fanbinding: our little life (rounded with a sleep)
my signature fic. our little life (rounded with a sleep) is a project i originally began in 2018, but abandoned as i realized i didn't yet have the support or ideas i needed to see it through the way i wanted to. in 2019, i signed up for the @captainswanbigbang Rewrite-a-Thon, a decision that ended up being a fateful one for me. (more on this in a later post)
but for now, let's discuss the binding. the cover is a modified paper casing i learned from sarah nicholls at the NYC Center for Book Arts. her original design (detailed in Bookforms, A Complete Guide to Designing and Crafting Hand-Bound Books) is based on an elaborate folded paper apparatus cased in paper, modified from a limp vellum style. i (perhaps?) went a bit overboard here in making the casing out of folded faux leather bookcloth with a longstitch-inspired spine. the textblock is sewn with a combination coptic/french link so that it opens completely flat, allowing flaps that slide into the case to be inserted or removed for ease of reading. the concept was intended to evoke a ye olde style booke appropriate for a fairy tale.
but. BUT. let's talk about this art. for my birthday, as a gift to myself, i commissioned the brilliant @camii-artt to draw characters inspired by scenes from the fic. i built the entire typeset around her work and it was completely worth it--everything about the style evokes the hard-boiled detective vibe of the fic, from the angles to the colors to the facial expressions.
this fic is, truly, the stuff that dreams are made of.
(and this is only binding version #1)
Killian met her in a pub on a rainy night in March. Going inside was only supposed to be a way for him to avoid the rain and fight off the demons in his head. It was a place for him to pass through, not stay. But then he was charmed by a blonde woman with a quick wit who had absolutely no interest in him or who he was.
That was a first. It was also the beginning of Emma Nolan helping to bring him back to life. It was the beginning of everything.
Five years later, with their worlds crumbling around them, Killian can’t help but wonder if this is the end of the peace they have known now that his family knows about his relationship. It wouldn’t be a problem if his father wasn’t the King of England.
rating: mature
a/n: thank you to @captainswanbigbang for running this event and letting me write this story, to @resident-of-storybrooke for plotting and listening to me talk and for reading this, like, four times while never complaining, to @captainsjedi for making all of the incredible art for it and writing the sweetest tags, and to @wellhellotragic for finding the original story over on ao3 years ago and supporting me then and still supporting me now ❤️
It’s been that way for several hours now, and at some point, Killian should probably get that checked out by a medical professional who can assure him that he’s not going to die and that his heart will return to his chest and beat at a normal rate again.
He is in a hospital, after all, so there’s likely someone who can help him out.
“Killian, you have to stop clenching your fist.”
“I’m not clenching my fist.”
“Literally, look down at your hand.”
Killian blinks before looking down at his hands. His right is tangled with Emma’s, his grip stronger than it should be, while his left is, indeed, balled into a fist on her mattress.
Oh.
Sighing, Killian unclenches his first before loosening his grip on Emma and leaning forward to press his lips against her knuckles. “I’m sorry, love. I - fuck. I really don’t mean to be so dramatic, but you fainted out of nowhere just as we were about to leave to go home, and I’m terrified that something awful is wrong with you.”
Emma’s hand pushes into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and he shouldn’t be the one who is being comforted right now. He should be comforting Emma. She’s the one who is in a hospital bed waiting on the results of all of the tests they ran on her, and while he knows she likely had low blood sugar and a lack of sleep from the hectic schedule of their tour, he cannot help but think of all of the horrendous things that could be wrong with his wife.
He loves her in sickness and in health, always, but God, he hopes she’s alright. He can’t live without her, which is so damn selfish to think, but this is where they are now.
(And he can be selfish when it comes to wanting Emma to be alright.)
It’s nothing. It has to be nothing.
“I’m fine,” Emma promises, but he knows she doesn’t actually know, not yet. “It’s been a crazy week with no sleep, and I skipped meals, which was stupid. It’s probably low blood sugar or exhaustion or something else I can fix when we get home and have some time off.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“I mean, I could be dying, but I didn’t think that’s what you wanted me to say.”
“Swan - ”
Emma huffs and rolls her eyes at him. “I’m fine until the doctor says otherwise because I pretty much refuse for something to be wrong with me.”
Killian nods and leans down to press his lips against her knuckles once more. He understands. He refuses for something to be wrong with her too. They’ve already spent too much time in their lives with Emma in a hospital, and he doesn’t want to keep doing this.
“Good afternoon, Your Highnesses,” Dr. Roberts sing-songs as she walks back into the room. He has no idea if this woman is always this peppy or if maybe this is her way of saying there’s nothing wrong with Emma before she actually says it. If there is something wrong, Dr. Roberts really has to work on how she speaks. “So, I have some good news.”
Killian perks up, while Emma stays sitting as she was, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles. “What is it?”
“Well, you’re fine,” Dr. Roberts continues, her smile bright as ever, “and so is your baby.”
“Oh thank God,” Killian sighs, leaning forward again. He’d truly convinced himself that something awful was wrong, but Emma is fine. She’s fine.
“I’m sorry,” Emma mumbles, “did you just say I’m pregnant?”
What?
“I did.”
Pregnant.
“I cannot be pregnant.”
Emma is pregnant.
How did he not hear that part?
“You are most definitely pregnant, Your Highness.”
How is Emma pregnant?
“You just told me I apparently have a baby in my uterus. You can call me Emma.”
Is he going to be a dad? Is Emma going to be a mum?
Killian’s head shoots up from where it’s buried against Emma’s hand to quickly look at her and her slack-jawed expression before looking at Dr. Roberts.
The doctor nods before looking between the two of them, and Killian stops staring a hole into her eyes to turn to look back at his wife who is apparently carrying their child. He feels like the biggest asshole in the world because he can’t seem to form coherent thoughts and should probably be having some kind of poetic thought about what this is going to mean to him, to the both of them.
Killian may be a little shocked.
The fact that Emma is too makes him feel a hell of a lot better.
“Emma,” Dr. Roberts sighs, “I think I’ll give the two of you some time to yourselves to talk since I seem to have shared some rather big news. Just know that both you and your baby are fine, but you need to make sure that you’re not overexerting yourself. You fainted because of a lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and your pregnancy.”
“Thank you,” Killian manages to mutter out while his thumb caresses Emma’s knuckles and Dr. Roberts walks out of the room. The moment the door closes, Killian leans down to kiss Emma’s hand before looking up at her. “Penny for your thoughts, love.”
“I’m really scared that my feet are going to get bigger.”
Killian barks out a laugh and rises from his chair in order to get closer to Emma, dipping his head down and kissing her because he can’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t be kissing her at every available moment.
Especially now.
Especially always.
“I believe that means you’ll simply have to get new shoes. I think that can be arranged.”
“Never did I think there would be a day where you were encouraging me to get more shoes.”
“Well, you do have to throw out the old ones, of course.”
Emma’s chuckle is small, but it’s there, and Killian rests his forehead against hers while Emma’s hand comes to rest in his hair, toying with the little strands at the nape of his neck.
God, that feels good.
They’re having a baby.
“Killian,” she whispers, “how am I pregnant?”
“I don’t think I really need to explain the concept of sex to you.”
“Shut up.”
“No, I’m serious. When we are having sex, or making love if that’s your preferred term, and I reach my - ”
“You’re being an ass.”
“Wrong part of the body.”
“Ten years from now, when we think back on the moment I found out I was pregnant, this is what you’re going to have to remember.”
Emma is pregnant.
They’re going to be parents.
Bloody hell.
“I love you, darling,” he whispers, pulling back from her so that he can tuck her hair behind her ears and see the beautiful green of her eyes. They’re wet with tears, and he imagines his are too. “And I don’t know how this happened. I assume...I don’t know. I don’t know how this happened, but I do know that I’m happy. Are you happy?”
Emma nods while tugging on her bottom lip. “I’m happy, but I’m scared. I mean, we’ve talked about wanting kids, but talking about it and actually knowing that I’m pregnant is - ”
“Nerve-wracking.”
“Pretty much,” she laughs. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. I don’t think we know how to have a baby.”
“I imagine we’ll figure it out.”
“I guess we will.”
-/-
Killian is flooded with joy for the first week of them knowing Emma is pregnant. She’s only eight weeks along now, so they haven’t told a soul yet, but he’s itching to, if only because he desperately needs to talk to someone about it.
Someone who isn’t Emma because right now, he’s feeling like a piece of worthless scum on the sidewalk for some of the thoughts he’s having.
There are so many damn emotions that come with Killian knowing Emma is pregnant - happiness, elation, joy, terror, anxiousness, excitement - and as much as he fluctuates between all of them, there’s only one that creeps into the forefront of his mind in the middle of the night after a day wandering around knowing that their lives are going to keep changing every single day.
Uncertainty.
And it’s rubbish because he’s not even sure if uncertainty is an emotion, but it’s also rubbish because he’s feeling uncertain not because he doesn’t want this baby, but because he’s terrified that he won’t be a good father to their child.
Killian has a piss poor excuse for a father, and as much as David has filled in for that role, it’s not the same as having a good example for his entire life and seeing year-by-year proof that children can grow up to love their dads and not resent them or be hesitant to even be in the same room as them at family gatherings. He doesn’t love his dad, and he hates that he’s consumed by that. This is supposed to be one of the happiest times in his life, and all Killian feels some days is that he’s already a failure.
(It’s been a week. How is he already screwing up after a week?)
If he didn’t know that Emma is going to be the most incredible mum on the planet and make up for all of his shortcomings, he’d be fully convinced that he couldn’t do this and that fatherhood simply wasn’t for him.
Which is utter bullshit. He’s been in love with Emma for nearly a decade, has known he’s wanted to have children with her for most of that time, and Brennan should not still be able to take up so much space in Killian’s head.
Not anymore.
He’s fighting those demons and dealing with them in his counseling and every time he has to deal with his father, and Killian is determined not to let him taint this.
He can’t.
Not when the woman in bed next to him might as well be an angel sent to him from above, and not when the almost invisible curve of her stomach resting underneath his hand can be felt. They weren’t prepared for this. It wasn’t planned, and it’s apparently the result of the two of them thinking that the month of December was some kind of sex parade where birth control was sometimes optional.
(Emma found where she had skipped birth control pills after they got home, and he thinks she stared at the package for an hour at the very least.)
They were so stupid.
But he doesn’t regret it. Killian can’t. If they’d waited and tried some time from now, the baby growing in Emma wouldn’t be this baby. It would be a wonderful baby he and Emma both love with everything in them, but it wouldn’t be the same. Maybe next time, if they’re lucky enough, the pregnancy will be a result of months of careful love-making and a pointed attempt at trying, but to him, it doesn’t matter.
He’s scared out of his mind about being a dad, doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but he wouldn’t change a thing. Not when he has Emma.
“You’re thinking too much,” Emma mumbles, twisting in the bed.
He lays his hand flat over her stomach. “You’re talking in your sleep.”
“I’m awake. Your thoughts were so loud.”
“If you can hear my thoughts, I feel like you need to explain quite a few of the fights we’ve had.”
“Don’t wanna,” Emma mumbles sleepily. Killian huffs into her hair before twisting around her and allowing her to stick her freezing cold feet between his calves while his lips brush over her cheek. His hand flexes over her stomach again, feeling the proof of a decade of love and heartbreak and everything in between. “You’re a good baby daddy.”
(He rather despises that term, and Emma seems fit to call him that this week. Hopefully that will die down, but he really can’t complain when Emma has just become fraught with morning sickness as of yesterday.)
“Am I?” he whispers into her hair, trying not to laugh. She’s not going to remember any of this in the morning. She has a habit of waking in the middle of the night, having a conversation, and then forgetting about it the next morning.
“Mhm. You’re sweet, and you’re also really hot. I like that about you.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad I can be of service for you in that way.”
Her breathing starts to even out after that, slowly returning to how it was, and Killian keeps moving his hand over the small, almost swell of her stomach, something that he knows is a comfort to both of them already.
“Killian?”
“Yes, love?” he whispers so quietly the ceiling fan drowns out the noise of his voice.
“You’re going to be a good dad.”
And even though she’s mostly asleep when she says it, Killian knows that Emma thinks that. She has so much faith in him even when she shouldn’t, and her words settle the beating of his heart and the worry running circles in his mind.
