Fluffy Fridays--Chapter 178: Because of the Werewolves
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Other Chapters: (from the beginning) (previous chapter)
Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay
Emma looked up from her mug of hot cocoa and rolled her eyes at Leroy’s announcement from the door of Granny’s. The day had started so normal. She and Killian had hit the snooze button a few too many times to simply enjoy cuddling in bed before starting the day.
“Shouldn’t we be rising, Swan?” he’d ask, sleepily caressing her back as he held her.
She’d cuddled deeper into the covers and closer to him and then shook her head. “Why? Hope probably won’t be up for another hour or so, and ever since we broke the curse and the realms were united and everything, our job has been a piece of cake. I’m sure Graham can handle it for a few more minutes.”
He hadn’t objected. He rarely did, when her suggestions involved more time together–especially more time together in bed.
It had been a good ten years since Henry had found her in New York. By this point, she should have known better than to tempt fate by calling her job a piece of cake.
She was just about to ask Leroy to elaborate, when Leroy turned tail and ran back outside.
“Looks like duty calls,” she said with another roll of her eyes and a quick kiss to her husband’s lips and her baby’s head before heading in the direction of the sheriff’s station.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Can you put out a town notice?” Ruby was asking as Emma stepped into the sheriff’s station, her family behind her.
“What about?” Graham asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
“That setting fires is still not the way to stop werewolves,” she said. “Also, while you’re at it, remind them that we werewolves didn’t do…whatever it is they’re accusing us of doing now.”
Graham sighed. “How many acres was it this time?”
“Forty!” Ruby said. “Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass forty acres worth of forest fire is for wolves and their sensitive noses? It’s annoying!”
“Come again?” Killian asked, draping his coat on the coat rack and sitting near his wife. “The recent wildfires are due to WHAT?”
Graham, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I blame Nottingham. He’s the one that started all of this with his drunken ramblings.”
“Yeah, there was that one time he barged into Doc’s allergy clinic waiting room, ranting and raving about how the wildfires were because of werewolves,” Ruby said with an annoyed huff. “Said something about how fire was the only way to destroy us. You’d think they’d have learned by now it’s silver that’s our Kryptonite.” After a moments' thought, she amended, “Actually, scrap that. The silver thing is something they totally don’t need to know.”
“Looks like as United Realms Forest Ranger, this falls under your jurisdiction, Graham,” Emma grinned. “I’ve retired as Savior. Idiotic forest werewolf hunts are no longer my problem.”
Graham reached for his cell phone and punched in the mayor’s number. “I’d hoped when Queen Regina and her ‘evil’ twin turned back time and reversed my murder, bringing me back to a post-Happy Beginning world, that I would finally have a nice, peaceful existence, but it looks like that was too much to ask.”
Killian grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Whatever would give you that idea, mate? Do you even remember where you live?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Notes: Hi there! Remember me? I know it’s been 84 years, but I am, in fact, still alive.
–The smoke from the recent Canadian wildfires has made air quality in the upper Midwest really bad. My lungs do not recommend. It reminded me of going to the allergist once during a similar Canadian wildfire, and an old man coming in and telling the waiting room that clearly the fires are the fault of werewolves. Everyone knows the only way to kill them is by fire, so obviously the wildfires are due to hunters killing them. It was so ridiculous I’ve already written one fanfic about it–but I needed a new one.
–Also, this story is short and ridiculous and doesn’t really go anywhere, but given the fact I think I’ve written a grand total of one sentence worth of fanfic all year, I needed to do SOMETHING to wake the muse up, at least a little!
–Obviously, this is a “future fic”, and I wanted Graham to be alive because….well, just because, so I brought him back. I made a small effort to explain how it’s possible, but the real reasons? 1. Because….magic. 2. His death was stupid and I refuse to acknowledge its existence in canon.
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 177: The Four Disappointments of Killian's Birthday
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 177: The Four Disappointments of Killian's Birthday
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Other Chapters: (from the beginning) (previous chapter)
Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay
Emma cursed as she dropped the cake pan and then shook her burned hand as tears filled her eyes.
Everything was going wrong today. Everything.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Last May, she’d won the final battle, and the entire town had finally gotten their happy beginnings. She and Killian had taken a well deserved honeymoon, sailing the Jolly Roger down the coast and to the Caribbean. No new villains had shown up, no existential crises.
Wasn’t their happy beginning life supposed to be perfect now?
Don’t get her wrong. She was happy, happier than she’d ever been. She had a husband she loved, a family, good friends, a strong community, and a town where the worst crisis she had to deal with was Doc disturbing the peace after one of his brothers crashed into his Miata. She wouldn’t give up this life she and Killian had built for themselves for anything.
But into every life–even the happiest–sometimes the rain would fall (or more appropriately, the snow). Today was one of those days.
Last fall, when Killian and her parents had planned and organized an elaborate, town-wide 32nd birthday party for her, something had occurred to Emma: In all the time they’d known him, they’d never had a birthday celebration for Killian.
The thought made her incredibly sad. After all he’d done for the town, after all he’d done for her, after all he meant to all of them, they’d never even taken the time to ask him when his birthday was, let alone celebrate it.
That night, after the party as they lay cuddling in bed together, she’d asked him about his birthdays, and his answer had only increased her sadness.
“I hardly remember my birthday anymore, Swan,” he’d said, his hand rubbing her back as he held her to him. “It’s been so long since I celebrated it, so long since anyone gave a damn about it, that even I forget to mark the day most years.”
It had taken some prompting from her, but in the end, she’d gotten him to admit that he’d been born on January 26, 1781, and from that moment on, she’d been planning it–the most amazing 238th birthday party anyone had ever had.
Granted, it was probably the only 238th birthday party anyone had ever had, but that was entirely beside the point.
She and Henry had spent hours planning the party–to be held at Granny’s on his birthday night, with the whole town present–a huge cake, gifts, his favorite meal, the rum flowing freely, the whole nine yards. She’d come up with some excuse to get him there that evening, and then everyone would jump up and yell “Surprise”
The only problem? She hadn’t accounted for the fact that January was right smack-dab in the heart of a northeastern winter, and what tends to happen in the heart of a northeastern winter?
Snowstorms.
It was just her luck, that one of the biggest ones their area had seen in decades blew in the day before Killian’s birthday. What the rest of the Land Without Magic had named the storm, Emma neither knew nor cared, but they’d christened the storm Winter Storm Ingrid–for obvious reasons. They’d been under a Winter Storm Warning, a Blizzard Warning, and a Cold Weather warning for nearly 48 hours by the time Killian’s birthday dawned cold and white.
She and Killian had been working nearly around the clock for the last two days, being the town’s only law enforcement. Oh her dad still stepped in to help out from time to time, but after he’d pulled a double shift, she’d finally sent him back home to be with her mom and the kid while she and Killian soldiered on, responding to the endless calls to the sheriff’s station–slide offs, small fires from faulty space heaters, the electricity failing, drunk and disorderly conduct. It was utter chaos–so much so, it made Ingrid’s spell of shattered sight seem like a walk in the park.
Finally, at 11 am on Killian’s birthday morning, her dad had returned to the office with reinforcements–all seven of the dwarfs–and absolutely insisted the two of them get some rest.
“We got your back, sister!” Leroy said. “This storm is nothing a little hard work and dwarf ingenuity can’t handle!”
They’d returned exhausted to their house, only to find the second disappointment of Killian’s birthday–the freezing rain that had kicked the winter storm off had downed a powerline, leaving them utterly without power–or heat.
Killian winked at her and made some over-the-top innuendos about ways they could keep each other warm, but in the end, they were both too tired to make good on any of them and had fallen fully clothed into bed, asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.
When Emma awoke at 2 pm on Killian’s birthday afternoon, the third disappointment of Killian’s birthday became glaringly obvious. It was still bad out there. Really bad. Regina had just declared a level 3 travel restriction and warned that she would start throwing fireballs at anyone who was stupid enough to be out on the roads for anything less serious than a heart attack.
There was nothing for it. Killian’s birthday party would have to be cancelled.
It was quite a blow. All their hard work, all their planning, ruined. With the travel restriction, even Henry, who had spent the last few days at Regina’s, would be prevented from celebrating with them.
Undaunted, Emma had decided to make the best of the far-from-optimal situation. Maybe they couldn’t have a town-wide birthday party. Maybe they couldn’t celebrate with their son or other family. Maybe they couldn’t even leave their house until their next shift at the sheriff’s station, but they were together. They could have their own birthday celebration, right? She could whip up something for dinner and they could eat it and then cuddle in front of the fire.
And what was a birthday celebration without a cake? Granted, her culinary skills were….less than gourmet…and baking would be made even more difficult by their lack of electricity, but she was resourceful! She had a fire, basic ingredients, a cake pan and the internet to search for no-oven cake recipes. She could do this!
Or so she thought.
She’d managed to mix cake ingredients and fashion a makeshift oven out of a dutch oven over the fire. All seemed to be going well until she noticed thick smoke seeping out of the pot. She’d pulled the whole concoction out of the fire, only to find not a fluffy vanilla cake, but a charred, black monstrosity.
And it was at that moment that she discovered the hitherto unbeknownst to her hole in her oven mitt.
So here she was, sitting back on her heels in front of the fire, her hand burning, tears of pain and frustration streaming down her face, finally ready to admit defeat.
“Swan?” Killian called in alarm, rushing to her side, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No,” she said, before looking down at her smarting appendage and amending her answer, “well, technically yes. I did burn myself, but that’s not….Killian, it’s ruined! It’s all ruined!”
Killian helped her to her feet and over to the sink, where they discovered the fourth disappointment of Killian’s birthday–given the fact they had well water, when the electricity was out, they didn’t even have running water.
“Can this day get any worse?” she ground out.
Killian chuckled. “Don’t tempt fate, Darling. Here, wait a moment, I’ll be right back.” She watched him step out the front door and gather a large pail full of fluffy, white snow before returning to her and placing her burned hand in the icy pile.
It felt good, so good against her burning skin, and she let out a quick sigh of relief before the tears started flowing again.
“Killian,” she said, “It’s your birthday, and I wanted everything to be so perfect for you. We planned a party, and then the blizzard happened. I was going to make you a cake, and then…well”
She gestured aimlessly toward the dutch oven where her confection was still listlessly releasing wisps of smoke.
Killian glanced skeptically toward it. “That was meant to be a cake?”
She glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender.
“The point is,” she continued, “I wanted you to have a birthday that made up for all the lonely ones in your past. Killian, you mean everything to me–to Henry, to our family–and I wanted to do something to show you that.”
Killian kissed her softly, and when he pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes. “Swan…” he swallowed hard, taking a moment to contain his emotions, “I’m honored and humbled. I don’t need a fancy party. I don’t need a cake. I don’t need any of it, as long as you’re by my side, but the fact that you would go to such trouble just for me…I don’t even have words.”
She leaned forward and kissed him hard, her non-injured hand coming up to pull him toward her. “You really aren’t disappointed?”
He chuckled. “Disappointed is the last word I’d use. Swan, you are bloody brilliant. Amazing.”
“But your party….”
He waved her concern away. “It’s been a few centuries since my last birthday party. Postponing this one for a few days is no hardship. In the meantime, I have you all to myself on my birthday, and that is a delicacy far more enjoyable than even the most delectable cake. What say we dress your hand and then adjourn to our bedroom where I can properly express my gratitude.”
Notes:
–Surprise, I’m back! I don’t even know how long it’s been since I last added to this collection, but one of my New Year’s resolutions was to write at least 2500 words per week. (I have spectacularly failed pretty much all month…but the year is still young!)
–If you live in the United States, you probably are well aware of where I got the idea for this fic. Last weekend, a powerful winter storm slammed a good 40 states, leaving devastation in its wake. Luckily my area didn’t have the freezing rain or the power outages, but we did get a lot of snow, followed by bitter cold, all of which trapped me in my house for a good 4 days. What better way to spend the time than to make my favorite fictional pair suffer the way I was suffering.
–Add to that the fact that Monday was Colin O’Donoghue’s birthday, and I had all the perfect ingredients for a Fluffy Friday fic! With regard to the date I came up with for the day of Killian’s birth, that required a bit of math. (Ew! math!) I decided Killian would physically be the same age as Colin, so I figured out the year Colin was born and subtracted 200 years. As to “238”--Colin was 38 in January of 2019, the winter after OUAT ended.
–Up next: Who knows what or when? Any suggestions? I could be persuaded to write a prompt that catches my fancy.
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Other Chapters: (from the beginning) (previous chapter)
Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay
Notes: A little over a year since my last installment of fluff? Sorry about that! All I can say is that the muse has been a fickle mistress. Happy (belated) 4th of July to all that celebrate it. Enjoy some holiday themed CS-enjoying-their-happy-beginning fluff!
Emma swiveled back and forth in her chair at the sheriff’s station before bringing her mug of hot cocoa with cinnamon to her smiling lips. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She was so happy it almost–but not quite–scared her.
Two months ago she’d won the final battle with the Black Fairy, and the next day, she and Killian had headed out on their honeymoon. With the town finally at peace, she and her brand new husband decided to take a long overdue and much needed break for some of the steamiest and most romantic R & R she’d ever experienced.
They’d had no real destination in mind, no specific plans. They’d simply boarded the Jolly Roger and set sail (after Emma had once again put a cloaking spell on the magnificent vessel. After all, they might get some stares sailing an eighteenth century vessel around the Land Without Magic.) They’d largely followed the East coast, Killian after all, being fascinated to learn of the journeys and stories of this realm’s pirates of old, and had ended up in the Caribbean.
Emma’s smile widened as she remembered the couple of days they’d spent in Savannah, and in particular, Killian's reaction to the famous Pirate’s House restaurant. He’d been fascinated with the history and pirate memorabilia, of course, until he’d learned that the institution bragged of its connection to Captain Flint.
“That absolute ponce?” Killian had scoffed. “He’s the one they idolize? He makes bloody Blackbeard look like a worthy opponent.”
He’d been so adorably flummoxed by the reaction to Flint, that she’d immediately taken him back to the Jolly and had her wicked way with him. (Not that she really needed much of an excuse. This was their honeymoon after all.)
They’d returned to Storybrooke last Friday, taken the weekend to settle back in and returned to normal life this morning.
Normal life.
They actually had a normal life. They’d had a full two month honeymoon with no frantic calls from Storybrooke talking about a new villain in town. They’d returned to a normal, sleepy little town that wasn’t under a curse, a memory spell or any other enchantment. Life was just…normal.
In fact, it was so normal that Regina had instituted monthly town meetings, and in the last one, the town had made plans for Storybrooke’s first annual Independence Day celebration, as the Fourth of July was right around the corner.
“If we’re gonna be a part of the Land Without Magic now,” Granny had argued, “we best start doing normal Land Without Magic things.”
“Maybe start by not calling it the Land Without Magic, sister,” Leroy had grumbled.
There was to be a parade, a big town festival, fireworks. The whole patriotic thing.
Emma had so much work to do in order to coordinate security for all of it, but she couldn’t be happier.
(Maybe a certain husband who she couldn’t seem to get enough of had something to do with that happiness, but who could blame her, really?)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two days later, Emma was awoken by a sweet and rather passionate kiss from her husband. Outside their window came the boom of a firework exploding.
“They’re still at it?” Emma asked, pulling slightly away and shaking her head. “I don’t know who’s setting off those fireworks, but this is getting to be overkill. The whole big display last night–and the night before–were kind of understandable given the time of year, but it seems like they never stop.”
“Aye,” Killian agreed. “It would seem we have a veritable pyromaniac within our midst.”
“Well at least the 4th is tomorrow, so maybe they’ll knock it off after that.”
“Perhaps so,” Killian said with one final, lingering kiss, punctuated by another loud boom from outside. “At any rate, we’d best be up and at ‘em.”
Emma gave him a heavy lidded look. “You sure about that? I was kind of thinking we might need a little more….rest…this morning. After all, last night was pretty….acrobatic.”
His grin turned wicked, before he leaned down and kissed her again. (Boom! from outside) “Something tells me if I returned to our bed, we wouldn’t be leaving it until noon–but we wouldn’t be getting much rest.”
She shrugged and grinned. “What’s wrong with that?”
He laughed. “What’s wrong with that is that Regina will have our heads if we don’t attend the mandatory town meeting she called for nine a.m. sharp.”
Emma pushed herself up and tossed off the covers. “I suppose you’re right,” she grumbled. “But I say, the minute we’re free, we pick up where we left off last night.”
“You’ll have no complaints from me, love.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first thing Emma noticed when she and Killian arrived at Town Hall hand in hand, was that someone had strung a big sign over the raised podium that said “Intervention.”
Was it just her, or was this town getting even weirder?
The second thing she noticed was that when they sat down beside her parents, David and Mary Margaret wouldn’t even meet their eyes.
“Okay, you guys, what is going on?” she asked.
Her mom gave her a big–way too big–smile, and simply said “Guess you’ll…I mean we’ll…find out.”
Emma was on the point of asking for further clarification, when Regina walked briskly to the podium and banged the gavel.
“I think we all know why we’re here,” she said grimly. “We have a problem, and something needs to be done about it.”
Emma and Killian gave each other a bewildered look.
“Are we missing something?” he asked.
“The fireworks,” Leroy said. “We’re here about the constant, round the clock, fireworks.”
For some reason, the dwarf glared at them ferociously while saying it.
Yeah, this town was definitely getting weirder.
“We were just talking about that this morning,” Emma said. “Please tell me we don’t have some new, patriotic villain in town.”
“Nothing quite so dramatic, Mrs. Swan-Jones,” Regina said.
“So you found the culprit?” Emma asked. “Why not just confront him–or have me arrest him? What’s with the whole big town meeting? And what’s with the ‘intervention’ sign?”
“That’s why we’re here, honey,” Snow said, her voice far too sunny. “We…um…we think we figured out what’s going on.”
For some odd reason, beside her, David groaned, loudly, and muttered something like “I don’t want to be talking about this!”
“Okay….” Emma said, drawing out the word. “Anybody want to elaborate?”
“It’s quite simple,” Rumple said, from the far side of the room. “We’ve noticed that you and your pirate have been exhibiting nauseating levels of affection. PDA, if you will. We believe the results have been rather magical and explosive and, in short, have led to our dilemma today.”
“You believe we are to blame for the festive displays all day and night?” Killian asked.
“Wait, this is an intervention for us?” Emma asked at the same time.
“We first noticed the fireworks after you came home from your honeymoon,” Aurora said. “Small things at first–sparklers when you kissed her cheek, escalating up to…well…”
“What precisely were the two of you doing last night at approximately 10:15 pm?” Regina asked crisply.
Emma’s face flamed while Killian’s grin turned positively sinful and David…well, David turned a sickly shade of green.
“We were… we were,” Emma spluttered. “Come on, Regina! We’re newlyweds! What do you think we were doing?”
“Would you like all the sordid details, Your Majesty, or would a summary suffice?” Killian asked cheekily.
Beside them, David put his head in his hands muttering “Make it stop!”
“That’s what we thought,” Regina stated matter-of-factly, ignoring Killian’s question altogether. “And did you notice when the fireworks display started last night? Did you notice how it grew in intensity about half an hour later?”
“Oh my gods,” Emma muttered, imitating her dad, and burying her face in her hands, wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow her and her husband whole.
“We aren’t blaming you, honey,” Mary Margaret said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We all remember what it was like to be newlyweds. Your dad and I couldn’t get enough of each other.”
Surely this had to be in the most awkward town hall meeting in the history of the world.
“But,” Zelena said, “we need to find a way to put a stop to it. If my toddler is awoken in the middle of the night, one more time, I might have to turn wicked again.”
“If I’m understanding correctly,” Killian said, “you believe that when my wife and I show each other physical signs of affection–when we’re intimate–we create magical fireworks?”
“Indeed,” Regina said. “And thus the intervention.”
“Ridiculous!” he stated. “Surely my wife would realize it if she were performing magic.”
“Maybe not,” Granny said, reaching into her bag for a fresh skein of yarn to continue her latest knitting project. “You both seem so consumed with each other, you don’t notice anything else around you.”
“There is a way we could test the theory,” Belle suggested. “An experiment, if you will.”
Killian’s eyebrows rose. “Surely you aren’t suggesting we engage in…relations…right here in town hall?”
Belle’s face flamed. “Of course not! A simple peck on the lips would do.”
Leroy began tapping his water bottle with his pen in the way wedding guests do when they want the newlyweds to kiss at a wedding reception.
Killian gave her a glance, and she shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
He leaned down and gave her a quick, chaste kiss. At the front of the hall, a sparkler materialized and began buzzing through the room.
“Whelp, I guess that gives us our answer,” Leroy said. “The question is what are we gonna do about it?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Later that night, Emma lay in Killian’s arms, idly stroking his bare chest. “Well that had to be one of the most embarrassing mornings of my life,” she said.
Killian nodded and then chuckled. “Did you get a gander at your father’s face throughout the ‘intervention’? I thought he would keel over from apoplexy.”
Emma laughed. “Serves him right after my mom’s comment about their own activities as newlyweds. So, do you think the town’s solution actually worked?”
Following Leroy’s question this morning, Killian had stated vociferously that under no circumstances would he stop making love to his wife, short of her refusing his advances. Emma had then further traumatized her father by insisting–equally vociferously–that she didn’t see that happening any time soon–probably never.
Several rather ridiculous suggestions had been tossed out, including Zelena not-so-helpfully stating she’d have been more than willing to curse Killian’s lips again if only she still had her magic.
Finally, a workable solution had been agreed upon.
Regina would put a magic dampening spell on both Emma’s and Killian’s lips until they had left the honeymoon period behind.
“Just their lips?” Leroy scoffed. “I think you ought to curse their nether regions too, just to be sure.”
Fortunately, Regina had stated in no uncertain terms that she had no intention of getting anywhere near either of their “nether regions”.
And as soon as the spell was applied the town hall meeting had mercifully come to a close.
“Pardon, love?” Killian asked, bringing her back to the present.
“The magic dampening spell,” she said. “Do you think it worked?
“There’s only one way to find out,” he said, swooping in with a kiss for the ages, the kind that made her knees weak and had her forgetting her own name.
When the kiss ended, he pulled away, and they both listened closely.
Silence.
“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Emma muttered, reaching up to bring him back to her. “And now that we don’t have an entire town of voyeurs knowing exactly what we’re up to, I’d say it’s way past time we get back to the fun.”
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 175: Of Werewolves and Anatomy Scans
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 175: Of Werewolves and Anatomy Scans
Pairing: Captain Swan
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26@bethacaciakay @ultraluckycatnd @ineffablecolors, @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch @missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04 @nickillian @a-rose-for-a-savior @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4 @linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @laughswaytoomuch @deathbycaptainswan @allyourdarlingswans @killiarious @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight, @lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree
Warning: This one’s so fluffy it may make your teeth rot.
“Yeah, so I’m having a lot of abdominal pain,” Leroy said loudly to the receptionist of the Storybrooke Walk In Clinic, which shared a wing of the hospital with the OB/GYN ward. “Feels like my bowels are all twisted. Maybe if I could empty them fully I’d feel better, but I’m all stopped up.”
Emma rolled her eyes as she sat with Killian waiting eagerly for their big prenatal appointment. “I don’t know about you, babe,” she said, squeezing her husband’s hand, “but I can safely say that is more than I ever wanted to know about Leroy’s bowels.”
Killian laughed, bringing their joined hands to his lips and giving her hand a quick kiss. “Quite so, love. Almost makes me long for the days where we were so busy chasing the latest villain, we didn’t have time for such mundane things.”
She chuckled, determinedly pushing aside the small kernel of insecurity his statement brought up–fear that Killian would grow bored with a mundane Happily Ever After and leave her for further adventure. She knew she’d never completely rid herself of the insecure inner child who’d never mattered to anyone and didn’t think she ever would, but she wasn’t that child anymore. She was an adult with many, many people who loved her and who she loved. She wasn’t going to let her insecurities ruin her idyllic life.
Inside, she felt the small flutters of their baby moving and kicking away, and she placed a gentle hand on her slightly swollen belly. She’d only just begun to feel their little magic bean, and every time she felt the sensation, it was like magic.
“Everything alright, love?” Killian asked, eying the way she held her belly with concern.
“Absolutely wonderful,” she said, beaming a smile at him. “The baby’s kicking!”
Killian placed his hand next to hers and was still for a moment, before shaking his head. “I do wish I could feel it.”
Emma reached up and cupped his cheek. “All in good time, Killian,” she said. “Just wait a few months, and this little guy or girl will be waking you up at night with their kicks.”
“You’ve no idea how much I look forward to that,” Killian said, with a bright smile. “Now explain to me again what is so momentous about this particular appointment today?”
Emma had reached the twenty week point in her pregnancy last Monday, and so today was the day for the big anatomy scan ultrasound. She’d opted for a 4D ultrasound, because she couldn’t wait to see her baby; really see it, beyond the grainy images standard ultrasounds provided.
Nor could she wait to see Killian’s reaction when he got to see his son or daughter for the first time. She had no doubt he would declare it to be magical, and come to think of it, maybe he wasn’t far off. Imagine being able to use sound waves to see your baby inside!
She’d had her first ultrasound at her first doctor’s appointment at seven weeks. She’d been alone that time–not that Killian wouldn’t have dropped literally everything to be with her, but because….well because she didn’t want to get her hopes up. They’d been trying for a baby for so long, and there had been a few times her period was late that they’d really believed they’d succeeded.
Only for the pregnancy tests to all come back negative.
The disappointment had been hard on both of them, and so this time around when she missed her period, when she started feeling nauseous and fatigued, even when she took a positive pregnancy test, she was afraid to believe. She’d decided to get verification before she got Killian’s hopes up yet again.
Her heart swelled as she remembered that day, Whale doing the ultrasound himself and showing her her baby on the screen and the strong beep of his or her little heart. She’d never forget the look in Killian’s eyes when she showed him the indistinct still the ultrasound tech had printed out and then explained to him what he was looking at. Happy wasn’t a strong enough word for it. He looked like a man who’d been given the greatest gift of his life, and the kiss he had given her afterwards, tears streaming from his eyes, would go down in history as one of the best kisses in the history of the kiss.
“So today’s the big day, isn’t it?” Leroy said cheerfully as he took a seat next to Emma in the waiting area. “Lot’s riding on this, you know.”
“....a lot’s riding on my prenatal appointment?” Emma asked with a raised brow.
“Well, yeah,” Leroy said. “Dwarves and I have a pool, betting on whether you got a boy or girl in there, the size, birth date. The works. I went girl all the way. Just a feeling. The winner of the pool gets all his meals at Granny’s paid by the rest for a month, so I’m counting on you two.”
Killian rolled his eyes. “We shall endeavor to ensure your meals are properly paid for, dwarf.”
Leroy shrugged and for a moment was silent as he watched Storybrooke citizens slowly filter in and out of the waiting room. “Lots of people coming into the clinic today,” he mentioned idly. “You know why it is, right?”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll soon enlighten us,” Killian said, putting an arm around Emma and leaning back in his chair.
“It’s that big forest fire up north,” Leroy said, “makes the air quality here really bad. You know it’s the werewolves that caused it, right?”
“The were….what?” Emma asked.
“The werewolves!” Leroy said. “Somebody was up there hunting them, and as everyone knows, if you don’t catch a werewolf the right way, they catch on fire and then become REAL werewolves. Gotta be what happened!”
Granny, who’d come in complaining of a sinus infection, slapped him upside the head before really laying into him as he continued to plead “I don’t mean good werewolves like you and Ruby!”
“Never a dull moment around here, is there love?” Killian asked with a grin.
She laughed along with him just before a nurse called them back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Killian sat on his living room couch, looking down at the photo he held and feeling his eyes mist again. This was her; this was his daughter. The level of detail available on these 4D ultrasounds was incredible. Love like he’d never felt rushed on him yet again.
Emma plopped beside him, wrapped an arm around his waist and set her head on his shoulder. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”
“She’s gorgeous, love,” he answered softly, almost reverently. “Looks just like her mother.”
Emma chuckled. “She does kinda look like me, doesn’t she? Except for when the ultrasound tech first focused on her face and she raised one eyebrow. She was her father’s daughter all the way there.”
“She’ll be the best of both of us,” he said, running a finger across the image.
He’d had many singular and unexpected experiences since he first came to the Land Without Magic, but he knew that never in all of his days would he forget this day. He remembered the tech slathering Emma’s protruding belly with a slimy, gelatinous substance and then running a strange looking wand all around.
He’d been curious about the procedure, wondering how it all worked, but then his daughter’s image had appeared on the small moving picture box the wand was connected to, and everything had fallen away.
This was his child, his and Emma’s, the physical embodiment of their True Love, and she was perfect. He watched as she smiled, yawned, waved her arms around and kicked. She was an active one, their little magic bean, and she’d likely lead them a merry chase.
The tech had taken her time, examining their child and monitoring her progress. “Everything looks good,” she said. She’d gone on to give them the news that their little cygnet was a girl. She’d congratulated them, printed them out a few pictures from the scan and then taken her leave.
“You’ll spoil her rotten, Killian,” Emma said as he leaned down to kiss her, still overcome by the news they’d received, even all these hours later.
“Aye, that I will,” he agreed, “but the gods help any suitor who breaks her heart!”
“This kid is lucky to have you for a father,” Emma said, eyes fixed on their baby’s first picture.
“Not nearly as luck as she is to have you for a mother.”
“We are pretty great together, aren’t we?” Emma asked with a grin. “We must be if we can make someone like her.”
“The road has been long,” Killian said, “and far from smooth, but we’ve made it; we’re a family. This may be the greatest adventure of our lives, but I can’t wait for it.”
Notes:
–So apparently pregnant Emma is all I want to write about lately. I just really, really wish we’d gotten to see more of CS’s happily ever after!
–This story was inspired by real life events. My allergist’s office is in the same building as an urgent care center. Last week, while I was waiting the obligatory 30 minutes after my shot, an old man came in and went into way too much detail to the receptionist about his abdominal pain and bowels. He then proceeded to take a seat next to this woman who looked to be in her early twenties. He began talking….and pretty much never stopped, and the things he said….well, let’s just say, I wasn’t exaggerating Leroy for comic effect. This old man told the (very much uninterested in the conversation) young woman that the recent forest fires in Canada were a result of people hunting werewolves. He stated matter-of-factly that if people try to kill werewolves the wrong way, they catch on fire and then become REAL werewolves. (What were they before being incorrectly hunted? He didn’t say.)
–Naturally, this rather bizarre incident immediately left me with one burning question: How can I turn this into a CS au? And here we are!
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Emma’s first thought upon waking was that she didn’t feel sick to her stomach. Now that she’d entered into her second trimester, it looked like the morning sickness was finally abating.
Her second thought was that she was very much alone in her bed. Killian’s side was not only empty, but cold, proving he’d been up for a very long time. That in and of itself wasn’t so strange; he’d always been an early riser, but normally she could hear him puttering around downstairs or softly whistling sea shanties while he went about his morning. This morning–like far too many of late, the house was still and silent.
Had she snapped at him one too many times about his hovering? Had he finally gotten tired of her hormone and nausea induced surliness? She felt the guilt creep in when she thought of that moment she snapped at him a couple weeks ago and told him to get a hobby. He was just trying to help; she knew that, but old habits die hard. She’d spent so much of her time growing up licking her wounds by herself that it was hard to let anyone–even the husband she loved with everything in her–take care of her.
Has it finally happened? That small, insecure voice deep within, asked, “Has he finally realized I’m not worth it? Has he gone off to find someone else who will let him care for them?
For a moment, the nausea almost returned, for a reason entirely unconnected to the little one inside, who was currently kicking for all she was worth, but Emma resolutely turned away from her insecurities. She knew Killian; had always known him. That man was as steady and faithful and dependable as any man she’d ever met. She’d be less surprised to hear that he’d doused the Jolly Roger in lighter fluid and set her on first than to hear he’d cheated on her–or even thought of doing so.
Her visits with Archie had really done wonders in helping her overcome her insecurities, even if they occasionally tried to creep back in.
No, it was more likely Killian was keeping his distance because it’s what he thought she wanted, what she needed. It wasn’t. She needed him, even if early pregnancy discomfort brought out her worst side.
She shouldn’t have snapped at him the way she did. He deserved better.
And so she resolved to set things right–but first she had to find him.
His phone went straight to voicemail, not a surprise there. Killian was wary of technology at the best of times, and he seemed to have a particular aversion to what he called the “incessant chirping of that infernal talking phone”, and more often than not, he chose not to even turn it on in the first place. (They’d need to have a talk about that as she came closer to her due date and needed a reliable way to get ahold of him immediately, should she go into labor when he wasn’t with her.)
She first went to the Jolly Roger, and then to the docks where Smee worked, and then to the library, but all to no avail. Granny’s was the most logical next stop, but when she stepped inside and perused the diner, there was no sign of him.
She was on the point of turning to leave, when Leroy stopped her. “You lookin’ for Capitaine Crochet? Check the sitting room. Odds are he’s having one of his little sewing circles with his princess friends.”
“He’s…what?” Emma asked, fairly certain that there hadn’t been a single intelligible word in what the small man just said.
Rather than answer, Leroy merely hooked his thumb toward the inn portion of Granny’s establishment. Emma decided not to even try to get any more answers out of him. Instead she followed his directions.
She heard Killian before she saw him.
“The trick is to maintain an even tension,” he said. “It was a bit of a challenge to master, but since I have, my stitches are nice and even. See?”
What?
“Oh that is better!” Ashley said. “Thanks Killian!”
The sight that met Emma’s eyes once she entered the sitting room was something she’d never thought she’d see. Killian, the fearsome Captain Hook, sat in a frilly, pink armchair surrounded by Ashley, Kathryn, Mary Margaret, Belle and Ariel. All of them appeared to be…crocheting.
He looked up when she entered the room, his face coloring with apparent embarrassment, as he tried to hide the small piece of fabric he’d been constructing behind his back.
“Swan!” he yelped. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. This was supposed to be a surprise”
“What? I…I was looking for you, Killian,” she said, making her way slowly to his side, and coaxing his hand back to the front so she could see what he was working on.
It looked like…it looked like her baby blanket.
“Is this where you’ve been disappearing every morning?”
He used his hook to scratch at that spot behind his ear and glanced aside. “Well, Love, you told me to get a hobby, and I’m trying to respect your wishes.”
Emma vaguely noticed the other women filing out of the room, giving them privacy for what looked to be a private conversation between spouses. She’d appreciate the gesture, if she could get past the shame she felt at pushing him away the way she had.
“I’m sorry, Killian,” she said, taking a seat next to him, and running soft fingers against the blanket he was making. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you. I was kind of afraid I’d pushed you away or something, that you’d decided I wasn’t worth the effort.”
He looked up quickly, the shock evident in his eyes. “I assure you, my love, that will never be the case, no matter how out of sorts you might become. Nothing could ever convince me you aren’t worth the effort. To me, you are worth everything. You and our little cygnet.”
The tears came to her eyes then, and one spilled over and trailed down her cheek. “I know that Killian. I hope you know I feel the same.”
“Of course I do,” he said, leaning in to kiss her softly. “But this project is about more than staying out of your way when you bid me to do so.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking a bit uncertain. “I must admit to a bit of trepidation when it comes to our child–Oh I want her, more than anything, no fear of that–It’s just…”
“It’s just what, Killian?” she asked gently.
“What do I know about being a father?” he asked softly. “What do I know about caring for a child? What if I fail dismally? I thought, perhaps if I made her her own blanket, like the one you cherish, perhaps I could feel a bit less inadequate.”
Emma began to cry in earnest at that, as she pulled him in for a longer, more comforting kiss. When it came to an end, she stayed close, forehead against his, hand still at the nape of his neck. “Listen to me, Killian Jones. You are a wonderful father to Henry, and you’ll be an equally wonderful father to this little magic bean, no matter what you do or don’t give her. You love her, and that’s all that matters. You don’t ever have to try to prove yourself beyond that. But for the record, she’s going to love the blanket her daddy made her.”
“You really think so?” he asked, holding the half-completed item up for her perusal.
“I know so,” she said firmly, fingering the delicate material before laughing.
“What’s so amusing, love?” he asked.
“I’m just imagining telling that swaggering, innuendo laden pirate I climbed the beanstalk with that one day he’d not only settle down, but lead a crocheting circle with the local ladies.”
Notes:
–Apologies for the shamefully long time in between updates. I got busy with other projects, and then I kind of forgot this story even existed. That combined with my muse being on strike led to an almost 8 month hiatus, such that I would be surprised if ANY of you even remember what happened in part 1.
–I just returned from a vacation with @kmomof4, @jrob63 and @snowbellewells, and it’s amazing what a little down time with fandom friends can do to get the writing juices flowing again! I will do my best to be less of a stranger in the future!
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
“And then she told me to get a hobby and stormed out of the house,” Killian said, sinking back into the plush sofa.
From across the office, Dr. Hopper leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “And how do you feel about…well…all of that?”
Today marked the five year anniversary of the Final Battle. They’d had five years of peace. Five years of prosperity. Five years of domestic tranquility, where the worst crisis any of them faced was Grumpy’s wrath when Granny ran out of bacon.
It had been wonderful…and surprisingly far more emotional than Killian would have supposed Happily Ever After could be.
As it happened, when there was no longer a crisis to be faced every other day, one had the time and opportunity to deal with the stress and trauma that years of constant crisis had accumulated–and given his two centuries of painful existence, he’d had plenty accumulated.
Swan had made the suggestion that they start seeing Dr. Hopper to deal with it all, and so he’d agreed. The former cricket had, after all, been an invaluable listening ear back when Killian was considering proposing to Emma. The two of them had, accordingly, been to Hopper many times, sometimes alone, sometimes together, and though the psychiatrist had earned his degree from the curse, he seemed to have a genuine heart for his patients. More than once, Killian had left his office feeling far lighter than when he’d entered.
The newest crisis, and the reason Killian was currently sitting on Dr. Hopper’s sofa was not, strictly speaking, a crisis at all. It was a very, very good thing. As soon as the dust had settled from the Final Battle, Killian had whisked Emma away on an idyllic and well earned honeymoon. One night, as they lay snuggled together, they’d discussed the future.
One thing stood out to both of them: they wanted to give Henry a little brother or sister. And so they’d tried. For nearly five years they’d tried with no success, and as each month passed with no little one coming to them, they gradually began to lose hope.
That is until that morning a month ago.
Swan had come to him with one of the small wands that Killian had come to learn was a pregnancy test in her hand and joyful tears in her eyes. It had finally happened. Swan was with child.
They were overjoyed, of course, but Killian was also terrified. After all, he’d lived in a time when childbirth was not only intensely painful, but also quite dangerous. He couldn’t lose Swan again. He couldn’t.
She’d been patient with him, assuring him that medical technology in the Land Without Magic took away a lot of that risk–and could also take away a lot of the pain. She assured him that she was fine.
And yet his worry persisted. He’d fretted and fussed over her, hardly letting her do anything on her own.
This morning her patience had run out, and she’d snapped–thus her comment about a hobby.
“How do you think it makes me feel?” Killian asked with a roll of his eyes and a cross of his arms. “I’m powerless to stop…whatever dangers my wife and unborn child face.”
Hopper was silent for a moment, sitting back up and steepling his fingers under his chin. Finally he spoke. “It’s natural for you to fear for Emma and be extra protective of her at this time given the history of crises the two of you have faced,” he said, “but is that all it is? You’ve yet to tell me how you feel about your impending fatherhood.”
“I’m overjoyed, of course,” Killian said quickly, and perhaps a bit more forcefully than he’d intended.
“But–” Hopper prompted.
Killian blew out a long breath. “But I’m also bloody terrified. What do I know of being a father? I hardly had a stellar example of my own from which to learn. What if I’m incapable of providing the little lad or lass what is needed? What if I am incapable of protecting my child?”
“You love your child already,” Hopper stated.
“Aye, more than anything, save Swan herself,” Killian replied with a quick nod.
“And that is the most important thing,” Dr. Hopper said. “Killian, you’ll make mistakes as a father. All parents do, but as long as you love your child and do your best to do right by them, it will all turn out in the end.”
Killian sat back, sighing again. “That’s all well and good, but how precisely do I make the fear recede?”
Dr. Hopper was silent for another long moment. “Maybe, Emma has a point. I know she spoke in frustration, given what she sees as your overprotective instinct, but maybe it would be helpful to find a hobby.”
“I hardly think taking up woodworking or the like is going to allay my fears about fatherhood,” Killian scoffed.
“Maybe not,” Hopper said, “but one of the best ways to deal with anxiety is to busy yourself with something that might help the one you’re worried about. Look for a hobby you can use to help provide for Emma or your new child.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Killian had initially been skeptical about the cricket’s suggestion, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it truly made. What was something he could do to keep his mind and his hand occupied, something that would provide help and comfort to his little family?
It was one bright, sunny Saturday morning when he and Swan were sitting in the room that would become their nursery, that inspiration struck.
Opening a box she’d had him bring down from the attic, Emma had pulled out her delicate white and purple baby afghan, lovingly knitted for her by Granny herself.
“It’s the only thing I had from my parents growing up, Killian,” she’d said, running a hand lovingly over the soft fabric, “and it got me through, you know? It reminded me that no matter what I was going through, at one point someone did give enough of a damn about me to knit me a blanket.”
Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps he could create a similar blanket for their own little cygnet.
The next Monday, after Emma had left for work, he’d wandered over to Granny’s after the breakfast rush and inquired of her whether she’d be willing to teach him to knit.
Granny peered at him over her glasses. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” she’d said bluntly.
His hackles had risen. “Whyever not?”
“Now don’t get your leathers in a twist,” she’d said, pulling off her apron and leading him back to the sitting room of the bed and breakfast. “I meant no offense. It’s just–”
“It’s just what?”
She eyed his hook. “It’s just–I’m not sure it’s possible to knit with only one hand.”
His heart had sunk, and she’d clearly noticed.
“Hang on a second,” she said, getting up and moving to a small box in the corner of the room and rummaging around. “Knitting may not be possible, but something else might.” She came back to him holding a ball of yarn and a small, thin hook. “Killian, how would you like to learn to crochet?”
Note:
–I’m back! Did you miss me?
–This story came about through personal experience. Two things some of you may not know about me: 1. Aside from OUAT/writing, my biggest hobby is crocheting (knitting too, to a lesser extent, but crochet is my medium of choice). It’s rare to find me without a crochet project in my hands during my downtime. 2. I minored in French in college. Though I haven’t used it much since then, I’ve started reviewing and trying to learn more–hopefully to one day become fluent. Anyway, one day when I was working on an extremely boring project at work, a thought occurred to me–a thought that actually combined all my major hobbies and pursuits. The word for “hook” in French is “crochet”, so Killian’s title in French is actually “Capitaine Crochet”. Naturally my next thought was that there had to be a fic in there somewhere.
Thus this story was born.
–This little fic should have one more chapter. Up next: Emma feels bad for snapping at Killian–especially when she realizes he’s spending a lot more time away from her. One day she learns his secret–his brand new hobby–and it makes her fall in love with him all over again.
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 172: What a Lovely Way To Burn, or, Killian Learns the Upsides of a Storybrooke Heat Wave
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 172: What a Lovely Way To Burn, or, Killian Learns the Upsides of a Storybrooke Heat Wave
Pairing: Captain Swan
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Genre: Season 3b canon divergence–I realize it was winter during 3b, but for this story’s purposes, I needed a very not-winterlike heat wave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Killian frowned fiercely as he felt a bead of sweat make its way down his back beneath his thin, cotton shirt. He’d long since shed his leather duster and even the vest beneath. Damn this infernal heat!
Had Swan brought him back to Storybrooke in that yellow vessel of hers, or to the pits of hell? Being a seaside burg, he’d been under the impression he was in for a temperate climate.
He had most assuredly been under the wrong impression.
This morning, when he’d ventured from his room into the common area of Granny's establishment, one of the other guests had turned on the moving picture box (the TV, he believed he’d heard someone call it), and a man stood before a map of the area and detailed the weather they could expect for the day.
“Well folks, we’re in for a hot one,” he said. “A heat wave of epic proportions is set to hit the Storybrooke metropolitan area today. Temperatures are expected to hit the high nineties. We might even hit triple digits! We haven’t seen weather like this since the curse broke–the first curse, that is. I have no idea what the weather was like during the missing year, mainly because I have no idea about anything during the missing year.”
Killian shook his head as he sipped at his morning coffee. First wicked witches, then flying monstrosities, and now a heat wave. Why had he ever come back from the Enchanted Forest?
Emma walked from the back room into the diner, her arm slung around her lad and a lovely smile on her face. Ah yes. This was why.
He’d endure far more than a hot day in order to be with her.
“Hey, Killian!” Henry said, hurrying over to his booth and taking a seat. “You guys making any progress on the skip you’re chasing?”
Killian hurriedly moved his left arm under the table so as to hide his hook from the lad. He knew Swan wished to keep up the ruse, as Henry’s memories had yet to return, but he wondered how much longer they could keep him in the dark. There were, after all, flying monkeys about, and Henry was a perceptive lad. He was bound to figure out something was amiss sooner or later.
Emma reached the table, face reddening. “Henry! You can’t just intrude on someone’s breakfast!”
Killian waved to the other side of the booth where Henry had already taken up residence. “It’s no intrusion, love. You both are more than welcome to join me.”
She smiled gratefully at him, before sliding into the booth. “Looks like it’s gonna be a hot one today,” she said, glancing up at the TV.
“Aye,” Killian said with a grimace. “So it would seem.”
“Hey Mom! Are you gonna be busy with your case all day?” Henry asked excitedly. “Maybe if you guys have a little extra time, we could go swim at the beach!”
Emma shrugged. “I mean, we’re kind of at a standstill right now. No sign of the Wick–uh, I mean the skip. I don’t see why we couldn’t get some beach time in. What do you think, Killian? Wanna join us?”
Killian’s smile lit up his entire face. “I’d be delighted.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By the time their beach excursion began, Killian was rethinking his state of mind. She was trying to kill him. There was no doubt about it. She was trying to burn him alive with desire–in a way that was most certainly not appropriate with her lad about.
It all started about an hour after breakfast ended and Killian, Emma,, and Henry went their separate ways. Swan had knocked on his door and presented him with the strangest article of clothing he had ever seen. They appeared to be short pants of some sort, but never had he seen pants like these. They were a deep, royal purple, and throughout were drawings of songbirds. Across the arse was emblazoned the single word “Charming”.
“So, I figured you probably didn’t have any swimming trunks,” she said, her tone a touch self-conscious. “I asked David if he had any spares, and he gave me these. Apparently Mary Margaret had them custom made to reflect who he is or something, and when I told him they were for you, he thought it would be hilarious. Told me to take pictures.”
“I’m…I’m meant to wear this to go bathing in your realm?” he asked, holding the abomination of an article of clothing between two fingers and pouring over it.
“I mean…you can’t exactly swim in your leathers,” she said.
He grinned saucily at her, playfully wiggling his eyebrows. “I could always not wear my leathers.”
She rolled her eyes, grinning and shoving him playfully. “Yeah, let’s try not to traumatize my son any more than we have to. Plus public nudity’s a crime. I’d rather not have to arrest you on my day off.”
He chuckled. How he’d missed this–the flirting, the playful teasing. He’d missed everything about her, but he’d especially missed how buoyant she made his spirits.
“Very well,” he conceded. “In the interest of not corrupting your son–and not seeing the inside of your brig–I shall wear these–what did you call them?--swim trunks. But what manner of shirt am I meant to wear?”
She looked flustered at that, averting her eyes. “Uh…well, most guys just wear the trunks and no shirt.”
He grinned again. “Why Swan, I’m shocked. If you wished me to get half-naked for you, all you had to do was ask.”
She rolled her eyes again.
Suddenly it occurred to Killian that he had one more difficulty that most men of this realm did not. He reached up to scratch behind his ear. “But what am I meant to do about this?”
He waved his hooked arm before her.
“Well, I mean, you can leave the brace and cuff on if you want,” Emma said, “but Killian, you can also take it off.”
“I rather doubt you wish to be subjected to the sight of my stump, love,” he said in a small voice, eyes looking at the carpeting. “The wound had to be cauterized and stitched quickly, and I’m afraid it is rather unsightly.”
She was silent for a moment, and then she reached up, turning his face toward her. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your missing hand, Hook. You know that, right? Neither Henry, nor I care about your stump. It’s just a part of you.”
He felt warmth suffuse him. Though he didn’t have Swan’s superpower for detecting lies, there was no doubt that she spoke with absolute sincerity and conviction. “Thank you for that.”
“Welcome,” she said breezily, “although I can’t guarantee Henry won’t ask you awkward questions about amputation. He is a twelve-year-old, after all. I’ll talk to him about appropriate topics of conversation.”
Killian chuckled. “I’m well aware of the inquisitiveness of the pre-teen lad. Not to worry, Swan.”
They stood smiling at each other for a moment, and if Killian didn’t know better, he’d have believed Emma wished for his company–perhaps even wished for a repeat of the kiss he’d tried at her apartment door (preferably without the knee to his nether regions this time). But after a moment, she seemed to think better of it, shaking her head slightly and taking a step back.
“Yeah, so I’m going to get Granny to put together a picnic for all of us. Meet out in front of the diner in, say, half an hour? We can take the bug down to the docks.”
“Sounds good, love.”
Seeing the blatant look of interest–maybe even want–in Swan’s eyes when he emerged from the diner and headed toward her vehicle almost made it worth his while to wear these absolute travesties of “swim trunks”.
“Like what you see, love?” he purred as he reached her, standing tall so his chest–bare of all but a generous peppering of hair–showed to full display.
Her cheeks reddened, and she stammered, “Just get in the car, Hook. Henry’s waiting.”
Apparently the lass was so flustered she couldn’t even come up with her normal witty repartee.
He grinned as he obeyed and got into her vehicle, but his grin turned to a groan when she reached over to help him with the buckle of the car’s restraint and her hand brushed his chest. Had the temperature suddenly risen even higher?
But it wasn’t until they reached the beach that Killian realized he was in serious danger of spontaneous combustion before this day was at an end.
While the lad ran toward the water, ready to frolic, Killian helped Swan spread colorful towels along the sand, and then she reached for the hem of the short, rather formless bathing dress she wore, and before he could divine what she was about, she pulled it up over her head, displaying far more creamy white skin than he had ever expected to see outside of his lurid daydreams. Indeed, she was clad only in two tiny swaths of fabric which left very little to his imagination.
Killian felt his jaw drop.
“Like what you see, Hook?” she asked, turning his own question back upon him.
For a moment he merely swallowed hard, unable to speak, sure his desire for this woman would consume him whole.
“It’s…” he began, voice squeaking like an inexperienced lad. He cleared his throat. “It’s rather…daring, isn’t it?”
She laughed, before sitting gracefully on her towel and rummaging in the bag she’d brought with her. “It’s called a bikini,” she said, “and I had my suspicions you may like it.”
“Is this the customary attire for women of this realm when bathing?”
She shrugged. “For some. Others like a one-piece suit, or some combination of the two. Have I shocked you, Hook? I never would have taken Captain Hook for a prude.”
He scoffed, before looking her slowly up and down in a way that brought the heat to her cheeks. “A prude I am not. I’m just not accustomed to seeing a woman in this state of undress outside of the bedchamber.”
“So my question remains,” she said, leaning toward him. “Like what you see?”
He groaned again. “Gods, yes.”
Henry took that moment to reappear. Probably for the best. The thoughts Killian was having were hardly conducive to a public place. “Hey guys, hurry up! The water’s perfect!”
“Hold on just a second before you go running off again,” Emma chided, reaching once again into her bag and pulling out a plastic bottle. “Don’t forget the sunscreen.”
Killian watched curiously as Swan opened the bottle and squirted a generous dollop of white, coconut scented cream onto her hand and then began applying it to the lad’s skin.
“What precisely is sunscreen?” he asked curiously.
“You don’t know what sunscreen is?” Henry asked with a raised eyebrow. “It keeps you from getting a sunburn.”
Killian felt his face reddening yet again. “I’ve lived a rather sheltered life, I suppose.”
Swan snorted. “A swashbuckling pirate leading a sheltered life? That’ll be the day.”
“A pirate?” Henry asked, turning to him with eager eyes. “You were a pirate?”
“Er…” he said, looking at Swan, unsure how he was meant to answer that.
“Uh–yeah,” Emma said. “Didn’t I tell you, Henry? Killian, um, well, he does this pirate reenactment show thing on a ship. That’s why he was dressed like that.”
For a woman with the ability to spot lies, she was hopeless herself at prevarication. The lad, however, did not seem to notice her falsehood. Instead, he looked eagerly back at Killian.
“A pirate? Like Captain Hook?”
Killian shot a startled look at Emma, but she just shrugged. “Aye, I suppose so.”
Henry narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look like Captain Hook. No curls or mustache or anything.”
“Perhaps,” Killian said, “the problem is that your Captain Hook doesn’t look like me.”
Henry shrugged. “Can I go back to the water now?”
Emma nodded and the lad scampered off.
“Nice save,” she murmured as soon as Henry was out of ear shot. “I need to be more careful what I say around him.”
“No harm done I suppose,” Killian said. “I find myself quite curious, though, to see a rendering of what your world believes to be Captain Hook.”
She laughed. “We have got to watch Peter Pan sometime. The look on your face when you see your Disney counterpart is going to be priceless.”
Killian raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Something tells me I’ll rather dislike what I see.”
She laughed again.
“The lad is perceptive, though,” Killian continued, going back to the main topic of conversation at hand. “He’s bound to–”
He stopped abruptly as he watched Emma squirt another generous dollop of the sunscreen onto her hand and then begin applying it to her arms, her legs, her chest, her stomach.
Was the woman trying to kill him?
“Bound to what?” she asked.
Killian cleared his throat. “Bound to notice things are amiss at some point or another.”
“Yeah,” she answered, sounding utterly unaware of what she was doing to him with her ministrations. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Hey, can you do my back?”
His eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Do…your back?”
“Yeah,” she said, holding out the bottle to him. “I can’t reach it on my own, and I don’t want to burn.”
She…she wished him to rub lotion onto her back? She truly was trying to murder him, burn him alive with the want of her.
He must have taken too long to answer, because she turned toward him with questioning eyes–that slowly widened as she saw the look in his own eyes. “I…um…I can have Henry do it if you don’t want to.”
Killian closed his eyes and groaned. He was on fire, but what a lovely way to burn. “The wanting is not the problem,” he muttered. “But no matter. I’m fully capable of completing the task you’ve assigned me.”
As he applied the lotion, caressing her silky soft skin, moving steadily from the nape of her neck down toward her delectable arse, he began to wonder if he’d spoken the truth. The thoughts he was having were most assuredly NOT fit to be engaged in in public or in the company of a child.
He was in need of a cold and bracing shower.
“Come on guys! Aren’t you ever going to be ready?” Henry asked, running back to them once again.
Saved by the lad again!
“As it happens,” Killian said, getting to his feet, “I’m ready right now. Lead on my boy.”
What followed were several of the most enjoyable hours Killian had spent in years. He was reminded of the days of his boyhood before his mother had passed. She’d often take Liam and him down to the beach, where they’d frolic and play until the sun went down.
Killian helped Henry build a sand castle–complete with moat and drawbridge built of twigs they’d found along the shore. They swam, all three playfully splashing each other. They dined on sandwiches prepared by Granny, and they combed the beach for interesting rocks and seashells.
Finally, as afternoon turned to dusk and then night fell, it was time to return to the inn. They gathered their things and headed back to the car while Henry chattered a mile a minute about all they’d done that day.
Later, back at their rooms, Emma closed the door behind Henry and then turned back toward Killian. “Hey, thanks for joining us today,” she said, smiling happily up at him. “I think we all needed a little break from the stress of Wicked Witch hunting.”
He reached up and brushed a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear, returning her smile with a tender one of his own. “You’ve no need to thank me, love. It was my very great pleasure.”
She smiled again, looking at his eyes, and then focusing on his lips, her hands flexing at her sides. He wanted nothing in the world more at this moment than to pull her toward him and kiss her breathless–and from the way she was looking at him, it would seem she wanted the same–but Killian was determined to let her set the pace. And so he waited for her to make up her mind.
After a moment where the tension between them sizzled as hot as the pavement that day, she took a deep breath, and then stepped back. For a moment Killian felt an intense stab of disappointment, but then he schooled his features. Swan may not be ready to give herself over to her feelings for him yet, but they were there. If there was anything this day at the beach told him it was that.
He was a patient man. He could wait until she was ready to move forward.
“Well…” Emma said awkwardly after another moment. “Guess I better hit the sack. No doubt it’s only a matter of time before the next crisis hits. Need to get rested up.”
“Goodnight love.”
He watched as she disappeared into her room and then shut the door before turning to his own room across the hall. No, Killian had never been a fan of hot, summer weather, but if it was to afford him days like this, he may need to reassess his opinion.
Notes:
–Like many places in the U.S. right now, my little corner of the country is experiencing a significant heat wave right now. Some of the ladies on my OUAT Discord decided we should use that fact to our advantage–keeping in mind the fact that literally EVERYTHING can be made into a CS fic if you try hard enough. And when I think of heat waves, what comes to mind? Swimming–it may be the only outdoor activity that feels even remotely tolerable in weather like this. And with swimming involved, I could not resist introducing Killian to the modern wonder that is the bikini. I suspect Emma’s right. He’d rather like the article of attire when it’s being worn by a certain blonde savior-princess!
–But lest this fic venture into territory far more explicit than a T rated fic should, I decided to add Henry into their swimming excursion. And after all, who doesn’t love Captain Cobra and Captain Cobra Swan?
–Shout out once again to the ladies of the OUAT discord for helping me design the swim trunks David lent Killian.
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Ruby howled with laughter. Truth be told, she hadn’t stopped laughing since she’d started reading Emma’s mistake of an analysis paper.
“I’m going to tell you right now,” she said, swiping at tears, “I would have paid good money to see Killian Jones’s face when he read this. Poor guy probably just about had a stroke.”
Emma buried her face in her hands and groaned.
“Seriously, I think you missed your calling, Emma,” Ruby continued. “This stuff is worthy of those lurid bodice-ripper romance novels.”
“Look, can you help me or not?” Emma growled.
“With what?” Ruby asked cheekily, “your analysis or getting into Jones’s pants? Because one of those would be a whole lot more fun than the other.”
Emma took a threatening step forward, and Mary Margaret stepped in between the two of them, hands outstretched. “Ruby, maybe it’s better you save the ribbing for later. Do you think there’s anything you can do? Can you get Emma’s real paper back?”
After the initial wave of mortification had died down when she’d realized what had happened with her term paper, it occurred to Emma that she had a much more substantial problem on her hands. Those end of term papers counted for 25% of their grade for the course. This embarrassing mistake was something she very literally could not afford.
Though she would have much preferred to ignore the whole situation and hope it went away, she needed to do something about it, and so she’d brought in her roommate and her roommate’s tech-genius childhood friend to see if there was any hope of retrieving her actual paper.
Before she’d told them the reason for her call, she had, of course, threatened everything short of actual bodily harm should they ever breathe a word of any of this to anyone.
Ruby sighed. “Fine, though I have no idea why Emma would want to get rid of this absolute smutty masterpiece.”
Ruby typed for a few moments and then shouted in triumph. “There we go!” she said. “Simple. Autosave to the rescue once again. All I had to do was go back to a previously saved version of your document and voila!”
Emma took her laptop back from Ruby, glanced over it, and sighed in relief. If she’d had to rewrite the entire stupid essay she was going to scream.
Making sure to save the damn thing, she printed it out, checked it, and then checked it again. Fortunately this time a legitimate analysis paper on the symphonies of Mozart was in her hand.
Now came the hard part. Now came the part where she had to go Killian Jones’s office and explain the mix up…and hope that he accepted her late paper.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Emma took a deep breath, standing outside the office the music graduate assistants shared. She knew Mr. Jones was in there; this was smack in the middle of his posted office hours.
Was it possible to actually die of embarrassment? Because she was pretty sure that if it was, she was just about to do it. Killian might too.
Gods, what had she been thinking, writing all of that?
Well, there was nothing for it. This had to be done, and the sooner the better. The embarrassment certainly wasn’t going to lessen the longer time went on.
Slowly letting out her breath, she nodded in determination and then rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
Here it goes.
She opened the door and stepped inside, making a point of NOT closing it after her. Given the situation, it was best there was not even a hint of impropriety.
When he saw her, he stood so quickly, he banged his knee against the desk, and he muttered a curse, leaning down to rub the abused joint. When he straightened, his face was so red it was almost purple, and he seemed to want to look at anything and everything but her.
She guessed if there’d been any hope he’d somehow not read her paper yet, that hope was completely dashed.
And the award for the most awkward moment in academic history goes to…
“What…” he squeaked, before clearing his throat and trying again. “What can I do for you, Miss Swan.”
“I, um…” she began, “I was hoping to talk to you about my term paper.”
His eyes widened, and he immediately began stammering. “Yes, well, um, that was…that was, I–”
She stopped him with a raised hand. “As I’m guessing you could probably tell, there was a mistake. That was not what I meant to turn in.”
If he scratched any harder at the spot behind his ear, it would probably start bleeding. Still refusing to look at her, he chuckled nervously. “No I wouldn’t imagine so. Although knowing Mozart, he probably would have found this situation endlessly amusing.”
“Unfortunately, I suspect Professor French would not take such a favorable view of it,” Emma said, chuckling in spite of herself, imagining the prim, proper Belle French reading what she’d written.
He laughed with her, finally looking at her properly, and Emma’s stomach swooped at the eye contact. She was so far gone on this man it was ridiculous. Too bad she’d embarrassed them both so thoroughly that he’d probably never want to see her face again as soon as this course ended.
“Anyway,” Emma continued. “My real paper, you know the one I intended to turn in, somehow didn’t save or something. I was able to get it back, and I was hoping you’d let me turn it in instead. I know I’m a day late and my grade will get docked for that, but please! That cannot be the final term paper I submit to Professor French.
Killian grinned at her sympathetically, and then deliberately looked down at his watch. “By my count, it is technically still less than 24 hours since the paper was due, and I’ve yet to submit the class’s papers to Professor French, so I see no reason we need to mention the delay. No harm done.”
Emma let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Thank you!” she breathed, reaching over to take his hand in her relief.
The second her hand touched his, a shock went through her, and she gasped, the attraction between them feeling almost as strong as electricity. He drew in a quick breath as well, and her eyes met his again.
How long they stood like that–hands clasped, eyes locked, wonder coloring both of their faces–Emma couldn’t have said. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been a few hours. Finally he gave his head a quick shake and then stepped back, clearing his throat once more before speaking. “It’s no problem, Miss Swan. It could have happened to...well, I don’t know that this particular situation could have happened to anyone, but I’ve no doubt all students know the dread and horror of a missed deadline.”
“You know, Mr. Jones,” Emma said, after a moment. “You really are a great teacher.”
There he went, scratching at the back of his ear again. “I appreciate you saying that. I rather doubt anyone’s ever called me a ‘great’ anything.”
She felt a rush of tenderness at that admission, suddenly realizing just how little he thought of himself. She had the strongest urge to touch him–nothing untoward–she just wanted to comfort him, reassure him.
Still…given the nature of what she’d come here for, touch of any kind would probably be best avoided.
“Well…thanks again, and I’m sorry about the mix up.”
Emma turned to leave, but before she could exit the door, he called her name once more.
“Yeah?” she asked, turning back toward him.
“About what you wrote in your unintentional submission…” he glanced aside, coloring once again.
Oh gods, were they really going to talk about this? She knew she should say something–apologize or make excuses. Something. Unfortunately she suddenly found herself entirely at a loss for words, and so she merely looked at him, waiting for him to continue.
“Did you,” he asked, “did you mean what you said?”
She drew in a quick breath, her heart pounding. She couldn’t have looked at him if he paid her. “I mean…I wouldn’t, you know, ever act on any of that. I know you’re my teacher and everything, but, um…yeah?”
She hadn’t meant it to come out as a question. She hadn’t meant to say it at all. She hadn’t meant to say any of it at all.
But now that it was out there, she couldn’t exactly deny it. Denial was the coward's way out, and Emma wasn’t a coward.
Abruptly Killian met her eyes, and what she saw there stole her breath clean from her lungs. Beneath the obvious discomfort at the topic, there was something more–something hot and burning and needy, and Emma had the strongest sensation that if he was able, he’d gladly act out every single one of the racy fantasies she’d laid out for him in her term paper.
Lord help her, she had to clench her fists at her sides to keep herself from reaching for his lapels and dragging him bodily to her.
“Of course, I’m not at liberty to…um…comment on any of that now, given our position,” he said, “but…well…I must admit, I did not find your analysis to be unpleasant reading material. Perhaps, were the situation different…”
He trailed off, but Emma couldn’t help but hear the unspoken message.
One day, one day soon, the situation would be different. Maybe, just maybe, when that day came Killian Jones would find it in himself to finish his sentence.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Killian’s heart began to race as they got out of Dave’s truck and approached Granny’s diner. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, the panic taking over. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this!
It was crazy to think he could’ve.
“Hey, Killian, just relax,” his best friend and roommate, David Nolan said, placing a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder. “She asked you to come today. She’s going to be happy to see you.”
“Maybe,” Killian said, glancing through the diner’s window and catching a glimpse of Emma laughing with two other women, “but…but you know dining with Emma and her friends is not all I hope to do today.”
Graham Humbert, Killian’s second roommate, stepped up to his other side. “Given the first analysis paper, she turned in, I doubt you have to worry about her answer. This will be good! And whatever happens, we’ve got your back, mate.”
Killian took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Finally nodding firmly, he took the last few steps and opened the door.
The last week had passed in a flurry of activity, between his duties as teaching assistant and studying for his own graduate student finals. He’d scarcely had a moment to think about the lovely Emma Swan or the undeniable connection between them.
But during his rare moments of downtime, the moments when he was left alone with his own thoughts, she consumed him. He wanted her, and not merely in a carnal way. He wanted a relationship with her, the white picket fence life, all of it.
He wanted it so badly that he was willing even to do that which scared him to death–ask her out.
This morning had been the final exam of the Music History 101 class, and with the last exam turned in it was official. Emma was no longer his student; the last ethical barrier between them was gone.
She seemed to sense this as the class came to a close. She waited until all her classmates had left to step to the front of the class and personally hand him her exam. He thanked her, tongue-tied as usual in the presence of a woman he found desirable.
While he tried to dredge up the courage to broach the subject he so desperately wanted to discuss with her, she hesitated, and if Killian didn’t know better, he’d swear she was trying to draw out the moment of their parting every bit as much as he was.
Finally, after a long moment of the two of them merely gazing at each other, she cleared her throat and spoke. “So, I just wanted to, you know, thank you again for being a great teacher. Music was never really my thing, but I learned a lot this semester.”
He felt his cheeks color, and he had to clench his fists to keep from scratching behind his ear. “I appreciate that,” he said after a moment. “Teaching was never my thing, but you…um, I mean your class…made my job a delight.”
She smiled at him, her look a touch shy, perhaps unsure. It appeared she was warring within herself, but finally she seemed to come to a decision.
“Look, Mr. Jones…” she began.
“The course is over, Swan,” he said. “Please, call me Killian.”
“Killian,” she said with a nod, “a few friends and I are getting together for an end-of-semester celebration lunch at Granny’s in a couple hours. If you wanted to come, you’d be welcome. I mean, if it wouldn’t be weird. I know you were my teacher and everything, and If you aren’t interested, I won’t be offended or anything, but we’d love to have you. And you can bring some friends too, if you want.”
Killian smiled warmly at her. “I’d love to join you, and I’m sure my roommates would as well.”
“Great!” she’d said with a wide, delighted smile. “So, see you there around noon?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
When he’d asked Dave and Graham if they’d like to join him, they’d agreed…but only on one condition. He had to take the plunge and actually ask Emma Swan on a proper date.
Killian was not accustomed to asking a woman out. On the few occasions he’d been out with a lass, she’d typically been the one to make the invitation. Frankly, the prospect of putting himself out there terrified him.
But if anyone was worth overcoming his fear for, it was Emma Swan, and so he’d agreed to his friends’ demand. This very day he’d ask Emma out or die in the attempt.
Killian stepped into the diner, feeling the comforting whoosh of cold air from the air conditioner as he stepped inside. Emma looked up at the sound of the bell over the door, and her face lit up when she saw him. She waved him over, and he took another deep breath. The moment of truth was upon him.
David clasped his shoulder once more. “You can do this,” he said in a low voice.
Once the men had reached Swan’s table, introductions were made. Emma, it seemed, had brought her two best friends, Mary Margaret and Ruby. Distracted as he was with the anxiety and the butterflies in his stomach, Killian couldn’t help but notice the way his best mates seemed to perk up when they met Emma’s brunette friends. Perhaps romance was in the air for more than just him and Swan.
Introductions done, and his friends taking their seats–David next to Mary Margaret and Graham next to Ruby–there was nothing else for it. He needed to go ahead and do this before he lost his nerve.
“Swan, could I have a private word?” he asked, resisting the urge to fidget–or to turn around and flee.
She looked surprised, but she nodded her assent, grabbing her drink and following him to the back hallway.
“So, what’s up?” she asked as soon as they were alone.
“I…um…wanted to ask you out,” he blurted, “to dinner or something.”
Emma had just taken a sip as he spoke, and she immediately began coughing. He awkwardly patted her back until she got control of herself.
“I thought I was going to have to be the one to ask you that,” she said, finally.
He shrugged. “As I’m no longer your teacher, the asking is no longer inappropriate, so I was hoping, well, I was hoping you might say yes.”
She merely looked at him for a moment, and then she smiled, and the effect was like the sun peaking out after a storm. “I’ll happily accept,” she said, “on one condition.”
“Aye?”
“You let me plan the date,” she said.
Killian felt the euphoria bubble up to such an extent he found himself capable of overcoming his natural shyness and actually–dare he believe it?--flirting with her. “Hey!” he said in mock offense, “I know how to plan a date!”
“You know how to make a lesson plan,” she countered saucily. “I know how to plan an evening out that will blow your mind.”
He leaned in close, one hand on the wall near her head–he couldn’t believe his boldness. “I must warn you, I don’t….pillage and plunder on the first date.”
She winked at him. “That’s because you haven’t been out with me yet.”
He coughed, feeling the heat cover his cheeks yet again. “Perhaps not tonight, Swan, but maybe one day we could…explore your literary output.”
She laughed, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Oh, that’s a definite. Now how about we get back to our friends? I’m gonna have to make this a quick lunch. I’ve gotta go find something to wear. Turns out I have a hot date with my former teacher to get ready for.”
Notes:
Happy Friday everyone! Are you surprised I managed to update 3 weeks in a row? I know I am! And with that, The Analysis comes to a close. Now, I know some of you are going to ask me to continue this and write the date, but if that ever happens, it will have to wait. I absolutely have to get back to Until the Stars Are All Alight. I plan to work on that until it is finally finished. Afterwards, who knows? I’m sure there will be plenty more fluff to explore between our favorite princess and pirate.
