Ho-ho-ho @emmaducklingsaviour! I’m your @cssecretsanta2020! Surprised? 💝💝 I wish you this Christmas a lot of love, inspiration for more stories, a lot of readers and everything else you wish you ave! it was a pleasure to get to know you more last weeks!
At first I wanted to draw you the most cliche thing, kissing under a mistletoe but I did it last year and I don’t want you to feel I don’t care enough to come up with something else. So this is 2nd the most cliche thing 😌😌😌 Emma and Killian were each other Secret Santas for the first Christmas in Storybrooke. How this happened is a mystery (I mean, of course it’s Ruby, or Mary Margaret, or maybe both?). Kissing under mistletoe comes later 😉 I hope you like it!
I post it on 24th because that’s when we give each other presents in Poland and I like to flex on people I can have my presents first . And now you can as well! 😉
Summary: Tis the holiday season and Emma can't help but notice that her neighbor Killian seems to be going through a personal crisis.
Rating: T
Warnings: Alcohol use/abuse (would you expect anything less from me really though?!)
AO3
A/N: Merry Christmas, @carpedzem!! Tis I, your @cssecretsanta2020! I figured since you said Christmas Eve was the big day for you that I’d give you your gift today! I really, really hope you enjoy it! I tried very hard to put in everything you wanted - it’s definitely got the angst (like angst on angst on angst), and I think I got a decent amount of pining and Captain Cobra?? At least I hope! Anywho, it’s been a true delight being your Santa this year and I wish you a very amazing Christmas! Enjoy!!
(And thank you SO MUCH to @colinoeyebrows for being my beta for this one!)
----
It strikes Emma that something is off about Killian, even before they wrap up the annual Nolan Thanksgiving get-together that David and Mary-Margaret have held in their apartment complex for as long as Emma has lived there.
Her usually flirtatious and outspoken neighbor becomes more and more subdued and withdrawn as the November afternoon passes by. By the time Mary-Margaret is pushing leftovers into her and Henry’s hands, Killian is hovering wordlessly by the door with agitation clear in the way his fingers flex and jaw ticks.
It’s almost as if he can’t escape fast enough.
“Killian seemed sad today, Mom.” Henry offers up to her that night as she’s tucking him into bed. And it’s no wonder her ten-year-old had noticed too. Killian, according to Henry, was the coolest person he’d ever known (besides her, of course). He never failed to show the boy all the attention Emma knew he deserved, and then some. Even with his quiet retreat behind his own apartment door after walking with them downstairs, Killian had given Henry a gentle hair ruffle and a half-hearted smile.
She placates her son, telling him Killian is probably just missing his family on such a big holiday. And for all she knows, it could be true. In the ten months since Killian had moved in just down the hall, he hadn’t mentioned much family. Or any family, for that matter. She’s thought to ask more than a few times, but having grown up in the foster system herself, Emma knows how awkward and uncomfortable a subject it could be.
Henry takes the reasoning easily enough. She leaves him drifting off to sleep in his bed, closing his door part of the way before she moves towards her own room. She pauses briefly in the hallway, looking behind her towards her front door. For a moment, she considers turning on her heels and heading right out that door and down the hall.
But the standoffish look she recalls reflecting out of Killian’s eyes just before he made his leave of them stops her.
He clearly wasn’t open for talking about whatever was wrong and Emma didn’t want to be invasive. She didn’t want to give Killian any reason to stay away. At least for Henry’s sake, or so she tells herself.
-----
A couple weeks later, Emma seriously starts to question that decision as it seems to not matter in the slightest. Killian is practically non-existent in their lives, a vast change from how it had been for months, and it’s clearly taking its toll on Henry (and maybe her too, just a little - but mostly Henry, for sure).
She’s not having it.
So she waits until Henry is off at school before she marches her way down the hall and slams her fist against Killian’s door. It takes a few long minutes before there’s any sign of life on the other side, and Emma doesn’t even wait for him to barely have it open before she’s barging her way inside.
“Look, Jones. I don’t know what the hell I did to piss you off so much, but taking it out on Henry by avoiding him too is not even close to fair.”
The words are out of her mouth before she even has a moment to spin around and face him. It’s not until she does that the rest of her defensive mother rant dies on her lips. Not because Killian is standing there shirtless, with sweatpants hanging low on his lips, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed to answer the door. No. It’s because he’s standing there, shirtless and looking like he’d just woken up, and it seems he’s carrying the weight of several planets on his shoulders.
If she had thought he seemed far from his usual self-assured self back on Thanksgiving, there’s no doubt about it now.
“Killian, I-”
He smiles sadly and gestures towards his kitchen. “Would you like some coffee, Swan?”
Emma blinks at the invitation, her mouth gaping slightly. “I...uhh…” When Killian’s shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, as if he’s prepared for her hasty retreat, she hurries on. “Yeah, coffee sounds good.”
The smile on his face brightens a fraction and he gestures with his blunted left wrist towards the kitchen once again, letting her lead the way. She takes a seat on one of the stools at the bar that separates said kitchen from the small dining area, and watches him shuffle into the room across from her.
She sits up a little straighter as she watches him freeze at the little pantry next to the fridge, just after he’s grabbed the canister of coffee from inside it.
“Is…” He sounds hesitant, keeping his back to her. “Would tea be alright instead?”
“Sure?” She replies in confusion. She keeps her attention focused on him as he nods erratically and snatches another canister out of the pantry. Without looking up at her, he makes his way to the counter she’s sitting at and hastily drops what she now sees is the empty coffee container there before frantically busying himself with making tea.
While he’s got his back to her again as he sets the teapot on the stove, she takes a moment to really look around. The gloom she hadn’t picked up on when she barged in now seems impossible to ignore. The curtains are drawn tight, the only light in the whole apartment coming from the kitchen. She notes the blanket hanging haphazardly off the couch and the trash can almost full to the brim with empty beer bottles tucked away under one of the end tables.
“You haven’t done anything.”
It comes so quietly from Killian that Emma almost doesn’t hear it. But she does and manages to turn her attention back to him in time for him to turn and face her himself. His brow is furrowed and his blue eyes look even sadder than they had when she burst through the door.
“I.. I don’t think there’s anything in this world…” Killian starts, stops, looks away and lets out a frustrated breath, before returning his gaze to her. “I’m not the best person to be around this time of year…” Emma opens her mouth to respond, but Killian continues on quickly. “But you are right. It’s not fair to Henry. Neither he, nor you , have done anything to deserve the way I’ve treated you.”
He licks at his lips and blinks, and then nods. “I’m sorry, Emma.”
If she hadn’t already seen how much of a struggle it was for him to get the words out to begin with, it’s the use of her name that seals it for her. “Apology accepted…” He lets out a relieved sigh and deflates some, and Emma feels a little bad to continue on… almost. She did come here for a reason, after all. “If you promise to come by tomorrow and help us decorate the ridiculous live Christmas tree David got Henry.”
Killian’s eyes widen and she notices the way his fingers twitch at his side for a moment. But some form of determination sets into his gaze and she feels a sense of victory as a ghost of his usual cocky smirk quirks his lips upward at the corner.
“Aye, I think I can do that.”
-----
The victorious feeling stays with her as Killian holds to his promise and shows up the next night for the tree decorating. And the next night after that. And the next.
There’s still a sad cloud hanging about his head, and at times she can see him struggling to hold things together. But he’s back and he certainly does his damnedest to put a smile on for her son’s benefit. She knows a thing or two about putting on a brave face for her kid, and appreciates that Killian is willing to do the same to make the boy happy.
The winning feeling sticks around until just two days before Christmas. She’s in her bathroom, brushing her teeth, when she hears shouting through the wall Killian and her share between their apartments. Spitting toothpaste into the sink, Emma frowns as she sets her toothbrush down and looks at the wall as if she’ll be able to see through it.
There are two voices. One is very distinctly Killian’s, though she’s never heard him sound quite so angry before. The other is quieter, though certainly not quiet enough to not hear him at all, and she can hear the accent in his words even through the wall. Words like ‘family’ and ‘honor’, which makes Killian shout back words like ‘abandoned’ and ‘wanker’.
Emma shuts off the sink and makes her way out of the bathroom. There’s no question in her mind this time if she should keep her distance. Something about Killian’s tone kicks warning bells off inside her, and she feels a concern almost akin to the kind reserved only for Henry set in. She slips into her comfy shoes and throws open the door, grateful that Henry is spending the evening with his friends before the holiday.
She opens the door to step out into the hallway in time to see a man, slightly older with greying dark hair, step out into the hallway himself through Killian’s door. She freezes as she watches the man plead with who she figures is Killian through the doorway. Her assumption is confirmed when Killian’s sharp ‘Leave now, Brennan, before I make you.’ follows the pleading, before the door is slammed in the man’s face.
Emma waits until the man sadly slinks away before exiting her apartment and making her way over to Killian’s. She stops in front of his door and raises her hand to knock, but pauses for a moment. Slamming from the other side of the door spurs her to finally tap her knuckles on the wood and she has to jump back as the door furiously swings open.
“Listen, you bloody worthless shitstain-”
Killian pulls up sharply as he takes her in, the vitriol flying from his tongue dying instantly.
“Emma…” He practically squeaks out.
“Hey,” She waves a little awkwardly. “I was just coming to see if everything was okay? There was…” She turns to look down the hallway in the direction the man had gone. “A lot of shouting?” She questions as she looks back to Killian in concern.
The red on his face has only deepened, from anger to obvious embarrassment this time as he scratches at the back of his ear nervously. “Aye… that was…” Killian frowns and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love, for the shouting. I didn’t wake you or the boy, did I?”
Emma shakes her head, frowning herself. “Henry’s not even home right now. Killian, if something is wrong-”
“It’s fine, Swan.” He offers her a grin that sets off even more warning bells inside her for how fake it clearly is. “I apologize again for the noise and I appreciate your concern, but I.. it’s…” The fake grin grows bigger. “Everything’s okay.”
Raising her eyebrows slightly in disbelief. “I heard a crash in there just now…”
“Ah, yeah…” Killian looks over his shoulder briefly to his apartment beyond and gives a dismissive shrug. “Just had a bit of a clumsy moment is all. I assure you…” He looks back at her again, that grin still firmly in place. “I’m tip-top, darling.”
His whole demeanor is throwing her off. It’s some form of his usual cocky self, only increased by a thousand. Like he’s putting on a front for her. She wishes he wouldn’t, but she’s not sure how to move past the clear impasse they are in. So instead she just stares at him for a second, eyes squinted in heavy suspicion. “If you’re sure?”
“Aye, positive.” Killian starts to ease the door closed. “I hope you have a lovely evening, Swan.”
Emma reaches out and stops him from closing it completely. “You’re still planning to come over for Christmas, right?”
The question clearly throws him as he jolts after she’s asked it. Like the idea of doing such a thing was definitely not anywhere in the vicinity of his thoughts at that moment. “Ah… aye, of course.”
“Killian…”
“I’ll be there.” He bites sharply and Emma can tell that anymore conversation is done for the night. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.” With that, he does close the door pretty much in her face almost exactly as he had the man who had been standing there just a few minutes earlier.
She wants to be mad at the blatant dismissal, especially when the distinct sound of the lock being turned into place fills the now quiet hallway, but all she can feel is an uneasy nausea building up in her gut. Despite his reassurances, Emma knows for a fact something is extremely wrong. And she fears that there will be far more of a mess made, both literally and figuratively, by Killian before all is said and done.
Not for the first time in recent weeks, Emma wishes she had been more open with herself to Killian. Maybe if she’d been more honest and direct with how she was feeling about everything, past and present, he wouldn’t feel the need to hide whatever he’s clearly going through from her.
She makes a decision, still standing in front of his shut apartment door. Tomorrow she’ll get him to talk, even if it means she’ll have to talk a little more about herself than she has before.
-----
Only Killian doesn’t really give her much of a chance to do any sort of talking the next day. She barely has much of a chance to really figure out what she’s gonna say to him anyway when she finds him standing outside her apartment door after she’d gone to get the mail.
Emma looks at him, and his bedraggled state, before shifting her attention to the hastily wrapped gifts in his hands. “Hey…”
He startles, as if shaken from a trance, and turns his head to look at her with wide, sad eyes. “Oh… I heard you leave, and I thought…” Killian trails off as Emma continues to look from his eyes to the presents and back. He swallows thickly and shakes his head, closing the distance between them quickly.
She suddenly finds the gifts thrust into her hands and she struggles to take a hold of them while also keeping a hold of the mail as well. “Killian, what…?”
“I’m sorry, Emma.” He whispers dejectedly. “I… I can’t.” He moves to scurry past her before pausing. “Wish the lad a Happy Christmas for me, will you?”
“Killian?” Emma asks worriedly, but he doesn’t waste anymore time in making his retreat from her. She spins on her heels as he stalks down the hall towards the stairs, trying to keep the boxes and envelopes from tumbling all over the place. “Killian, wait!”
He doesn’t. And by the time Emma gets inside, drops the stuff in her arms in the entryway, and manages to try and follow after him, Killian is nowhere to be found. She’s not exactly dressed for the snowy, icy conditions outside to be able to go looking off down either side of the street, and Henry is gonna be getting home any minute. She feels like she’s failed somehow, and stands with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shivering as more snow begins to fall and tries to keep her tears from falling along with it.
The cold drives her back a couple minutes later, and Henry is soon to follow after that. He immediately questions the gifts left by Killian, questions if everything is okay and if Killian is still coming tomorrow. Emma hates how the lie tastes coming out of her mouth when she assures her son that Killian will be there. She hates how the anger she’d barged into his apartment with those couple weeks ago can’t be mustered anymore, even in the impending wake of her son’s disappointment.
She so desperately wants to cry, because of and for Killian. For Henry. For everything that has gone wrong lately that she can’t seem to fix.
Instead, she holds herself together for her son on Christmas Eve, as they go through their usual traditions. The ones that were just for her and him. Henry senses her warring emotions, but doesn’t ask any further questions. Instead, he tries to make her smile as much as he can and Emma almost loses her will not to cry at just how selfless her boy is. The energy both are putting into acting like nothing is wrong clearly takes its toll on them both, and Henry is fast asleep in his bed barely past eight.
Emma, for her part, finds herself curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in hand as she tries to make sense of the day. She really wishes she had some idea of how to get in contact with someone who knows Killian outside of their apartment complex. She briefly contemplated calling up David, but knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from his wife, and then everyone who was anyone would know there was something wrong with Killian.
And for as much as Emma feels like she may have done something to set Killian off, she knows gossiping about a situation she’s only sorta vaguely aware of will definitely make it worse. It’s bad enough every call she’s tried to make to him throughout the day has gone to voicemail, save one odd moment where someone picked up and all she could hear was loud background noise before the line went dead. Same with every text.
She’s just about to decide who she could get to come and watch Henry, so she can traipse out into the frigid night to see if maybe she could possibly find Killian, at one of the nearby bars or cafes when there’s a commotion out in the hallway. She’s setting her wine glass down on the coffee table and rising from the couch, as there’s a knock at her own front door.
She makes her way towards it, frowning as an unfamiliar voice from the other side says ‘would ya stop bloody whinin’!’. Emma pulls it open to find a man she’s never met in her life with a closely cropped head of hair and an expression hovering somewhere between amused and aggravated.
“Evenin’.” The man’s thick British accent greets her as she stares at him. “You’re Emma, right?”
“I am.” Emma replies matter of factly.
“Bloody hell, I told you not to bother her!”
The loud, heavily slurred voice of Killian carries through the open doorway and Emma’s out in the hallway beside the mystery man before she can hardly think about it. Her eyes go wide as she takes in the state of the man she’s just spent hours worrying about. If she thought he looked bedraggled before, it’s nothing compared to the Killian propping up the hallway wall before her. Or more like the wall was propping him up. Even from the distance between their two apartment doors, it’s evident just how completely wasted he is.
“Oh.” Is all she can say in response to the revelation.
“Aye,” The man standing next to her sighs a bit dramatically. “Right state that bastard is in, isn’t it? Told him he should’ve stopped a couple hours ago, but does the bloody git listen? And then he goes and loses his damn keys somewhere along the way…” He looks at her imploringly. “He mumbled something about his gorgeous neighbor Emma having a spare?”
Emma goes to reply, but is cut off before she can.
“Will!” Killian whines angrily from his spot against the wall and attempts to push himself off it. All he manages to do is stumble a few steps before collapsing sideways against his apartment door.
“Bloody hell…” The man Emma assumes is Will grumbles before moving over to the struggling man and helping him stay upright.
Emma doesn’t stay in the hallway to hear or see what happens next as she turns and darts into her apartment to grab the key Will had mentioned. She’s trying to keep herself focused on the task at hand, which is now clearly getting Killian inside his own place and sitting down, and not on the fact that he’d apparently told somebody she was ‘gorgeous.’
She doesn’t allow herself to think about it as she returns to the hall to help Killian inside, despite his drunken protests at her involvement. Not when she and Will are helping him to his couch, or when they are trying to figure out something to give him to sober him up a little before getting him to go to sleep. Not when Killian is suddenly stumbling to his feet and hastily ambling his way down the hall to the bathroom. Not when he’s collapsed in front of the toilet, expelling the clearly excessive amounts of alcohol he’s consumed.
It’s only when he’s collapsed onto the tile floor, rambling drunkenly, that Emma really allows it to sink in. Really allows the past several months, ever since he first charmed his way past her defenses, to really settle into the very heart of her.
“I didn’t want this,” Killian is crying softly into the towel Will had placed under his head. “I didn’t want her to see what a mess of a person I am, Will.” It seems he had forgotten she was also with them in the room. Or maybe it didn’t really matter at that point, the booze and the sickness taking its full toll on him. “She’s so amazing and her son is just… brilliant and I’m… Not. I’m just not.”
“Mate,” Will sighs sadly. He reaches out to give Killian’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.
Killian brushes it off angrily and struggles into a sitting position, flopping back against the bathroom wall. “No! It’s true! I’m just a fuckup like him. I run away when something gets too bloody good. And then come back like the damn useless mess that I am just to screw it all up! Just like Brennan! Just like... my father.”
The last part comes out as a full sob and Killian pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face in his arms as he starts to cry in earnest. And even before she can take in the pleading look Will starts to give her, Emma is moving him out of the way so she can take up the spot right next to Killian. She slides down onto the floor and pulls the shattered man sideways until his head is resting in her lap.
He continues to cry from his new position resting against her, and Emma lets him. She sits and runs her hand through his hair, as he works through whatever heartbreak has been building up inside him. She doesn’t try to argue with what he said, all of which is untrue even if she doesn’t know the full circumstances of what brought Killian to such a state. Not yet, at least. She waits until he is ready to tell her everything.
Which comes early the next morning, after Will has helped get Killian over to Emma’s apartment before taking his leave, and Killian’s gotten a couple hours of sleep in an actual bed. He’s still a bit on the worse side of drunk, but there is definitely a clarity to his words as he tells her about his life before she came into it. About the loss of his mother and the father who had left him and his older brother to fend for themselves afterwards. About Liam stepping up and taking care of Killian for most of his life, before a tragic Naval accident had taken him and Killian’s left hand in one fell swoop just two days before Christmas some years past.
“I was in… a terrible place.” Killian mumbles from where he is laying on his side in her bed facing him. He chuckles a little drunkenly and shakes his head. “Still clearly am. But a friend of Liam’s got a hold of me last year and decided I needed to make a change for myself.”
“David?” Emma asks quietly.
Killian chuckles again and nods this time. “Aye, dear Dave. Told me there was a new spare apartment and that they were looking for a new harbormaster here in town. I… I didn’t want to take him on the offer, but honestly, I was drowning back in England and needed a change. I didn’t think…” He pauses and searches her eyes, a look of admiration shining there for. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I never intended for this all to come out… like it has.”
“What, that you have feelings for me and think I’m gorgeous?” She kept her voice void of any sort of emotion on how the question and whatever his answer might make her feel.
“Aye.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “All of that. I didn’t…” His eyes open again and it seems he’s settled on something in his mind quietly. “I apologize for any discomfort my rum-fueled words have caused and when I’m soberer,” He winces and makes a face. “I’ll take my leave of you and keep my distance so you don’t-”
Emma stops him by leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips. He tastes like toothpaste-laced rum and makes a noise of surprise, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he reaches out and draws her closer with a gentle hand to the back of her head. She hates to ruin the moment by pulling away, but Emma does a few moments later.
“I haven’t been worried nearly sick about you for weeks just for you to disappear right when I’ve decided I have feelings for you too.” She tells him seriously, her gaze intently focused on his still shocked one.
He blinks at her owlishly, mouth still slightly agape from the kiss and from wonder. “I… Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Emma reaches up and brushes the bangs back from his head. “Now we can lay here and you can keep talking if you want. Or we can get a little more sleep before Henry decides to get up and start Christmas, and we can have a good day, and get back to the personal shit later. Because trust me, Jones, if you think you have baggage…”
Killian takes her hand and gives it a light squeeze. “It’d be an honor to take on yours as well.” At Emma’s raised eyebrow, he frowns. “That came out.... I’m still rather... I think more sleep is probably wise.” He finishes with a sage nod.
Emma nods along after him. “Yeah, me too.”
Licking his lips, Killian nods again and as he shifts to settle into a more comfortable position for sleep, Emma moves herself into his space. His blunted left wrist comes to rest over her hip and he lets out a sigh that smells like rum just over her head.
She waits a few moments as his breathing evens out. “Hey Killian?”
“Aye?” He mumbles sleepily.
“I think you’re pretty gorgeous too.”
He presses a kiss into her hair and the smile she feels from him as he settles back in is the first real one Emma has gotten out of him since Thanksgiving.
Hello @girl-in-a-tiny-box! I am your Secret Santa! I must have been destined to be your SS because I had already started writing a fluffy story to take a break from an angsty story I’ve been working on. When you told me some of your favorite tropes, characters and scenes, I was very happy because they fit right in with what I was planning to write!
This gift-giving event also inspired me to try my very first pic set, & I had SO much fun doing it! Thanks to @kmomof4 for helping me with it.
Thanks also to my magnificent beta @hookedmom who is always willing to check over everything that I throw at her!
Summary: When Liam and Elsa are called away for an emergency during a snowstorm, Killian & Emma are left alone. Will they finally admit their feelings for each other?
Rating: T
Words: 8722
Also found on Ao3 and ffn
*********
Arizona. I’m definitely moving to Arizona, Emma Swan thought, trudging from the car to her friend’s house through the slushy puddles, as more snow fell all around her. She hated cold weather, and couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she’d decided to make one of the coldest states in the country her home.
She stomped the snow off of her boots and reached up to knock on the door, but it opened before she had a chance.
“Emma!” Elsa exclaimed, throwing her arms open wide to embrace her friend.
“Oomph! Too tight, Els! Can’t breathe!”
“Sorry! I’m just so excited to see you! It’s been ages!” She stepped aside to usher Emma into the house.
“Well, if you and your new husband hadn’t decided to travel the entire world for your honeymoon, it wouldn’t have been so long!”
“It wasn’t the entire world!” Elsa laughed. “Just portions of it, and we were only gone for a month. We’ve been home for almost two months now, but you haven’t stopped over.”
“I’ve never thought it was a good idea to drop in on newlyweds. Too much potential for scarring memories to be made.”
Elsa’s laughter rang out again as her husband entered the room. “Hello, Emma!” Liam greeted. “Long time, no see!”
“Yeah, I was just telling your wife the reason for that. It’s good to see you, Liam.” She crossed the space between them to give him a hug.
“Hello, Swan.”
She froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Killian Jones, Liam’s younger brother. Insufferable, swaggering, annoying, extremely gorgeous, funny, sweet Killian. Without her permission, her heart started racing. She pulled away from Liam and turned to face his brother.
“How are you, Killian?” she asked. She was unsurprised to see the smirk and cocked eyebrow on his face.
“Better now that you’re here. It’s getting bloody unbearable being around these two lovebirds all the time.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Kil. You’ve only been here since yesterday afternoon,” Liam scoffed.
“That’s long enough.” He looked at Emma again, and she swallowed at the intensity of his brilliant blue eyes. “Anyway, it’s good to have someone to talk to who won’t be preoccupied with public displays of affection. Unless…” he sauntered forward into Emma’s personal space, “you would be interested in such actions with me. What do you say, Swan?”
“Please,” Emma spat, trying not to let his nearness affect her even more. “you couldn’t handle it.”
“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”
“Killian, Emma has been here a total of three minutes and you’re already hitting on her. Give it a rest,” Elsa playfully admonished. She flashed an apologetic smile at her friend. “Dinner isn’t quite ready yet. Do you want to keep me company in the kitchen?”
“Got any wine in there?” Emma asked.
“Of course.”
“Then yes, I will keep you company.” She strode past Killian, throwing in a wink for good measure, which he tried, and failed, to return.
The two brothers headed to the living room to watch and fight over a football game. Emma followed Elsa into the kitchen and got two wine glasses out of the cupboard.
“Smells fantastic! What are you making?” Emma asked as she stuck her head in the refrigerator to check out the wine options.
“Chicken Cordon Bleu with roasted carrots and garlic mashed potatoes,” Elsa answered.
“Mmmm. Chardonnay then?”
“Of course! So how have you been, Ems?”
“Eh, not bad. Business has been good since it’s getting close to Christmas, so I can’t complain about that.” Emma was the assistant manager at a combination bookstore, coffee shop and bakery which was owned by their friends Mary Margaret and David. “I will complain about the weather, though. Who needs this much snow when it’s only the beginning of December?”
“Better get used to it. Sounds like we’re in for quite a bit of it this winter. They’re calling for several inches tonight. I hope you’ll be able to get home. If not, you’re welcome to stay here overnight.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I can trust Old Faithful out there,” Emma said, referring to her vintage Volkswagen Beetle.
Elsa scoffed. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that car is reliable.”
“You should know by now not to insult my car.” Emma sat down at the counter and took a sip of wine. “How long is Killian staying?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“For the rest of his life,” her friend said smugly.
Emma nearly choked on her wine. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”
“He’s decided that he wants to move here to be closer to his family. There’s really nothing left for him in Ireland, and Liam put in a good word for him at the lumber yard. He’s going to be in charge of the hardware department now that Leroy has retired.”
“Oh, well, that’s good, I guess.”
“Yes it is. Liam is very happy about it. Moving away from his brother was so difficult for him, especially since Killian was all alone after Liam came here to live.”
“I’m sure he didn’t lack female companionship,” Emma said under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough for Elsa not to hear.
She turned to look sternly at her friend. “That’s not fair, Emma. You don’t know Killian like I do. He’s really quite shy and introverted. That flirtiness and arrogance is just a front to cover up his insecurities.”
Emma looked chagrined. “I would never have guessed that, but I don’t understand why he thinks he has to put on an act. I’d rather hear a guy admit he’s shy instead of acting like he’s a womanizer.”
“Have you ever seen him flirt with anyone besides you?” Elsa asked pointedly.
“Uh, can’t say I ever have, I guess” her friend mumbled, while her cheeks filled with color.
“Yeah, well, maybe there’s a reason for that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How long until everything is ready, Sweetheart?” Liam asked, entering the room and striding across it to peek over his wife’s shoulder. “And what can I do to help?”
“It’s almost finished. Can you mash the potatoes?”
“Absolutely!” He crouched down in front of a cupboard to pull out the hand mixer, and Emma gave Elsa a look over his head that told her their conversation wasn’t over yet.
*********
Dinner was delicious, and everyone enjoyed talking and laughing about a variety of subjects. When Liam got up from the table to get the dessert, he looked out the window and gave a low whistle “The snow is really piling up out there. Looks like we’ve gotten at least another three inches and it’s still coming down.”
“Maybe I should go,” Emma said, troubling her lip between her teeth.
Before anyone could answer, Elsa’s phone began to ring. She picked it up and glanced at it. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this. It’s Anna.” She took the phone into another room, but they could hear the concern in her voice as she talked to her sister.
Liam was just beginning to dish out the apple crisp when Elsa came hurrying back into the room with a look of panic on her face.
“Anna’s gone into labor and Kris is out on the road! He’s trying to get back as fast as he can, but he’s three states away. I told her to call for the rescue squad to take her to the hospital and we’ll get there as quickly as possible. Is that okay, Liam?”
Her husband dropped the spoon he was holding. “Of course it is! Go pack a bag and I’ll pull the truck out…”
“I’ll do that, brother! You and Elsa get ready to go.”
“I’ll move my car out of the way, then help Killian clean everything up before I take off,” Emma stated, grabbing her coat and pulling it on, while yanking her keys out of the pocket.
Everyone shot off to make preparations for Elsa and Liam’s departure.
Emma coaxed her bug to life and threw it into reverse, backing it out of the driveway so quickly that she didn’t see the large snowdrift on the street behind her until it stopped her progress. “Dammit!” she exclaimed, shifting into drive, but her fears were realized when the tires spun fruitlessly and the little car stayed put.
She groaned and looked up to see that Killian had Liam’s black four-wheel-drive truck moved into the spot she had just vacated. She gritted her teeth and got out of her car. “I’m stuck!” she called to him. “Can you help push me out?”
Killian surveyed the situation, then scanned the street. “It won’t do any good, Swan. You’re not going anywhere in that car. I’m a little worried about Liam trying to drive in this mess with his truck.”
Emma heaved a sigh and decided it was pointless to argue. She hated to admit it, but she knew he was right. Reaching back into the little car, she turned it off and removed the keys from the ignition. Then she slammed the door and slogged up the driveway.
Just as Emma and Killian stepped back inside the house, Elsa and Liam emerged from their bedroom with overnight bags slung over their shoulders. Emma saw how drawn with worry her friend’s face looked and her heart went out to her.
“I checked to make sure there are emergency supplies in the truck in case you run into trouble,” Killian told his brother. “I put a couple extra blankets and some bottles of water behind the seat.”
Emma was impressed. She would have never thought of doing that. She didn’t even keep supplies like that in her own car, and it was far less reliable than Liam’s pickup truck.
“Thanks, brother. Our phone chargers are in the console, so we should be good to go.”
Emma pulled Elsa into a hug. “Everything will be fine, Els. You guys be careful, and don’t worry about anything here. Killian and I will take care of it.”
“Don’t try to drive that car of yours home, Ems. I can’t be worrying about you on top of everything else.”
“It’s stuck in a snowdrift right now. I was gonna ask if I could borrow your car to drive home.”
“Her car is terrible in snow, Emma,” Liam cut in. “We’ve already started looking for a different one, but for now, just stay put.”
Elsa’s phone buzzed and she took a quick look. “Anna’s at the hospital. We need to get on the road, Sweetheart.” She hugged Killian tightly. “Thanks for your help, Kil. We’ll keep you guys updated. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Both of you,” he added, glancing over at his brother. “Drive carefully.”
Emma and Killian walked out on the porch to see them off, then went back into the warmth of the house once the truck turned the corner at the end of the street.
“How long does it take to get to Anna’s from here?” Emma asked through chattering teeth.
“About three-and-a-half hours under ideal conditions, so I’d say at least four or more today. You’re shivering, Swan. Why don’t you go into the living room and get under a blanket.”
“No, I’m fine. Let’s get the kitchen cleaned up.”
She pulled off her boots and tossed her coat onto the rack beside the door. Killian set his boots beside hers on the rug, and followed her into the kitchen.
They worked together silently, each lost in their own thoughts about the harrowing trip Elsa and Liam were making through the snow that was still falling steadily outside the window.
“Do you want your apple crisp now?” Emma asked, picking up the bowls that Liam had been getting ready to serve before he had to leave so abruptly.
“Maybe later. I seem to recall that you are partial to hot chocolate. Perhaps we can have some with our dessert in a little while?”
“Sure, sounds good.” She wiped a dishcloth over the table, then looked around the kitchen. “I think that’s it. Now what?”
“Liam and Elsa have the Disney Plus package, so we have access to plenty of movies and shows. What do you say we take advantage of it?”
“Okay, but I get to choose. I’m the guest, after all.”
“Technically we’re both guests, Love.”
“Actually, Elsa tells me you’re going to be a permanent resident here.”
Killian scratched behind his ear. “Aye. I’ll be staying here at the house until I find a place of my own, then I’ll have to make one more trip back to Ireland to get my belongings sent over. They’re in storage for now.”
“It will be nice having you around. I...I mean...I’m sure Liam and Elsa think it will be.” She could feel her cheeks heating.
“Are you saying that you’re glad you’ll be seeing more of me, Swan?” he smirked.
Emma rolled her eyes.
“Play your cards right, and you might be able to see a LOT more of me!”
“In your dreams, Buddy,” she mumbled.
“Perhaps you are, Darling,” he quipped.
“Look, just hand me the remote and stop being Captain Innuendo, please.”
Killian smirked again and gave her the device. She flipped through the options and selected “Mandalorian”.
“I didn’t picture you as a Star Wars fan, Love.”
“I’m not, really. I just like Baby Yoda.”
“Ah, of course!”
They settled into opposite corners of the sofa and began to watch the episode. After about fifteen minutes, Emma’s phone vibrated in her hand and she unlocked it to read the text.
“Elsa says the roads are tricky but Liam is being cautious. Anna is progressing slowly and they should be able to get there before the baby is born. Hopefully Kris will be able to, also.”
“I hope so. Every father should be there when their child is born.”
Emma realized that what he said had an underlying meaning. His own father had left while his mother was still pregnant with him, claiming he didn’t want to be tied down with a wife and two children. Elsa had once told her that Killian felt like it was his fault his father had abandoned the family.
Killian got up from the couch and stretched. “Can you pause it, Swan? Nature calls.”
Just as she heard the bathroom door close, the lights started flickering. “No, no, no, no, no!” she chanted. Suddenly, everything shut down and the room was plunged into darkness.
“Bloody hell!” she heard Killian exclaim.
Emma brought up the flashlight app on her phone and turned it on. She carefully made her way over to the window to see if anyone else in the neighborhood had lights, and what she saw caused her heart to sink. Not only were all the surrounding houses dark, but all the street lights were out as well.
She heard a crash coming from the bathroom and quickly headed in that direction. “Are you alright?” she called through the door.
“I am at the moment, but I might not be once Elsa finds out I broke her magnifying mirror.” The door opened and he squinted when the light from Emma’s phone shone right into his eyes.
“You broke a mirror? You do know that’s seven years bad luck, don’t you?”
“It’s only cracked.”
“Three-and-a-half years then.”
Killian chuckled.
“I hate to tell you, but it looks like the power is out everywhere,” Emma told him, and he groaned. “Hopefully it will come back on soon.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it, Love. My guess is the weight of the snow brought some power lines down, which means utility workers will have to go out in this mess and try to restore it.”
Emma threw her head back dramatically. “Fantastic! So now what do we do?”
“Well, there’s no need to be antsy. We have our wits, we just have to focus on being constructive. What’s the battery percentage on your phone?”
“Seventy-seven percent,” she reported, after checking her screen.
“I left mine on the coffee table. Shine your light over there, would you please?”
She did as asked and he crossed the room. “Mine’s at ninety-four. Elsa has been checking in with you, so try to conserve your battery. Do you have it on low-power mode?”
“I do now. Oh wait! I have a portable battery charger in my purse. I think it’s fully charged, too.”
“Excellent! We should be all set with our phones then. Now we need some light sources. Do you know if Elsa has any candles or flashlights?”
“Um, I’m not sure about flashlights, but I’ll bet she has candles. She always had them burning in our apartment at college. Let me look around.”
“I’m going to go round up all the blankets in the house since it won’t take long for the temperature to drop in here. Do you want me to grab a sweatshirt for you?”
“Thanks, but I’ll raid Elsa’s closet myself. I’d like to get into something more comfortable than these jeans, and I need some warm socks. Do you think we should tell Liam and Elsa what’s going on?”
Killian considered her question for a moment. “No, they have enough on their minds. We can handle this ourselves without worrying them about it.”
Emma nodded her agreement. “Okay, meet you back here in a few minutes then. I assume you want to stay in the living room?”
“Actually, my bed is pretty comfortable. We’ll probably need to combine our body heat, don’t you think, Swan?” The exaggerated eye roll he got for that remark made him laugh out loud. “Aye, meet you back here, Love.”
When he returned loaded down with numerous blankets and quilts, he found several lit candles placed around the room, but Emma wasn’t there. He assumed she was changing into warmer clothes.
Just as he was unfolding the blankets, he heard her re-enter the room. “I’m gonna have my dessert now. Do you want yours?” she asked.
He looked up and saw that she was now in fleece pajama pants and a hoodie, with thick, fuzzy socks on her feet.
“Sure. We can bring it in here where all the candles are so we at least have some light.”
“Too bad we can’t have our hot chocolate.”
“Why can’t we? They have a gas stove. I’ll light the burner for you.”
“I can get it.”
“No, Swan. I’ll take care of it.”
“So now you’re gonna be a gentleman?”
“I’m always a gentleman.”
Emma scoffed, but followed him into the kitchen. By the time she’d gotten out the milk, sugar and cocoa, he had the burner lit and was leaving the room to flip off all the light switches that he knew had been on before the power went out.
She was stirring the heating liquid when he returned. “Something smells delicious,” he commented.
“Homemade hot chocolate is always the best. Can you get the cinnamon out, please?”
He gave her a quizzical look, but went to the spice cupboard. After setting out two mugs, he handed her the cinnamon. “What are you doing with this?”
“Putting it on my cocoa. Ever tried it?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Would you like to?”
“Why not? I’d like to think you and I have a taste for similar things, and I’m not just talking about cocoa,” he commented, attempting to wink.
“Seriously, can you not go ten minutes without making suggestive remarks?” she asked sharply.
The grin faded from his face. “I’m sorry, Emma. I’ll just, um, I’ll just take these bowls into the living room.” He stuck a spoon into each dish of apple crisp and walked through the doorway.
After he left the room, Emma sighed. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but she was sure that she had.
When she carried the steaming mugs into the other room a few minutes later, he was standing at the window, shining the light from his phone outside.
“Is it letting up at all?” she asked.
“It’s hard to tell if new snow is falling, or if the wind is just blowing around what’s already fallen. Some of the drifts look to be about four feet high. Oh, your phone was buzzing a minute ago.”
“Thanks.” She set the mugs on the coffee table and picked up her device. “Text from Elsa. She said they seem to have driven out of the worst of the snow, and they’re able to go a little faster. Kris hasn’t run into any bad weather, so he’s making good time.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Listen, Killian, I’m sorry about what I said in the kitchen…”
“No, Emma, you’ve no reason to apologize. You’re right, I really shouldn’t speak to you that way. It’s just...I don’t know...you make me a bit nervous and I respond by making innuendos. From now on, I’ll make an effort to stop.”
“Why do I make you nervous?”
Killian scratched behind his ear. “Because actually, I quite fancy you from time to time, when you’re not yelling at me.”
She noticed that he was looking down to avoid making eye contact with her. Taking a deep breath, she decided to return the favor of his honesty. “You’re, uh, you’re not so bad yourself, and maybe I feel the same.”
His eyes shot up along with his eyebrows. “Really?”
She shrugged. “I guess you’ve...grown on me a bit.”
“Well, I tend to have that effect on people.”
“All right, don’t push it.”
He grinned, then motioned to the sofa. “Shall we?”
They consumed their dessert in relative silence, then sat sipping their drinks. “Do you think we need to do anything in case the electricity is off for a long while?” Emma asked.
Killian stretched his arm above his head, then dropped it down to scratch the back of his head. “I think we need to close off all the other rooms besides the bathrooms to keep the heat in one area as much as possible. We can just camp out on the floor in here. I’ll grab some pillows from the bedrooms.”
Emma collected the bowls and mugs and carried them into the kitchen, where she placed them in the sink. As she made her way back out, Killian ran into her, accidentally knocking her backwards into the doorframe.
“I’m sorry, Swan!” he exclaimed, immediately dropping the armful of pillows he was carrying and reaching out to grasp her upper arms. “Are you alright?”
Shivers emanated from where his hands made contact, even through the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. “I-I’m fine, Killian,” she stammered. “No harm done.”
When he didn’t release her arms, she looked up to meet his eyes. The light from the flickering candles illuminated them, and she saw the moment his concern turned into a different emotion - one of warm affection. Her breath caught as she realized that he was probably seeing the same in her eyes.
Killian brought his hands up to the sides of her face, and raised his brows in a silent question. She nodded slightly and leaned in, letting her eyes drift shut.
The slide of her lips against his was something Killian thought he’d never get to experience. Ever since he’d met her two years ago when he came to Storybrooke with Liam for the first time, he’d hoped to someday know that feeling. His heart had squeezed in his chest the second he’d laid eyes on her, and he had felt an attraction toward her that was completely foreign to him.
The kiss lasted just a few seconds before she pulled back, and he was afraid that he’d misread her signals. She pressed her forehead against his momentarily, then wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips once again.
His arms slid around her back and he felt her running her tongue along the seam of his lips, which he parted to accommodate her. She tentatively explored his mouth, then tilted her head and got a little bolder. A low moan escaped him as he reciprocated, wondering if he was somehow dreaming, while at the same time deciding to enjoy the feeling for as long as it lasted.
When breathing became a necessity, Emma broke the contact between them. She could hear him panting slightly as he whispered, “That was…”
“Something we should probably talk about,” she finished breathlessly.
He gripped her hips and said, “Emma, please don’t say it was a mistake, because it didn’t feel like one to me.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I was going to say. I just want to...I don’t know...figure out where we go from here, I guess.”
“Oh, okay.”
They gathered up the pillows he’d dropped and went into the living room. Emma sat on one end of the couch, and when Killian hesitated, she took his hand and tugged him down beside her, not letting go of him once he was settled.
Neither of them spoke for a while as they tried to figure out where to begin. Finally, Emma cleared her throat and said, “If I tell you something Elsa told me tonight, will you promise not to get upset with her?”
“I can’t imagine anything she could say that would make me angry with her.”
“She said that you’re, um, really shy, and the reason you flirt with me is to cover up for that.”
He dropped his eyes and pulled at a thread on his flannel shirt. “She’s, uh...she’s right. I’ve never been very good...you know...around women, especially ones as beautiful as you.”
Emma could feel her cheeks grow warm as a result of the compliment. She squeezed his hand before answering, “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Killian. I have to admit that I’ve been attracted to you for quite a while now, maybe even from the first time I met you.”
“Truly?”
“Yeah. I’ve just never thought that it would be worth pursuing since you live so far away, and I can’t seem to make any kind of relationship work, let alone a long-distance one.”
“I don’t know what sort of men you’ve been dating, Love, but if they aren’t interested in being in a relationship with you, they must be fools.”
She laughed lightly. “To be fair, it’s usually me who doesn’t want to continue going out with them. I guess maybe I set my expectations too high.”
“Should I be intimidated by that confession?” he asked teasingly.
She nudged his shoulder with her own. “Are you saying that you want to date me?”
He turned in his seat to look directly into her face, and she could see the sincerity in his gaze, even in the dim light. “I would very much like to date you, Emma. What do you say? Will you go out with me?”
She reached up to run her hand along his jaw, enjoying the feel of his beard against her palm. She had noticed that it was longer than the short scruff he usually wore, and she found it to be quite attractive. “Yes, Killian. I will go on a date with you.”
“Only one?” he asked cheekily, as his right eyebrow rose high on his forehead.
“I have to see how the first one goes before I promise a second one.”
“So, no pressure then?”
“Nope. Just show me the best time I’ve ever had on a date and I’ll consider going out with you again.” She giggled at the look of consternation on his face.
“I know you’re teasing, Swan, but I really do want to plan a lovely date for you. You deserve nothing less. I was thinking perhaps we could go out to eat at a nice restaurant, then take a drive to see the Christmas lights. Would you like that?”
“So you’ve already put some thought into this, huh?”
“Maybe.”
“I think it sounds wonderful! And honestly, you don’t have to feel like it has to be something spectacular. I’d be perfectly happy to stay in and watch a show or movie like we did tonight before the power went out.”
“Ah, so this is actually our first date then, and you’ve already agreed to a second one!”
“I don’t think it works that way, Buddy!”
“Too late! I’m already counting it!” he chuckled.
She slapped playfully at his chest, and he grabbed her hand before she could do it again.
“Sweetheart, your hands are freezing! Let’s get you under some blankets.”
He reached over to the pile that he had deposited earlier on the opposite end of the couch. As he started to drape it around her, she said, “Wait, I have a better idea.”
He watched her leave the room, wondering what she had planned. While she was gone, he checked the inside temperature on the thermostat.
When she reentered the room, she was dragging two comforters-one from his bed and one from Liam and Elsa’s. He realized what she was intending to do and hurried over to push the coffee table out of the way, being careful not to jostle the two lit candles on it. Then he helped her spread the comforters on the floor, one on top of the other.
Tossing the pillows down on the makeshift bed, Killian told her, “The temperature is down to sixty-one in here. I knew it would drop pretty quickly with the way that wind is blowing.”
Emma was unfolding the blankets and shivered involuntarily. “The bedrooms are even colder than out here. It was a good idea to close them off.”
“When Liam and I were kids, we spent most of the winter camped out on the lounge floor in front of the fireplace, and Mum would sleep on the sofa. I remember going into my bedroom to get dressed in the mornings and nearly freezing since we kept those rooms shut off, but it saved some money for our family.”
They worked together to layer all the blankets on the floor, then Killian said, “I’m going to brush my teeth. