left arm and that’s when Emma notices the metal where his hand should be. She hadn’t seen it at first, the iron hook on the end of the wood and metal brace his sleeve has been altered to fit around. A wave of sadness washes over her wondering what could have happened to him. He doesn’t look old enough to have been in the war. “Is everything alright?” he asks and when Emma looks back to his face he’s frowning at her in concern.
She shakes her head, realizing she’s been staring. “Yes, sorry. You’re just… not who I expected,” she admits.
The man reaches to scratch behind his ear nervously. “Ah, yes, well -” he begins awkwardly and she speaks quickly, worried she’s offended him, that he thinks she cares about his missing hand.
“I only meant… you’re younger than you sounded in your letter.”
He frowns at her again and then his eyes go wide with something - realization or understanding, but most notably, embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry Miss, you have the wrong idea. I’m -” he hesitates, scratching his ear again as it turns pink. “I’m not your fiance.”
“You’re not Mr. Jones?” Emma asks, trying to ignore the rush of disappointment that follows his words.
“Aye, I am. Killian Jones.” He clears his throat. “The man you’ve come to marry, Brennan Jones, is my father.”
I’m clearing out my drafts and found this gem.
When hook says to Emma in the season 3 finale come back with me for a nightcap or should i find someone else, Emma totally could have and should have said yup go find someone else and kept an eye on him from afar because that would’ve been stalling long enough for Killian to make the deal with snow, yet she didn’t and don’t tell me its not because she couldn’t stand the idea of him leaving with somebody else
--So I am clearing out drafts and found the beginning of this fic, I’m not going to finish it, but thought I’d share anyway. Anyone is totally free to change/add on/finish this.
August burst into the room whistling happily, startling Emma who lost count again. She was trying to see how long their savings would last them, but August seemed almost alarmingly disconcerted with it. He was usually the one pulling odd jobs at all hours of the night to make sure they'd make rent for the next week, yet here he seemed cheerily oblivious.
"Do you mind?" she asked, starting to count out the money again.
"Nope," he said, plopping down on the bed beside her and shoving her shoulder playfully.
"We need to find work if we're going to stay here for longer than like a week," Emma said.
He flopped back on the bed with a dopey smile. "Don't be such a worrier," he said.
Emma felt her stomach twinge painfully. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
August sat back up quickly and looked at her intensely. "Guess who I saw today?" he said, completely ignoring her question.
"August," Emma implored, getting up from her bed and pacing the room. "I'm being serious, we don't have enough money to stay here very long at all unless we want to spend all of our money and then we won't have even a security deposit for our next place."
"So we'll get jobs, it's not as though we haven't been in a tighter spot before. I hear there's an opening at the sheriff's station." A slow smile spread across his face as he spoke and damn him for knowing exactly what to say to make her relax.
"Anyway guess who I saw today?"
"Fine I'll bite," Emma said grumpily as she threw her jacket on over her tank top. She had to go to the sheriff's station as soon as possible. "Who'd you see?"
"Your mother."
Emma wanted to punch him, like she really really wanted to punch him. "Enough August!," she said storming out the door, "I'm indulging you by being in this town, but you need to stop with the whole parent thing, okay?"
Emma didn't wait to hear his response before storming out. She knew he shouldn't blame him for his delusions, but it just pissed her off when he said shit about her parents not their parents - he was the only person she had in the world and she couldn't figure out why he'd want to disown her.
She was still fuming when she made it to the sheriff's station. Emma had to take a couple deep, calming breaths outside the station before she went in. The interim sheriff looked harried, hands holding either side of his face as he tackled a mountain of paperwork.
Emma had to cough pointedly twice before the man looked up. "I'm here to apply for the job with the sheriff's department," she said walking forward and thrusting out her hand in introduction. "Emma Swan."
"Syndey Glass," he shook her hand firmly. "Do you have any sort of experience?" he asked, peering up at her.
"I was a bailbonds person in - "
"Oh thank God I thought I'd be in this job forever when the last sheriff died. He stood up from the desk and plucked the star badge from his waist. Here you go, the place is all yours."
"Wait, what?" Emma asked, but the man was already grabbing his coat and heading through the doors.
