This is just a little thing that I was going to post for @cspupstravaganza but have been convinced to RELEASE early. It’s technically going in Drabbles, but I made it some separate art because PUPPY.
BASICALLY: Emma and Killian have a rescue dog with an interesting personality quirk. Set vaguely post-S6 in a world with no S7.
Thanks to @snowbellewells for the idea! And the crazy CSSNS Discord.
Killian’s voice rang through the house and Emma sighed, rolling her eyes as she always did when her husband took their dog for a walk.
The baby kicked and she rubbed her swollen belly, not sure if their unborn child was responding to its father’s voice or just the general chaos of dog-walking time, as Kraken raced down the stairs and out the door, waiting on the porch for Killian and wriggling in excitement.
“Do you have to do that every time?” she grumbled as Killian grabbed the leash off the hook by the door. “You woke the baby.”
“Apologies, my love, my little love.” Killian paused to kiss her hair and pat her belly. “But it’s the only way to get the bloody dog out the door.”
Emma snorted in disbelief, but Killian just raised an eyebrow and headed outside. She heard Kraken’s nails on the old boards of the porch as he jumped and danced in delighted anticipation and Killian’s indulgent chuckle. “All right, all right, you fearsome beast, let me get the bloody leash on you,” he said.
The baby kicked again and Emma recommenced rubbing soothing circles on her bump. “Take it easy in there,” she said softly. “I know they’re noisy but your dad loves that dog, and you will too. A kid should grow up with a dog.” It was still weird to her, even after years of marriage, this domestic dream of a life she now had. A home, a husband, a great job, friends and family, even a dog. And now a baby on the way.
Emma would never, ever admit this out loud but the truth was that despite how much she loved Killian she had deliberately put off having a baby with him, worried about how they two orphans would fare, raising a child together. It wasn’t like they’d had any parental role models to look to for guidance. But the moment Killian brought Kraken home, a scrawny, filthy puppy he’d rescued from a crate down at the docks, all floppy ears and terrified eyes, snarling and snapping at everyone but his rescuer, all of her fears had evaporated into the air. “The only survivor of a litter of six,” Killian had informed her as he cradled the puppy against his chest and rubbed his ears. “A tough lad.” With infinite and unending patience he had slowly gained Kraken’s trust and built his confidence —taught him how to dog in Henry’s words— and soon the scared puppy had become a handsome young dog, bright and friendly and almost well trained. Emma smiled at the memories. Killian was going to be an amazing father.
--
Two weeks later Emma was lounging on the sofa with her feet up on the coffee table and Kraken’s head in her lap when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it to see a text from Killian.
K: Apologies, love, I’m going to be late home. Dwarves.
Emma sighed. Of course, she thought, say no more.
Her phone buzzed with a second message.
K: Might be quite late. Could you walk the dog?
Emma looked down at Kraken, who was watching her with his soft brown eyes. “Whaddya say, pup, want to go for a walk?” she asked.
He perked up his ears and gave an excited bark.
“Okay,” she laughed, hoisting herself up from the sofa. Standing up was getting harder and harder as her pregnancy progressed but she could still move well once she was actually upright, and she was excited to take a walk. Exercise was important, the doctor said, but she’d been struggling to find motivation for the gym since she hit her third trimester and when Killian was around he rarely let her do anything strenuous. She took the leash from its hook and called the dog.
“C’mon Kraken, let’s go!”
He trotted over to her, wagging his tail so hard his whole body wiggled as she attached the leash to his collar. She opened the door and stood back to let him through first. He didn’t move, except to wag harder.
“What?” she asked him. “Come on!”
“Woof!” he barked, wagging harder still, looking up at her with an expectant face.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong? You love walks!”
“Woof! Woof!”
The baby kicked, and Emma remembered what Killian had said about getting Kraken out of the house.
“Oh, you’re kidding me,” she said, putting her fist on her hip and glaring at the dog. “Really?”
“Woof!”
“I canNOT believe I’m doing this,” muttered Emma. “Release the kraken!” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Woof!”
“What?”
“Woof! Woof!”
Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”
“Woof!”
“Oh all right,” she grumbled, and cleared her throat. “RELEASE THE KRAKEN!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. With a delighted bark, Kraken raced out the door, tugging her along behind him at the end of the leash.
“You are as ridiculous as your dad, you crazy dog,” said Emma.
The baby kicked.
--
“That dog is ridiculous,” Emma informed Killian when he slid into their bed much, much later that evening. He curled himself around her, tucking his face against her neck and patting her belly to greet their child.
“Wouldn’t leave the house unless you said it, would he?” Killian murmured. “I did tell you, love.”
She wriggled her butt against him, snuggling deeper into his arms. Kraken jumped up on the bed and turned in three precise circles at the foot of it before settling down with his head on his paws. The baby kicked under Killian’s hand. Emma sighed.
“Something wrong, darling?”
“Not a thing,” said Emma. “Everything’s just right.”
A/N: And now, this piece comes to an end!!! I can’t wait for y’all to read it and I’m so excited to hear your thoughts!
Thank you so much to @profdanglaisstuff for creating the amazingness (?) that is @cspupstravaganza; thank you ladies of the discord chat; thank you @awkwardnessandbaseball and @snowbellewells for being awesome betas; thank you @hollyethecurious for listen to my ramblings and pushing me to write what I did without overthinking it too much; thank you @carpedzem for your patience.
@thisonesatellite this one is for you, because you deserve pup love - with angst, tho - and I’ll be sending a virtual Fenrir to cuddle with you as you sleep the influence off ♥
Summary: It should’ve been easy: hike up the hill, vanish the ghost, go back home, possibly without being killed or possessed in the meantime. But fighting monsters had never been easy, not even when hunters made it appear so. When hunting, things never go as planned, and sure as hell the girl you like doesn’t bring a puppy along, and you surely aren’t keeping very important secrets from your friends. Too bad said secrets won’t remain such for long, and that the dog hiding in the girl’s backpack isn’t exactly a regular dog.
Loosely based on this prompt.
Read on ao3
An eerie quiet fell over the clearing.
No, quiet wasn’t the word: it was as if they’d been deafened by a bomb, their hearing coming back slowly, dull at first, and then, suddenly, too loud to bear.
Emma gritted her teeth, her hand coming up to cradle her head. As soon as the whistling sound in her ears diminished, she blinked, eyes adjusting to the light.
She felt… light, in a strange, very physical way. It was as if someone had just freed her of a weight comparable to Atlas’, one she never knew she was carrying, not until Killian-
Killian!
Her eyes found him curled on the ground, dark blood leaking from the wound left by the hellound’s mouth but still breathing, though weakly.
Stupidly or not, she knelt next to him, ignoring the threat that was Gothel, especially now that Killian’s barrier could protect them no more.
Her breath caught in her throat when she rolled Killian over. It wasn’t just due to the alarming whiteness of his face, but to the shocking realization that he was, indeed, part demon.
Dark horns sat atop his head, slightly curling backwards and then up, so pointed she knew one brush of her finger over the tip would draw blood. And they were… beautiful. Somehow, they completed him. Not that Killian needed to be completed, but she’d always known there was something missing. It was probably the reason why she’d always felt so connected to him: because she, as well, was incomplete.
With a sad smile, she brushed dark strands of hair from his cold forehead. «Wake up, please,» Emma pleaded, tears welling in her eyes.
Suddenly, her hand started to glow, a warm light that wasn’t warming her, but which was fuelled from within her, from the deep affection she felt for the young man on the ground.
As soon as Killian’s complexion started to gain colour, Emma cried out in pain as fire shot through her, unexpected and unwelcome.
«Did nobody tell you never to turn your back to your enemy, darling?» Gothel taunted Emma, her voice closer, her sickening accent curling around every word and coating them in too sweet honey that made Emma want to throw up.
Still sat on the ground, Emma turned around, one hand applying pressure to the bleeding wound, dirt and blood drenching her skin and soaking the fabric of her ruined top.
A snarky comeback was on the tip of her tongue, ready to be fired like one of Robin’s deadly arrows or Will’s sharp knives, but any word she might have had for Gothel was forgotten when she saw a fireball crackle above the ghost’s cupped palm as if she was cradling it with the same delicacy one would a newborn’s head.
Emma’s mind went blank.
There was no way in Heaven or Hell that Gothel could still be able to perform any kind of magic. What was scarier about ghosts was the ability to possess the living, sometimes managing to do it forever, if they took good care of their… vessel.
Emma felt bile rise in her throat at the thought.
But this wasn’t a possession, no, Gothel’s appearance still was transparent, no human body in sight.
Emma frowned, wondering how. It was her curiosity, the same one that killed the cat, that had her tilt her head to the side, seeking for an answer.
But soon, the unusual silence caused her heartbeat to quicken in dread.
When her eyes fell on Robin's body on the ground, Emma felt a scream rise in her throat. She knew, without having to look, that she would find Will in the same situation, hopefully just knocked down.
How stupid she'd been, focusing on Killian when her other two friends were facing the coven.
No, love, not stupid, she heard Killian's voice whispering in her ear, the tone so warm she almost melted.
Yet, she had nothing to fight the ghost and the whole coven with.
Not true, love, Killian seemed to murmur next to her. Emma knew he wasn’t awake, that he was still unconscious on the ground behind her. Perhaps… was it the spell he’d used to remove the block that contained her magic? Was it some kind of residue power, his own magic coursing through her and threading with hers? It was a new, strange, and unexpectedly welcome sensation that made her stomach flutter.
She didn’t have the time to dwell on this new feeling. Instead, she locked her jaw and stared daggers at the ghost, wishing she could physically hurt her.
Though she had magic now, Emma didn’t know any spells, more like an impulsive reaction that caused something. Suddenly, she felt stupid: she’d studied witches, kept herself away from them, but still did her research, and yet, now she had no weapon to use against a fucking ghost capable of throwing fireballs at her.
Magic is emotion, Emma, not just spells.
Her breath caught in her throat. It hadn’t been Killian’s voice the one she heard, it belonged to a woman with a deep English accent.
Was-
No, Emma shook off that thought. It couldn’t be. Alice Jones was dead, there was no way she was speaking to her now as if she’d left some kind of voicemail in which she told Emma what the hell she should do.
«Why do you want him dead?» Emma heard herself ask. She hoped pushing Gothel towards a monologue could give her time. Villains always wanted to be megalomaniacs, didn’t they? They wanted to have the scene to themselves, making a mistake in their ambition.
With Gothel, however, nothing was certain, and Emma knew not to underestimate her, especially not when her shoulder still ached and there was a fireball with her name on it.
Gothel’s lips turned upwards in a shady, bloodcurdling smile. «Dead?» she scoffed, her accent thick, «I don’t want him dead, I want him to live his immortal life suffering the pains of Hell.» The woman started to laugh at her own joke.
Emma raised an eyebrow at that, unimpressed.
«Why? What has he done to you?»
Another excess of laughter shook Gothel. «Why, you ask? Your precious Killian killed me, isn’t that reason enough for me to want him to suffer?»
Emma tilted her head to the side. There was definitely more to it: everything Gothel had done, from infiltrating his family under the name of Eloise, to killing Killian’s brother and probably even his mother, was undoubtedly a vendetta. For some reason, she’d chosen Killian to be the ultimate victim of her contorted plan, but her sixth sense told Emma he wasn’t the first piece of domino, but the last one to fall.
Something - doubt, maybe - must’ve shone through her eyes because Gothel narrowed her own, looking at her from her elevated position, towering over Emma. Then, all of a sudden, her mouth broke into a grin. «You want the truth, don’t you?»
The question had Emma’s stomach in a knot. While yes, she wanted to know the truth behind the ghost’s cruel revenge, there was another part of her, one that trembled like an autumn leaf under the winds of winter, that wanted to know how could she have magic and why she’d never known about it until now.
It was when Gothel started to talk once again that Emma realized she’d nodded, answering her question and all it implied. Deep down, she knew the truth would better be kept buried, but she also needed time to study her opponents and for Killian to, hopefully, regain consciousness.
«The truth is, dear, that Alice was jealous of me and my power. Her magic wasn’t a match for mine, and yet, she thought she could just dethrone me. I’d been the one to find her and make her into the woman she was.» Disdain coated her voice, her nose scrunched in disgust. «How was I to know she would turn into a traitor?»
There was something Emma could only identify as regret flashing across her face, for only a fraction of a second that was forgotten when she went on.
«But wanting to take my role of Mother wasn’t enough for dear Alice, no, she took the most important man in my life away from me as well!» Gothel snarled. It was good she wasn’t human and in complete control of her magic, because her ire could make the earth shake and she would probably affect the weather as well.
But the earth was shaking, albeit slightly. Emma swallowed a gasp of surprise, wide eyes still settled on the ghost so not to give anything away.
Something was going to happen, and soon, and probably for the first time that day, Emma was glad the witch was dead: unless one of her coven warned her, she wouldn’t see it coming. Whatever it was. Emma shouldn’t probably feel as delighted as she did: her friends were still unconscious and her only strategy right now was to have Gothel talk for as long as possible. If she tried to attack her or one of her disciples, she would burn.
Gulping, Emma tried to buy herself more time. Or rather, she did that for whatever - or whoever - was coming.
«She made him fall in love with her?»
Gothel laughed maniacally and cold settled inside Emma’s bones. If she’d believed the woman to be crazy until a few moments ago, the words which fell from her lips made Emma wish she had the means to vanquish her and all her devotées.
«Love? Demons cannot love, sweet child, they are unable to, and before you delude yourself, their spawns can’t either.» The clear delight transpiring through Gothel’s words made Emma sick to her stomach, only for her to narrow her eyes, the dig only serving to fuel the fire inside her, deepening the growing hatred she felt. «It truly is a pity we didn’t meet when I was alive, even in death I can sense your power and it would’ve been a delight to have you as my sister. That way, I could’ve taught you how to summon a demon, a high-ranked one, even.» She sighed, looking at the sky longingly. «That’s the ultimate quest, to tie a demon to you, to have him serve you, be your weapon against the whole world. Everything was ready, the sisters all called to witness my glory. Too late I realized Alice wasn’t among them, she’d run in the depths of the forest and summoned my demon herself, stealing him from me.»
The earth split open a few feet from Emma, the chasm erupting with flames and darkness. Inside her, her magic hummed, partially attracted to it but equally ready to protect Emma from the danger it represented.
She scooted backwards, her hand falling on the other side of Killian’s body to steady herself as a black figure emerged from the flames, landing right where her feet were a moment before.
Glowing red eyes locked with Emma’s, flooding her with an inexplicable sense of calmness. Fenrir’s presence made her feel protected; even for someone who showed others she was brave on the outside, Emma didn’t hate to feel relief at the thought that someone had her back. In fact, it made her feel loved.
The sound of a thunderstorm echoed all around. The hellhound turned around, protecting Emma and Killian with his huge body, but not even he could hide what was coming out of the crater.
Or rather, who.
The demon had his back to Emma, and though she could hardly believe it, he was dressed in what looked like an expensive tailored suit. Aside from his tall and lean figure, the only other thing she could pick up was his raven hair neatly tied in a low ponytail which curled slightly at the end.
It shocked her how that particular trait reminded her of the way Killian’s hair curled at the nape of his neck.
Then, a realization hit her: Killian had sent Fenrir to Hell to deliver a message, a cry for help, and not to anyone, but to his own father.
Clear as day was the way Killian always spoke of him, hatred laced to his every word, and pain, so much pain due to his abandonment.
She felt Killian’s body twitch beneath her. In any other moment, the way her torso was thrown over his and her closeness to him would’ve made her blush fiercely and step away. Right now, if she moved a few inches closer as she felt the need to protect him grow, well, no one would know.
A quick glance at his furrowed features told Emma he was coming back to her, causing her heart to swell in her chest.
«Gothel.»
It was a greeting and an insult at the same time, the cold tone in which he spoke making Emma believe winter had come early.
«Belial.»
Emma had to give it to the ghost: despite the clear terror drawn on her face, she managed to sound cold and unaffected. Too bad she wasn't, and the demon knew it.
Another thing she noticed was how the fireball extinguished in a hiss, and not by Gothel's doing.
The ghost lifted her chin in challenge. «I never thought I'd see you again.»
Had she used another tone of voice and had a different expression on her face, Emma would've thought she was trying to flirt with him. Perhaps she was, given how twisted her mind was.
«Believe me, witch, I certainly hoped I wouldn't.»
Gothel had the courage to scoff before her lips curled up in a sadistic smile. «I thought I would’ve had the pleasure when I killed your precious Liam and dearest Alice, but you didn’t show up for that tea party, did you?»
Why the hell she was taunting him, Emma had no idea. Had she been in Gothel’s position, she would’ve vanished forever, never to reappear again. But the dead witch wasn’t a normal person, her mind too twisted and thirsty for power to know where the line was or when to stop.
But Belial was calm, not showing any sign of tension. On his face, Emma could just see a smile forming despite the clear jab. It now made sense: Killian’s father hadn’t been there most of his life, but he’d not been there during the most crucial moment of it, he’d not protected his family when he had all the means to. So why was he here now?
«Bravery won’t let you leave this place as intact as a ghost might be, Gothel, so don’t try to pretend you’re not dreading the outcome of this meeting. After all, you killed the woman I love and my firstborn. The fact that Killian took the pleasure of ending your life doesn’t mean that I don’t want revenge for what you did myself.»
The demon’s speech was so… diplomatic, and yet still a warning. No, not a warning, a promise: he was way more powerful than Gothel and her new coven. Emma arched an eyebrow as she saw some hoods shift, probably wanting to run as far away as they could.
For a moment, she wondered if Belial would let them go or if he’d hold them accountable for helping the witch. He probably wouldn’t give them the chance to escape.
A chill ran down her spine as sudden shockwave rolled off from Belial’s outstretched hand, knocking out the witches. Only when the capes gathered on the floor in a heap and smoke rose from the gaps, Emma realized he’d not just defeated them momentarily: he’d destroyed them.
Unconsciously, Emma got closer to Killian, the hand she had on the ground finding its way to his shoulder. In some way, she needed to make sure he wouldn’t disappear anytime soon. Frantically, Emma searched for her two friends, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw them still intact.
Gothel hissed, her eyes glowing in a way that would’ve had anyone die of fear as if seeing a ghost wasn’t enough. «This isn’t over, Belial.»
«Oh, but it is, Gothel,» the demon promised. «You have done enough and you are right, I wasn’t there when you killed two of the people I love the most, and there’s not a day that goes by in which I don’t damn myself for it, but I won’t stay put this time.»
But Gothel smiled once more, spectral eyes locking with Emma’s. «Too bad your son has acted foolishly once again. First he doesn’t burn all my bones the way a witch’s are supposed to be and now he unlocks the girl’s magic?» She shook her head with a sigh, the thick braids swaying with the movement. «I hope he didn’t think I wouldn’t recognize the magic of my descendant just because I’m dead.»
Descendant?!
Emma’s mind suddenly felt very empty, as if she were floating on the water’s surface right in the middle of nothing.
All her life, Emma had never known who her parents were: she was no one, anonymous, a lost girl with just a blanket with her name stitched on it, and yet now she not only discovered magic flowed in her veins, but her… her mother was a dead witch who’d killed Killian’s family?
At first, it felt like an earthquake, spreading beneath the ground and shaking everything anchored to the soil, only to concentrate right under Emma like a nucleus of raw power.
And power it was, indeed. Only, it didn’t come from another realm, nor from the demon whose head was tilted on the side and slightly backwards, as if he was listening to something Emma couldn’t hear, and it didn’t come from the ghost either, her smile impossibly wider.
Magic is emotion.
The female voice rang again inside Emma’s head, its owner now clear. Alice was speaking to her, guiding her through the labyrinth of darkness and uncertainty as she plunged deep into the unknown.
Heat danced on the tips of her fingers, causing the air to crackle in the same way it would when in contact with exposed cables. Hard was the ground when her nails dug into it, the rumble of something shifting in the depths of the earth making her gasp in fear.
She almost screamed, almost exploded as if her body actually was electrically charged, waiting for the last push to create a disaster, when something warm wrapped around her upper arm.
Disappointment flooded her when, looking down, she wasn't met with sparkling blue eyes, seeing only closed eyelids instead.
Her attention was dragged away involuntarily, everything inside her screaming not to look away, to just hold Killian closer and focus on him and him alone. The turmoil inside of her had calmed slightly, the earth not trembling anymore even though her palms still itched.
Reluctantly dragging her eyes away from Killian, Emma gave Gothel a hard stare, chin lifted. If it was all true, and every tiny bit of information collected today, more than she ever had in years, seemed to confirm so, then Gothel would certainly not find the warmth of a daughter eager to meet her mother. Not after all this time, not after what she did.
Gothel’s eyes harboured maniacal satisfaction, her face a mask that belonged to the darkest of nightmares, the ones people prayed to forget.
Terror settled deep into Emma’s bones, not stopping until every cell of her body was inhabited by fear in its purest form, filling her until there was space for nothing else. Under other circumstances, she would’ve fought through it, through the paralyzing sensation that left her no strength to move a limb.
Her vision swayed a little, or she did, everything vibrating so violently trees would probably start to fall soon and the fragile house would come crumbling to the ground in a matter of seconds if it didn’t stop.
Something wet and warm brushed her cheek, causing shock to ripple in waves through her.
And then, just as Gothel’s form disappeared into thin air only to reappear closer and lunge forward, clawing hands reaching out to grasp her, inside Emma something snapped.
It felt like a bomb going off somewhere near her heart, forcing the girl to thrust her arm in front of her and turn her head, crouching over Killian as she was blinded by the light, the need to protect him stronger than any other feeling.
Somewhere, a woman screamed.
For the second time that day, Emma felt deaf to the world. Nothing moved, no one spoke, nothing seemed to breathe.
This time, every little noise came back to her slowly, giving her time to gradually adjust to her newfound hearing. She registered sharp intakes of breath before realizing her lungs were burning because of the lack of air.
A loud rhythmic thumping sound filled her ears, somehow reverberating through all her body like a shockwave. It wasn’t unpleasant: if anything, she wanted to keep listening to it a little while longer.
A gentle weight settled on the back of her head, what definitely were fingers threading through messy strands of hair to massage her scalp. A moan almost tumbled from her lips before she realized someone was actually running their fingers along the back of her head, sometimes slowly descending to the nape of her neck to toy with the short curls there.
So focused on what she could feel, Emma didn't hear the soft voice whispering to her that everything was okay now. Only when the soft British accent registered in her mind, not helping her sudden need to snuggle closer to the source of heat and sleep until she woke up in the next millennium, Emma’s eyes blew open.
Planting her hands on Killian’s chest, she pushed up in a rush, knocking the wind out of him as well as dragging a groan from his lips.
«You are alive!»
Suddenly, Emma launched herself forward, peppering Killian's face with kisses. Never before had she been so affectionate with him: maybe a hug once or twice, perhaps a kiss on the cheek, which couldn't be considered a kiss at all when it only was a soft brush of lips against skin.
And yet, Emma didn't pull away making excuses. In fact, she snuggled closer, wrapping her arms awkwardly around him to make sure he was still there.
«Easy, lass,» he said breathless, glee on his face as well as a bright pink blush, only to be cut off by Emma's lips.
Shock shot all through her system as she realized what she was doing, pushing it away in favour of savoring the moment.
The kiss didn’t involve tongues or teeth, it wasn’t charged with lust, only with deep relief and a sense of completeness.
Killian’s fingers tightened their grip in her hair without being less gentle, pulling her impossibly closer since she already was half thrown over him.
Since they were not vampires or water creatures capable of holding their breaths for long, at some point they had to pull away so their lungs would stop screaming at them with such ardor they seemed to be burning.
The Prince of Hell, who’d now turned around to take a better look at them, head tilted to the side and the ghost of a smile on his thin lips, politely coughed loudly enough to catch their attention.
With her face burning as hotly as the flames that had surrounded Fenrir and Belial earlier, if not more, Emma pushed herself up, legs trembling a bit as she helped Killian up as well.
Now that she could take a better look at him, Emma searched his body for more signs of his true nature and wounds. Thankfully, the hellhound’s bite was the only scar he would have. Unless…
Her palm tingled, and when she looked down at it, her eyes were met with a soft glowing light.
As if he’d read her mind, Killian wrapped strong fingers around her wrists in a gentle hold, bringing them up to cover his forearm.
No word was spoken as her magic flowed out of her and poured into the wound, healing it. Wonder shone in her green eyes: never before had she like she did now, both like she had a purpose and a place in the world. Balanced. Complete.
«You are bloody brilliant.»
Killian’s words broke her out of her reverie, and when she looked up at him, the deep red gracing the apples of her cheeks matched the one colouring the tips of his ears. Before she could stop herself, Emma’s eyes travelled up, taking in the horns. Her shy smile widened into a teasing one.
«They suit you.»
This time, the one to smile bashfully was Killian.
The second cough was only slightly less polite and a bit more pointed. «I apologize for intruding, but I’m afraid there are important matters to be discussed.»
Both Emma and Killian blushed even redder; it felt like being caught making out by their parents, something neither knew about aside from watching movies or reading books. Then she gasped, looking over at Robin and Will. Before Emma could even open her mouth to ask about them, two deep voices replied to her unspoken question: «They are under a sleeping spell.»
With a polite smile, Belial added: «There are truths that are only yours to tell and which you alone need to hear first.»
Emma nodded, as if in a trance. She just hoped it wasn’t an actual trance. Demons could seduce, not exactly enchant, but she’d never actually met one. She sneaked a peek at Fenrir, who was sitting next to the demon, his expression, if possible, amused. It even seemed he was grinning, and even if he wasn’t, the glint in his blood red eyes was unmistakable.
When she finally looked at Belial, Emma felt her breath catch. The similarity was unmistakable, from the colours to the features, even the way he pursed his lips to conceal a smile. The shape of their eyes was slightly different, but not the blue captured in their irises, even though Emma knew from many testimonies and studies that the eyes of a demon were pitch black and had no irises or pupils of sorts, just two black holes which threatened to swallow whoever had the misfortune of looking into them whole. This must’ve been some kind of courtesy Belial was offering her. She couldn’t say she minded at all.
«Son,» Belial greeted him with a nod of his head, and Emma’s eyes snapped from the high cheekbones that matched Killian’s, to the horns she could finally see. They were bigger than Killian’s, but had the same shape.
«Father.» Killian’s tone wasn’t rude: in fact, it even sounded grateful. So of course he had to ruin the moment: «Glad you showed up, this time.»
There were some falsehoods about demons having steam blowing out of their ears when they were infuriated, and though Belial was furious, he simply clenched his teeth, lips almost disappearing in a thin line.
«I am as well,» he gritted out slowly, shoulders sagging in what looked like defeat. A sigh followed, and Emma was certain he would run a hand through his hair hadn’t it been tied. «I can never apologize enough for not being there, Killian, and I know my excuse will fall on deaf ears, but I truly am sorry.»
Instinctively, Emma squeezed Killian’s forearm. Trying to buy him some time to come at peace with his feelings, she decided to attempt to sort out her own. «So, uhm, I guess the obvious question is… what the fuck did just happened?»
«You see, love-»
«You killed your own mother.»
All blood drained from her face. Having a suspicion about who Gothel was wasn’t anything like hearing the truth.
Next to her, Killian went rigid, probably staring daggers at his father, who was still looking at Emma.
The demon shrugged a shoulder. «Technically, you vanished her, but Gothel was your mother.»
«Crazy bit- uhm, witch ghost was-»
Belial stifled a chuckle. «Aye, she was. I suppose she said-»
«She said your- uhm, Killian’s mother stole you from her, and I think she was involved with her coven of crazy girls who you, uhm, turned into ash or something. I think. And then Killian said-» Emma suddenly cut herself off, biting her lower lip a bit too forcefully. She was rambling, and probably - read: surely - breaking some etiquette rule - or several - she should follow when speaking with high-ranked demons, but the weight of the day was finally taking a toll on her and she just couldn’t help being a bit snarky. Or try to laugh about it so she could overthink and cry about it in the solitude of her apartment, preferably with a mug of hot chocolate and loads of ice cream.
Killian gave her a small smile that shouldn’t have been so soft and shouldn’t be touching her heart the way it was, especially not before painful words started to tumble from his lips. «Gothel showed up in my life first, about thirty years or so after the fallout with my mother. She was pretending to be a damsel in distress, you know the type, and I foolishly fell into her honey trap. She was nice to me, but belonging to the supernatural world means keeping regular human beings at arm’s length, no matter how eager to know and belong to it they seem to be. I kept her distant, but she kept showing up and being gentle with me to the point I didn’t know what to do with her. I even asked Liam for help, what with him having more experience in the field than me, and he would come around the shop often-»
Emma’s brow wrinkled. «Shop?»
«Oh, right,» Killian mumbled, scratching that spot behind his ear. «Uhm, timeline-wise, this happened in the 80s, as in your 1980, or one or two year after, though time runs differently, and I owned what you’d call a blacksmith shop… Don’t be so shocked, love, between my mom being a witch and my father being a demon, it should’ve been obvious by now that I’m quite old even if I’ve retained my youthful glow.» He even had the audacity to smirk. Oh, how she wanted to smack it off his face.
Or kiss it off of it.
Yup, the latter. Definitely the latter.
Ignoring the voice in her head and the sparkle in Killian’s eyes telling her he knew what she was thinking, Emma raised her chin. «Okay, old man, so- Oh my god. This is disgusting. You… please tell me nothing happened between you and… her.»
Thinking of the man you’ve fallen in love with - oh, yeah, she had fallen in love with him during her time in Storybrooke, and it wasn’t the ley lines’ doing, nothing magical, just pure, scary love - with another woman was torture enough already, but thinking of him with your own mother was seriously threatening to make Emma sick.
The warmth of Killian’s hand on the side of her face brought her back to reality, back to him, and when his eyes bore into hers, she felt relief sweeping through her. She sneaked one arm around his thorax and squeezed him tightly to her.
Killian dropped a kiss on her hair, which was surely a mess and now was not the time to think about a shower with him to get the dirt out of it. «Nothing happened. As I said, I was keeping her at arm’s length. When Liam saw her, he knew why I was asking for help. For some reason, Gothel stopped coming in. My best theory, she saw she had no opening with me and even my brother was unapproachable.» He licked his lips, averting his gaze. «I didn’t see her for almost two years, and during that time, Mum brought me on a mission with her.»
Clearly picking up his son’s uneasiness, Belial continued for him, and Killian shot him a tight but grateful smile. «Gothel was a very powerful witch. If you’d been raised by her, or at least one of your kind, you would’ve learned better how hierarchies inside the witch world and, more importantly, inside a coven, work. She wasn’t just one of the oldest, but she was the one who’d held her title as head of her own coven, of Mother, as she called herself, longer than her predecessors and any of the other leaders in all the realms. It surprises me that she only ever had one child, but she also waited centuries before trying to summon me.» He shrugged, as if he didn’t have a clear explanation of how Gothel’s mind worked himself. «Her motivations escape me, perhaps she had foreseen her demise was near. The fact is, she suddenly abandoned her old plan of summoning another demon knowing all too well they’d be ready to take her out even bound by spells and seals, but didn’t let go of her original plan. She did have a baby, a baby born right on the twelfth stroke of midnight, a little girl she was ready to raise not like a daughter, but like a pawn in her own twisted game.»
Emma gulped, the amount of information being dumped onto her already too much to bear. She leaned into Killian, thankful for his presence and support. With all she’d heard, she probably should stay away from him, and yet she just couldn’t. If anything, all Emma wanted was to stay as close to him as humanly possible.
Next to her, Killian sighed, turning his head slightly to bury his nose in her hair. «Mum was always one step ahead of Gothel, therefore she knew about you and planned to get you as far away from her as possible.»
Guilt was laced tightly to his voice, and Emma knew why. All her life, she’d thought her parents never wanted her, and oh, how many scenarios had she played out in her mind to justify them? And now, everything made sense, the puzzle was complete, and all she felt was… nothing. Or… not quite nothing. She still felt many other things, namely the deep affection and need and want to take care of Killian, but deep inside, all those scars that growing up alone in the system had left her with, simply stayed the same. They didn’t reopen, they stayed as they were, existing, because there was no way she could change the past, but now she knew the truth, and well, if she had to feel something, that something was gratitude.
True, she had grown up alone, and it was awful and horrible but it shaped her into the woman she was now, a woman she decided to be with all her flaws and strengths, and not a pawn, not nothing.
Later, later she knew she would cry and scream and Killian would probably have to duck to avoid anything she might throw at him, but now, now she felt relief: even just the idea of growing up as Gothel’s pawn filled Emma with absolute despair.
«What happened that night?»
What, for now, was more strange than anything else, was thinking that Killian was already an adult when she was born and that, apparently, he came from another land. She wondered if he’d ever go back. Or if he’d ever take her there.
A muscle in Killian’s jaw ticked. «My task was to keep the coven asleep and blocking the wards. Demon’s magic is tricky, darker than any other you’ll ever encounter; not even those witches who practice dark magic could ever handle it. I used my abilities to allow Mum to take you away without alarming the witches. And she did it. We managed to bring you to a safe haven where Mum proceeded to seal your magic, the only method to keep Gothel from finding you, a taboo in the witch world, one that had to be broken to ensure your safety.» He licked his lips, stalling for a moment, debating whether or not to give her this last bit of information. «We didn’t know your name, so Mum decided on one before letting you go. Widow Lucas, the werewolf who runs the shelter, stitched the baby blanket you were found in. You stayed hidden with us for almost two weeks before we moved you. It was agreed that you'd be sent to this realm, to the Land Without Magic. Liam was tasked to bring you through the portal and to a family we knew would welcome you and raise you as if you were their own.»
Hurt came in waves, lapping at her heart at first, and then proceeding to drown it in sorrow with the force of a tumultuous sea.
She was supposed to have a family.
She was supposed to be loved.
Tears welled in her eyes, tears born out of injustice, because the life she'd lived wasn't the one she was supposed to.
A look into Killian's baby blues was all it took.
The breath caught in her throat, one lone tear traced a slow path down her cheek, and acceptance bloomed like a flower into her.
Perhaps her past should've been different, but the outcome would've been the same: Emma Swan had a family and, above all, Emma Swan was loved.
It didn't matter that she was loved by a bunch of guys that might very well try to kill her once they knew the truth, just as it didn't matter that the man she loved and hoped loved her in return - and not just like a friend - was a half demon. She smirked, inwardly laughing at Gothel and her belief that demons couldn’t love: had she really known Killian, she would’ve seen how he loved his friends.
Ignoring Belial - who was mostly amused by her action - Emma raised on her tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Killian's mouth, squeezing him in an awkward embrace neither broke out of.
After a deep breath, Emma heard herself asking in a shaky breath: «What happened next?» In truth, she didn't want to hear more of it, but she needed to, and she'd learned all too well that what she wanted and what she needed weren't often the same.
«The coven tracked down Liam.» Pain twisted his features as he spoke those words aloud. Emma squeezed his hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Belial hung his head in what she could only call sorrow. «They were late: he'd already opened the portal, but to ensure you'd make it safely to the Land Without Magic, Liam sent you through it and defeated the witches. Without his guidance, however, the ley lines diverted your path and led you to Storybrooke, the most unusual and magically charged place in this world.»
Emma nodded, slowly, realizing why Killian was looking right into her eyes, searching for something he was sure to find. Had she been in his shoes, she might have had the same thought as well.
Certainly letting her go through the portal alone was stupid, and more than that, it'd been dangerous, but he'd managed to fend off those witches so none of them could reach her.
«That was when they cursed him,» Belial said in a grave voice. There was hatred in it, both for the witches and for himself. «He didn't call for me, but I should've been there. At the time, Hell was in riot, and Lucifer needed all his trusted demons to contain the civil war before it escalated.»
Emma nodded, understanding how torn he must feel, how guilt had dug a hole inside of him for too long. But it wasn’t Emma’s understanding or forgiveness that he needed, and she was in no position to ask Killian to bury the hatchet.
Killian cleared his throat. «Curses don’t work the same way on demons that they do humans. Normally, a true demon would be immune, but Liam was only half demon, and that was part of his undoing. Me and Mum brought him home, searching for a cure for what looked like a sleeping curse but was different in so many ways it looked a concoction of spells we couldn’t decipher or break.»
The rustling of leaves was the only sound Belial made as he got closer, a clear warning and a way to let Killian decide whether he wanted to stay where he was or move as far away as possible.
Next to her, Killian exhaled. Running away didn’t solve a thing, and it was about time he faced his father.
Blue eyes, just like Killian’s, showed nothing but anguish. «Son, there was nothing that could help Liam. I’d already spoken to Alice, and the only plausible solution was to make him a full demon. That way, he would’ve been able to repel the curse.»
«But I was too desperate, and was fooled by Gothel’s words about a miraculous plant that could cure all evils.» Killian hung his head, but before Emma could comfort him, two strong hands grabbed his shoulders.
«Listen to me, son. You made a mistake in judging her character, aye, but it isn’t your fault. None of what happened is. It’s time you move on and stop blaming yourself. It was Gothel who killed Liam and Alice, not you. She would’ve found another way, and you might have not been able to kill her before she killed you. What you did was heroic. There’s no great battle in which both sides don’t lose, my son. You held yourself together after losing your whole family and didn’t seek revenge on the coven, no matter how much I’m sure you desired to. This, my boy, makes you the man you are now. Not a demon, not a witch, a man, the kind of man you always wanted to be»
Silently, Emma wiped away a few tears threatening to fall, though she almost lost all self-control she had when Killian launched himself into his father’s arms and hugged him tightly. She completely lost it when she heard Killian whisper “thank you, Papa”.
Something soft and warm brushed against her arm before the wet nose of the hellhound nudged it away so she could only loop it around Fenrir’s neck. «Hey, there, boy,» she smiled down at him.
«It doesn’t surprise me that he found you first.»
Emma frowned at Belial’s words. Demons, always speaking in riddles even when you ask them something simple. She was reminded of Killian, and that should’ve probably been a dead giveaway.
Belial smiled. «You have my son’s scent all over you, his hellhound was easily sidetracked by it. Besides, you had a faint trace of Alice’s magic in you, which didn’t help tracking down the right person either.»
There would be a day in which such words would have no effect on Emma, but today was not that day, especially given the way her cheeks coloured red. It should make her feel dirty or, well, almost like an object, but instead it made her feel butterflies in her stomach. She was totally screwed. Not at all, her traitor mind reminded her.
«I-I heard Alice’s voice, I think,» she stuttered, ignoring that voice in her head. She turned to Killian, brows knitting together. «And yours. You two kept telling me that magic is emotion.»
Her heart fell a little as Killian frowned, clearly confused.
«Ley lines.»
They both turned to look at Belial, who shrugged, pointing a manicured hand towards the sky.
Holy fuck.
During all her time as a huntress, Emma had seen the ley lines only on maps, but now she could see them crossing the sky above her head, blue lines she could even hear.
«They work in mysterious ways, as you both well know. And with Storybrooke being at the very center of a crossroad, even the tiniest spark of magic is amplified. They must’ve picked up Alice’s magic and managed to give you a message, Emma. You might’ve not heeded it rationally, but it still helped you banish Gothel.»
Slowly understanding what he meant, Emma nodded her head again, fingers threading through Fenrir’s fur. Then, she turned towards Killian, trying not to sound as accusatory as she did in her head. «Did you know who I was when we first met?»
Pure, earnest honesty was the only emotion on his face when he shook his head. «I did feel your magic, which I admit, was strange since it was supposed to be sealed, but I had no idea you were the baby I helped my mum take away all those years ago. Only when I broke the spell she cast on you I realized it, a bit too late, given I had no time to warn you.» Killian sighed, scratching again that spot behind his ear, now surely raw. «I apologize for not telling you about your magic. I just-»
«You just didn’t know how, I understand.» And she really did. Even for someone who’d hunted down several different creatures, Emma would’ve not believed him had he told her she had magic. Hell, she was still struggling to believe what had just happened!
The grateful, bashful smile he shot her way warmed her heart.
Then, the wind changed.
«It is time for me to go, I’m being called back.» Belial didn’t want to go just yet, that much was clear. It was unfair how little time him and Killian had had to mend their still fragile relationship.
Killian arched an eyebrow. «Is it true that Uncle Lucifer has taken a vacation?»
Uncle Lucifer? That Lucifer?!
«Ah, yes, that much is true. He also fell in love with a miracle.» Belial tilted his head, amused. «I knew he would, and was one of the few to win the bet.»
At that, Killian snorted. «Of course. I would’ve placed the same bet, knowing him, and knowing demons can fall in love. After all, I’m proof of that, am I not?» And if he glanced at Emma as if saying “because I’m fallen in love as well” and she’d caught him, her hand squeezing his was confirmation enough.
Flames danced in Belial’s palm, retracting under his skin to reveal an old flask. «This is the ale of Seonaidh. Use it well, my boy, though I believe your mother’s grimoire contains instructions on how to brew it.»
Killian looked at the flask in wonder before clutching it to his chest. «Would- would you like to use it with me, when the time is right?»
Belial appeared to be taken aback by those words, barely containing a gasp of surprise. After the shock wore off, he nodded slowly. «I would like that very much.»
A nod from Killian to which followed another tight and long embrace signaled them it was time to get back to reality, or what was left of it after it’d been revolutionized in a matter of seconds.
Even if awkwardly, Emma offered Belial her hand to shake, only to have him bend slightly in a bow and brush his lips on the back of it. Blood rushed to her face, boiling beneath her skin. Of course
«I bid you farewell, Emma. It was a pleasure meeting you, even if in such dire circumstances.»
Please, take care of my son.
A gasp of surprise almost fell from her lips upon hearing the demon’s voice inside her head. Affection and deep love transpired, affecting her a bit. She nodded slightly so Killian wouldn’t notice. She would take care of him, knowing all too well he could take care of himself, but she could still support him and just be there. That was what taking care of someone really meant: being by their side all through their life, mistakes and all.
Belial disappeared in a vortex of flames, and this time the earth didn’t shake or anything. Perhaps it hadn’t been just the opening of the portal. Perhaps it’d been Emma.
She hummed at the thought, shaking her head slightly before turning to face Killian completely.
«So, that was Brennan Jones, uh?»
Killian flashed her a smile, dimples and all and oh, boy, was she swooning? Now of all the times? «He couldn’t very well go by Belial, could he? But aye, that was him. I’d not seen him since I yelled my disdain at him. I even tried to curse him, you know? And he just stayed there. I knew it was useless anyway, but I’ll never forget how defeated he looked.»
She squeezed his arm. «You both stayed alone when you should’ve mourned together. I hope you’ll be able to forgive him, one day.»
Killian nodded. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to forgive him yet, but now he understood his father more than ever before. Especially when it came to love.
Caught in Killian’s intense stare, Emma felt her heartbeat increase in speed. «How long until the spell wears off?» she asked wetting her lower lip, nodding slightly towards Will and Robin.
He never looked away from her eyes. «Give or take, a few minutes. Time to decide what to tell them, love.»
Ah, right, the whole witch thing. Taking a deep breath, Emma squared her shoulders. «Part of the truth, for now. I’m still processing the whole Gothel thing, and that will take me some time. And I need to do this by myself, without risking to be burned alive or hung by my own friends.»
Next to her, Fenrir growled, surprising them both. Emma chuckled, scratching him behind the ear.
«Should’ve known you’d steal his heart, too,» Killian mumbled barely loud enough for her to hear, which probably wasn’t his intention given the way the tips of his ears lit up like Christmas lights.
For her part, Emma blushed as well, her eyes never leaving the thick fur her hand had disappeared into as she whispered: «And he’s not the only demonic creature that has stolen mine.»
When textbooks said demons were lustful creatures, driven by Hell flames flowing through their veins, they weren’t far from the truth.
A low moan resounded deep in her throat as Killian’s lips pressed almost violently against hers, crushing her much smaller body into his.
Lips and tongues brushed frantically against the other, Killian’s mouth swallowing her moans as his hands wandered up and down her back before stopping at her hips to pull her impossibly closer.
Emma’s hands never stopped either, tracing his chest up until she could wrap her arms around Killian’s neck and bury her fingers in his hair, tugging not so gently at the strands.
She could feel desire mounting like a galloping horse, teeth pulling at Killian’s swollen lower lip. It was scary how much she felt like she needed him, and yet it felt completely normal. Truth was, she might even go a bit insane if she didn’t have him soon. Was it a side effect of being a witch? Did she really care, though?
And then the tip of her finger brushed accidentally the base of one of Killian’s horns and he was run through by what felt like electric energy, so intense it reverberated through Emma’s body as well.
Killian shivered, head burying itself at the juncture of Emma’s neck. «Careful, love,» he panted, his hot breath causing her skin to burn, «they are quite… sensitive.»
Fuck. It was Emma’s turn to shiver. Perhaps she could just try how teleportation worked.
She was just about to suggest it to Killian when a groan echoed in the clearing. Of bloody course the spell would wear off in that precise moment.
Luckily enough, Will had Fenrir to keep him distracted so Emma and Killian could adjust their clothes.
Alas, they had no such luck when Robin woke up as well. At least he had the decency to look away, not before winking at them.
Feeling like two children caught with their fingers in the marmalade jar, half-demon and witch stayed rooted to the spot, side by side with not an inch between them and faces as red as beets as Will enjoyed all the attention Fenrir was giving him and Robin wandered around whistling some tune as he retrieved his arrows.
Low, so low they friends couldn’t hear, Emma whispered: «Please tell me there’s a way for you to conceal your horns from others but not me.»
The smirk and glance he gave her was the truest definition of lewd. «The lady likes me horns, doesn’t she?»
She clicked her tongue. «The lady fucking loves them.»
Killian nearly burst out laughing, his whole face lighting up in happiness. He pressed a kiss to Emma’s temple, mumbling something about them being his love handles that made her hide her head in his chest.
Fenrir caught his eyes, one huge paw still holding Will to the ground in their little game, and winked.
Killian chuckled, winking back before calling the hellhound to him.
It was time they went home.
SUMMARY: A dog enters Emma's life and afterwards it gets a lot better.
Because this dog is brilliant.
And has opinions about Emma and Killian and life and love - and is not ashamed to work a little canine magic to bring those two idiots together.
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AO3
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A/N: My entry for @cspupstravaganza
Whose discord discussions have been the highlight of my day many, many days in a row.
THANK YOU ALL -- YOU ROCK!!!
(Also, apparently i have struck a fluff vein. i have no idea how this happened. i am not a fluffy person. In other news, denial is not a river in Egypt.)
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@profdanglaisstuff - Thank you for organizing this event (and being the mad beta ninja you are)!
If you’d like on or off the tag list, please let me know!
Yes, technically she rescued me from the side of the road. My previous people and I had a slight misunderstanding. I wanted to be free to be a dog, and they wanted to not pay for food or invest time in letting me run around. Also, there was an issue of size. In that I accidentally grew too big. I don’t know how that’s possible, I grew up and then I stopped. But apparently they had not anticipated this. Which is how I came to be somewhat tied up by the side of Route 412.
By the time she found me, I will admit that I was both parched and starving and not in the greatest of moods. I may have snapped at her once, at first, in warning. Just to make sure she was not going to worsen the situation.
But I wasn’t going to bite her.
I liked her from the start.
She came up to me and gave me water from a coffee travel mug and spoke softly and her voice was kind. I admit that I wasn’t paying attention to what exactly she was saying, especially not after she gave me a ham sandwich. I do remember that she apologized for not having any dog food with her.
Which was ridiculous.
Why would she? She didn’t have a dog.
But what I do remember is her voice when I was done eating and drinking. She sat down next to me and looked at me and then she asked me if I wanted to come with her.
She asked me.
That’s when I chose her.
Her name is Emma.
And apparently my new name is Ginger. It seems my reddish blonde fur was somewhat responsible for this moniker. All I know is that it’s a big step up from That Goddamn Dog, which is what my last people called me.
She took me to something called a vet that first day, which was quite the experience. I’m OK with never going again. I don’t like to be poked and prodded that much. The vet said I was almost two years old (I already knew that, thank you), and part Labrador, part Golden Retriever, and a few indeterminate others. Which means nothing to me.
I mean - I’m me, right?
That’s it.
(She also said I should probably get fixed. Which is ridiculous, because I’m not broken.)
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Apart from taking me to the vet, I absolutely adore Emma. She is wonderful.
She feeds me breakfast every day, and she takes me with her on her morning run, and then she lets me tag along to her work. She works in something called a Police Station , and at first she was nervous to bring me. I could sense it coming off of her in waves. I was on my best behavior that day, let me tell you. She asked me to lie under her desk, and I did . I was a study in lying perfectly still. I wanted her to be happy with me, and also, it let me catch up on my napping.
I am a very good napper.
Turns out there are quite a few people who work there, and eventually I got to meet all of them. Emma should not have been anxious at all. They’re all lovely. And all of them are incredible ear scratchers and belly rubbers. Especially the blond guy - David. He’s good .
Anyway, after work she takes me down to the beach and just lets me run free, and then she feeds me again . It’s incredible. Food twice a day, and free running, and ear scratches? I had no idea life could be this awesome. And at night she wraps herself around me.
I like being her pillow.
She doesn’t think I’m too big.
.
So anyway. I love Emma. I hope I have made that perfectly clear. I really, really do.
But she’s an idiot .
Seriously.
So, so, so stupid .
She goes and gets coffee every morning on her way to work. There’s a cute little café down the street from the station. And the owner? Oh my god, the owner.
His name is Killian, and he is incredible.
First of all, he’s the end-all-be-all of ear scratchers. The first time he rubbed my head he got to places I didn’t know I had. I nearly melted into a puddle on the floor of his establishment.
I mean, really .
The way that man pets me should be illegal. Except not, because it redefines the meaning of my life.
Then there’s his accent. The way he says my name. The way he says her name.
Which brings me to my point.
She’s an idiot.
He likes her. And I mean, a lot . The way he looks at her -- like hunger and thirst and yearning. I may or may not have had that exact same look when I watched my previous people drive away without me.
How does she not see it?
How on earth does she get her coffee every damn day and not notice?
I can already tell that he’s a good guy. You can tell everything about a person by the way they pet you. EVERYTHING.
On her days off, when she actually sits down to drink her coffee there, his face just lights up, and he brings her muffins for free. Muffins which are not in his display case. Muffins he bakes for her .
How can she be this blind? I can see it, for Anubis’ sake, and I’m a canine . (And now I’m taking the name of dog deities in vain. That’s how frustrated I am!)
So anyway, it got to the point where I had to do something. You get it, right? It was an emergency situation.
Code red.
Remember that when I tell you what I did, because, well, otherwise you might think I was being stupid. Which I was NOT. It was code red.
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There is this bush that grows from one of the pretty front yards we pass every day on our way into town. It has very lovely berries on it. They’re very ripe now, and half the branches hang down over the sidewalk.
Emma does not want me to try them. Not even sniff them. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and besides, how bad could they possibly be? I figured I would snag a mouthful, and then we would go and have coffee, and maybe I would sneeze a little, or sleep a little, and that would force her to hang out a little longer, and also to maybe bond with Killian over my sneezing. Or my sleeping. Or whatever.
Well.
There’s a saying humans use about best laid plans. I forgot how it goes. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
But those berries? They were a little more potent than I anticipated. A little more poisonous than expected.
I kind of threw up under her café table. Several times. It was a mess . I felt really bad about that. But by then I felt so bad in general that it was hard to tell what exactly I was feeling bad about in particular.
Yes, I know.
It was my own damn fault.
I know .
But Killian was amazing. He calmed Emma down, and rubbed her arm, and then he closed the café, and carried me -- carried me! As if I weighed nothing! -- to his car. By that time Emma was getting really scared (I felt bad about that, too), but he was just so in control of the whole situation. He ushered Emma into the passenger seat and then he put me in her lap (that’s really my favorite place to be, even when I feel lousy, and even though I’m technically too big for it), and handed her some towels (when did he pick up towels?) in case I had to throw up again.
And then he drove us to the vet.
Ugh.
I did NOT think this through. Dammit.
So, yeah. I got poked and prodded again. A lot more than the previous time. And then the vet put a tube into my mouth and forced me to drink something absolutely disgusting and I very nearly snapped at her. I am sorry for that, but I was not being my congenial best.
Because it felt like my stomach was never going to fall back in line.
But then two things happened: Whatever that disgusting stuff was, it made my stomach feel better. Much better.
And then I looked up.
And there were Emma and Killian, at the end of the exam table, standing as close as humanly possible. She was almost buried in his chest, and he had his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he kept murmuring soft words into her ear and kissing the top of her head.
And I did that.
I DID THAT.
So, all in all, it was a total and complete success, and I don’t want to hear a word about how stupid I may or may not have been.
Because he lives with us now, and scratches my ears on a regular basis, and when they curl up on the couch there is always room for me. Plus phenomenal belly-rubs. Seriously.
Phenomenal .
The only thing I no longer get to do is sleep in Emma’s bed.
But that’s OK. You should see how happy they make each other.
Summary: Killian Jones has an undeniable crush on Emma Swan. He just needs a little nudge from man's best friend to act on it. Rated T for language. ~4K. Also on AO3.
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A/N: Presenting my entry for the @cspupstravaganza! Huge thanks to @profdanglaisstuff to organizing such a fun event. This was a fun one to write. As always, extra kudos to @snidgetsafan for her phenomenal beta skills.
When Killian Jones decided that he’d like a pet - a dog, specifically - Bonny was not exactly what he’d had in mind.
It wasn't like he had a particular dog in mind when he went to the local shelter; mostly, he’d trusted an acquaintance who worked at the kennel would steer him towards a companion that would suit him best. David had suggested the idea in the first place when Killian had expressed loneliness after Liam had moved to Providence for a job, and had seemed more than happy to help. That's not to say that he didn't have an idea of the type of dog he was looking for; a puppy, something that would grow up to be at least midsize and not shed too much. A man's dog who he could take on runs and hikes and his boat. Maybe a labrador.
Bonny, however, has different ideas.
Bonny technically shouldn't have been in the side room where all the puppies romped around - she was full grown at three years, after all - but her size hadn't looked too out of place. Long-haired dachshunds didn't get that large after all, unless you were measuring in spine length. He'd been sat on the floor, letting all the wee pups come and check him out and contemplating the pros and cons of a labrador-weimaraner mix when Bonny had sauntered right over to curl up in his lap. One look into those big eyes, especially when coupled with those soft and floppy ears, and Killian had known he'd be going home with a very different dog than he’d expected. So he'd filled out the paperwork and bought all kinds of supplies and explained to a very attentive dog that a man has his limits and referring to his dog as Precious was a line he just wasn't willing to cross, and the little dog had been his. Bonny, after the fierce lady pirate Anne Bonny. A proper sailor's name for a less-than-proper sailor's dog.
(He will say, his good girl had taken to the water like a pro; there's a whole album on his phone after their six months together of Bonny on the Jolly's deck, all decked out in her life jacket. Yes, he's now a man that dresses his dog in a life jacket. No, he doesn't care what you have to say about that.)
Bonny may not have been the dog he expected to adopt, but there's no doubt that she's the right dog for him. She's an affectionate little thing, a true cuddle bug at heart, and even if he has to wrestle half his bed back from her - really, his dog takes up an absurd amount of space for such a small creature - he wouldn't have it any other way. There's just something about the trust that she so obviously has in him and the way her entire back half wiggles with the force of her happiness when he comes home after a long day of work.
(There’s also the added bonus that she’s already housetrained; the details of that process weren’t at the front of Killian’s mind when he first decided that he wanted a puppy.)
There's other unexpected advantages that come along with pet guardianship as well - namely the ability to get closer to his stunning blonde neighbor.
Before anyone makes any mistaken assumptions, it's not like that. He didn't adopt the dog as a ploy to pick up chicks - though he has to admit, if that was his aim, he couldn't have picked a better dog and a worse target. Emma Swan lives two doors down in a little cottage with her young son - Henry, if he remembers the name correctly. He'd been smitten from the moment the moving truck had pulled up. That's how he'd met David too, actually, his acquaintance at the kennel. He's still a little uncertain about the relationship there, but he knows that David has a tendency towards the overprotective where the lovely blonde is concerned.
Emma has been wary of his advances, though, not that he can blame her; with Henry involved and the lad's father nowhere in sight, she's got all the more reason to protect her heart. He'd tried his usual flirting techniques when they'd first started crossing paths - the charm, the smirk, the swagger, the little innuendos women usually love - but she'd shut that down with a cold tone and an unamused look in her eyes. After that... well, it had seemed most gentlemanly to let sleeping dogs lie. He'd tried his best, she clearly wasn't interested, and that would have to be that.
Still. He yearns, in a way that isn't at all befitting of anyone above the age of fifteen - let alone a grown man of thirty. She's lovely and strong and he can't help but be absolutely taken with everything about her.
It's a happy coincidence that the park he likes to take Bonny to for walks just happens to be the same park where Emma takes Henry to the playground. He swears. He didn't even know that was the case until he decided that Bonny could use a little socializing with creatures of her own species, something that she's definitely not getting in their little neighborhood.
(Yes, he's turned into the most obnoxious dog dad. He is fully aware.)
As he said before, even once he knew that the park and playground were one of the Swan's regular haunts, he wasn't using Bonny as some sort of bait. He'd never dare - both because he'd never disrespect his Very Good Girl like that and because he knows Emma would see right through him immediately. The thing is, Henry's at just that perfect age where he's absolutely fascinated by puppies of all sizes - especially Bonny. As hesitant as Emma obviously is about her son's obvious enthusiasm, it's equally obvious that the little dog adores the toddler right back. Now, three months after Killian first started taking Bonny to the park, the two are thick as thieves; Henry's laugh rings out across the park's grassy green spaces as the two romp and chase each other, Bonny's entire back half wiggling in her excitement. It's also a chance for Killian to get to know Emma a little better. He wouldn't say that they're friends at the end of it, but there's a detente for certain. Maybe on an optimistic day, he'd even say that they were friendly. It's not something they've talked about, per se, but he definitely feels like some of the ice has thawed.
"Thanks for this," she tells him quietly one day as they watch Henry frolic about the open space and Bonny chase along after him, making a fool of herself practically tripping over her elongated back half in her loving eagerness to play with the small human.
"What for?" Killian asks. It doesn't quite track; he's not doing particularly much, beyond sitting on a bench in varying amounts of silence with his lovely neighbor. What a hardship.
"For letting Henry play with your dog," she replies, nodding in the direction of the spectacle. "Henry really wants a dog right now, and... well, we just can't afford it, honestly. There are months where it feels like enough of a victory to have kept Henry well-fed. Doesn't mean he's good about understanding that," she laughs. It sounds forced, like she's trying unnecessarily to lighten the mood; Killian doesn't much like it. "So... thank you, I guess, for being so understanding about letting him get his fix. I appreciate it."
"It's no problem, lass," Killian responds with a small smile. "And before you try to protest, it seriously isn't. You are - or rather, Henry is doing me a favor, wearing her out a bit. It means I'll just have a sweet, sleepy cuddle bug when I get home, which will be a nice change than her usual running around the house and trying to figure out if she wants in or out. Sweet thing just can't figure it out," he chuckles.
"Henry's the same way - the sleepiness, not the inside or outside thing," she laughs. It seems real this time, which Killian appreciates. She deserves to have more reasons to smile. "He gets home and practically just collapses - no arguing about naptime or anything, which is a pretty novel concept, let me tell you. Maybe that's what I should be thanking you for - letting your dog wear my kid out. It takes some doing, seriously."
"Ah, well, I'm always happy to help," Killian replies awkwardly with an even more awkward wink. He's not especially good about accepting this type of compliment - or any really. Still, it seems less gentlemanly at this point not to. "Anything for milady."
(In retrospect, he should have asked her to dinner at that point - as a date, as friends, as just two adults and a three-year-old eating lasagna, whatever. He just wants an excuse to see her outside of this park. That was his chance, while they were still in the middle of their rapport, and he blatantly missed it. Stupid, oblivious bastard. Time with only tell if he gets another opportunity.)
There are still things to look forward to, even as the weather turns colder and the leaves turn a multitude of colors. Bonny and Henry seem to be the only ones who aren't bothered by the shift in the weather; temperatures change fairly dramatically, up here in coastal Maine. The weather isn't what makes the appeal of this season, however. This year, that designation belongs to Halloween.
"Henry is so excited," Emma explains as they watch Henry clamber up the playground's structure; for once, Killian's crazy dog is curled at his and Emma's feet instead of chasing after her favorite toddler. Maybe she's actually learned how poorly adapted she is to the playground equipment. "He's going to be a pirate, if he hasn't shouted it in your face yet. What are you guys going to do?"
"Oh, I've got a plan in mind," Killian replies vaguely. It's not true in the least; Killian had rather forgot about the holiday until just now. But there's no way he can disappoint his favorite little swashbuckler either, leaving Killian stuck. At least for the moment.
Which is how they've ended up here: one grown adult man, a bowl of candy, and his absurdly-shaped dog, now with twelve legs as the eight octopus limbs of her costume comically jangle every time she moves. She's a kraken. He found the knit, tentacled abomination of a sweater on Etsy. Somehow, the get-up makes her look even less threatening, which Killian didn't think was possible. Granted, her little matching hat featuring eyes poking out of her forehead doesn't help the picture. Killian isn't much for costumes himself, but damn if he won't dress his ridiculous little dog.
“Now we’re going to be very good and not run out the door, no matter how long it’s open, right?” he asks Bonny, more seriously than anyone would likely believe. So he talks to his dog; so what? Bonny, for her part, does a very good job of sitting calmly enough at his feet, though her tail wags ferociously.
He’ll take that as an agreement.
“Alright, then, let’s go! Let’s go see all the little kiddies!” he coos, patting at his leg until the little pup springs back to her feet. Not that it takes much prodding; despite her size, Bonny has all the energy of a coiled spring. Eagerly, she follows him to his small entryway, where Killian has set up a camp chair just inside the screen door. Killian knows from past years that the crowds of trick-or-treaters come in waves - fairly steady throughout the night, but with pauses in between where he hopes to maybe catch up on the mystery novel he’d checked out from the library.
He doesn’t have to wait very long; by 6:30, the trickle of princesses and ninjas and devils begins, all here to pillage his candy (an excellent mix of Reese’s and 3 Musketeers and Milky Ways, with a bag of Twizzlers thrown in for good measure; never let him be accused of being the lame house in his neighborhood). Bonny, of course, is a hit; he can tell that she wants to leap all over their little visitors, begging for scritches and maybe a sample from their candy bags, but she stays put when Killian reminds her to stay inside. Truly, the best girl.
By the end of the evening, however, he’s anxious; it’s almost eight, the proper trick-or-treaters have trickled off as teenagers in half-assed costumes who just want free candy take their place, and he still hasn’t seen Emma. Not that she and Henry are obligated to come by his house or anything - of course they’re not. Maybe they decided to cut the night short, or maybe (God forbid) Henry came down with something and they couldn’t come out at all. Or maybe they just decided to skip his house. Whatever. It’s fine, absolutely fine. That’s their prerogative. He’d just hope, after all Henry’s talk of his wonderful pirate costume, he’d maybe get to see it in person.
(That is the reason he put Bonny in a kraken sweater, of all things. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence - rather, a planned coordination.)
Of course, the moment he starts accepting that the Swans just aren’t coming, the dynamic duo themselves begin making their way up his walk. Henry’s costume is everything he’d promised it would be, complete with a bandana and a drawn-on mustache and fake buckles on his light-up sneakers and a hook on his hand. Emma herself isn’t quite as decked out, but even she’s sporting a pair of cat ears and some eyeliner whiskers.
“Sorry we’re so late,” she calls as they approach his porch. “We went over to David’s neighborhood for trick-or-treating. They’ve got the good candy, supposedly.”
“Ah, naturally,” Killian smiles back. “I hope you didn’t cut your fun short, you didn’t have to drop by,” he tries to protest, but Emma waves him off.
“Henry was wearing out anyways. Plus you’re, like, two houses down from ours. It’s not exactly a hardship to make such a long trek.”
"Well I’m happy you did," Killian says, before opening the door wide and stepping aside. "Would you like to come in for a few minutes? The trick-or-treaters have mostly trickled off. I could make us a few cups of hot chocolate."
"That'd be nice. Thanks, Killian," she smiles back, helping Henry up the last few steps.
"Arrrrrr," the little boy growls ferociously. He's certainly committed to the pirate act; he even tries to shake his hook at Killian, but the effect is kind of ruined when the plastic appendage flies off to land at Killian's feet.
"I don't know about pirates, though," Killian teases with a wink at Emma. "Can I really trust such a fearsome pirate captain in my house?"
"That's a good point," Emma replies thoughtfully, playing along. "They are kind of known for pillaging. Will a pirate really be able to behave himself inside?"
"Yeah!" Henry's little voice pipes up from thigh level.
Killian keeps it going. "I've got a nice set of bookends in there; you don't think the captain would try and steal them, do you?"
"You know, I don't know. It might be better if only I came in."
"Now, I'll never say no to time alone with you, Swan," he replies saucily. It's pretty obvious that Emma almost certainly didn't think about her words first, and definitely didn't mean them that way; the sudden pops of pink on her cheeks are proof enough of that. "Come in, then. You know, I'll bet that pirates don't like hot chocolate anyways..."
"I do!" Henry says indignantly. Well, at least as indignantly as a three year old can manage. Which is a lot, all things considered. "It's me, Killy!"
"Me who?"
"Henry!"
Killian makes a show of crouching down and squinting, as if to see beneath the makeup. "Well look at that, it is Henry! You've got such a good costume, I didn't even recognize you with all that on. Do Henrys like hot chocolate, then?"
"Yeah!"
"Alright, you can come in too, then," Killian laughs, ruffling his hand along the boy's hair as he stands up.
As the Swans walk into his entryway and he closes the screen door again, Bonny wanders back in from the kitchen, undoubtedly drawn by the noise. Personally, Killian thinks she makes a very adorable sight with all those tentacles bobbing and swaying and dragging as she walks.
Henry, however, seems to disagree, as he catches one sight of Killian's wee beastie and hides back behind Emma, clutching at her leg. It's definitely not the reaction that Killian expected, especially when Henry usually gets along so well with Bonny.
"It's alright, it's just Bonny," Emma tries to tell him, dropping her voice into that soothing tone Killian's come to associate with motherhood and love and a home he's long since lost.
"It's just a costume," Killian explains, though he does also crouch down to catch Bonny by her collar and keep her from barreling forward like he can already tell she wants to. Quickly, he undoes the velcro on the hat and tugs it off; it probably does look a little alarming to young eyes. "See?"
"She's just playing pretend, kiddo. Just like you are."
Henry still looks a little wary, but Bonny is about ready to wiggle out of Killian's grasp in her excitement to see her favorite little boy, so he quickly scoops her up to bring her to Henry in a more controlled manner.
Once Bonny's familiar pink tongue flicks out to kiss at Henry's hands and face, he relaxes, thank goodness. "You're silly, Bonny!" he giggles.
"Well she wanted to dress to match you, lad," Killian smiles, setting the pup down so boy and beast can wrestle and play.
"She really does make a cute sea monster," Emma chuckles as they watch.
“About as well behaved as one too, some days,” Killian grumbles without any heat. It’s hard to really mean it when Bonny is so obviously good with Henry. “Let’s go to the kitchen, I’ll make you that hot chocolate.”
The kitchen is just a few steps from the living room where Henry and Bonny now play and with a clear line of sight into the other room, so he knows they won’t have to worry about the little rascals escaping their supervision. Not that there’s much to get into; the liquor and the matches are in the kitchen, and he’s not aware of anything he’d need to worry about the devious duo breaking. The living room is only filled with shelves and shelves of books. About the worst either one could do is disrupt a stack of coffee table books, and some of those would probably benefit from having pages torn out; the “Mailboxes of the Northeast” book that Belle gifted him is a real head scratcher.
“Sorry about all that,” Killian tells Emma sheepishly, scratching behind his ear in mild embarrassment. “I thought it would be a fun idea to kind of tie Bonny’s costume into Henry’s, since I knew how excited he was, but that obviously backfired. I didn’t mean to scare him, Emma, truly.”
Killian pours all his sincerity into the words, but Emma just waves him off casually. “Killian, it’s fine. He’s three, there’s going to be things that scare him sometimes, and sometimes they’ll be pretty weird. That’s kids. You couldn’t have predicted that, and it’s not your fault. And anyways,” she nods towards her son in the other room with a fond smile, “it doesn’t look like it did any permanent damage, if the way they’re carrying on in your living room is any indication.”
“That’s true,” Killian has to admit. The way Henry and Bonny are alternately chasing one another around doesn’t exactly suggest a traumatized child. “Well, I just wanted to… make sure, I guess, that you knew I didn’t mean to scare him.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t think that.” They lapse into silence as Killian busies himself with all the necessities of making hot chocolate - collecting milk from the fridge, grabbing a trio of mugs, searching at the back of the cupboard for the tin of good Ghirardelli powder. It’s a special occasion to have the Swans in his kitchen, after all, and they only deserve the best. He’s just finishing measuring out the proper amount of milk into the saucepan - go big or go home, right, and using the microwave is decidedly not going big - when Emma speaks again.
“I actually meant to thank you for being so good with Henry. I know all that back there wasn’t exactly what you expected when you invited us inside, but you did good. Helping to calm him down, I mean. Though even before that, with the playing and teasing about his costume… you’re really good with him.”
“Oh, Swan, you don’t need to thank me for that.” Even as Killian protests, he can feel a flush of pleased embarrassment creeping up his neck. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary. Henry’s a wonderful lad, a real credit to you.”
Emma blows past the compliment, though he does detect the slightest flush on her cheeks. “Maybe you don’t think it’s much, but it means a lot to me. Henry… there’s not really a lot of male role models in his life. Obviously, his dad’s not in the picture, so it’s pretty much just David. A lot of guys… most guys don’t really want to step up like that.”
“It’s my pleasure, Emma,” Killian replies, smiling gently. This almost feels like the beginning of a moment in a way that he hadn’t expected when they’d started this conversation. A part of him wants to seize on that feeling - to step into her space further, to brush that stray lock of hair back behind her ear, to let their hands just barely graze. It’s terrifying to take that step, though, when he knows that could break apart whatever understanding they’ve reached in their weeks at the park.
Killian thinks that Emma must be of the same mind, as he can see her swallow nervously before she continues again. “I actually wanted to ask you —”
He never finds out what Emma wanted to ask him, however, as right at that moment, Henry and Bonny burst into the kitchen, chasing each other around his and Emma’s legs and forcing them closer into each other’s space. It’s like a moment out of some cliche movie, and Killian can barely breathe for the anticipation of it all, his hands somehow braced against Emma’s upper arms as she stares back at him with eyes blown wide. It’s too close, and not close enough, and he really out to step back out of her space now that the little rascals have run back into the living room —
But then Emma presses up on her toes to drop a gentle kiss on his lips, and all the frantic thoughts running through his head disappear. It’s just a quick little thing - barely a brush of her lips against his - but something about the tentative gesture feels like trust, feels like a different commitment. It feels like hope.
“That was…” Killian tries to say, not certain of any of his words in truth, no real idea of how that sentence ends. Amazing? Unexpected? Life-changing?
“I was wondering if you’d want to get dinner sometime,” Emma finishes on a rush. Her cheeks are tinted the most charming shade of pink, but she doesn’t seem nervous about the asking - more settled, like she finally knows what she wants and how to get it. Luckily for her, he wants the same.
“I’d love that, Swan.” Like there’s any other answer.
“Well then… good.”
“Good.” As they stand in the kitchen, smiling like fools, Killian can’t help the absolutely silly thought that crosses his mind:
Bonny’s earned herself an awful lot of treats.
(After her clever efforts to push him and Emma together - literally, in this case? She more than deserves it.)
Summary: Of all the rumors that spread through her small hometown of Storybrooke, hearing that resident bad boy Killian Jones has gotten himself a dog is one she finds hard to believe.
Rating: T
AO3
A/N: Here’s my contribution for @cspupstravaganza! Thanks to everyone who helped organize this great event, and special thanks to @xemmaloveskillianx for once again being the perfect sounding board and cheerleader. I also want to say that I tried to research this topic enough to be able to do it justice, so I hope I’ve succeeded.
-----
Emma hears about Storybrooke’s apparent latest addition even before she ever lays eyes on them herself. Which really doesn’t surprise her all that much. Her hometown has always been rife with small town gossip and if there’s one topic they never tire of discussing over their morning usuals at Granny’s, it’s Storybrooke’s resident bad boy.
What does surprise her is the information now being spread about said bad boy. Because of all the things she would expect Killian Jones to do, getting himself a dog is not one of them. Getting himself locked up at the sheriff’s station after yet another drunk and disorderly? Yes. Arguing loudly and angrily with his brother at all hours of the day, in varying locations, often leading to more time in a cell? Yes. Going weeks at a time without being seen or heard from because he’s holed himself up in his brother’s spare room? Yes.
Taking on the responsibility of caring for another living creature when it’s been clear caring for himself hasn’t been a priority for some time? Absolutely not.
So Emma figures, as she throws a few bills on Granny’s counter and picks up her coffee-to-go, that the latest less-than-hushed whispers are more rumor than fact, and that there’s some key detail missing somewhere. If there is now a dog in Killian Jones’ life, it more than likely belongs to his brother or one of his adorable nieces. Certainly not him
It’s not until she bumps into the pair, quite literally, at the grocery store that she realizes she’s been wrong in assuming everyone around town has gotten it wrong. And yet so very right about them all somehow overlooking something very important in the latest development in Killian Jones’ life.
She’s just rounded the corner of the aisle when she collides hard with someone solid, sending the groceries in her arms scattering to the floor. A hand latches onto her instantly to keep her from falling back on her ass, and among the commotion is the flurry of fur wedging its way between her legs and those of whoever she’s just slammed into.
“Shit, I am so sorry!” She gasps and glances up to find wide, familiar blue eyes staring at her. “Jones.”
He doesn’t seem to register what Emma’s just said and it’s as his fingers start to squeeze a death grip into her arm that she realizes Killian isn’t staring at her, but through her. She tenses up. This isn’t the first time she’s gotten the blank stare from him. She’s been on the receiving end of it enough times when having to try and drag his drunken ass into the station.
“Jones…” She starts to warn in a soft tone, but is cut off from saying anything else as the mass lodged between them starts to whimper and then yips sharply. She looks down to see the dog she was so sure wasn’t his adjust itself so it’s facing Killian fully and gently press its nose up against the end of his left arm.
Emma watches, slightly amazed, as the dog alternates between pressing with its nose and softly licking at the same spot. After a few moments, she feels the pressure on her arm lessen and glances up to see Killian blinking owlishly, giving his head a slight shake. Recognition floods his gaze as he finally sees her standing before him.
“Emma, I-” He stops suddenly as the whimpering continues and drops his attention down to the dog. His hand releases her arm completely and he steps back slightly so he can crouch down and rub at the dog’s ear. “I’m okay, Morgan. That’s a good girl.” He says softly, pressing his forehead against hers and chuckling lightly when she yips again and licks at his cheek.
“Bloody hell,” Killian adds after a moment, looking around them at the stuff scattered on the floor. He stops scratching at Morgan’s head and reaches for one of the items before rising back to his feet. “Swan, I do apologize. I should know better than to text and walk.” He reaches out the box of Goldfish in his hand towards her with a tentative, almost hopeful smile.
Emma is so busy trying to wrap her head around the fact that this Killian standing before her is so starkly different from the Killian she has come to know the past few years that she doesn’t have a chance to consider what flies out of her mouth next.
“So the dog thing is true!” She blurts as she takes her crackers back. And instantly regrets her tactlessness as she watches his smile tighten a bit and a shuttered look fall over his eyes.
He reaches up to scratch behind his ear and shuffles his feet slightly. “Aye, the town criers are as accurate as ever.” He mumbles and frowns, attention once more dropping down to the dog. Emma’s gaze follows and she sees the dog has pressed herself up against Killian’s legs and is looking up at him imploringly. Killian reaches down to scratch at her head.
“Umm,” His uncertain tone has Emma lifting her eyes back towards his, but she finds he is nervously glancing around at the things still on the floor. “Do.. do you need some help with this stuff??”
She can see the effort it takes him to ask the question and how tense and uncomfortable he’s becoming once again. Guilt begins to make her stomach churn and she clutches the box of Goldfish tightly to her chest, wishing desperately she had said something else. “No, it’s okay. I can manage.”
Killian gives a curt nod and starts to shuffle past her awkwardly, his dog staying between the two of them. “I apologize again, Swan. I- I hope you have a nice evening.” He mumbles before practically sprinting away from her, the dog at his side with every step.
Emma stays glued to her spot as she watches him go, her mind racing with questions at almost the same speed as his retreat.
-----
“She’s a PTSD service dog.”
Emma glances up from where she’s been filling out a report at her desk to find Killian Jones standing in the doorway to her office. She figured she’d get the full story at some point, but certainly didn’t expect it to be from the man himself the very next morning. Especially not when she considers just how quickly he had tried to get away from her the night before.
She doesn’t realize she hasn’t replied to what he said until he gestures awkwardly at the dog sitting dutifully at his side, adding more in a nervous tone.
“Morgan. She’s…” Killian shrugs. “Supposed to help me.”
“With PTSD?” Emma finally asks quietly, hoping her question doesn’t come off as too intrusive.
Killian smiles, though there’s a tinge of melancholy to it. “With having a life again.” He chuckles and she can see tears starting to well up in his eyes. “One that isn’t all rum and anger and hatred. One where I don’t make people I admire hate me anymore than they already do. Where I can live with the fact that I’m a one-handed, dishonorably discharged loser who-”
A soft bark draws both of their attention down to Morgan, who has risen to her feet and is pawing gently at Killian’s thigh. Emma watches as he closes his eyes slowly and pulls in a deep breath through his nose before letting the air slowly out through his mouth, all the while using his good hand to pet at the top of Morgan’s head.
“I’m sorry,” He mutters after he’s calmed back down. His blue eyes are sad, but clear, when they open back up to find Emma again. “I still find it hard to… talk about things.”
Shaking her head, Emma waved her hand slightly. “Killian, you don’t have to-”
“I want to.” Killian cut her off quickly, a firm nod of his head. “I want to…” He glances down briefly to Morgan, and then back up. “Make things right again. Like they used to be.. Before.”
Before. It’s a single, simple word. But Emma hears all that’s left unsaid by him using it. Because before all the rum-induced drunken benders, before all the nights spent on opposite sides of a jail cell door, and days of ill-tempered outbursts, before a town full of gossips had eaten away at both of them and the Royal Navy had sent a man back home a mere shell of who he used to be, Emma Swan and Killian Jones had been friends.
Best friends.
Could have been more than best friends, perhaps.
“Emma?”
His call to her is slightly scared and yet she can hear the unlying thread of hope in it, and it pulls her from going further down memory lane. It’s her turn to pull in a deep breath and let the air out slowly.
“I want to too.” She finally says, nodding. “But it can’t be like before.” She sees the smile her initial words had started to bring to his face start to fade and she stands, making her way over to him. When she stops, Emma notices Morgan has pressed herself up against Killian’s legs again, between them as she had been the night before.
Smiling gently, Emma glances back up at Killian who is staring at her with wide eyes. This time, though, there is no doubt he’s looking right at her.
She reaches up and places her hand on his cheek. “It think it’s gotta be something new.”
Killian smiles again, shy and endearing. “I’d like that.”
Written for the @cspupstravaganza event! Many many thanks to @lfh1962-lfh1226-linda for being my awesome beta!!!!
An app that lets people rent time with other people's dogs and David books a session for Emma in secret. But she might get a bit more than the half hour that David booked for her.
“Oh come on Emma! It’s like Uber for dogs! That is awesome!”
“Whatever you say David.”
“Come on Mrs. Nolan, back me up!”
“David, you doing that was adorable the first two months. It's been almost a year, you don’t get to be cute anymore.”
“Oh don’t be that way Emma, David can’t help it.”
“Yeah exactly, I can’t he- HEY I AM NOT CUTE!”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, husband dearest.”
Even as Emma propped her book up a little higher on her knees, stuffed into the corner of the couch, she couldn’t stop the stupid grin that crept across her face. David and Mary Margaret were disgustingly adorable every hour of every day. And even when she was irritated with them, they could still amuse her.
David turned back to her, his questionable cuteness forgotten in light of the opportunity to harass her further about this stupid…. dog thing.
“But really Emma, why are you so against it? It’s a fantastic idea! You get all the joys of having a dog without having to take care of it.”
“That’s if you get joy from dogs,” she muttered as she tried to refocus on the pages in front of her.
“Oh don’t even,” David scoffed, “You love Ollie!”
Emma rolled her eyes and dropped the top of the book to look dramatically over the spine. “Because he’s yours, because he’s well trained, because I know he is cleaner than my floor right now, and because when I am around him, I am not the responsible party.”
David crossed his arms as he scowled at her, “Those would still all be true! It could be a great way to meet people! Who knows, you might enjoy it!”
Emma rolled her eyes, “It is not the same and you know it. And I don’t need help meeting people.” Mary Margaret made a skeptical noise that Emma judiciously ignored. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this anyway?”
Her raised eyebrow was met with an immediate guilty expression.
“David Tristan Nolan.”
He winced as Mary Margaret whispered from the peanut gallery, “Uh oh, now you’ve done it.”
Emma’s eyes flicked over to her, the smirk on Mary Margaret’s face almost forcing one onto her own, but Emma managed to keep her face still as she looked back at David. He dropped his eyes to his feet, toeing the carpet as he slid his hands into his pockets. If Emma had caught a ten year old trying to steal candy, they could not have looked more guilty.
“Well, Henry and I were talking and he mentioned that school was getting pretty stressful. And the other day I was reading the paper and came across an article that talked about how some schools do a sort of ‘puppy therapy’ and I thought that maybe something like that would help.”
“He can play with Ollie if he wants to mess around with a dog!” “Yeah, well,” David tried fruitlessly to defend himself, before he fizzled out. “...maybe he might like to hang out with a different dog. Or maybe he could make a new friend. Or maybe the dogs and their owners get something out of it too.”
Emma studied him for a moment longer before everything suddenly clicked into place. “You already fucking did it, didn’t you?”
David gave a weak nod as he mumbled, “The appointment is tomorrow afternoon.”
Emma wanted to be mad. She really did. But she knew that David’s heart had been in the right place, and he just wanted to help. And Henry loved dogs.
She thought about it for a moment longer before she sighed. “What are the details?”
David’s head snapped up as a delighted grin spread across his face.
“Well the site’s called Rent-A-Wag, and you are supposed to meet them at the park at three.”
~
Henry was practically vibrating with excitement as they waited underneath the old oak tree at the center of the park, as the message had asked them to. The owner, someone named Killian J, had given bizarrely specific instructions on where to wait.
Emma’s eyes scanned the park, looking for a husky. With a name like Killian, Emma figured the owner was a woman, so she allowed herself to omit any men in the area from her search as she watched for anyone coming up to them.
She was so focused on her search that when something cold and wet pressed into the side of her leg, she gave a startled yelp as she jerked away from whatever it was. A moment later an excited bark drew her eyes to a beautiful, all black husky with ice blue eyes prancing excitedly in front of her, tongue lolling as its eyes stayed riveted on her face.
A moment later a voice called out, “Bad form Merlin! You need to be introduced to a lady first!”
Henry and Emma turned to face the approaching figure, his form becoming clear as he jogged out of the glare of the sun and into the shade of the leaves. And Emma had to mentally check herself to make sure her tongue didn’t start hanging out like the damn dog’s.
This had to be some sort of fucking prank, like Candid Camera or something. Because there was no way that she would meet a person like him in real life. He was a fucking Adonis. His shirt was stretched tightly across his shoulders, and his jeans clung to his thighs like a second skin, flip flops and aviators completing the look. There was no way he was for real.
“Apologies, he usually has much better manners. Merlin, here.” His voice was cool and collected, the command clear and unyielding. She absolutely did not shiver. The dog immediately turned and padded over to the man and plopped down at his feet, staring adoringly up at him.
The man sent his dog an affectionate smile before he looked back up, pulling his sunglasses off to reveal eyes almost the exact same color as his dog’s. “Let’s try this again. Hi! Good to meet you. My name’s Killian, and this here,” he tilted his head towards his mutt “is Merlin. You are the Swans I assume?”
Emma was still in a mild state of shock, but Henry jumped right in. “Yeah! I’m Henry, this is my mom, Emma. It’s nice to meet you too!”
As he spoke, Emma finally was able to gather her wits and summon up the correct decorum and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Kilian tucked his sunglasses into his pocket, then reached out to take her hand. Emma expected him to shake it, but simultaneously wanted to roll her eyes and melt into a puddle of hormonal goop when he instead bent low over her hand and pressed the lightest of kisses to her knuckles. She could feel his beard scratch her skin, but his lips were warm and soft. She felt a puff of breath before he straightened and slowly released her hand from his. As she pulled her hand back, she could feel the warm strength of his palm and the roughness of his callouses.
Of course the fucking perfect man had perfect fucking hands too.
“The pleasure is all mine, love, I assure you.” The look he gave her had her licking her lips, but a moment later it completely dissipated into a warm smile as he turned back to Henry.
“So I was told that school is a little stressful, and that you were looking for some ‘puppy therapy’ aye?” Henry nodded, his eyes glued to the dog who was still sitting silent and attentive by his master’s side. Killian gave a small laugh, “Well then, let’s get you some puppy therapy. Merlin!”
The dog jumped to his feet, eyes glued to his master, his whole body coiled. Killian glanced down at Henry, “So do you think you can outrun him?”
Henry looked up at him, “Yeah!”
“Alright then, you get a five second head start.” The dog whined quietly as he remained still. Killian dropped a hand to Henry’s shoulder, and for some odd reason, Emma’s instincts didn’t have her immediately ripping that hand from its arm. “Merlin, go seek?” The dog barked. “Are you ready Henry?” He nodded. “You get five seconds. Go!”
Henry took off at a sprint across the park, laughing. The dog’s head snapped around to watch him, but he did not move. Emma watched as Killian counted quietly underneath his breath before commanding “Merlin- seek!”
The dog took off like a rocket across the grass. Henry glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the animal running after him and let out another laugh as he tried to speed up. The dog caught him easily, and Henry ended up on the ground while Merlin eagerly licked at his face.
“You have a fine lad there, Swan.”
Emma blinked at the name as she looked over at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. She studied his profile for a moment, before she answered a little awkwardly, “Thanks. You have a pretty cool dog too.”
She saw his lips pull up in a small smile. An easy silence fell between them as they continued to watch Henry and Merlin run around and roll in the grass. Emma wasn’t sure she had seen Henry laugh so much in years.
Maybe David was right after all.
She was so caught up in her thoughts as she watched her son play like he was a small child again that she jumped when an alarm went off. She apparently wasn’t the only one lost in thought though, because Killian swore quietly, “Bloody fuck.”
He pulled out his phone and silenced the alarm. But the sight of his phone had her pulling out her own, and she realized that the half hour window they had paid for was over. She sighed and tucked her phone away, stepping forward to call Henry. But before she could get his name out, Killian spoke from behind her.
“No don’t.” Emma turned to him, confused. His eyes flickered over her face before dancing away again. “It’s alright. Let the lad enjoy himself. Merlin could use the exercise.”
“But…. we only booked a half hour. Don’t you have other people to go… rent your dog to?”
Killian reached up to scratch at his ear, refusing to meet her eyes, and suddenly Emma was on alert. There was something more to this. “Erm,” his voice caught and he cleared his throat harshly, “I.. um… you guys are actually my only booking.”
Emma narrowed her eyes, “What does that mean?”
Killian tried to shrug casually, “Eh, nothing. Just that I don’t really have anywhere to be so… it’s fine if the lad wants to play a little longer.”
Emma’s shoulders straightened and she took a step forward, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I can always tell when someone is lying to me. So you wanna try that again?”
Killian stared at her hard for a moment before closing his eyes, his jaw clenching as he let out a harsh breath through his nose. But then he sighed, “My mate signed me up for this without telling me. I was about to delete the damn thing when I got your booking, and it would have been bad form to refuse, no matter how much I wanted to.”
Emma tilted her head to study him, “Why would your friend do that? And why would you not want to use it? I mean that is practically free money.”
“Robin made the damn thing because he is a bloody mother hen who doesn’t know how to bloodly leave well enough alone.” His tone was bitter when he fell abruptly into silence. Then, “Maybe it is best if we do leave.”
Emma felt a strange despair and a wash of guilt as she realized she had pushed way too far, asking a stranger a thing like that.
“Look Killian,” she said quietly, not reaching out to stop him, but hoping that he would listen anyway. “I’m sorry. It’s not my business. If you’d like us to go, we can, but I really appreciate the extra time you are letting Henry have. I haven’t seen him laugh so much in a long time.”
He did not turn to face her and, because he’d stepped forward, she could no longer see his face, but she had a clear view of his shoulders as he took a deep breath, his shirt stretching delightfully across his back as he inhaled.
“No, I apologize. That was bad form to take my frustration with him out on you. You see,, I’m a little rusty on my people skills. I uh… I haven’t left my property in a couple of years.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned and gave her a sad smile, “Several years ago, life threw a number of hurdles at me that I was no match for. And so I just shut down. I own a ranch outside of town, and the land and the work on it were enough that I never had to leave. So I didn’t. This is my first time off the property in almost three years.”
Emma gasped, completely shocked by both his confession and the fact that he had even shared at all. Killian gave her a self-deprecating smile.
“Aye, so my friend Robin Locksely finally got fed up with me and, since the only thing I take any amount of pride in is Merlin, I suppose he figured that would be the best route to go. So there’s my tale of woe for you.”
Emma floundered for something to say when something registered. “Wait- did you say Robin Locksley?”
Killian’s brows pulled together in confusion, but he answered nonetheless, “Aye.”
“Fucking David fucking Nolan.”
“Pardon?”
“Robin Lockesley is one of my best friend’s partners. What are the chances that the one person who messages you on an app you never looked at was that one person who has a direct connection to your friend?”
Killian’s confusion slowly morphed into consternation as he realized the con that his friend had pulled. “Bloody fucking prat,” he hissed.
Emma was equally as irritated at what was obviously some weird kind of intervention on both their parts from their friends. But the moment she went to speak, Henry and Merlin came running up to them, grass and leaves in his hair and Merlin leaning against his leg, looking up at his face with absolute devotion.
“Mom, can we get ice cream?”
Before Emma could answer, Henry continued, “Can Killian and Merlin come?”
Her knee jerk reaction was to give a hard no. But before she could get it out, David’s words resurfaced in her mind.
...maybe he might like to hang out with a different dog. Or maybe he could make a new friend. Or maybe the dogs and their owners get something out of it too.
She studied Killian for a fraction of a moment and in that time she was able to see the defeated bend of his shoulders and the weight of his self imposed solitude. But in his eyes there was the tiniest glimmer of a sort of desperate hope.
It could be a great way to meet people! Who knows, you might enjoy it!
It was the instant darkening of his eyes as she took a fraction of a moment too long to answer that decided her. In his eyes was the same shadow of bitter loneliness she saw every day. David’s heart was always in the right place, after all.
“Sure, if Merlin is allowed to eat ice cream, he and Killian are more than welcome to join us.”
It was like watching the sun come out as Killian looked at her with shock, before a smile broke across his face. “Aye, I think Merlin could choke down a cone.”
~
Two years and three months later, Emma found that it was so much better to own than rent-a-wag. Especially when a husband came included with the deal.
So many thanks to: @cspupstravaganza, @sherlockianwhovian, @lassluna, and @kieravanrenvie.
AO3 if that’s your jam.
Today you get the prologue and the first chapter, so read away, my pretties!
I'd Pick You (and Your Little Dog, Too)
A Captain Swan Pupstravaganza Story
Summary: According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Swan's dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she's not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don't you think?
Prologue:
The pounding of Emma’s heart matched her footsteps as she ran through the woods on the edge of Storybrooke. She did her best to ignore the pain in her back that her bookbag was causing her, slamming against her tailbone. She forced all thoughts out of her head, pointedly ignoring the bruise clearly forming above her jeans..
She just ran.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She felt it faintly, but she ignored it. A nagging feeling in her belly threatened to stop her in her tracks: she hated to make her brother worry.
But he’d be better off without her.
David was the golden child, a straight-A student and a natural athlete. He’d been their parents’ pride and joy, while Emma had been a troublemaker and a disappointment. She’d done well as a child, her competitive nature causing her to pit herself against her twin brother in every conceivable way. They were equals in many ways, though Emma’s true strength was in literature while David had understood long division a full two years before she’d begun to grasp the concept. But somewhere along the way, she’d started losing their imaginary competitions. She suddenly had to try to ace all of her tests, while everything still seemed to come easily to David.
She’d been a sore loser.
So instead of trying and disappointing her parents - and herself - she’d given up. Stopped going to class and started hanging out with the stoners by the football field. She’d lost track of the days and weeks.
And then her parents had died.
It was a car accident, it could have happened to anyone. But while David flourished in his grief, planning the funeral and contacting family members and even arranging hotel stays, Emma had only fallen further down the hole she’d dug herself.
And then the funeral came. One week after the accident, Nolans and Swans, humans and canines, from near and far had descended upon their home and Emma had hidden in her room, while David remained the center of attention.
She ventured halfway down the stairs during the small gathering after the service when she heard someone talking to David. She sat, eavesdropping.
“Oh I just know your parents were so proud of you, David. Your mother told me just last week about how you were running for class president, right? I can’t imagine you’ll still run. Oh you are? Yes, it is what they would have wanted. Where’s your sister? Still skipping class every day? Your mother was very worried about her, you know.” Great Aunt Ingrid lowered her voice. “Is it true they were out looking for her when they got into the accident?”
It wasn’t. Emma heard David’s firm No from her spot on the stairs, but the damage had already been done.
She packed a bag, only the essentials, and ran out the back door.
She reached the docks and stood, staring out on the water, unsure of what to do next. Her stupid phone kept buzzing in her pocket and she finally ripped it out, staring at the screen.
32 New Text Messages 15 Missed Calls
8 Voice Messages
All from David.
Shit.
D: Emma, where did you go?
D: I heard you on the stairs when I was talking to Aunt Ingrid. D: Where’s your necklace from Mom? I saw it on the nightstand this morning.
D: Did you run away?
D: Emma, please answer me. D: Emma, I can’t do this alone.
The last one finally got her.
She sighed, upset with herself for getting so carried away, for being so selfish. She was so embarrassed now, with the adrenaline leaving her system, and so tired.
E: Let me know when everyone’s gone.
It took three hours before she finally got the text.
D: Come home, Emma. Please.
She’d expected David to yell at her, to tell her how much he’d worried and to blame her for causing him more stress.
He just hugged her, cradling the back of her head in his right hand.
It was the first time his armor had come down. The first time Emma had realized that maybe, just maybe, her brother wasn’t handling this as well as she’d suspected. She thought about all the planning he’d done for the funeral and realized, apparently too late, that he’d probably been trying to avoid thinking about what had happened; trying to avoid thinking about the fact that their parents were gone, and they weren’t coming back.
“You can’t leave me like that, Emma. It’s just you and me now.”
She nodded against his shoulder.
“Just you and me.”
-------------
Four Years Later
“You’re… you’re moving out?” Emma asked, hoping her brother wouldn’t notice the slight crack in her voice at the end of the question.
“Just down the street,” David assured her. “It’s just… Emma, it’s time. We’ve been together for a while, it’s the next logical step.”
Emma loved her brother, and she was so happy that he was in love, but she just really didn’t want things to change. They were barely eighteen, had just gotten their own place together (Granny’s Inn had been nice, if a bit cramped, and this was an actual adult apartment) a year ago, and now… it was already ending?
She sniffed once and nodded.
“Okay,” she said.
“Emma, we can talk about this. I know it’s a lot…” David tried to catch her eye but she looked away.
“Nothing to talk about. I’m sure you and Kathryn are meant to be.”
--
A week later, Emma was helping David move into his fancy new one-bedroom apartment with its in-unit laundry and brand new appliances. She didn’t want to help, didn’t want to move things along any more quickly than they were already moving. But David was still her brother, and she did want to spend as much time with him as possible.
So she was helping.
They were driving in David’s truck on their last trip of the day when a small brown and white pitbull suddenly ran into the middle of the road. David swerved and missed her, barely coming to a stop before hitting a tree.
“What the hell was that?” Emma checked herself for any injuries but she didn’t feel anything out of place. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” David answered, but he sounded far away, like he was only half listening. Emma turned towards him and found him staring directly at the pitbull, who was still standing directly in the middle of the street as though she hadn’t just been nearly run over by a pickup truck. The dog was staring right back at David.
And then she ran.
David scrambled out of the car to chase after her and Emma followed as soon as her brain caught up to what was going on: this was David’s dog.
Emma had long since given up on finding her own dog, and her brother claimed he had as well. They’d made it this far without them, and David had a perfectly fine love life, soulmate or otherwise, so what did it matter? But Emma knew, despite the fact that he’d stopped talking to her about it ages ago, that David still hoped for a dog one day. Was her brother a hopeless romantic or total sap? It depended on Emma’s mood.
Dogs appeared in your life as if they’d been there all along, and they essentially became a fifth limb, always attached to you, an extension of your arm. There were rumors that long ago, long before Emma was born, dogs were just pets like cats or lizards or birds, and that their lifespan was much shorter. There were some stories, even, about people who couldn’t own dogs because they’d developed an allergy, which had never even make sense to Emma, who happened to be allergic to cats.
At any rate, it was hard for Emma to believe that there had ever been a time when dogs weren’t commonplace, when you needed permission to bring them to restaurants or stores or coffee shops. Perhaps those were just stories that had been passed down for so long that they’d lost any element of the truth.
The fact of the matter was that humans depended on dogs so much, even back then, that evolution (or magic or fate or whatever explanation you chose to believe) took over. Emma had only known a life that included seeing dogs at every turn. Their lifespans matched their human’s, and they served a much more important purpose than other animals in the world.
Dogs appeared in someone’s life when it was time. There was no other explanation, and it wasn’t something easily researchable. So people just walked along, dog-less, until they finally came across a dog on a walk, or they appeared at the person’s door, or they just came together in some other way. Everyone’s story was different, but the end result was the same: the dog chose the human. There were no loose dogs running around, so if you came across one, it was meant to be yours.
Emma followed David as he chased the dog into the woods just beside the road. It wasn’t a long run, but it was confusing (all the trees looked the same) and sweaty (Maine in the middle of August will do that). But finally, David’s dog led them to… another dog.
The other dog was also a pitbull, but he was bigger than the female who’d led them here. He was all black, save for a small white stripe down the center of his chest.
He was beautiful.
He was also trapped.
He didn’t make any noise, clearly not wanting to draw any attention to the trouble he was in. His front left leg was stuck under a pile of rocks. It looked like maybe he’d been digging a hole and the rocks had fallen on him, but Emma couldn’t be sure.
“Emma,” David whispered, bringing her back to the situation at hand. “These dogs are… they have to be…”
“David, not now. He’s stuck. Help me get him loose.”
The two of them moved rock after rock until finally the dog’s limb was freed. But Emma could see it was too late. He tried to move it, but he couldn’t put any weight on the leg. He looked at Emma, and he finally let out one long, low whine.
“We’ve gotta get him to the vet,” Emma said, scooping him up in her arms. He was heavier than she’d anticipated, and the walk back out of the woods wasn’t easy, but they made it to the truck - all four of them - in one piece.
While there were certainly vets in town with more experience than Ruby Lucas, there was no one the Nolans trusted more than the Lucas women. Ruby’s grandmother had taken them in after their parents’ accident, allowing the twins to stay together in their hometown. Ruby was already grown up and out of the house by the time the Nolans had moved in at fourteen, but she’d still become a pseudo-sibling. She’d gotten David his first job, cleaning kennels at the clinic, and there was no doubt that she was the person they’d be taking their dogs to for the rest of their lives.
“It’s probably best to amputate. There’s not much we can do for it, and he’ll be much more comfortable without dragging it around.”
Emma was surprised at the pang she felt in her chest.
“He’ll um… he’ll be okay, though? After?” Emma asked, and David reached over and put a calming hand on her shoulder. The other dog sat at his feet, poised and beautiful. Ready for anything.
“I guess so,” Emma breathed. “I didn’t… I don’t… We just found them.” She motioned between both dogs.
“That’s how it goes,” Ruby said with a smile. Her own dog, Toto, lingered in the back of the room, calmly watching her owner care for Emma’s new charge. Emma watched Toto for a moment, wondering at the connection that must be present between canine and human, before her attention returned quickly to the dog in front of her, staring up at her meaningfully.
“Okay, then let’s do it.”
Emma brought Rascal home a week later. The missing limb didn’t seem to bother him, and he was absolutely incredible. He seemed to know her habits already, waking up with her (or jumping on her when she overslept, which was more often than not), waiting patiently for head scratches and treats instead of begging, and he even slept right on top of her freezing cold feet at night.
It helped having him around when she missed David, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if the fates (or whoever controlled this whole dog thing) had put Rascal in her path right when she needed him most: right when she was about to be alone for the first time.
Of course, David’s dog was not a fan of Kathryn. He’d named the dog Princess, because of her graceful, even regal, way of entering a room, but the truth was that she was just as playful and messy as Rascal. And Kathryn kept a clean house, one that didn’t include dirty pawprints on the couch from playing outside.
It took a while for reality to set in. Kathryn had found a dog, too, and named him Dodger. And while Dodger was athletic and handsome like David believed himself to be, he was also either too dumb or too stubborn, refusing to listen to anyone but Kathryn. And even that was iffy. David and Kathryn tried to keep the romance alive, but soon they began fighting over small things, like David leaving dirty dishes in the sink or the proper way to hang the toilet paper roll. Princess didn’t seem to like Kathryn, which didn’t help matters, and Dodger was completely indifferent towards David.
Over time, the small fights evolved into larger ones, and they realized they simply weren’t happy together. It became obvious that soulmates were soulmates for a reason, and they just weren’t it.
In David’s absence, Emma had even ventured down the dark path of romance and come out the other side just a little more broken than she already was.
When it was all over and David was moved back in, he pulled Emma into a hug, and they promised each other again the same thing they had at fourteen.
“It’s just you and me, David.”
“Just you and me.”
A low whine and a short growl sounded by their feet.
AND THAT’S IT for the Pupstravaganza! It’s been a truly fantastic event, with so many amazing stories! And we’re already talking about the next one! Thank you so much to all the writers and to everyone who read and commented and kudos-ed and reblogged. You are all BRILLIANT.
SO TO ROUND IT ALL UP:
Nana by @thejollyroger-writer
Emma and Killian Jones are just out for a walk with three-year-old Hope and newborn Alice. But what they end up finding is completely unexpected -- and makes Emma question her sanity.
Arm’d with Hell flames and fury all at once by @darkcolinodonorgasm
It should’ve been easy: hike up the hill, vanish the ghost, go back home, possibly without being killed or possessed in the meantime. But fighting monsters had never been easy, not even when hunters made it appear so. When hunting, things never go as planned, and sure as hell the girl you like doesn’t bring a puppy along, and you surely aren’t keeping very important secrets from your friends. Too bad said secrets won’t remain such for long, and that the dog hiding in the girl’s backpack isn’t exactly a regular dog.
...between a rock and a bark place by @thisonesatellite
A dog enters Emma’s life and afterwards it gets a lot better.
Because this dog is brilliant.
And has opinions about Emma and Killian and life and love - and is not ashamed to work a little canine magic to bring those two idiots together.
I’d Pick You (and your little dog too) by @awkwardnessandbaseball
According to everyone in the known universe, Emma Swan’s dog is supposed to lead her to her soulmate. But she’s not even sure if she wants that. Soulmates are pretty idealistic, don’t you think?
I Get Knocked Down (but I get up again) by @stahlop
Emma thinks her new neighbor is hot. Like really hot. Now if she could just get her Great Dane to stop knocking him down every time she sees him.
Rent-A-Wag by @gingerchangeling
An app that lets people rent time with other people’s dogs and David books a session for Emma in secret. But she might get a bit more than the half hour that David booked for her.
A Twelve-Legged Matchmaker by @shireness-says
Killian Jones has an undeniable crush on Emma Swan. He just needs a little nudge from man’s best friend to act on it.
The Sleep of the Sun by @profdanglaisstuff
It’s eighteen years after Emma and Killian defeated Cora and her plan to flood their world with dark magic, and the story moves on to their son Liam. A sweet and loving boy with the ability to shift into a dog at will, he is also more observant than his parents give him credit for.
And now, as Samhain approaches, something dark is brewing in the forest yet again…
Full (Dog) House by @xhookswenchx
Killian overdoes it at doggy adoption day.
Captain Morgan by @pirateherokillian
Of all the rumors that spread through her small hometown of Storybrooke, hearing that resident bad boy Killian Jones has gotten himself a dog is one she finds hard to believe.
A Litter More Than They Bargained For by @snowbellewells
Killian and Emma take in a pet at their little girl's insistence (and end up with so much more!)
Our Love’s Melody by @teamhook
Can a has-been find inspiration and love at the same time?
A Dog by Any Other Name by @snidgetsafan
After her boyfriend finds himself arrested, Emma Swan is left with a broken heart, a trashed apartment… and her ex’s dog. While she agrees to keep the dog, she draws the line at calling him such a ridiculous name.
Killian Jones, her hot British neighbor, wholeheartedly agrees.
--
Be sure to keep your eye out for further chapters from @darkcolinodonorgasm @awkwardnessandbaseball and @teamhook still to come!!
