In which Ruby decides that what Emma’s love life needs is a good old-fashioned meet-cute, and sets about arranging one for her. Or two, or three, or six...whatever, she’ll set up however many it takes for her friend to meet The One. But it may turn out that Emma doesn’t need any help finding The One after all...
Rating: T
Words: 5.2k (first chapter)
On AO3
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LOOK @optomisticgirl I WROTE THE THING.
Also, @ohmightydevviepuu, @shireness-says, and @distant-rose you are complicit in the writing of the thing.
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PART ONE:
“What you need, Emma Swan, is a meet-cute.”
Emma swallowed a sigh but couldn’t hold back the accompanying eye-roll. “I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I need.”
“No, hear me out,” Ruby insisted, her eyes alight with excitement. “This is actually perfect for you.”
Emma let the sigh go this time, reminding herself firmly that Ruby was her best friend and had been for years.
“All right,” she said. “Tell me why I need a meet-cute.”
“Yesssss,” said Ruby. “Okay, listen. There’s nobody at work you’re interested in dating, right?”
“My co-worker is literally my brother.”
“Yeah that’s kind of what I meant. Most people meet their future spouses at work—”
“That’s not a real statistic.”
“—but—yes, it is real—but there’s no one at work for you and that’s not likely to change, so you have to look elsewhere. Now, the next most common place to meet someone is where you live—
“Seriously, you’re just making this stuff up.”
“—but there’s no one for you there, either,” Ruby pressed on, ignoring her. “No cute guys across the hall—“
“No straight ones anyway.”
“—and seeing as you are for some strange reason dead-set against online dating—”
“I absolutely am.” Emma shuddered at the hideous thought.
“—which actually does work, by the way.”
“It doesn’t. You and Mulan are just outliers.”
“Look, Emma, don’t knock the matchmaking power of Good Omens Discord chats until you try them.”
“Yeah, no thanks.”
“Well then,” Ruby declared, in a voice that suggested she thought she’d won the argument. “That leaves you with no option but the meet-cute.”
“Really, that’s my only option?”
“Just think about it, Emma.” Ruby’s eyes grew dreamy. “Adorable mix-ups in coffee shops… picking up the wrong leash at the dog park…”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“…you both reach for the last croissant…”
“Where am I going to find a croissant in Storybrooke?”
“The last bear claw then, the pastry is really beside the point.”
“And what is the point?”
“The point is that you meet someone and it’s fucking cute, okay? And then you fall in love and live happily ever after.”
“Or I could just, you know, go on as I am, not meeting anyone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, woman,” said Ruby sternly. “Do you want to live the rest of your life alone?”
Emma shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.” Better than being stuck with someone she didn’t love, just for some dumb reason like—
“Do you want Henry to grow up without a father?”
—like giving her son a decent man in his life.
“Henry has a father,” she reminded Ruby. One he hadn’t seen for the best part of a year, but still.
“Do you want Henry to grow up without a father figure who isn’t a massive douche?” amended Ruby. Emma sighed again.
“Neal does the best he can,” she insisted.
Ruby snorted. “Sure he does.”
“He does, really. He’s just… not cut out to be a parent.”
“Well, that’s for sure.”
But Emma didn’t blame Neal for being a shit dad, though she knew her friends and family did. It wasn’t his fault it was hers, for stupidly falling for and getting knocked up by a guy whose ‘best’ was showing up once or twice a year to shower Henry with presents and promises before disappearing again without a word a few weeks later. At first it had broken both their hearts—Henry’s from disappointment and Emma’s from anger and guilt over his disappointment—but Henry was twelve now and starting to learn that the parents he adored were human and flawed, and to adjust his expectations accordingly. Emma had to admit that it was a relief not to have to cover Neal’s ass anymore by trying to make excuses for him, however deeply she regretted Henry’s loss of innocence.
And yeah, it would be nice not to have to raise her kid alone. Neal got to be the fun parent, buying Henry all the stuff she couldn’t afford and taking him on trips to exciting places, leaving Emma to enforce bedtimes and check homework and try to make Henry eat the vegetables she herself hated. Having someone else around, a real adult she could rely on to share those responsibilities with her, that would be good. Great, really. Wonderful, in fact. But dating was hard enough without having to start it off by explaining that even though you yourself weren’t yet thirty you came in a two-for-one deal with a near-teenager, and Emma had had far too many first dates end early and awkwardly to hold out much hope that she would ever meet the man of her dreams, be it cute or any other way.
“I appreciate the thought, Rubes, I really do,” she said. “But I’m just not looking for anyone right now.”
“But don’t you see?” Ruby cried. “That’s the best time to meet someone—when you’re not looking.”
Emma threw up her hands. “You are impossible and I’m not talking about this with you anymore. I’ve got to get back to work anyway.”
“All right.” Ruby shrugged and let the subject drop, but the glint that still remained in her eye warned Emma that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.
—
Before she returned to work after her lunch with Ruby, Emma stopped by the library. Belle wasn’t at her usual spot behind the desk so Emma ventured into the stacks on her own, in search of some books that would help Henry with his school project on the solar system. She was standing in the astronomy section with her hands shoved into the back pockets of her jeans, frowning at the frankly baffling array of options when a voice spoke just to her left.
“Can I help you find something?” it said.
Emma turned with a smile that stalled abruptly as her mouth dropped open. “Um,” she said, blinking in confusion at the blue eyes and dark hair that very definitely did not belong to Belle, and the bright smile that took her breath away. “I actually could use some help, but—sorry, but do you work here?”
The owner of the voice—and the hair and the eyes—laughed. “I do, for the moment at least.”
“Did something happen to Belle?”
“To her grandfather, apparently,” he replied. “I’m not sure of the details but Belle told me she had to go back to Australia for family reasons.”
“Oh. I didn’t hear anything about that.”
The man’s eyebrow twitched in a small frown. “Well, it was quite at the last minute, so she probably didn’t have time to tell everyone. But I’d spoken to her recently and mentioned I was looking for a quiet place to spend a few weeks’ holiday and so when she asked if I could come here and cover for her for a while, I gladly agreed.”
“And why would she call you?” Emma nearly flinched at the harshness in her tone but the man’s smile widened and his eyes twinkled, sucking even more air from her lungs.
“We’re old friends from library school,” he explained, as Emma struggled for breath. “My name’s Killian Jones.”
His smile began to crumble as Emma just stood and stared at him, until she managed to shake herself out of her breathless haze and smile back. “Emma Swan,” she said. “I’m the town sheriff.”
“Ah.” Killian’s grin brightened again, and Emma thought vaguely that he should really have a licence for that thing. “That explains all the questions.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. We don’t get many new faces in Storybrooke and, well—”
“Aye, of course, you can’t be too careful.”
“Um, right. Exactly.”
“Well, Sheriff Swan,” said Killian, with an absurd little waggle of his eyebrows, “I can assure you that haven’t broken any laws, but then I did only arrive in town last night so there’s still plenty of time.”
Emma laughed. She couldn’t help it, his goofy humour and ridiculous eyebrows were too charming. “But if you broke the law I’d have to lock you up,” she replied, and fucking hell was she flirting with him?
He seemed to think so, if the way his eyes glinted as he leaned in closer was any indication. “I might not mind being locked up, if you promised to stay and guard me,” he murmured.
Emma’s breath caught again at the look in his eyes, the edge of danger behind the flirty charm. “Do you talk like this to all library patrons?” she asked, cursing the raspiness in her voice.
“Definitely not. It’s highly unprofessional, but then there’s not much else I can say when you still haven’t answered my question.”
She swallowed hard. “Wh—what question?”
“Can I help you find anything?”
“Oh.” Duh, Emma. “Um, yeah, actually. My son has to do a project on the solar system, so I’m looking for some books he could use.”
She waited for Killian to freeze up, to awkwardly withdraw from her now that he knew she had a kid. But he simply nodded and asked “How old is your lad?”
“Ah, he’s twelve. Sixth grade.”
“Hmmm, in that case I’d recommend this one.” He reached over her shoulder to take a book from the shelf, giving Emma a whiff of some spicy cologne and a briny scent like he’d been out on the sea. Her knees went weak, and when he held out the book she stared blankly at it, trying to marshal her scrambled thoughts back into some kind of order. “It’s an excellent overview of the solar system with plenty of details on all the planets,” Killian explained, “but the language is accessible for someone your boy’s age.” His eyebrows rose again in an expectant look.
“Um. That looks great, thanks.”
“See how he gets on with it, and if he needs more information I’d be happy to make another recommendation.”
Emma nodded and followed him to the check-out desk, wordlessly handing him her card and watching as he completed the process of checking out the book. When he finished he tucked a bookmark between the pages and handed it to her with another warm smile.
“Well, Emma Swan, it’s been lovely talking to you,” he said. “I hope it won’t be a one-time thing.”
“I—I’m in here a lot,” she replied. It was only a slight exaggeration. Henry was in the library a lot and she often came to pick him up. “So I’m sure I’ll see you again.”
For the third time in fifteen minutes Killian Jones stole her breath with his smile. “I’m looking forward to it already,” he said.
—
The next morning Emma was at Granny’s waiting in line for coffee when out of nowhere someone gave her a hard shove, knocking her into the man in front of her, who had just accepted his cup from Ruby.
“Oh my God!” she cried. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened!”
“It’s okay,” said the man with a tight smile, shaking droplets of coffee off his hand as Ruby’s eyes grew comically wide.
“Oh, no,” she said. “What a terrible accident. Let me get you another cup, sir.”
“Thanks,” said the man, and Emma’s own eyes nearly rolled clean from her head. Ruby was known for her lack of subtlety but this was ridiculous, even for her. Emma glanced over her shoulder just in time to spot the tip of Mulan’s braid just disappearing through the door.
“So,” the man was saying to Ruby when Emma returned her attention to him, leaning on the counter and giving her a crooked grin. “You come here often?”
“Every day,” said Ruby dryly. “I work here. But maybe you’d like to ask Emma that question.”
The man’s pale blue eyes flitted to Emma, then rapidly away. “I’d rather ask you.”
Ruby gave a frustrated huff. “Here’s your coffee.” She thrust the new cup at the man and turned her back.
“What’s her problem?” the man muttered.
“I don’t know,” snapped Emma, “maybe you should ask her wife.” The man’s eyes widened in alarm at the look on her face and he backed away, slowly edging towards the door.
“Have a great day,” she called after him, then turned to her best friend as the man fled the diner.
“I hope you’re happy,” she hissed.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ruby asked, the picture of innocence. Emma rolled her eyes.
“I’m guessing this was your attempt at a coffee shop meet-cute? I spill the man’s coffee, apologise profusely, he laughs it off. I offer to buy him another cup, he refuses but asks me to dinner instead? Was that the idea?”
“...maybe.”
“And you see how well it turned out?”
“He was clearly just not The One,” said Ruby stubbornly.
“There is no ‘The One’ Rubes, that is a myth, and I cannot believe you roped Mulan into this nonsense too.”
“I didn’t rope her in, she volunteered! We both want you to be happy, Emma.”
“And you think dumping coffee on the world’s creepiest doctor will make me happy?”
“What? Have you met him before?”
“Yeah. Last year when Henry broke his arm. You’ll be pleased to hear that he tried to hit on me then. Right in front of my kid.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh. Meet-cutes only work in romcoms and fanfics, Ruby. Here in reality they just piss people off.”
“Well,” said Ruby, handing Emma her coffee, determination clear in the set of her jaw. “We’ll see about that.”
—
Emma: What do you want for dinner?
Henry: What have we got?
Emma: Nothing, that’s why I’m asking. I can stop at the store on the way home.
Henry: I suppose pizza isn’t an option?
Emma: We had that yesterday.
Henry: Not a problem for me. But chicken or something would be okay too.
Emma: One of those rotisserie chickens?
Henry: Yeah, sounds good.
Emma: Okay, kid. See you at home.
Emma was standing in the grocery store, frowning as she compared the rotisserie chickens when a voice spoke just to her left.
“I don’t think there’s much of a difference between them, love.”
Her heart leapt and her skin tingled, and yet when she turned to face Killian Jones—and his damned smile—she was still not prepared.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly. “I, um, didn’t expect to see you here.”
“No reason why you should, I guess, except that I like all people do need to eat from time to time.”
“Of course.” She felt foolish, but his expression was warm and only slightly teasing.
“How did your son get on with the book?” he asked.
“Really well! He read for like two hours last night. Thanks for the recommendation.”
“Any time.”
They stood grinning at each other until someone behind them cleared his throat and they both gave a little start. Killian rubbed the back of his neck as he moved aside to allow Mr Clark to select a chicken.
“So, um,” said Emma after he’d left. “Are you getting stuff for dinner?”
“Aye. I’m staying in the apartment above the library and this morning I discovered that the oven doesn’t work, and the repairman can't come until tomorrow. So I need something that comes pre-cooked. Hence rotisserie chicken.”
“Solid plan,” said Emma, though she felt sad thinking of this lovely man eating dinner alone in that tiny apartment, and that was the only reason that she blurted out “But, ah, why don’t you come over and eat with Henry and me?”
“Oh.” Killian blinked in surprise.
“Since we’re both having the same thing it makes sense not to waste a chicken,” Emma barrelled on. “When Henry and I get one we’ve always got leftovers, so… I mean, you don’t have to if you’d rather not—”
“No, no. I mean, yes! Yes, I’d like that.”
“Oh. Um, good.”
He smiled again, bright as always but with a hint of shyness that caught her off guard. “Is it, ah, just the two of you?” he asked. “Presuming Henry is your son, that is?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “His dad’s, um... not in the picture.”
“I see. Well then I would love to share a meal with you, Emma Swan. And your son. And perhaps you would allow me to bring dessert?”
Emma’s heart was pounding so loudly now she was sure he must be able to hear it. “That’d be great. Um, here’s my cell number, just at the bottom of this.” She took a business card from her pocket and handed it to him. “Text me and I’ll send you directions to our place. Can you come over about six?”
“Six it is.” Killian slipped the card into his own pocket carefully, as though he didn’t wish to harm it. “I’ll see you then.”
—
Emma finished the rest of her shopping in a daze, wandering haphazardly through the aisles and putting random things in her cart without thinking before giving herself a mental slap and a stern admonition to get a fucking grip. She removed the strawberry syrup from her cart (she and Henry both hated fake strawberry flavour) and the tuna (what the hell had she been thinking?) and then remembered that Henry was nearly out of peanut butter. His favourite kind was the most popular one and the store could hardly keep it stocked, so she was pleased to see that there was one jar left as she approached the shelf. Just as she was reaching for it, though, another hand appeared and snatched it from her grip.
“Hey!” she cried indignantly. “That was mine!”
“Sorry,” said the man who’d taken it. He didn’t look sorry in the slightest. “Maybe they’ve got more in the back?”
“Are you kidding me?” Emma huffed.
“Nope,” the man replied. “Look, I really am sorry but someone needs this peanut butter. She sent me in here to get it specifically.”
Emma hissed her breath out through her teeth. “She did, did she? And did she say why she couldn’t get the damn peanut butter herself?”
“Ah, no,” said the man, frowning warily at her. “She didn’t. But listen, lady it’s just a jar of peanut butter.”
Emma’s lip curled into a snarl and the man’s eyes widened in alarm. He backed away from her, nearly stumbling in his haste. “So, um, I’m going to, ah, go now,” he stuttered. “Bye.”
He turned and fled towards the checkouts with Emma close on his heels. She followed him to the self-checkout line where he kept shooting nervous looks over his shoulder at her and she amused herself by giving him darker and darker glares each time and keeping her eyes fixed on him when he took the jar of peanut butter and ran out the door.
When she arrived at where she’d left her car Emma was entirely unsurprised to find Ruby there, leaning against the hood and looking slightly sheepish.
“So what was the plan this time?” asked Emma. “That we would both reach for the last jar of peanut butter, our fingers would touch, sparks would fly, and we would exchange cute banter with sexually charged undertones ending in a date?”
Ruby nodded. “Something like that.”
“Ruby, I keep telling you, that is not how real life works!”
“Oh yeah?” Ruby challenged. “Well, what about David and Mary Margaret! They had a meet-cute.”
“He mistook her for a burglar and she hit him in the face!”
“Exactly!”
“How is that a meet-cute?”
“How is it not? They met, it was cute, and now they’ve got an amazing story to tell their kids.”
“I met Neal when I tried to steal the car he’d already stolen,” Emma pointed out. “That’s an amazing story and yet our relationship was a fucking dumpster fire that I’d be happy to forget all about if it weren’t for Henry. Not all cute meetings end in happily ever after, and frankly I don’t think a squabble over peanut butter in a small town grocery store is the best way to jump-start true love.”
“And what would you know about true love?” Ruby snapped, then gasped in horror as her eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, Emma, I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her fingers. “I didn’t mean it.”
Emma’s chest felt tight. “It’s okay,” she muttered.
“No, it really isn’t.” Ruby gripped Emma’s hands in hers. “I love you, Ems, and you’re one of the most loving people I know. That’s why I want so badly to see you happy.”
“I know.” Emma nodded and gave Ruby’s hands a squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean to say it.” However true it might be, she thought bitterly.
“Let me make it up to you—”
“Oh my God, please don’t—”
“—with this free jar of peanut butter!” finished Ruby triumphantly. She reached into her bag and removed the jar, offering it up with a flourish.
Emma smiled as she took it. “Thanks. I wasn’t looking forward to telling Henry how someone stole the last jar right out from under me.”
Ruby flashed a grin, then turned solemn. “Are we okay, Emma?” she asked hesitantly. “Truly?”
“Of course we are,” Emma reassured her. “Truly. I do have to get going though I have—uh, Henry will be getting hungry.”
“Of course.” Ruby stepped back to let Emma unlock her car door. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, see you.”
As Emma drove home she tried not to think about why she hadn’t told Ruby that Killian was coming for dinner. It might stop her friend’s meet-cute-ing attempts if she knew Emma had a—well, not a date exactly but a man coming over to... well, just to eat really, but still. She could have spun it so it seemed like a date and got Ruby off her back, at least for a while. Yet for some reason Emma wanted to keep Killian just for herself. At least for a while.
—
Killian Jones was punctual and he could follow directions, Emma thought when her doorbell rang that evening at six o’clock precisely. That alone put him head and shoulders above Neal... and what the hell was she doing comparing a man she’d literally met yesterday with her son’s useless father, even just in the privacy of her own head?
She smoothed her hair and the front of her blouse and took a deep breath to calm herself before opening the door, and still she was not prepared for that stupid, gorgeous smile.
“Good evening, Swan,” Killian greeted her. “I come bearing brownies.”
And wine, she couldn’t help noticing as she stepped back to let him in. “Great, uh, brownies are my favourite,” she lied. “Um, Killian, I’d like you to meet my son, Henry.”
Henry came forward with smile on his lips and mild confusion in his eyes. “Hi Killian, nice to meet you.”
“And you, lad. I hope you like brownies as well.”
“I love them,” Henry replied. “Though my mom usually prefers—” he broke off when Emma gave him a Look. “Ah, she prefers hers without nuts.”
“Well, she’s in luck because these are nut-free.”
“Sounds perfect!” said Henry brightly, and Emma didn’t think she’d ever loved him more.
“Let me just take those from you,” she said, relieving Killian of the box of brownies and bottle of wine. “Henry, can you show him into the living room? Oh, and Killian what would you like to drink?”
“Whatever’s easiest, love.”
“Water, soda, beer?”
“Beer would be great.”
“Coming right up.”
Emma fled to the kitchen, doing her best not to look like she was fleeing. Once safety through the door she set the brownies and wine on the counter and desperately drew air into her lungs. She wasn’t going to survive spending much more time with Killian if she didn’t learn to breathe around him, she thought wryly, and also why was she even thinking about spending more time with him—this was nothing but a casual, friendly meal and they had only just met.
“Get a fucking grip, Emma,” she reminded herself firmly, and went to pour some beer.
When she entered the living room a few minutes later Killian and Henry were sitting next to each other on the sofa, deep in discussion about the solar system. Henry had his project notes spread out on the coffee table and Killian was rubbing his chin, listening intently as her son spoke, and Emma’s heart absolutely did not melt at the sight of them. It didn’t.
She set a glass of soda in front of Henry and a beer in front of Killian, who looked up at her with a smile.
“Thanks, love.”
Aaaand there went her breath again, thought Emma. Damn it.
“Ah, I’m just going to go finish up dinner, um, if everything’s okay in here?” she said.
“Aye, I think we’ll be all right.”
“Mom, guess what? Killian knows all about astronomy and he’s going to help me make sure my project’s good!” Henry exclaimed.
“All about astronomy, eh?” teased Emma.
To her astonishment Killian’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turned pink. “A slight exaggeration on the lad’s part,” he said, scratching at a spot just below his ear. “But it is an interest of mine and I’ll do my best to be of some use to him.”
“He’s already helped me with Saturn’s moons, and now we’re gonna talk about the rings on Uranus,” said Henry excitedly. “Did you know Uranus has rings, Mom?”
“I did not,” said Emma, biting her lip as amusement glinted in Killian’s eyes.
“Yep,” Henry continued, oblivious to their mirth. “Just skinny ones, though.”
“I suppose bigger ones wouldn’t fit,” said Emma. A muscle danced in Killian’s jaw as he clenched it tight. Henry frowned.
“Uranus is still pretty big,” he said. “Not as big as Jupiter or Saturn but—hey! Are you guys laughing at Uranus?”
“Of course not, lad,” said Killian. “Uranus isn’t funny at all.”
“It’s very serious actually,” said Emma.
“I certainly take it seriously,” Killian agreed.
Henry glared at them. “You guys realise I’m the twelve-year-old boy, right? If anyone should be making Uranus jokes it’s me.”
“Well you have been letting some excellent joke opportunities slip by you, my boy.”
“Yeah, Henry, we’re just picking up your slack.”
“Much like rings on Uranus might.”
“Oh my God,” Henry groaned, as Emma lost control of her laughter and collapsed onto the sofa. Killian was grinning like a maniac, ridiculously pleased with himself, which only made her laugh harder. Henry held out for nearly a full minute before he started giggling too, then all three of them held their stomachs and roared.
—
Their fit of shared hilarity helped Emma relax, and the dinner ended up being one of the best evenings she’d had in a long time. Killian, as it turned out, had spent several years in the navy before he became a librarian. He had hundreds of stories about his adventures in far-off lands and seemingly endless patience for inquisitive twelve-year-olds who wanted to hear every single one.
Emma sat and ate and listened as Killian regaled her son with his tales, and tried not to think too hard about how simply nice this was. Like the sort of pleasant family meal she’d always dreamed of as a child and regretted that she couldn’t give Henry, and she really needed to stop thinking about Killian like he was an actual part of her life when she’d barely known him for a day. She knew better than that. From bitter experience.
And yet. Killian’s kindness to and interest in Henry was genuine, she was sure of it. There was no hint in his words or actions to suggest that he was trying to use her kid to get to her, or that he was only pretending to care about Henry’s project. Her superpower didn’t even twitch. Every instinct Emma had was screaming that the most sinister thing about Killian Jones was how dangerously attractive she found him. He was just a nice man who knew how to talk to children. A nice, insanely hot man with the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen and a smile that stole all the air from her lungs, who not only didn’t run when he found out about her kid but actually liked him.
Fuck, she thought, as Killian caught her eye and gave her a little half-smile that had her gasping for air. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
—
“Well, thank you for a lovely evening, Swan.” Killian’s hand was on the doorknob but he seemed in no great hurry to leave, and she was equally not eager to see him go. “I had a wonderful time.”
“Me too. And thanks for being so nice to Henry.”
“Your boy is a delight, it was no hardship.”
“Still. It meant a lot to him.” She didn’t mention Neal and Killian didn’t ask, but she had the strangest feeling that they both wished they could.
You only just met him, damn it!
“It was my pleasure,” said Killian, and the way his voice went gruff on the word pleasure set her heart racing and heat blooming across her skin, and when his breath caught and his gaze dropped to her lips she had to force herself to remember that this wasn’t a date and she didn’t actually know this man. But she could tell from the rasp in his throat and the flush on his cheeks that he was feeling the same things she was, that he wanted the same things just as badly, and it would be easy, so easy just to lean in and press her lips to his—
Too easy, and far too risky. Emma gulped and stepped back as Killian gave a shaky exhale, closing his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed and Emma shoved her hands hard into her jeans pockets. He opened his eyes and then the door and gave her a brief smile before stepping into the hallway. Emma dug her fingers into her legs and firmly squashed the tiny part of her that wanted to beg him to stay.
“Well, ah, thanks for coming,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Aye.” He took two steps then stopped and turned back. “Er, perhaps next time you might allow me to provide the meal?” he said hesitantly. “Just for you?”
“Um. What?” said Emma, then immediately wanted to kick herself.
Killian’s nervous expression softened. “Well you see, as much as I enjoyed Henry’s company this evening, I’d very much like to take you out, Emma,” he said. “Just the two of us. On a date.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Aye, really. On Friday, perhaps, if you’re free?”
“Ah, yeah, I can be,” she replied, trying not to sound too eager. “I’ll have to see if I can get someone to watch Henry, but… yeah. I’d like that.”
That breath-stealing smile broke across his face as she knew it would, and yet she still wasn’t ready for it. “It’s a date, then,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something warm.”
“Uh.. okay.”
“And love, if you can’t find someone to look after Henry at such short notice I’d still like to spend the evening with you.” Killian’s face was earnest now. “With both of you, I mean. We’ll just postpone our date until a more convenient time.”
A lump rose in Emma’s throat and for a moment she thought she might cry. “I—that’d be good too. I’ll let you know.”
He nodded. “Good night, then, Swan.”
“Good night.”
—
@katie-dub @thisonesatellite @spartanguard @kmomof4 @stahlop @mariakov81 @teamhook in case you’re interested :)
Bleh bleh i'm about to head out for dateeee hnggg how would Peter prepare for it??? I don't know what to feeeeeel mehhhh
Peter would be SO nervous, like seriously! Did you see how nervous he was before his date with Liz? He was a mess!
That definitely includes:
- changing his outfit multiple times and in the end settling for the one he tried on first
- spending hours doing his hair and just messing it up even more
- being a complete waterfall while asking May for advice and then he just keeps on talking to the point she has to cover his mouth to get a word out
- then when it's finally time for the date he's so nervous he can barely get a word out and is just a stammering, blushing and adorably cute mess
- depending on who he's dating he'd either collect himself (if it's someone his age) or try his hardest to and failing miserably (if it's someone older like Tony ;)
- Peter would still make it a memorable date of course but God, he's nervous the whole time and when he's back home he'd just fall onto his bed without even getting out of his shoes and lay there for a long time thinking about it
(I hope you can calm down a bit dear and remember: it's supposed to be fun so just relax bc I'm sure the other person is nervous too. And good luck!!)
He looked forward to his weekly escapades at the bar; it had a decent music venue and a mellow crowd- one of his favorites in this up-beat town of his.
“Hey, Altin, why don’t you save that second one for me? I’m getting the fuck out of here in a few minutes and I sure as hell could use a pint and some decent company.”
Otabek smiled, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be here.” He tried not to sound as excited as he felt. Well, excited was an understatement. He felt like he could fly- he felt high and sober all at once. If he let those emotions surface, Yuri would surely think him a madman.
xxx
Or approximately six sentences, anyway! I’ll try to write more than Otayuri in the future... I just have so many WIPs for these guys!
Do you ever just... forgot you wrote a fic? Like... you get a wonderful comment and you’re all.. what fic is tha... ah, yes. THAT one. Oh gee, thank you.
Just a couple of fandoms, yes (and a shitty memory).