She didn't believe August, but something about this town certainly was strange.
Two weeks later Emma felt like she’d been sheriff in the small town for ages - and she didn’t hate it. Her salary was more than enough to keep them afloat for a while and with the odd jobs August was performing along with working at the newspaper part time they were more financially stable than they'd probably ever been before. But even with a halfway decent town and more than decent pay, Emma was wary of staying in Storybrooke much longer.
August was getting worse. Though he might not always say it, Emma knew he was constantly comparing townsfolk to made up characters in his head. And she couldn't help but wonder if she'd made a mistake in agreeing to come to this town, if it was making his delusions worse. Once she'd blown up at him about the fairytale thing he didn't say much aloud anymore and to any outside observer he'd seem perfectly normal, but Emma knew better.
That's why she'd contacted Archie, the town's one and only psychologist, whose dog was of course named Pongo because August didn't have enough fuel for his delusions.
Emma was dropping August off at the office when she ran into a kid leaving.
"Who're you?" he asked in that abrupt almost-rude way kids have.
"Emma," she said, watching August to make sure he actually went in to the shrink's office.
The kid gasped and grabbed her hand pulling her to sit at one of the benches.
"You're the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming!" he exclaimed excitedly as he rummaged through his bag.
"I see you've met my brother," Emma said unhappily. It was enough that August believed that crap, but now he was pulling an impressionable kid into it too.
"Brother?" the kid asked, pulling a big book of fairy tales out of his bag. "No you're in my book."
He flipped old pages with care until he reached one with a baby in a blanket that had Emma embroidered on it - and okay the baby blanket did resemble hers, but so did half the rest of the baby blankets in the world.
Emma wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that, so she just remained silent as the kid jabbered on about fairytales. She was so engrossed in the crazy stories written that so resembled August's that she didn't notice the mayor approaching.
Though the stern woman was technically her boss, there was no love between them.
"Madam mayor," Emma said with mocking respect.
"Sheriff," she said curtly before reaching out to pull the kid up from the seat beside her. "Henry come on what have I told you about talking to strangers."
"She's not a stranger, she's Emma," the boy had hastily shoved the book back into his bag and waved at Emma before taking off down the street ahead of his mother.
Emma scoffed in disbelief before relaxing back on the bench while waiting for August. She knew that if she didn't wait he would definitely try to end his session early.
"I know, hard to believe a woman like that is a mother isn't it," the voice coming from Emma's left made her jump. The owner of said voice slipped into the freshly vacant seat beside her and gave her what clearly was his most winning smile. "Killian Jones," he said holding out his hand.
His hair was messy in a perfectly disheveled way that meant he probably spent at least a half hour a day styling it. His bright blue eyes were alight with mischief and Emma knew that this man was trouble.
"Sheriff Swan," she replied after a long minute, not taking his hand.
"Well love, seeing as we're introducing ourselves by profession," he pulled his hand back and reached into his pocket pulling out a flask. He raised it towards her in an invisible toast, "resident drunk."
"Open container is illegal here," she said with a pointed look at his flask.
He shrugged and slipped it back into his jacket after taking a generous swig. "So I see you've met Henry. Did he tell you how we're all storybook characters?"
Emma faced away from him and nodded, hoping her lack of interest would end this conversation.
He seemed unperturbed by her stony silence and settled further into the bench next to her. "He seems to think I'm Captain Hook, even though Captain Hook isn't even in his story book. It's a bit insulting really, the whole perm and waxed mustache thing," he gestured to his face as he spoke and Emma tried not to stare at the empty space where his left hand should be, but he caught her gaze.
He held up the stump and smiled at her, and oh god that was exactly the sort of smile that always got Emma into trouble. "Though I suppose this may be something to do with the lad's theory."
He shifted closer to Emma flirtatiously and she didn't back down, staring at him squarely. "So Swan," he said, "who does the lad think you are, please tell me it's the captain's wench?"
Emma couldn't help but bark out a laugh at that. She was saved from responding when she spotted August leaving the shrink's office a moment later. She turned toward's Killian who was leaning back with his legs spread and a lascivious smirk on his face.
"In your dreams," she said walking away.
"Oh I do hope so," he said calling after her.
When she reached August he was looking back at Killian perplexedly. He flung his arm around Emma's shoulder and led her back towards Granny's.
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Some drunk," Emma said dismissively, and decided not to tell August there was another kid in this town who harbored a very similar delusion. "Anyway how'd the appointment go? Still crazy?"
He pulled her down by the arm around her shoulders and mussed up her hair with his free hand. "You know it."
She pulled free of his grasp with a laugh.
"Not that I don't love living above a diner, but we need to find a place to stay that isn't rented daily," Emma said as they reached the little inn.
August stopped in his tracks and stared at her. "So we're staying then?"
"Not because I think we're living in a town full of fairytale characters, but I don't know, we both have jobs and the place is kind of growing on me, maybe it's time we put down some roots." Emma shrugged a little self-consciously and avoided his gaze.
August grinned broadly and swept her up in such an enthusiastic hug that her legs were lifted up off the ground for a moment. She laughed as he set her down. She was suddenly thankful to have August as a staple through all the shit of her life. If it weren’t for him she’d probably be in jail or something by now.
Found this plot bunny and figured I’d share. Feel free to write it! Okay but what if Killian is a romance writer and he loses his hand so he has to hire Emma to type for him
Omg The Rules! I loved it! I can see Killian asking this... “What is with you and the whole sunset thing?” And Ruby was right Emma didn't deserve the bear claws! Thank you for sharing such a clever story:)
(sorry for the probably super delayed response, pretty sure tumblr never notified me of this)Awww thank you!! I am so me happy you enjoyed it!!
Spoiler alert: they all live happily ever after. :) I figure it’s the least I could do.
For the final time, thanks to @queen-icicle-fandom, shipsxahoy, sotheylived, and @captainswanbigbang for everything you all have done during this process. You guys are amazing. I’ve added a few special thank you’d to the end of the chapter, if you care to read them. And to you, who’s either been here since the beginning or jumped in along the way: thanks for sticking with it.
Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU
Rating: M
Content warning: Character death, some violent situations
FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset/Manip
Epilogue
It’s takes a while to convince Killian to get back on a ship, even when it’s docked.
But when he does on an oddly warm day in February, Emma makes sure to reward him.
The sun is setting - another banner day in Killian’s long journey of recovery - on this Friday evening. Henry’s off at a sleepover with Phillip, so it’s just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company on the ship that brought them together. Thanks to profits from the show and donations from fans and community members, the Jolly Roger II is just as sturdy as its predecessor. The little marks and stories the old ship held aren’t there, of course, but the thought behind it is wondrous. Killian still hasn’t had the courage to take it out for a spin, but Mulan and Robin assured her it ran just as well as the first one. And when Emma remembers that Liam wanted to rebuild the Jewel before his death, she finds some sort of closure in the circle life has drawn around the Jones brothers.
Awww thank you so much! I’m so happy we were paired together! It’s been so much fun working together start to finish. Thanks so much for sharing this wonderful story with all of us :)
Here we are: the last official chapter of this story. There will be an epilogue posted next week, and there are a few one shots I need to finish writing in this universe, but for most intents and purposes, this is the end. I’ll post a whole sappy thing with the epilogue next time, but I wanted to get this out there so you could prepare yourselves or your souls or something.
As I’ve said since the beginning, many many thanks to @sotheylived, @shipsxahoy, @queen-icicle-fandom, and @captainswanbigbang for all of the various and insundry things they’ve done during this whole process. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU
Rating: M
Content warning: Character death, some violent situations
FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset/Manip
Chapter Twenty-Two
For a second year in a row, Christmas is celebrated with Killian. It’s bittersweet, of course, this being the first Christmas in his life without his big brother, but Emma likes to think she and Henry are doing their best to fill Liam’s shoes. Henry is thrilled that Killian decides to spend Christmas Eve with them at their house, jumping on Killian instead of Emma in the excitement of Christmas morning.
Christmas dinner is a surprisingly lively affair. David and Mary Margaret join them, as well as Belle and her father. There’s laughter and tears, heartfelt toasts and frequent disruptions for bad jokes. When she crawls in her bed and Killian slides his arm around her waist that night, he whispers, “thank you” in her ear, so she must have done something right.
A few days before New Year’s, Robin invites the three of them to meet baby Roxana. The pictures he’s sent both of them prove that she’s cute as a button, but they’ve yet to meet this new addition in person with all that’s been going on in the last couple of months. Emma knows that there’s a lot of frustration, annoyance, and fatigue behind every one of them. A new baby is a far stretched from a walk in the park. She can only imagine how hard it is to balance a newborn with Roland the exuberant child that he is and without Robin currently being employed.
They’re all unemployed, technically. With no trawlers to their name and the crew members who would take over as captain still on the mend, the Jones brothers’ trawling company has come to a sudden halt. They’ll still have whatever money comes from the show, but the future is just a little more uncertain.
But in the meantime, Henry is having a ball playing a new board game with Roland and Regina while Emma, Killian, and Robin crowd around the sleeping baby, curled up in Emma’s arms.
We’re going to subtitle this chapter “The One Where You Get a Hint of Everyone’s Romantic Relationships, but Not Nearly Enough to Whet Your Need.”
Thank you, as always, to you, my reading, ship-obsessed friends, as well as to @shipsxahoy, @queen-icicle-fandom, @sotheylived, and @captainswanbigbang for doing their things for this story. 17/10 would work with them again.
Summary: Bouncing around with her son for the majority of her life, Emma Swan has told herself she’s happy in the city. It’s where the most camera operating jobs are, and that’s how she makes her money. But when an old friend calls her and asks for her help on a new project in small town Maine, Emma finds herself in a place she’s never been with people she doesn’t know filming a profession she knows nothing about. But when the captain of the ship she’s filming begins taking a keen interest in her and her life, she finds herself wondering whether she might just catch something other than fish. Deadliest Catch AU
Rating: M
Content warning: Character death, some violent situations
FFnet/Ao3/Cover/Snapshots/Gifset/Manip
Chapter Fifteen
They’ve found Liam. Emma nearly cries of happiness. She’s pretty sure Killian actually does, not that she can blame him.
He’s beaten up, about 13 miles downshore of where the Jewel went down. According to the officer speaking with Killian, he was face up in the sand, clothes torn and stomach bleeding profusely. There’s some worry that he’s severed an artery or ruptured his stomach lining and, for the time being, he’s been transported to the hospital for emergency treatment.
There might be more to the story, but Killian’s already off to his truck, yelling “Swan!” over his shoulder. She follows quickly as she can with all the equipment on her frame and hops into the passenger seat.
“They found him,” he says to no one in particular. His eyes are on the road - a good thing, because he has to be going 20 over the speed limit at least - and he’s laughing in disbelief. “Swan, they found him. He’s going to be okay.”
Hi, I have a CS prompt for you, how about Killian and Emma are both thieves that work together but they have a maybe bank robbery gone bad in which one of them gets hurt with a happy ending? Thanks.
Wordcount: ~1000Rating: T for somewhat graphic description of an injuryA/N: Thanks for the prompt!! I hope you like it :)The alarm sounded, loud enough Emma had to fight the urge to cover her ears.
“Shit. Shit, shit.” She spun around and crashed directly into Killian, cursing again.
“This way love,” he said, tilting his head towards the side entrance.
“Not your love,” was out of Emma’s mouth before she could think about it. Now was definitely not the time to argue semantics with her partner in crime/friend/sometimes hookup.
Hi, I have a CS prompt for you, how about Killian and Emma are both thieves that work together but they have a maybe bank robbery gone bad in which one of them gets hurt with a happy ending? Thanks.
Wordcount: ~1000Rating: T for somewhat graphic description of an injuryA/N: Thanks for the prompt!! I hope you like it :)The alarm sounded, loud enough Emma had to fight the urge to cover her ears.
“Shit. Shit, shit.” She spun around and crashed directly into Killian, cursing again.
“This way love,” he said, tilting his head towards the side entrance.
“Not your love,” was out of Emma’s mouth before she could think about it. Now was definitely not the time to argue semantics with her partner in crime/friend/sometimes hookup.
The pair of them took off running for the exit, not caring about how much noise they made now that the alarm was already going off. In hindsight it probably would have been wise to care at least a little bit.
A guard called out from behind them. There was a loud crack of a gunshot and Killian cried out from behind her. Emma stumbled, nearly crashing to the ground in her haste to turn and look at him. Strong hands grabbed at her and pushed her forward.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Keep going."
They sprinted through the building, careening around corners until they finally reached the exit. The guard was still chasing them, but he wasn’t fast enough. Emma bowled through the door and out onto the side street, leaping into the waiting car with Ruby behind the wheel.
"Go, go, go,” Emma said, before they were even fully seated.
Ruby floored it and they were off. It wasn’t until they were several blocks away that Emma finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“What happened?” Ruby asked, slowing to a normal pace as they approached a parking lot where they could swap cars in case the guard caught the plates.
Emma shrugged. “We tripped the alarm. Got the stuff though.” She patted that bag slung over her shoulder.
"Love,“ Killian said from the back seat.
"Not your love,” Emma murmured automatically.
“I hate to interrupt,” he continued, “but I could use some assistance.”
Emma turned to look at him and gasped. He was covered in blood, right hand clasped tight over his left forearm, blood oozing from between his fingers.
“Oh my god - Ruby we have to go to the hospital.”
Ruby’s eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror and she paled. Killian shook his head.
"No. The guard knows he shot me, they’ll be looking for patients with gunshot wounds at the hospital.“
"Then what do you want to do Killian,” Emma said, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re going to bleed out if we don’t do something."
"Safe house,” Ruby said, gritting her teeth as she crossed three lanes of traffic.
“We can’t keep this car. They’re going to be looking for it.” It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was supposed to be an easy job. Panic welled in Emma’s chest, clawing up her throat.
“Okay. Here’s what we do,” Ruby said, “I drop you two off at the safe house, Emma you patch him up while I go get rid of the car on my own.”
Emma still thought they should go to the hospital, but she agreed to the plan if only because Killian was starting to look far too pale and Emma didn’t want to waste any more time arguing. Killian had to lean heavily on her as they made their way up the stairs and into the house. After locking the doors and doing a quick sweep of the house, Emma hovered over Killian uncertainly. He was at the dingy kitchen table, medical supplies laid out before him. He handed her the tweezers and began balling up a rag.
“You’re going to have to dig around to pull the bullet out.” He shoved the rag into his mouth and closed his eyes.
Emma didn’t want to do this. She should’ve swapped with Ruby. She took a deep breath and slid the tweezers into his torn, bloody flesh. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he screamed, muffled only by the rag in his mouth.
God she hated seeing him hurt. She hated being the one hurting him. She was so foolish holding him at an arm’s length all these years - too worried about getting hurt to realize she was the one doing the hurting. Emma gritted her teeth and found the bullet, removing it quickly. She grabbed the needle without prodding and began stitching him up as fast and effectively as she could.
By the time she finished, Killian looked about two seconds away from passing out. Emma took the rag gently from his mouth, fingers brushing over the day old scruff along the line of his jaw as she did. She helped him over to the couch, and was pleased to see after a moment of sitting down he was already looking a little better now that she wasn’t digging around in his flesh.
"Can I get you anything to make you feel better?“ she asked, standing before him indecisively.
He nodded and reached out for her hand, dragging her onto the couch beside him. "I’m fairly certain I’ll be right as rain after a good snuggle."
Emma breathed out a sigh of relief she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and shifted up to kiss him. Her lips brushed his, gently - soft and sweet. Her tongue swept across the seam of his lips and her hands were on either side of his face, cradling him to her. After several long moments she finally pulled away and smacked him lightly on his good shoulder.
"Don’t scare me like that ever again."
Killian smiled at her, slow and sweet. "Why Swan, I didn’t know you cared."
Emma snuggled into him, burying her face in his shoulder. "Yeah well, I do.”
He squeezed her to him and sighed contentedly even though his arm surely still stung. “Good to know, love,” he said.
Emma didn’t correct him. Maybe she was his love after all.
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