It’s not everything, but it’s a start.
(And technically, Emma having faith in him is everything.
It’s all he’s ever wanted and far more than he deserves.
But he’s glad for it.)
-/-
“What the hell are you wearing?”
“What? You don’t like it?”
“It’s rather beige.”
Emma huffs and tugs at her bra, pulling it out and gathering all of the excess fabric there. “My mom thought it would be appropriate to buy me nursing bras, but this isn’t even close to my size. Like, I understand I’m going to balloon up in every way imaginable, but this is gigantic.”
“We told your parents about the baby two days ago. How has your mom already sent you new bras?”
“Express shipping, babe.”
Killian laughs and walks toward her. She’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror in nothing but her knickers and this massive bra that he can’t ever imagine Emma properly fitting into. Apparently, she can’t imagine it either. It hangs far off her back and over her breasts, and if she lets it go from her grasp, it falls to expose her nipples.
She looks ridiculous.
But also rather lovely, and when she turns around to face him, bottom lip jutted out in a pout, he steps up to her and places his hands on her hips, fingers inching up over her sides. “This is the sexiest you have ever looked.”
“Shut up,” she laughs, slapping his stomach.
“What? Can I not talk about it? This bra is so much better than everything you have in your closet.”
“You’re being dumb.”
“Oh, always.”
He leans into her and brushes his scruff against her neck, knowing that it tickles her, before doing the same with his fingers against her sides. Emma is squirming away from him, or, at least, trying to, but he doesn’t let her, backing her up against the counter as he keeps moving against her while she gasps for breath and laughs.
In between calling him an asshole, of course. That’s her favorite name for him.
“K-killian,” she gasps, leaning away from him as he kisses her neck and moves to kiss her jaw. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“In an hour.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”
“Aye,” he promises before kissing the corner of her lips until she’s turning to him so she can move her mouth over his, soft and slow and absolutely perfectly. As always. “But I think I might have some time to spend with you first.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm.”
“Can I take this damn bra off?”
“That was kind of the plan.”
-/-
They’re having a boy.
Killian was convinced that they were going to have a girl, as was Emma, and while it’s definitely a shock despite the equal odds, it doesn’t change anything about their excitement level or any of their plans going forward.
They’re having a boy.
And they can’t decide on a name. Everything in his head and on the list on the refrigerator were decidedly more feminine names, and while David, Liam, and Graham all cheekily suggest that their son should be named after one of them, Killian isn’t too sure about that.
(Ruby says their son can and should be named Ruby because she simply cannot wait until they have a girl for her to have a kid named after her.
When Emma suggests she have her own kid - “pregnancy is a bitch,” Emma mumbles - Ruby raises her hands in defeat and says they should name the kid whatever they want.)
It’s not that simple.
For as much as he and Emma push back on the traditions of his family and some of the inane rituals, they do want the name to fit. However, they want it to fit both them as a couple and his family. It’s a mixing of lifestyles and opinions, and the debates seem to rage on and on. Killian’s mum tells him she’s happy with whatever name they choose because it’s their family, Killian’s father makes a rare comment just to tell them how much he’s still pissed over Emma saying she won’t pose for photographs the day after giving birth, and Emma can’t seem to decide on anything.
(Except that she’s still not going to pose for photographs and expose their child to the wildness of the press after twenty-four hours of life, and he supports her wholeheartedly.
The press has tried to ruin them time and time again, emotionally and physically, and Killian will not stand for it for his wife or their child.)
Killian has his preferences, but he’s trying to narrow down her choices on the massive list that seems to keep growing and growing each day.
The name debate wages on as the weeks pass by and Emma’s stomach continues to grow. Killian never spent a lot of time imagining what this period in his life would be like, but overall, it’s mostly the same as he expected it would be. At least for him. Emma has gone through highs and extreme lows as her hormones attack her and change her body, and all he could do was support her and rub her back when she was vomiting.
And make every food that she wants, no questions asked. Though, surprisingly, her cravings are not at all what movies make them out to be. They do follow along with a lot that he’s read in the books and articles he’s consuming.
“There is literally no reason to read ten different books on the same thing,” Emma mumbles as she pulls her up into a bun. “That’s got to be information overload.”
“It’s varying opinions, love,” he insists, taking another note and sticking it to the page in his book. “I want to know as much as I can so I’m not caught unaware, and I needed a break from looking at cabinet handles for the new house.”
“Babe, you’re going to be caught unaware. It’s going to happen. Not even you can completely prepare for this.”
“Aye, but I can try.”
And he does try. He tries as he reads his books and looks at articles online so that he can at least be the tiniest bit more prepared than he would be. Emma reads books as well and is always looking to see his notes and what he knows, but she’s definitely the more relaxed of the two of them.
At least he thinks that.
She’s six and a half months pregnant and in a wonderful phase of constantly wanting him no matter what they’re doing when he realizes that Emma doesn’t like to constantly talk about the baby because it is all anyone talks to her about. When she does engagements, it’s what people mention. When they go out to dinner, even the servers mention their impending parenthood. When Emma talks on the phone with his mother, Allison is constantly talking about gifts for the baby and plans and asking if Emma has looked into some of the classes Allison suggested. Everyone means well and simply wants to share in their excitement, but their life isn’t all about this baby.
Their life is greatly enhanced by him and will change because of him, but at the core of it all, they’re still Emma and Killian who have been having conversations for nearly a decade about things other than a baby.
And Emma is still Emma, and she wants people to ask her how she is or what books she’s read lately or any conversation that would have been had before she was pregnant.
Late at night, though, when they’re lounging in bed with his hand on her stomach and his chest pressed into her back, sometimes she likes to whisper her thoughts and her fears, all of the hopes that she has for this future that keeps getting nearer and nearer to them.
The road to getting here was full of sharp wrong turns and dark corners full of heartbreak, and while they may have gotten a little lost along the way, they’re here now. That’s absolutely all that matters.
It always has been.
“Babe,” Emma calls out on a sunny day in June. They’ve been home all day, neither of them changing out of their pajamas, and he imagines from the look of it, Emma hasn’t combed through her hair. To be fair, he hasn’t either. “Do you know where the peanut butter is?”
“We had that entire box shipped here for you. It should be in the cupboard.”
“I don’t see it.”
“Have you checked the bottom shelf?”
“Yes.”
“Did you really?”
“I’m going to slap you.”
Killian sighs and puts down the letters he was responding to in order to get up and walk toward Emma and the cupboard. When he steps inside the room, he immediately goes in search of the box of jars of peanut butter he ordered for Emma only for it not to be there.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
“That’s kind of an extreme reaction to not being able to find the peanut butter.”
“How did we lose an entire box of peanut butter?”
“It can’t be lost. It has to be misplaced.”
“Lost, misplaced. Whatever, love.”
He squats down to look over all of the bottom shelves before scanning each and every other one, shifting around containers and boxes and every other insane organizational tool he decided to buy when he wanted this room to be contained and not a mess.
“Killian,” Emma huffs, tugging on his wrist until he turns around to look at her, “it’s fine. We have those smoothies I like in the fridge. I’ll drink one of those instead.”
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.” She tugs on his wrists again until she’s pulling him out of the room and back into their kitchen. “It wasn’t important.”
“I simply don’t understand where the peanut butter could have gone. I mean, I suppose it could have been moved, but I - ”
Emma loops her arms around his neck and presses up on her toes until she’s gently sliding her lips over his in a slow kiss that has his heartbeat quickening and gooseflesh rising over his skin.
“Stop worrying about it,” she murmurs as they sway back and forth with her stomach pressed tightly against his. “I don’t want a repeat of the blueberry muffin incident.”
“Dammit, don’t - ”
She kisses him again, insistently pressing her lips into his, and Killian presses back, pecking her lips once before doing it again and again and again. He kisses her fleetingly all the while continuing to sway the both of them. The wood is cold against his bare feet, so he’s sure Emma’s feet are literal icicles, but he’s not focusing on that as Emma begins to laugh, a small melodic sound that carries with the music that’s playing over the speaker on his phone from where he was listening to it when he was working.
But the laugh grows louder as Killian’s mouth moves away from hers and more toward the corner of her lips so that his scruff brushes against her skin, tickling her in the same way that his fingers are scratching against her sides and over the edges of her belly.
“You’re the only one I want to make laugh, truly.”
Emma’s laugh quiets at those words until she’s tightening her arms around his neck and nuzzling her face into his neck. There’s a sharp inhale of her breathing him in, and Killian kisses the top of her hair.
“You’re a romantic, my love,” she whispers.
“That’s what I strive to be.”
“I know. It’s why you practice all of those lines in the mirror.”
Killian scoffs. “I do not do that.”
“If anyone asks, it’s your word against mine, and well…”
She lets the words trail off, obviously waiting for him to fill in the blanks and continue their banter, but he doesn’t. He can’t, because the song is changing, and it’s been ages since he danced with her in the privacy of their home. Everything lately has been in suits and dresses with Emma’s heels making her nearly his height, but it hasn’t been the two of them in pajamas with messy hair and the ghost of missing peanut butter cascading over them.
So he keeps moving them, a gentle sway that turns into more, and they traverse the space in the kitchen, their feet quickly moving as Killian whispers in Emma’s ear words of affection that flow from his heart. It’s moments and times like these in the sanctity of their kitchen when it’s just the two of them and no one and nothing else that he thinks of how grateful he is that they fought for their love and won. Nothing about this was ever guaranteed or predestined, but they figured it out.
“I love you.”
Emma hums. “I love you, too.”
She pulls her head back until he can see her eyes, the beautiful glint of blue wrapped up in the green, and her smile is so bright that he can’t imagine not kissing her. He can’t imagine not kissing her as often as he’s able and not kissing her every day on a multitude of occasions. So he does.
And he hopes not to ever stop having that desire.
He won’t.
Emma is his wife and the mother of his child, of this one between them now and any ones in the future, but most of all, he thinks, she’ll always be his closest companion.
His best friend.
“Hey,” Emma whispers after they’ve been silently dancing for at least two songs.
“Yeah, love?”
“I think I’ve finally decided what name I want for the baby.”
Killian chuckles and tilts his head to the side to press his lips into her hair once more, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and everything that he’s grown accustomed to over the years. “And what’s that then?”
-/-
Their son is born on September twenty-third, a few days after Killian’s thirty-second birthday.
They name him Andrew Killian Phillip Jones.
He always goes by Andy.
-/-
-/-
-/-
Any of my Second in Command (the original version of this story) will recognize Andy. He was, like, star of the show for that crazy long epilogue/sequel I wrote, and I really wanted to include him here. The main reason, though, was to show that even though some parts of Emma and Killian’s story changed, that they went through more of a wild ride this go round, that they still get to have the same happy ending...wait, I think I have to say “happy beginning” here 😉
Thank you all for the INCREDIBLE support! I hope you enjoyed this story!
Author: @xemmaloveskillianx
AO3
Rating: M
Summary: After a person from her past calls with a problem, Emma and Killian leave Storybrooke to help. Alone for the first time in their relationship, they begin to realize things aren’t always the way they seem and sometimes the past can come back to haunt you.
I can't believe we are at the end of this fic! I am immensely proud of it, and I am so thankful for those who were willing to go on the journey with me to re-imagine Someone to Watch Over Me. I feel like the original was just a germ of an idea, and this event gave me the courage to build an entire world around it. A world similar to canon, yet unique. World building has never been my strength, and this re-write stretched me and helped me grow. In that way, I am so thankful to the ladies in the csrt discord chat, especially @optomisticgirl who stepped in as one of my last minute betas. B, you are the queen of world-building, and you have no idea how many times you helped me in chats to work out my own world in this story! Character development was also a big challenge in this fic, and for that I thank @shippingtheswann, my other beta. Emma and Killian's relationship wouldn't be as rich if not for you! And thank you to @distant-rose for helping me with the Lost Boys, the pirate crew, and the Neverland mythos. (If you ever need any info on pirates and ships, she's your girl!) I was nervous to take the story into some dark places, but you cheered me on and helped me trust my instincts. And of course, tons of thanks to the mods of this event at @captainswanbigbang. I was contemplating abandoning this fic until I saw you were organizing this, so massive kudos for putting this on!
One final thing, and I'll shut up and get to the actual chapter. My original vision for this fic was to take it where people had been begging me to - with Emma reuniting with her parents and the fall out from that - yet with my own version of the Enchanted Forest and the curse. However, as I worked on the story, I realized I had bitten off way too much. Therefore, I decided to split up the story. Sooo, this isn't the end! There will be a part two, which I am already working on. I will not be posting it until it is complete. It is shorter than this story, however, so hopefully the wait won't be too long!
Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …
Rating: M for sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape (all in previous chapters - this last chapter is mostly fluff)
Words: 6k and some change in this chapter
** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3
Emma and Killian: Age 24
When Emma was a little girl, she had found a book of fairy tale stories at the school library. Inside was a picture of a little cottage by the sea made of a hodgepodge of stones and a thatched roof, and rolling all around it were hills of soft grass. She can no longer remember what story the illustration accompanied, but she does remember how often she would stare at that picture, thinking how cozy the family must have been who lived in that house. She checked the book out every chance she got, and when she was moved yet again to a new foster family and a new school, she had committed a grievous sin: she had ripped the picture out of the library book.
Well, it had felt like a grievous sin to her seven year old self. Especially when the sweet librarian, Miss Stacy, had reminded them gently on numerous occasions of the proper way to treat the books. Ripping pages was definitely not the proper way.
Somewhere along the line, she had lost that ripped page. Yet here, below her now, nestled in the dip of the hills and facing the sea along the shores of Avalon, is that dream house of her childhood.
“Killian,” is all she can manage to say.
“Do you like it?” he asks, dipping his chin and scratching behind his ear. How can he be nervous giving her such a gift? Henry yells in delight and races down the hill towards the cottage.
Finally, she finds her voice again. “Like it? I dreamed of a house like this. When I was a kid.”
“Truly?” he asks incredulously, eyes bright with hope.
“Yes!” she exults, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. She shakes her head as she pulls back, cupping his face with her hands. “But we can’t live here. Won’t you miss the sea?”
“A pirate ship is no place to raise our son, and besides . . . “ he pulls her closer to the quaint home. Once they crest the hill, the land levels out, and the view is breathtaking. “ . . . there’s the sea right at our back door,” he finishes with a wide grin.
“Mama,” Henry cries as he comes flying out the front door, “can I pick out my room? There are three. Cause I want the one upstairs. Can I have the one upstairs?”
Emma laughs at her son’s barrage of questions. Killian reaches down and scoops up the wriggling child.
“Sorry, my boy, but you’re mum gets first choice.” He successfully cuts off the lad’s whines by tickling him. Then he sets Henry down upon his feet and ruffles his hair. “In the meantime, why don’t you pick some flowers for your mother? The field over there is carpeted with them.”
Killian points west away from the sea, and Henry eagerly scampers off. Emma calls after him to be careful.
“Don’t go too far! Make sure you can still see the house!”
“He’ll be fine, Swan,” Killian assures her, pulling her inside the house. “He never fell overboard on the Jolly despite your worrying, now did he?”
Emma rolls her eyes. “Haha, that really puts my mind at ease.”
Killian winks at her, then gives her a tour of the first floor, which is bigger than she would have expected. There’s a small foyer, then a formal sitting room to the right and a formal dining room to the left. At the end of the hall is a kitchen that opens up into a family room with a stone fireplace identical to the one in the parlor. Next to the stove in the kitchen is a door that opens out onto a patio with an even better view of the rocky sea below. Between the hallway and the kitchen is another door that leads into the master bedroom. The bed is tucked right beneath the window, and Emma can imagine falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the crashing waves.
“There’s no indoor plumbing like in your realm,” Killian explains as Emma circles the room, her hand skimming over the furnishings, “but there is a stream practically in our backyard, and the kitchen is large enough to put a tub in one corner.”
Emma pauses in her explorations and arches a brow at him. “You think I’m going to complain about a lack of plumbing after six months on the Jolly Roger?”
Killian manages another nervous laugh. “So you like it?”
She steps close to him, resting both of her palms on his chest. “I’m more worried if you’ll like it. You won’t miss the adventures at sea?”
“As I’ve said many times, piracy is ten percent adventure, ninety percent sheer boredom.” He lifts one of her hands and kisses it. “I’m ready for a life with you and Henry. I’m ready for the family I haven’t had since my mother passed.”
Tears well in Emma’s eyes. It’s still hard to believe sometimes that anyone would choose her, put her first. Yet this man isn’t just anyone, is he?
“Besides,” Killian says, thumbing her chin, “the Jolly still belongs to us.”
“But are you really satisfied turning her into a merchant ship? Is your crew?”
He draws her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Mason has always wanted to go to the naval academy, and with a year or two on a respectable merchant ship, he can. Hawkins wants to go to university, and Curly is looking at a plot of land to purchase and farm. Starkey has a sweetheart in Camelot, though he’s tried to hide it. As captain of my vessel, he can now ask for her hand. They’ve all grown up, Swan, and they have dreams and plans of their own.”
“And they’re loyal to their first captain,” Emma amends with a smile.
“I don’t know why.”
“I do,” she tells him, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “Are you sure you won’t get bored doing ledgers, placing orders, or whatever else merchants do?”
Killian shakes his head and bops her nose. “Quit doubting me, love! Besides,” he leans closer and stage whispers in her ear, “don’t tell anyone this, but I rather enjoy keeping the ledgers.”
Emma finds the nerd beneath his swashbuckling swagger incredibly sexy for some reason. “Well then,” she teases, stepping away from him to saunter over to the large bed. She grasps one of the bedposts and drapes herself around it in what she hopes is a sexy maneuver. “In that case, Mister Jones, maybe we should christen this bed.”
Killian growls and pounces, yanking her close and claiming her lips hungrily. Emma’s just dropped to the bed with a giggle when Henry comes pounding inside.
“Watcha doin?”
Emma almost falls to the floor in her haste to push Killian off her and jump to her feet. “Um, Papa’s just . . . tickling me.”
Killian chokes as he tries to hold back a laugh, but Henry is oblivious. Their son sticks out his hand, and clenched in his fist are a bunch of small yellow flowers.
“Oh, well, I did what Papa said and got you some flowers, Mama!”
“Buttercups!” Emma can’t help the tears that spill down her cheeks. “Thank you Henry!”
She picks up her son as Killian steps closer. He embraces both of them, brushing kisses to the tops of their heads.
“Welcome home, my loves,” he tells them.
******************************
After removing his boots by the door, Killian tiptoes through the cottage, the light of the full moon helping him avoid the furniture, Henry’s toys, and Emma’s shoes which she always leaves wherever she happens to kick them off. When he gets to the kitchen, he’s able to light a lamp so he can find the supper that Emma promised to leave on the stove. The Jolly was late coming into port, and going through the inventory took much longer than he had anticipated. Luckily, Emma is used by now to that most unpredictable of mistresses: the sea.
“Killian?”
The sound of his name is weak, yet he can still make it out on the other side of their bedroom door. He crosses to the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible. Emma’s curled up on the bed, her hair lit gold by the moon, and she’s so still he thinks maybe he didn’t hear her after all. He wants to reach out and touch her, yet he doesn’t want to wake her.
“Killian? Killian?”
She stirs slightly, but it’s clear she is still half asleep as she mumbles his name.
“Aye love, it’s me.”
“Killian?”
“Yes?” He touches her lightly through the blankets.
She says his name a few more times, like a question, and he can’t help smiling at how disoriented she is. He’s learned over the past year that she does in fact talk in her sleep. She finally seems satisfied that he’s here, and that he’s Killian. Her body relaxes and she mumbles good on a sigh. He pats her gently again and turns to go, but before he can, she reaches out and manages to find his hook in the dark.
“But you’re not leaving?” she asks, still in that sleepy voice.
The question makes his heart swell. “No love, I’m not leaving.”
“Henry’s not leaving?”
He lifts his hook and brushes his lips across her hand, which clings to the metal tightly. “No, Swan.”
She lets out a little shudder and releases his hook. He bends, brushes a kiss to her brow, then turns back to the kitchen.
“Killian, have we done this before?”
The question has him frozen with his hand on the doorknob. He isn’t sure what she means by the question.
“I only just got home, Emma,” he tells her gently.
“Oh,” she murmurs, sleep finally beginning to claim her fully and slurring her words. “I guess I dreamed it, then.”
Killian tiptoes out and slowly closes the door behind him. He chuckles to himself as he sits down at the table with the food Emma had left on the stove. Yet as he takes a bite of the roast on his plate, he sobers. He hates the fears that sometimes plague Emma. He wonders how long it will take for the love in their little home to ease them.
******************************
Killian awakes the next morning to the banging of pots and pans, sometimes punctuated by curses in their small kitchen. He may have had second thoughts about the location of the master bedroom if he had been aware of the fact that Emma was completely incapable of moving about quietly.
“Can I have more strawberries, Mama?” Henry calls out, far louder than necessary, and Killian groans as he shoves the pillow over his head.
“Shhh,” Emma admonishes, in the exact same volume as their son, “you’ll wake up Papa.”
“Why’s he not up? He said he’d bring home more paper for me.”
“You know the ship doesn’t always arrive on time. Now eat.”
Killian flings aside the pillow with a sigh, knowing that getting any more shut eye is impossible. Yet as he buckles his brace and slips into his shirt, he only feels joy well inside his chest. He did get Henry more paper for his scribbles, and he can’t wait to hear what tall tales the lad will weave next. He can’t, at only six, truly write yet, but he feels with fatherly pride that it’s merely a prelude of what is to come.
Once he’s dressed, he grabs the parcels wrapped in brown paper and string that he’d hidden in the nightstand before he went to bed. He tucks them under his hooked arm, then bursts through the bedroom door. “Making an entrance,” as Emma would say.
“Papa!” Henry cries out, tossing aside his fork and jumping up from the kitchen table.
“Killian!” Emma admonishes, turning from the stove with a spatula in her hand. “I was trying to let you sleep.”
“A pointless endeavor, love,” he quips with a wink. Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the stove. Henry leaps onto his back, trying to grab the parcels.
“Whaddya get me, Papa?”
“Well, get off me, you little monkey, and I’ll show you.” Henry slides to the floor, and Killian hands him the largest parcel. “Paper, as requested.”
“Yay! But what’s the other one?”
Killian hands him the small, compact, rectangular package and grins as Henry rips into it. The paper falls away to reveal a leather bound book with beautiful gilt-edged pages and hand painted illustrations in deep hues.
“That, my boy, is a book of tales from Agrabah where the air smells like spices and the sultanese keeps a tiger for a pet!”
“Wow! Will you read it to me right now?”
Killian glances over his shoulder at his wife. “Not until after you eat your breakfast.”
He ruffles Henry’s hair, and the boy obeys. Killian turns to the stove where Emma is purposefully keeping her back to him, though he can’t fathom why. He saunters up behind her and leans over her shoulder, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair.
“Mmm, something smells delicious.”
“It’s just pancakes,” she retorts, but she is unable to hide her smile.
“I wasn’t talking about breakfast,” he growls lower against her skin. He feels her shiver beneath him, but when he tries to grab her around the waist, she dodges him. She grabs the plate of pancakes and carries them to the table.
“Eat them before they get cold,” she says with forced cheerfulness, and he frowns. She sits next to Henry, sliding a pancake onto the boy’s plate, and Killian sits as well.
“I got you something too,” he tells her, sliding a small parcel across the table with his hook.
Emma still refuses to meet his gaze, fiddling with the string around the square package that could fit in the palm of her hand. “You know I never need anything but you.”
“Yet a man likes to spoil his bride. Go ahead, open it.”
She glances up at him from beneath her lashes, then tears into the paper with a tentative smile. It falls away to reveal a small velvet box, and Emma gasps before she’s even lifted the lid. When she does finally open it with trembling fingers, she breathes out his name. Killian slides off his chair and falls to his knees next to her. He pulls the gold ring with its simple jade stone reverently from the velvet and slides it onto the ring finger of her left hand.
“I promised you I would get you a ring the day we wed, remember?”
Emma nods, staring at the gem and turning it in the light.
“I know diamonds are the usual choice, but this immediately made me think of your eyes. Then the gold like your hair . . . “ he trails off worriedly. “Emma?”
She looks up at him finally - and promptly bursts into tears. Killian glances at Henry worriedly.
“Take your breakfast outside on the patio, okay?”
Henry nods and scurries off without argument, his brown eyes wide as he glances at his mother. Killian rubs his wife’s back and whispers soothing words, most of them nonsense. He hands Emma his handkerchief, and she wipes it across her eyes, then blows her nose loudly. She cocks her head at him, and the words out of her mouth are the last ones he expected.
“Did we have a conversation when you came home last night?”
“Um . . . yes, love. You said my name about a hundred times then asked if I was staying.”
Emma nods, twisting his handkerchief in her hands. “I thought so. Did I ask if we’d done this before?”
Killian laughs and rubs her back again. “Yes, you did. I wasn’t sure if you meant last night, our entire marriage, or since we were ten.”
Emma nods, but says nothing. He’s entirely confused. It isn’t like Emma to cry out of nowhere. Or refuse to look at him. Or dodge his touch. He’s beginning to become concerned, truth be told.
“If you don’t like the ring -”
“Of course I like it! It’s perfect!”
“What then?”
“Oh God,” Emma pants, hugging her middle and looking up at the ceiling. “Last night, I dreamed about this conversation. In my dream - my nightmare - you got angry and left.”
Killian’s brow furrows. “I can assure you, Swan, nothing you can tell me would ever make me leave.”
She levels him with a steady gaze. “You used to. Through the wardrobe.” He starts to open his mouth, but she lifts her hand to stop him. “I know it wasn’t intentional, and I’m not blaming you, I just . . . I just . . .”
He grasps her hand firmly in his. “Breathe, love, it’s okay. You just get scared sometimes. It’s okay. So do I.”
“You do?” her voice sounds so small and fragile that it breaks his heart.
“Aye, of course. It has nothing to do with love or trust. The wounds of childhood tend to linger.”
“But I do trust you!” she exclaims.
He draws nearer and cups her cheek. “I know that. That’s my point entirely. The fears are irrational, for both of us. Now, what is it you have to tell -”
He stills when Emma takes his hand and places it on her abdomen. It’s different somehow, and he freezes. He had noticed the last time they made love, but couldn’t quite put his finger on the change. Now he gazes into Emma’s blushing face - how had he not noticed the sudden roundness in her cheeks? The pieces begin to fall into place - her fatigue lately, that illness that seemed to linger far too long . . .
“Emma, are you . . . “
She nods, her eyes welling up with tears again. Her tears - of course! He swallows thickly.
“Emma you’re . . . “
She grins wider, cocking her head saucily. “I’m rather proud that I’ve rendered you speechless. I think the word you’re looking for is pregnant.”
A grin fills his face, a goofy, joyous grin. “Well, I was going to say with child, actually.”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you were, my old fashioned sailor who -”
He cuts her off with a passionate kiss, and when it ends, he scoops her up and spins her around with joy.
“Careful there, buddy. The morning sickness is mostly gone, but I make no promises that I won’t puke on you.”
“Wait,” he says, shaking his head, “how long have you known about this?”
“Well,” she hedges, “this realm doesn’t exactly have a stick you can pee on.”
“Sorry?”
She laughs, “Never mind. Let’s just say it took me awhile to figure it out, and then it took me a bit longer to get up the nerve to tell you. I’d say I’m at least twelve weeks along, probably more.”
Killian cups her face with his hand and locks his eyes intently on hers. “Do you honestly believe I would leave you over this?”
She bites her lower lip and shakes her head.
“Can’t you see now how happy this makes me?”
“Well,” she says with a shrug, “you spinning me around the kitchen sort of convinced me, I guess.”
He throws his head back and laughs before kissing her soundly again. But he doesn't do any more spinning.
No sense testing fate.
***************************
“I’m sorry, Captain Jones, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The midwife has the audacity to grab Kilian by the arm and try to forcibly remove him from his own bedroom. On the bed, Emma is crying out as her next contraction hits.
“I’m not leaving,” Killian says firmly.
“It isn’t proper for a man to be present,” the midwife argues, though her words are almost drowned out by Emma’s cries.
“Bullshit,” Emma interrupts the argument, her breaths coming raggedly as her
birthing pains abate for the moment.
“Mrs. Jones, it just isn’t done,” the midwife snaps back, aghast.
“Well it is in the realm I come from,” Emma tells her, “not to mention the whole
impropriety thing is ridiculous. He’s obviously intimately familiar with my vagina.”
The midwife’s eyes grow impossibly large, and Killian can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him.
“Mrs Jones! It isn’t ladylike to -”
“Yeah, well ladylike has never described me anyway.”
The midwife presses her lips together in a disapproving way as she draws closer to the bed. She lowers her voice, but the woman is seventy-three and hard of hearing, so Killian can hear every word.
“I’m aware that your husband isn’t the biological father of your son, so I’m going to assume this is a bit new to you. If your husband sees you in this state, well . . . it may . . . turn him away from you, if you catch my meaning.”
Emma’s face turns a deeper shade of red that has nothing to do with her labor, and her eyes blaze in a way Killian knows well. He grins wider, knowing that his wife is about to render this woman speechless.
“My husband wasn’t complaining about my pussy when he was between my thighs last night, so I think I’m safe.”
Yep, speechless. Killian can’t help winking at the midwife as he saunters past her. The woman looks like she might faint. Killian kneels beside the bed and brushes a kiss to Emma’s forehead. Her face crumples as she clutches desperately at his hand.
“She was trying to make you leave!”
“Nothing could tear me away, love.”
“Oh God!” Emma yells, drawing her knees up as another contraction rolls through her. Emma releases Killian’s hand and grabs onto his hook instead as she groans in pain. This one is stronger than the last, and just as Killian is about to lose his mind because he can’t help her, she collapses against the mattress.
“I didn’t want to break your one good hand,” she tells him with a wane smile.
“I appreciate that,” he quips back with a lopsided grin.
The midwife has pushed the sheets back and is examining Emma. “Well, Mrs. Jones, your contractions are longer and closer together, but the baby isn’t crowning yet. We’ve got a while still.”
Emma whimpers and shakes her head. “It didn’t take this long when Henry came.”
Killian puts his arm around her and whispers that he loves her. She drops her head wearily to his chest, and he kisses her sweaty brow. Another hour goes by the same way, and it feels like time has stopped altogether. Killian feels her labor is unceasing, so he can’t imagine what it must be like for her. Though she’s clearly exhausted, he’s amazed at her strength.
“I see the head!” the midwife finally says excitedly, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “Can you push for me when the next contraction hits, Emma?”
The look on his wife’s face is full of determination as she draws her knees up. He sees her tense when the pain comes again, but she bears down with a scream. She has to do the same thing again, and again, and yet again before the midwife laughs out that the baby’s head is out. The midwife shocks him when she pushes back the sheets further and asks if he wants to see. Killian does, and he blinks back tears when he sees their baby.
“It’s almost over, Emma,” he encourages her.
Emma pushes a few more times, and finally, cries fill the air. Emma laughs even as she collapses in exhaustion. Killian kisses her and murmurs over and over how bloody brilliant she is.
“It’s a girl!” the midwife announces as she rubs the baby down with salt to fend off infection.
“A girl,” Kilian breathes and kisses his wife again.
The midwife then washes the baby off with the water Killian had boiled for her hours ago. The little thing is red, screaming, and oh so tiny, but the midwife is all business as she cleans her up and wraps her in a blanket. The woman only softens when she gently places the baby girl in Emma’s arms.
“Oh Killian, she’s so beautiful,” Emma whispers as she brushes her fingers over the baby’s cheeks.
Killian lays down sideways on the bed next to his wife and gazes in wonder down at the tiny baby. She has a tuft of dark hair on her head, and her skin is damp and feather soft beneath his fingers. She’s ceased her crying, her eyes wide as she gazes up at Emma, as if she recognizes her mother instantly.
“She has your eyes,” Emma whispers with a smile.
“And your chin and nose,” Killian adds.
“And your ears,” Emma says, her thumb tracing over them.
“Poor thing.”
“Hey,” Emma admonishes, tearing her gaze away from the baby, “I love your ears.”
They just gaze down at her for several moments, Killian grinning broadly when the baby’s tiny fingers wrap around his pinkie. A tear slips down his face, and Emma reaches up to wipe it away.
“Do you want to hold her, Papa?”
He can only nod, his emotions overwhelming him. He gathers the bundle into his arms, holding her close to his chest and out of the way of his hook.
“What shall we name her, Swan?”
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually. I sort of had a feeling she was a girl, and well . . . there’s only one name that seems fitting. A name that I will always associate with love and home.”
“I know exactly what you’re referring to, my love, and I think it’s absolutely perfect.”
There’s a soft knock at the door, and they both turn their heads to see Starkey in the doorway with Henry in tow. Kilian grins.
“Henry, would you like to come meet your baby sister Martha?”
Henry’s eyes are wide as he draws closer to the bed. Emma reaches out and encourages her son to climb up and join them. He settles in next to his mother and leans over to look at the baby.
“She’s pink,” he observes, and they laugh.
“She won’t be forever,” Killian explains, “all babies are that way at first.”
“Even me?”
“Yes,” Emma teases, kissing his cheek, “even you.”
Henry gets bored of the baby fairly quickly and asks if he can go back down to the beach with Starkey. After he leaves, Emma and Killian cuddle together to love on Martha, until she starts to fuss.
“Okay,” the midwife says briskly, “Papa needs to leave so Mama can nurse.”
She let’s Killian stay the minute she sees Emma’s scowl.
Emma and Killian: Age 28
“Papa, again, again!”
Killian laughs as his three-year-old daughter makes futile attempts to move the rocking horse back and forth. “Okay, okay, anything for my cygnet.” He presses his hook down on the horse’s tail, setting it in motion again as his little girl squeals with delight.
Emma laughs too from her chair by the fireplace. “That’s the truth. You know the kids don’t need you to bring gifts every time you’re away.”
“It’s part of the inventory I own, love, I can do what I please with it.”
“You spoil us.”
“Happily.”
He winks at his wife as she settles back into her chair and sips contentedly on her mug of hot chocolate - another gift from his latest shipment. Business is booming with the addition of a second ship. Starkey is still the captain of the Jolly while Nibs has taken the helm of the Jewel II. The Jolly is what sets Killian’s business apart, however. With the pegasus sail, it’s able to bring exotic goods from far away realms that no other merchants can acquire. Though Hawkins, Mason, and Curly all left to pursue their respective dreams, Killian had no trouble replacing them nor acquiring a crew for Captain Nibs. Jones Shipping has developed a reputation for treating their sailors well, and Killian has been able to hire the very best at sea.
The Jones family enjoys frequent trips on the Jolly as well, with renovated accommodations that Killian made specifically to make his family more comfortable. Henry and Martha are just as content at sea as they are on land, though this little cottage of theirs is always a joy to come home to.
Killian continues to rock Martha on her new toy as his gaze lands on Henry, now nine years old. As usual, he wanted more paper and pencils, which he goes through at an alarming pace. His writing is incredibly engaging and complex for a boy his age, and Killian couldn’t be more proud. Henry’s no slouch behind the wheel of the Jolly, either, and can read the stars as well as any of Killian’s crew. No father has ever been more blessed than he.
Their domestic evening scene is disrupted by a knock at the door. Emma frowns as she rises to her feet, setting her mug down on the coffee table.
“Who could that be?”
When Emma opens the door, she lets out a pleasantly surprised gasp to find Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily standing there. Despite Martha’s protests, Killian joins Emma at the door with his little girl balanced on his hip. There’s the typical round of greetings, hugs, and exclamations over how much the children have grown, but Emma and Killian both get the feeling this isn’t just a social visit. Not at this time of day, and not by the looks of those nervous expressions on the fairies’ faces.
“I just brought home cocoa and tea from Agrabah,” Killian tells his old friends. “Would you like some?”
“Yes, that would be nice,” Tiger Lily says, “tea for me, please.”
“I’ll take some cocoa,” Tink adds, “remember how Wendy used to love it?”
“Yes, she sure did,” Killan says, his mind going back in time to a frightened little girl with leaves in her hair. He hopes wherever she is, that Wendy is happy.
“Um, Henry,” Emma says slowly, “why don’t you take Martha upstairs with her new rocking horse?”
Killian holds his breath for the lad to protest. His baby sister in his room isn’t his favorite thing in the world, but the boy must pick up on the tension radiating off the fairies because he immediately agrees.
“Come on, Martha,” Henry tells her as he hoists up the rocking horse, “I bet I can rock you even faster than Papa.”
Martha squeals in delight and eagerly follows the big brother she idolizes up the stairs. Emma settles in at the kitchen table with the fairies while Killian goes to the stove.
“What’s this all about?”
That’s his wife, direct as always. Tiger Lily sighs and cuts a quick glance over to Tink.
“Emma . . . “ she says slowly.
“We found your parents!” Tink interrupts, practically vibrating with excitement. Tiger Lily rolls her eyes.
“What?” Emm breathes, and Killian abandons the tea pot to rush to her side and take her hand. “Are you sure?”
“Well, lost princesses are more common than you might think,” Tiger Lily says dryly, “but in the case of the lost princess of Misthaven, it all adds up.”
“Adds up to you, Emma,” Tink put in. “The birthmark, the princess’s birthdate, the wardrobe - all of it!”
“Wait,’ Killian interjects, “did you just say wardrobe?”
He’s cut off by the whistling of the teapot, and he goes quickly to retrieve it from the stove.
“I think we need to start from the beginning, Tink,” Tiger Lily says as Killian sets out the tea and cocoa on the table. When he joins the women, he draws his chair as close as he can to his wife so he can put his arm around her and take her hand.
“You may have heard the tales about Snow White, her Prince Charming, and their battles with the Evil Queen,” Tiger Lily begins.
“Snow White and Prince Charming?” Emma asks. “You mean they’re real?”
“Says the woman married to Captain Hook and having tea with Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily,” Killian quips, earning him an eye roll from his wife. She’s told him the version of Neverland in her former realm - a ridiculous version, in his opinion.
“Yes, they’re real, silly,” Tink says with a shake of her blond curls.
“I’ve heard of them,” Killian says, “go on.”
“Well,” Tiger Lily continues, “you may have heard that though they banished the Evil Queen after taking back the kingdom, she returned when Snow was with child. She cursed the baby with an evil spell.”
“Yes,” Killian says with a shake of his head, “and it came to pass. The child came too soon and died.”
“No, she did come too soon, but the child did not die. Secretly, the Blue Fairy helped the court woodworker fashion an enchanted wardrobe -”
Emma gasps and clutches her husband’s hand tighter. “Killian! A wardrobe!”
“I know, love,” he whispers.
“The wardrobe was supposed to send Snow safely to a land without magic where the curse couldn’t touch the unborn child,” Tiger Lily says.
“It could only carry one,” Tink clarifies.
“But the baby came too soon, so they had no choice but to send the child through alone. The Evil Queen and her minions were mounting an attack on the castle, so they had no more time.”
Killian nods. “I’ve heard of that battle. It’s a favorite tale in every realm, though not one with a happy ending. The Evil Queen was slain, and everyone was led to believe that in the chaos, Queen Snow lost the child.”
“And you believe this baby was me?” Emma asks softly.
Tiger Lily reaches across the table and gently turns over Emma’s left wrist. “The Blue Fairy cast a spell over you in the womb so that when you were born, this mark would be upon you. So your parents would know you when you found them.”
Emma’s eyes well up with tears. “How did they know I would ever find them?”
“They had faith and hope. Even with the Evil Queen dead, her curse still remained until your 21st birthday.”
Tink jumps in, bouncing on her seat. “The best part, Tiger Lily, tell them the best part!”
Tiger Lily smiles indulgently at the blonde. “I think you’d like to tell them, so go ahead.”
“The Rose Fairy imparted a gift to you, Emma - that the wardrobe would bring you your true love, and that when the time was right, he would lead you home.”
Emma turns to Killian, her eyes bright with tears as she cups his face. “Our wardrobe, Killian, that’s why it appeared to us.”
He shakes his head in wonder. “Emma, I know how you feel about me, but true love? That’s the strongest magic of all. Surely someone more worthy . . . “
Emma’s face softens as tears slip free and roll down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? The wardrobe brought us together right when we needed one another the most. Right before I lost Martha, right before you lost your brother and Milah. Then it brought us together for good when you found Henry.”
Killian lets out a breath of wonder as Emma’s thumb traces the scar on his cheek. “We always find one another, don’t we?”
Tiger Lily and Tink both beam as they speak again.
Damn You For Making Me Love You (15/15) - Epilogue / Don’t Stop Believing
That's it, this is the end. Or maybe not? I must confess that my idea for the epilogue was slightly different, but I was running out of time, so I had no choice but to present this alternative ending. Despite this, I think it works. Also, that will allow me to continue exploring this universe because I intend to write that ending. I don't know when, but I will. I'm determined.
One last note. The scene of the last performance is entirely inspired by a movie. In case you don't get it I'll reveal it at the end. In the meantime, enjoy the reading.
Thank you very much for joining me on this adventure during these last weeks.
Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.
Special mention to @saraswans and @onceuponaprincessworld, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)
Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.
Rating: M
Word count: ~ 6700 (98k total in 15 chapters)
Ao3 / FFnet
//
Epilogue - Don’t Stop Believing
Liam - January 4, 2020
Liam couldn't stop smiling. It was as if, after their little getaway and his little — big — discoveries in the cabin, a permanent smile had settled on his lips. He had several reasons to do it, really. On the one hand, his brother and Emma had finally decided to give themselves a chance, leaving behind their fears and embracing their feelings. On the other hand, the acceptance of his feelings towards Elsa — and the fact that they were reciprocated — had led him to a state of almost continuous contentment.
There was no better way to start the year, honestly.
Speaking of Elsa... Liam looked up, directing his gaze towards the entrance of the Kraken. She was late. Since their return last Wednesday, they hadn't seen each other as much as he would have liked; not for lack of interest, but because of their respective responsibilities. But they had agreed to meet at the bar today, something not surprising since Elsa hadn't missed any of Killian's performances in the past few weeks. She wasn't going to miss it today either, of course, since it would be the first time Killian and Emma not only seemed to be a couple on stage, but were a couple in real life.
"She will be here soon." Emma's unexpected voice startled him while she came to stand beside him. "She texted us a couple of minutes ago. She was already on her way."
Liam turned his head to look at Emma, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Elsa hadn't sent him any text at all. He had checked his phone just a minute before. It was the use of the word us that finally gave him the clue to identify what Emma meant.
Elsa had sent a text to the group chat, where Killian, Emma, Kristoff, and Anna were also included. And Liam had silenced the damn chat the day before. "I didn't notice," he muttered, looking away, suddenly interested in ordering the glasses in the compartment under the counter.
"You haven't read it." It wasn't a question, but rather an affirmation. Emma's voice denoted no reproach, but curiosity. Fortunately, a customer approached the bar to order a drink so, after giving Liam one last skeptical glance, Emma moved away from him so he could serve the drinks.
Liam had his reasons for silencing the chat.
Emma and Killian were the ones to blame, in fact. Accepting their feelings and acting on them hadn't changed their behavior. Liam felt grateful for it, truly, but since last Wednesday, Emma had practically settled in their apartment, which meant that he had become a witness to their constant public displays of affection everywhere. They had always been present between them after all, but now they had acquired a level far from innocent or casual.
On top of that, their banter and almost perpetual bickering were still intact. It was frankly exhausting, especially when their teasing was also transferred to the texts they exchanged in the group chat. When he read an argument between them about something as banal as what they would have for lunch the next day, he had enough.
Now he just had to deal with them in person. Constantly.
For the next few minutes, he became distracted by serving and chatting with customers, his gaze instinctively heading from time to time towards the entrance. Elsa still didn't appear, something that was beginning to cause some concern in him. Not because of the fact that something had happened to her, but rather because the ghost of insecurity threatened to appear. What if she had thought better? What if…
"Stop worrying, she's coming." Again Emma's voice startled him. What's wrong with me today? He was an almost forty-year-old adult, not a bloody teenager with his first crush, for God's sake. Emma must have noticed his unease, because she immediately added, "Can you accompany me to the back room? I need to grab something."
It was an obvious excuse, he could tell. His lips pressed together, drawing a grateful smile, while he nodded. After telling Robin to cover him for a few minutes, he walked with Emma to the back room, to —he supposed —have a little chat with some privacy in a much quieter place.
Emma started talking the moment the door closed behind them. "You know, these past few days have been a little crazy. We've barely had time to talk, and..." She paused for a moment, offering him a smile full of affection. "I wanted to tell you that I can't be happier for you and Elsa. You more than anyone deserve to be happy and I'm so glad you found each other."
A wave of affection for Emma washed over him, while a warm sensation ran through his veins up to his heart. "We're still in the beginning, lass, trying to figure out our relationship. But I'm happy, very happy."
"Good," she said before melting into a tight hug with him to which Liam responded with pleasure. The affection he had for Emma went beyond words. He loved her in the most fraternal form of the word, as if she were his little sister. No matter what happened between Emma and Killian in the future, she would always occupy a special place in his heart.
"I'm also very happy for you two, Emma," he muttered against her hair. "My brother is so damn lucky to have found someone like you. I couldn't have thought of someone more suitable for him. You are perfect for each other." In response, Emma tightened her hug, burying her face in his chest. "You are better together."
"I wanted to... thank you, for acting behind our backs, for pushing us together," Emma confessed with a trembling voice after separating from him a little. Liam noticed her watery eyes and a lonely tear sliding down her cheek. He brushed her skin delicately, wiping away the tear and earning an adorable smile on her part. "These last weeks have been amazing; not only because I've been able to spend more time with Killian, which has led me to accept my feelings definitively, but because I’ve spent so much time with both of you guys. I love to share experiences with you."
"Good, although I must say that your fights are a bit exhausting, honestly." Emma made a sound, half laughing half snorting, causing him to grin. "But I love you both anyway. Besides, I should be used to it, right?"
"I love you too. And yes, you better get used to it, because I don't think we're going to act differently any time soon. It's one of the things I like the best about your brother, how he challenges me and how he fights back."
"I suspect that Killian thinks the same about you."
"He better."
They broke up laughing in unison. It was a liberating laugh, which served to lighten the mood after the previous moment full of emotions. Once the laughs subsided, she gave him one last smile of affection and turned in the direction of the door. But she had barely walked a couple of steps when she approached him again.
"I'll tell you a secret," Emma whispered in his ear. "You are my second favorite person," she confessed and then placed a soft kiss on his cheek before separating again. "And you better hurry out, because I'm sure your current favorite person is already waiting for you." After winking at him, she finally left the room, leaving him with a feeling of bliss that he hoped would last for a long time. Emma was someone so special to him that he hoped to have her in his life forever. He suspected that wouldn't be a problem — if it depended on his brother.
Indeed, Elsa was already waiting, sitting on her usual stool, the one that seemed to have her name written on it. The feeling of contentment increased the moment his eyes fell on her beautiful face, the butterflies of his stomach flapping furiously while all his previous doubts dissipated as he contemplated the adorable smile she gave him when their eyes met.
He hurried to her and, without thinking, pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss, one with the ability to shake him inside. He had already started to get used to that delicious sensation, something he hoped wouldn't fade with time since he had no intention of stopping kissing that woman.
"I can't believe it!" Ruby's unexpected voice beside him interrupted them momentarily. "What the hell happened in that cabin now that nobody seems to stop kissing?"
Although Ruby's voice denoted surprise and a bit of annoyance, her funny expression said something different. "You better get used to it, Rubes," he simply added, his lips drawing a wide grin.
Ruby rolled her eyes, but then offered a wolfish smile. "You should definitely change the name of the bar and use The Ship of Love instead, or something like that."
"You can always suggest it to Emma. After all, she is the advertising expert."
"I think I'll pass," Ruby replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. She wrinkled her nose and then her lips curled into a wicked grin. "She's very busy lately, eating your brother's face." Liam heard Elsa snorting while he himself couldn't stop a chuckle from bubbling in his throat. Ruby was right. "Anyway, I'm happy for you guys. Really." After offering them one last smile she left to attend a customer.
Once alone, he returned his attention to Elsa. "Hi," he greeted her, pressing a peck on her lips. "I missed you."
"Sorry I was late. I had a last-minute meeting. We're organizing a winter festival with the girls," she explained, offering him an apologetic smile.
His heart swelled with pride towards her. Her ice skating talent was undeniable, as was her ability to transmit her knowledge. The fact that she worked mostly with children only increased his admiration for her. "No need for apologies, love," he assured her, as he grabbed two glasses and placed them on the counter. "The usual, I take it?"
"I'm not sure. I'm still a VIP client?"
Before answering, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter and invading her personal space. "You can be sure, lass. You currently occupy the top. At least on my list." Liam secretly admired how her cheeks colored with a soft pink shade as she averted her gaze whenever he offered her some compliment. He had no intention of stopping any time soon, not only hoping to keep that reaction in her, but because the compliments seemed to flow naturally. He had definitely fallen hard for that incredible woman.
"Very much appreciated. That's one of the reasons why The Kraken has become my favorite bar, the customer treatment. Well, and also that the owner, or should I say the Captain, is quite handsome and charming."
This time it was his turn to blush while his heart made a small somersault. Gods ! It was as if he had traveled back in time and had become a teenager again. He resisted the urge to kiss her again — since he was the boss and was currently in his workplace, he should set an example for his employees — instead opting to offer her a smile of appreciation accompanied by a slight bow of his head. He then poured the liquid into the two glasses, offering one of them to her and holding the other in his raised hand.
"I want to make a toast because right now I feel like the luckiest man in the world. With you."
The gaze she gave him was so intense that it had the ability to melt the most frozen heart. "I think we have someone to blame about it, right?" Elsa suggested before putting the glass to her lips and then ingested the liquid in a gesture that was too distracting. After leaving the empty glass on the counter she looked at her watch and then looked up, her gaze wandering around as if she were looking for something. "Where are the two lovebirds, by the way?"
Liam also looked around, surprised not to see either of them, considering that Killian's performance was about to begin. He exchanged a look with Elsa as he shrugged and was going to offer to go look for them when he noticed that Elsa's expression changed as she directed her gaze to a spot above his shoulder.
He turned his head following the direction of her gaze, meeting Killian and Emma who looked like they had just left his office, since Killian was already carrying the guitar. They obviously had performed some other activity inside the room, though. At least if their flushed cheeks, Killian's disheveled hair and the flustered expression on both faces were an indication. Liam let out a huff while shaking his head. Those two were impossible.
"I guess they're making up for the lost time," Elsa offered through a soft smile as if reading his mind.
"So it seems. But I'm afraid they'll have to be apart at least for a while. I'll be right back. I'm gonna introduce Killian," he said with a wink before going to look for the two idiots in love.
//
The concert was proving to be a total success. Whatever happened in his office, it hadn't affected Killian at all. On the contrary, he seemed more inspired than ever, his presence on the stage more prominent, his smile more charming, his voice more powerful and tuned. There was something that hadn't changed, though. His attention was focused on a single person, someone who kept taking pictures of him as if he were the only person around her.
When Killian's solo performance was about to end, Liam came out from behind the bar, approaching Elsa and offering his hand. They walked through the crowd until they found Emma, who briefly hugged her friend before giving her the camera. The three of them turned their attention back to the stage, waiting for Emma's introduction by Killian.
"Thank you very much to everyone. You are the best audience one can dream of!" Killian shouted as he made a gesture of applause addressed to the public, which only increased the cheers towards him. "And now if you’ll allow me, the stellar moment of the night is about to start; the moment when someone very special to me will accompany me on stage." Killian then looked at Emma, the expression of pure devotion to her written all over his face. "I ask you to give the best applause you can to welcome my particular angel, the incredibly talented and beautiful Emma Swan!"
Liam watched as Killian approached the side of the stage where Emma would appear, holding out his hand to her when she arrived. They walked together to the center of the stage, both sporting the same expression of happiness. When they were in position, Emma nodded almost imperceptibly to his brother and then began to sing, without looking away from Killian.
Just a small town girl
Livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere
Then it was Killian's turn. Liam would never have anticipated what happened next. After singing his first verse, Killian played the first chords with his guitar and then they merged into a passionate, brief, kiss right there in the middle of the stage, causing the entire audience to roar around them. These two know how to rile up the public, Liam thought as his lips tugged at a huge smile.
From there the magic continued on stage.
Liam stood behind Elsa, circling her shoulders with his arms while she rested her back on his chest, both watching in awe the huge talent both Killian and Emma had singing together. Liam couldn't be more proud of himself for being the one with the brilliant idea of pushing Emma that first time to accompany Killian on stage.
Don't stop believin'
Hold on to the feelin'
That verse couldn't be more appropriate, Liam thought as he tightened his embrace on Elsa. He would never stop believing that everything was possible. Their current situation was the best example, with his brother and Emma creating magic on stage and overflowing with happiness and love. With a vibrant Elsa in his arms, it offered him the sensation of holding his (their) own future. He would definitely never stop believing in them and the endless possibilities they had together.
The End - Fin
//
About the inspiration for the scene of the last performance, the movie is Rock Of Ages, and here's the video (spoilers! it's also the last scene in the movie, just in case):
Thank you so, so much.
These last few months have been quite complicated for me, so I have barely had time or energy to write, but I haven't given up, so I hope to be able to continue creating. Until then, it has been a pleasure. Stay safe, everyone.
Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way): Epilogue [6/6]
Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~1.8K. Also on AO3. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5
~~~~~
A/N: We’re at the end! I can’t believe it. Thanks again to the @captainswanbigbang mods, to @thejollyroger-writer @snidgetsafan and @profdanglaisstuff for all their help, and to YOU for reading this whole thing! I’ve loved all your lovely comments.
Enjoy this soft little epilogue - and let me know what you think!
~~~~~
They go… everywhere. They crisscross the country without any particular route in mind, sometimes doubling back to see landmarks Emma suddenly remembers from her elementary geography class, sometimes simply blowing where their whims might take them. They see Niagara Falls as Killian planned, becoming drenched in the spray, and make sure to ride down to the southwestern deserts as the weather turns cooler again to marvel at cacti and the Grand Canyon.
(Killian grumbles about the heat the whole time, especially the way it dries up every inch of moisture in his body “like a dead leaf, Swan, I’m serious, I might as well just crackle into little pieces — why are you laughing at me?”)
(She laughs at his pouting the whole while, especially since this particular jaunt was his idea in the first place. He plays it up a little, just to hear the sound.)
They see everywhere in between, too. Killian particularly enjoys their excursion through Yellowstone, finding a certain kind of peace in the stillness of their surroundings. The sky is so big in this part of the country, wide open and all around them. At night, stars practically litter the sky.
(Killian finds himself sleeping better these days. The dreams still come — he’s not sure they’ll ever stop, no matter how happy he is — but they’re less frequent with the warmth of Emma’s body by his side to lull him into peaceful rest. The stars aren’t his constant companion anymore; Emma is instead.)
They drive Route 66, just to say they did it. They pose in front of the Golden Gate Bridge for strangers to take their picture with a second-hand Polaroid camera. They swing through Chicago, the crowds an utter nightmare but the awe on Emma’s face pure magic. There’s hardly a corner of this country they haven’t touched, putting more miles on the motorcycle than Killian likes to think about. Every one of them is worth it.
(She tells him she loves him in a little town in Kansas. He can’t even remember the name of that rest stop, but he’ll never forget the rush of pure joy surging through his veins.)
Emma sends postcards to her family back in Storybrooke from every major attraction, and even a few attractions that aren’t. Killian is assured that David in particular will enjoy the card from the Corn Palace in Iowa, though he also assumes that must be a joke. They call, too, as much as they can, Emma becoming just as much an expert in the ritual of long distance as he is. Though Belle may have planted the crazy, wonderful idea in his head in the first place, she was surprisingly hesitant when Killian first called to tell her the news that he had a new travel partner.
“And you’re sure, Killian?” she asked in that softly worried tone she’s perfected. “I know you really like this girl, but what if that changes? What if things don’t work out between you? What if she wants to go home?”
(It’s touching, really, the motherly concern, like he’s just another one of her kids who needs to be protected from pain and bad decisions. It’s just that Killian doesn’t think that Emma qualifies as either one.)
“Then we’ll figure it out. I’m not making her do anything she doesn’t want to, and I won’t start either. This is up to her as much as me,” he’d replied. “But for what it’s worth? I’ve got a good feeling.”
“If you’re happy…”
“I am.”
Emma and Belle talk later — he can’t quite remember if it was on the next call, or the one after that. What Killian does know is that something must have been settled between the two, as his cousin now asks warmly after Emma and he makes sure to pass the phone along.
He’s writing again these days, too; there’s something to be said for the right inspiration. It’s not much, of course — he’s not a prodigy, just a man trying to express himself in some small way on the page. It’s a compulsion, to find a way to capture the way she looks in the freedom of the mid morning light on the back of his motorcycle and the way he feels watching her. Words will never be enough, but he’s already mailed two notebooks to Belle for safekeeping and has almost filled a third.
Today, they’re in Florida — at the beach, just like Emma yearned for during their first real conversation. As much as so many things have changed, Killian still is wary of the sea. He’ll let the tide wash over his feet for Emma’s sake — anything for her, truly, and she knows not to expect him to submerge more than his ankles — but most, he’s happy to sit in the sand and watch the way Emma beams in the sunlight, still his own angel.
The sunlight catches more than just her smile, now. He’d bought the ring in St. Paul and barely held out for two days before proposing, almost two months ago now. The ring itself isn’t anything particularly special — a small diamond set in silver. But for all the ways that his life has been entirely upturned, Killian still places a good amount of stock in that symbol, that Emma wants to be with him forever. Maybe it’s silly; after all, they’ve driven from coast to coast and back again in the last year, and spent nearly every moment together. It’s hard to get closer or more committed than that, and it makes any ceremony seem almost superfluous.
Still. When he looks at her, sees her joy and all the ways she makes his life better… he wants. And he’s lucky enough that she does, too.
(He still can’t quite believe that she said yes. He’s still a mess of a man, even if he’s trying, even if he’s better. Inexplicably, she loves him anyways.)
Emma scoops up her shoes and starts walking back to his perch on the sand, tendrils of hair whipping around her head where they’ve escaped the messy braid he’d helped her twist that morning. “God, that sure is something, isn’t it?” she laughs, collapsing onto the pearly expanse.
“Everything you dreamed of?” he asks, tugging her closer into his side. Emma flops her head dramatically onto his shoulder at the movement, right where they’ve learned she fits perfectly against him.
“And then some,” she sighs. “You were right, it’s so different from home — from Maine. It almost doesn’t look real. But then you get in the water, and it’s just the same. The tide comes in the same way, even down here. I don’t know, I suppose it’s a little comforting.”
Killian just hums and leans down to drop a kiss on Emma’s head before they lapse into a thoughtful silence, watching the birds circle and the waves roll in and out. It’s picturesque; frankly, he’d even say beautiful. He doesn’t regret the visit in the least.
But Emma had said home, and he can’t stop thinking about that either.
It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. As much as Emma has loved finally seeing all the places she’s heard and read about, he knows she misses her family, the short but frequent phone calls proof of that. Emma loves him, and she’s loved their adventure, but there’s unbreakable strings tying her back to Storybrooke. To her home.
It’s not Killian’s home, not truly. He hasn’t spent enough time in the little town to form that kind of attachment. But he wouldn’t call any other place home, either, and Storybrooke is as good a place as any if he’s got Emma in his life. She grounds him — soothes that itch to always move until he finds someplace — or rather, someone — worth sticking around for. After months of the open road, it’s maybe time for this phase of their adventure to conclude, and another one to start.
(Besides, she ought to have her little hodge-podge family at her wedding. He wants to give that to her, after all that she’s given him.)
“I’ve been thinking about that lately,” he says casually, trying not to make it all seem like quite as big a deal as he knows it is.
Emma hums a questioning note back to him, though mischief sparkles in her green eyes. “What, about the tide? That seems… odd.”
“No, you ridiculous creature,” Killian replies, rolling his eyes for good measure. He knows she’s teasing, after all, even if he did technically set her up for that. “I’ve been thinking… maybe this has been enough. Maybe it’s time to go home.”
Emma jerks her head up to stare back at him blankly, evidently shocked by the suggestion. “Home? You mean to Storybrooke?”
“Aye. I know you miss it, and… I just think it might be time.”
“Oh, Killian, we don’t have to stop on my account. I’m fine to keep going,” she protests.
“I know. And it’s not… I’ve loved this, but I don’t need to keep going the way I once did. If you have more places you want to see, we’ll go see them, and I’ll be happy just to be there with you, but I’m not… this idea isn’t all because of what I think you might want. It’s for me, too.” He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts; he feels like he’s not expressing things quite the way he wants to. “I shouldn’t assume though. I suppose I thought… I know you miss your family, but do you want to go home?”
Emma heaves a heavy sigh and stares out at the sea. Killian grants her the space to think; this is a turning point, he knows, and he’d never want to rush her into anything she doesn’t want. He barely hears her when she finally does speak, her soft admittance carried away on the breeze. “I do,” she tells him. “I love this, and I’m so glad we’ve seen all that we have, but… I think I’d like to settle, a little bit. Especially if we’re getting married. A little house and a pretty ceremony… I know Storybrooke isn’t your home, though.”
“It isn’t,” Killian admits, “but it could be.”
“Just like that?”
“Don’t you understand, Emma?” he asks. “You’re my home. Wherever you are, as long as I’m with you… I’ll be home. Whether that’s on the back of the motorcycle or in Storybrooke or on the moon. I’ll always be home with you.” He leans in to seal the sentiment, brushing his lips along Emma’s and letting her deepen the kiss when she sneaks her hands behind his neck and into his hair. She’s always been willing — eager, even — to take the lead, and Killian is still happy to let her.
“I love you,” she whispers when they break apart, foreheads still touching as they breathe the same air. “You’ve given me the world, and I love you.”
“I love you, too, Swan.” A blind man could hear his smile in his voice. “Now let’s go home.”
CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 1/10) (au)
Summary: Killian's daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn't care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.
Rating: E (much later in the story)
Content Warnings: There will be a part where pictures are posted without permission. It happens much later in the fic but if that’s not your thing, I want to put it out there now. And, of course, sexual content will be present. I will update these warnings for each chapter to pinpoint those sections!
A Special Thank You: Oh man, how do I put my gratitude into words? There are two constants in my CS fic writing life that I am so incredibly lucky to have. Thank you @captainstudmuffin for just downright prodding me in the ass to keep me moving when I wanted to give up. You were always there in the right capacity to keep me going. You did that reverse psychology thing with me that I always do to you with “Well, if you want to give up, that’s your choice...” and it worked. And then there’s @phiralovesloki who has listened to me self-depreciate for hours on end and still keeps me moving forward. And then you both turned your attentions to helping me get this thing edited and proofread. You handled all my tantrums, all my fits, all my problems. I love you both to the moon and back.
And of course, thank you to the @captainswanbigbang for going with this rewrite idea. All of you modding this and putting shit in line and answering questions and being awesome and informative and helpful... my eternal gratitude for helping get this, my possible magnum opus, finished and out to the fandom. Much love to you all!
A/N: I wrote a lot of notes above here to start. Because of that, I’ll keep this line brief. Enjoy!
Find it on Ao3 & FFN!
-x-
Chapter 1: The Art of Routines
September 30: Monday
Every day, Killian Jones walks from his respectable dwelling by the Storybrooke Harbor to where he works, located right off the main drag. Storybrooke is nearly the definition of small-town America, but it houses a quaint-sized office of a British publishing firm that opened a branch over here last year. Three months ago, Killian took a chance to upend his whole life and applied for a junior editing position.
From a life in the Navy to a redirection of passions towards the fine art of literature, Killian has used a rigorous set of routines to get through every major upheaval in his life, including but not limited to the aforementioned relocation from London to a small speck on the map.
He uses his daily habits from the moment his alarm sounds in the morning until he shuts his eyes at night – operating his life in a tidy way and controlling what he can control while doing his best to accept whatever tries to throw him off.
Because of his method to build up his regimens, he knows that anything that lasts beyond two weeks becomes more likely to stick.
And for six weeks, Emma Swan has been part of his routines. Monday through Friday they cross the street together. They never speak. Sometimes they’ll smile and nod in greeting, but it’s enough in Killian’s book. Or at least, they’ve come to some unspoken agreement that it’s enough. Since the middle of August, this has been his norm, and thus it is now just another thing that marks time throughout his days.
The only reason he knows her name is because of the star-shaped badge she wears on her hip. That and being the sister of the sheriff are dead-giveaways to an identity. He’d heard of Emma long before he saw her as Will Scarlet filled him in on the townies. She, on the other hand, probably doesn’t even know his name. But he’s okay with that. He’s not out to meet the love of his life – not after what he went through with his last major relationship – but to enjoy a walk across the street with an ease he doesn’t understand and doesn’t have to.
Day after day, he continues on, never looking back to see if she’s still looking at him. He’s afraid of what he might find if he does: either she’s also glancing back and this immediately becomes something different, or she isn’t and he’s effectively found himself with some kind of rejection complex. Both ideas are ridiculous. At the mere thought, Killian snorts and picks up his pace.
On October 1st, Killian discovers how easy it is to throw off the delicate balance of a routine as strong as his. The alarm never goes off, or if it does, Killian either doesn’t hear it or turns it off in his sleep. He wakes, instead, to the sound of his text messages going off in quick succession, followed by the phone ringing and Will’s chirpy voice alerting him as he answers that he’s going to be late.
With that, his eyes shoot fully open and he throws himself into action, hoping to get out the door in record time. He skips the coffee and the shower, throwing on the clothes he set out last night and hoping his hair stays in place with the water he combs through it. He’s out the door fifteen minutes late. His boss, Robin, will hopefully understand - he’s one of the most easy-going people Killian has ever met. Will is going to take the piss out of him, but that’s no different from any other day. Killian knew it was a mistake to share his location with his friend but in this case, with Will able to see that he was still at home when he should already be making his journey, he wasn’t going to complain about it.
Instead, what he’s most upset about is that he’s going to miss Deputy Swan standing at their corner.
And he’s right: she’s not there when he gets to the intersection. He pushes the button and diligently waits until it turns before crossing, just as he always does. It’s when he gets a full view of the patio in front of Granny’s that his steps suddenly halt. There she is, checking her phone and sipping from a to-go cup, standing at the table closest to the entrance. She glances up and sees him on the other side of the small fence that surrounds the front of the patio, and her eyes go wide.
Quickly, she jams her phone in her pocket and exits the patio with two cups in hand, heading towards the sheriff’s station and away from him until she stops just as suddenly. She turns around to where he’s still glued in spot, knowing that each extra minute is asking for more torture from Will, but she walks up to him and he wouldn’t move if a bus came careening down the sidewalk at him.
“Hi. This might be weird but… nevermind. Forget it.” She turns again, but Killian hastens after her.
“What seems to be the problem, love?”
She spins around to face him again, a perturbed look on her face. He doesn’t know if it’s at him or herself, though, so he waits for her response.
“I’m not…” The words trail off, but she redirects. “I thought you might need coffee. You’re always so punctual. Figured if you were running late, you didn’t have any. But that’s probably ridiculous and just…” she trails off again, turning to dump the to-go cup into the bin nearby but Killian lunges for it.
“No no, wait!” He catches the cup just before it leaves her grip, smiling wide when he successfully rescues it. “Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate it.”
“Swan. Emma Swan.”
“Oh, I know,” he responds, surprised at the devilish tone to the words. The only time he flirts anymore is when he’s two pints in at The Rabbit Hole on a rare night out with Will, and even then it’s with no intent behind it. His watch buzzes and Killian glances down to see Will is calling him again. When he sees the time, he can understand why. “Bloody hell. I’m incredibly late,” he says quickly, moving to continue his journey to the office and forgetting all his manners.
“Is there something else I can call you, Incredibly Late?”
“Killian Jones!” he calls out as he gets to the corner by the post office. He spins on his heels to turn back to her, lifting the coffee again in thanks.
There’s an odd little smile on her face when he says it, but he’s still moving and has no time to wonder what it’s all about. “See you tomorrow, Jones!”
Her words follow him around the corner and he grins as he picks up the pace to the office.
He’s amazed at how quickly his day turns around after officially meeting Emma Swan. Robin isn’t even mad when he shows up late, just happy that he’s finally sitting in front of his computer working on the endless edits he’s been helping with for a new book by an established writer. One that has terrible punctuation skills, apparently. And spelling. And grammar.
It’s barely been a half hour when he finds his thoughts drifting to the woman he only knows by name and reputation, and knows that somehow, his daily routines will never look quite the same. He wonders how much this little interaction means to her, too, if she looked so out of sorts when he was late today. And startlingly, he realizes that it did turn into something.
Running a hand over his face, Killian looks back at the page he’s supposed to be proofreading. He’s read the same sentence at least three times and still can’t figure out why it doesn’t feel right. It’s too early in the day to shut his office door and start reading everything out loud, however, so instead he saves his changes and closes the file, opening up a rain app on his phone and letting the sound soothe him while he stands up and stretches.
“If you’re playing the calming sounds, I feel like you’re ready for more coffee,” Will says from his doorway.
“You’re probably right,” Killian says, finishing his current stretch and turning off the app. “Shall we?”
“Ask Robin what he wants. Your treat since you were so late this morning,” his friend adds as he turns from the doorway.
Killian makes a noise of aggravation, but still walks the short length to Robin’s office to inquire.
Robin is locked in his own work, looking back and forth between three cover mockups that Will’s department would’ve sent over when they were ready. He glances up when Killian enters but only barely. “Coffee run?” the other man asks as he nudges each design around.
This, too, is like clockwork in his life, which is why Robin already knows why he’s standing in his doorway. “Aye. Would you like me to bring back the usual or will you need something stronger today?”
“The usual is fine. Else I’ll be tempted to add liquor to it and no one at the home office will appreciate what I think of their last company email.”
“I have that whole rant recorded. You’d better make sure I don’t have anything stronger today or else they’ll get it verbatim.”
“Remind me to have you killed later this week after that chapter is edited.”
“I’ll pass it on to your secretary to be added to your calendar,” Killian mentions offhandedly while he leaves Robin’s office. This isn’t the first time Robin has scheduled to kill him for information he has on his superior. Killian’s sure it won’t be the last, either.
As he leaves, Killian catches sight of the pictures on the wall. There’s a few scattered around his office, mostly of Robin’s adorable son Roland and his late wife. Marian passed just after Roland was born, making Robin’s decision to head up the American branch of NeverEndings Publishing House an easy one. The reason he’s stayed so long is also evident in the pictures of Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke, scattered among the others. Regina was his “diamond in the rough” - the woman he never expected to meet and fall in love with shortly after he set up shop here.
Along with pictures, there are paintings and his degrees, an antique wall clock that matches everything else, and a vintage bow and arrow hung behind the mahogany desk he nearly lives in some days. The whole thing feels like the den of some expensive cabin in the woods, but Killian knows for a fact that Robin put most of this together on the cheap.
He passes his own little office again, noting the blank walls, the tidy desk, the single chair on the opposite side for small one-on-one meetings. He’s never really gotten around to decorating his work area. His degrees are still in one of the boxes in his flat, as are all the pictures of his friends and family from back home.
There’s a single frame on his desk - just a picture of him and Liam at graduation that was packed into his luggage when he moved. Liam is beaming with pride while Killian looks like he’s about to bolt from the courtyard they had all gathered in after the ceremony. His left arm is tucked close by his side, and he knows for a fact it’s because he was trying to hide the prosthetic hook he wears from being in the pictures.
“So, why were you late today?” Will asks when they reach the doors and head outside.
“Alarm malfunctions,” Killian responds, as if there could be something besides human error to blame. Will just nods as they make the short trek down the street to Granny’s. Foolishly, Killian hopes to find his favorite deputy out patrolling or stopping for her own midday caffeine, but the only blonde in the diner is Ashley, the attentive but clumsy young server.
Well, the only blonde woman. Dr. Whale, trying his best to flirt with Ruby, doesn’t count.
“Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last three minutes?” Will asks, a touch of exasperation in his voice but humor lighting up his eyes. Instead of answering, Killian just pushes him forward to place his order. He pulls Killian up next to him and presents him to Ruby. “Tell Jones here that he has to come out with us on Friday.”
“The only thing I have to tell Jones is to place his damn order,” Ruby responds, her expression challenging Will in the way that only Ruby can. She looks back to Killian with a sweet smile. “You paying for all three?” He nods as he hands over the cash. Ruby winks at him, processing the change and handing it back before spinning from the register to make their drinks.
“Come on, mate. Come out this Friday.”
“I still have things I’m trying to unpack.”
“You’ve been saying you were going to unpack those things for the last three months.” He throws air quotes when he says “things” as if they’re fictitious items Killian invented for the sake of an excuse. He almost invites Will over to see what he’s talking about but feels like that would somehow turn into a standing invitation for his colleague to come over whenever he pleases.
“Yeah? And now I might mean it,” Killian retorts instead. Ruby places their drinks down on the counter before Will can press any further, and Killian spends an extra moment thanking the younger Lucas for exceptional service, as always.
“Kiss ass,” Ruby says as they gather their drinks and leave. There’s a smile on her face, though, and Killian knows that her days would be infinitely less exciting without him and Will pestering her at least once an afternoon.
When they get back, Will takes Robin his coffee without having to be asked, which Killian is grateful for. But he’s barely seated in front of his computer again before Will is popping back up in his doorway.
“You’ve been summoned to the dungeons, mate.”
Killian drops his head for a second, trying to gather the energy to just… get up and go see if suddenly his benevolent boss has had a change in heart regarding his tardiness this morning. But Robin just waves him in and motions for him to sit down.
“As you know, we originally hired you to be a junior editor to collaborate on projects.”
“Aye, that was the explanation I was given when I interviewed.”
“Well, we’ve gotten a new project that I’d like to see you take on. This isn’t quite a promotion, but it’s a test to see if I can trust you with something bigger than just standard edits to a pompous arse that doesn’t know his p’s from his q’s… literally.”
“I’m definitely interested. What is this project?”
“A young author has written a novella that twists fairy tales. It’s short but it’s deep, and I want your best on proofreading, but also on suggesting edits. He’ll be in to discuss the project at the end of this month, so keep working on your current progress until then. I’ll send all the files your way this weekend so you can start reviewing them whenever you’d like. Sound good?”
“Sounds excellent,” Killian says, genuine enthusiasm coloring his answer. “I look forward to it.”
Another disruption to the orderly life he’s been living, but honestly, this is almost as good as meeting Emma Swan. At least this feels like his disastrous start to October is no indication on how the rest of the month will go.
-x- October 2: Wednesday
The next morning, Killian is back to his impeccable schedule, so he’s calm and collected when he strolls up to the crosswalk. Only minutes later, Emma walks up, eyes trained on her phone, earbuds playing music that she nods her head in time with. He takes a moment before she notices him to appreciate the view, to take in the dark jeans she likes to wear instead of a uniform, with black boots up to her knees. Her red leather jacket is half-zipped. Soon the weather is going to grow colder and he wonders if she’ll be warm enough on her walks.
She looks up, then, and smiles at Killian while he raises a hand in greeting. She hesitantly waves back, moving to stand next to him while they wait.
“Good morning, Swan,” he greets just as the light changes and they start to cross. Her response is mumbled as she pulls the earbud from one ear.
“Have a good day, Jones,” she says, dipping her head as a parting gesture. There’s a smile pulling at his cheeks, and he turns to look at where he’s going instead of risking the possibility of running into something and ruining his mood.
For the rest of the week, they get to the crosswalk and he greets her. They part ways at the diner with her sending salutations before she walks up the path. In a way, it becomes a new routine for them. It’s one of the only changes to his days that he’s accepted as a normal progression instead of an uninvited intrusion.
On Friday, hours after his daily dose of Emma, he’s in the middle of the last chapter he has to edit when Will pops into his doorway in the afternoon. He goes to save the files and start the coffee routine, but Will enters the room fully and places two coffees and a bag with lunch on the corner of his desk.
“I hear you’ve got a bigger project coming up. Figured I’d be a good mate for once and encourage hard work instead of mucking around like we usually do on Fridays.”
The times that Will has been genuinely kind to him are definitely countable on his hand, so he’s almost afraid to ask if there’s a “but” included somewhere in there. However, Will just gives him a cheeky grin and heads right back out the door.
When he’s made the final change and checked over the whole chapter again, it’s beyond the time that he normally leaves, even when he stays late. His eyes are burning and his stomach is growling again, but there’s a sense of victory when he sends the files back to Robin and shuts down his office for the weekend.
He’s surprised to find Will on the couch in the reception area, asleep by the looks of it, and Killian is this tempted to leave him there because he knows exactly why his friend is still there. But the man brought him lunch and still owes him a beer for repayment of some good deed or another, so he knocks into one of Will’s shoes and snorts as he startles awake.
“Come on, then. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“Damn right, you are.” Will’s response is groggy and expected.
Killian makes sure the building is locked up tight before they walk the few blocks over to The Rabbit Hole. He’d rather be in bed, or watching whatever his neglected Netflix queue has in store for him. While Will obviously went home and changed into something more casual, Killian is still stuck in his suit from work. It’ll have to do.
One drink, that’s all he’s promised, and then he’s going home to get the sleep he deserves and return to his normal order of events.
They’re barely through the door when he realizes his plan is going straight into the bin. There, in all her blonde glory, is Emma Swan. She’s parked near the end of the bar waiting for Jefferson to take her order. As he moves towards her, he hears Will greeting other acquaintances, but he’s too focused on getting to interact with Emma outside of their usual crosswalk that he doesn’t veer off course.
“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” he greets as he props up next to her.
She jumps a little, clearly not expecting him to be there beside her, but regains her speech far easier than he would’ve if the situation were reversed.
“I’m sorry, you’re that figment of my imagination that only lives on Main Street. What are you doing here?”
He chuckles at her description of him and rubs behind his ear in a nervous gesture. Two more sentences and this will officially be the longest he’s ever spoken with Emma, and he’s enjoying it far more than he should.
“Out for a drink with my mate Will to celebrate a project ending.”
“Scarlet? See, I always thought you had better taste than that,” she says, a smirk on her face and her eyes shifting over Killian’s shoulder to where Will must’ve come up behind him.
“Oy, just because I’m romancing your friend doesn’t mean you have to insult me.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” Emma responds to him, but there’s lightness and sarcasm in the whole exchange.
“Romancing? You mean you finally worked up the nerve to tell Belle you fancy her?”
“Like three weeks ago, mate. This is why I tell you to come out more often.” Will claps Killian on the shoulder with those words, accepting the beer that Jefferson deposits on the bar for him, and walking back to the large gathering of people in the middle of the room that Killian is just realizing are mostly people he knows.
“Not one for socializing very often?” Emma asks, following his line of sight and waving to her brother at the table. Killian swallows a little harder when David sizes him up, eyes scrutinizing the whole time.
“Not as much as I used to. Will and I usually make our ventures out earlier in the evening and in the middle of the week when we do.”
“So is it the expat club or something? You and Will, Robin, Belle. I think Tink stops in and drinks with them every couple weeks or so, too.”
“Will and I work at NeverEndings with Robin. The rest is all just coincidence.”
She hums in consideration, sipping slowly from her drink. “There’s room at the table. Wanna come join us, too?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“Is your brother going to murder me for speaking to you for longer than three and a half minutes?”
She glances back at David, who turns back to the group suddenly, clearly pretending he wasn’t watching them.
“Listen, he’s overprotective but he’s yet to kill anyone I had a conversation with. People I’ve dated, on the other hand…” she trails off, lifting her eyebrows to emphasize with a little shrug.
He can’t help the laughter that erupts from him at that. She’s delightful. He could spend all his days having frivolous conversations with her and probably never grow tired of it.
“Come on, I promise he doesn’t bite unless you ask. Which is unfortunately more than I ever wanted to know but that’s what happens when you become best friends with your brother’s wife.”
“Thanks for sharing your pain with me. I hope it eases the burden of your knowledge,” he says low enough so only she can hear as he pulls out one of the remaining chairs for her. Her thank you is a quiet and pleased murmur, and he has to remind his heart to stop the constant drumroll so he can get through this evening with his dignity intact. He drops into the seat next to Emma and tries to bury the way his skin itches at the sudden change in his routine.
A chorus of introductions goes around, with Emma giving names to random faces as she goes. He does know a majority of the people at the table, even if just by reputation. It’s nice to meet the kind schoolteacher that is David’s aforementioned wife, though he’s seen her in the library more than a handful of times since his arrival in town.
“Everyone calls me Snow,” she explains after Emma calls her Mary Margaret. “Less syllables, more Disney Princess-ish.” When the topic shifts from greetings to the usual breakdown of everyone’s days, Killian seizes the moment no one is paying attention to them.
“A Disney Princess that enjoys a little kink in the bedroom. Good to know,” Killian whispers in Emma’s ear, and her hushed laughter is music he wants to play again and again.
When the conversation really starts flowing, he finds he’s less interested in drinking away his week and happier to engage with the people around the table. David still regards him with suspicion, but it probably helps that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to crawl into Emma’s knickers as the night continues on. He finished his singular beer ages ago but opts for water during his next trip up to the bar, along with food because Emma bursts out laughing when his stomach growls in the middle of her talking about a digital filing system they’re implementing.
Emma nurses her one drink, and so he’s relieved to find her willingness to talk is due to genuine interest instead of alcohol’s influence. Of course, it may be because he’s supplying her in onion rings until she finally orders her own.
Their group slowly begins to break up, starting with the people who have someone home waiting on them. Then the couples start to leave, and Killian is pleasantly surprised when Emma all but shoves David out the door with Snow, insisting that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.
They talk of all things small: she tells him about working law enforcement in a small town, and he shares his experiences in Storybrooke since moving. She asks about his job and actually listens when he starts talking.
“What’s this then?” Killian asks when Emma pushes up her sleeves.
She looks down at it, scoffing a little. “A dumb symbol of youth and rebellion,” she replies. “I got it when I was sixteen because James and I got in an argument about how perfectly behaved I was.”
“James?”
“Oh, David has a twin brother. You know how people joke about having an evil twin? David actually has one.”
“Your family is delightful,” he comments, wanting to reach out and touch the heavy lines of the flower on her wrist. “Why this?”
“Buttercups are my favorite flower.” He’s learned so many new things about her so very quickly, but he files this information away in the event he has a chance to use it.
It’s when their whole group has officially departed that they realize the rest of the establishment is similarly abandoned, with only Jefferson wiping down bottles behind the bar.
“Sorry about that, mate. Time for us to clear out?”
“I was gonna wait until I was done cleaning to see if you even noticed the place was empty,” Jefferson responds when Killian sets the last few glasses on the counter. Emma is behind him at the table still, gathering the smattering of bottles and the rest of the stuff to be washed. “Been a while since I’ve seen her talk that much to anyone she didn’t grow up with,” the other man remarks, nodding his head towards Emma.
“My favorite bartender back home would probably say the same of me,” Killian admits, placing a few extra bills on the bar as a tip and wandering back over to help Emma get the last of the dishes from his late dinner and her ridiculously large pile of onion rings, of which she ate every last one.
“Thanks Jeff. Have a safe trip home,” Emma tells him as she hands him the items.
As they start walking, he expects anything but for Emma to fall back into casual conversation with him about the moving process he went through. He takes it in stride as they slowly amble down the street and back to their crosswalk.
“I’m this way,” Emma says, indicating the direction she normally arrives from in the mornings.
“I know,” Killian responds, his tone soft and content. “It was lovely getting to meet you, Emma.”
He holds out his hand, giving hers a firm shake. Once upon a time he was a lad who could court a woman without blinking an eye. It’s that thought that has him turning her hand and bringing it to his lips, eyeing her playfully from beneath his lashes as he looks up at her. This small gesture feels so foreign, but he likes the way she’s giving him a puzzled little smile.
“Goodnight, Swan.”
“See you Monday, Jones,” she almost whispers as he releases her hand.
They head off in their separate directions, with Killian gently brushing his lips in wonder.
Routines be damned, this is much better than a casual wave in the mornings.
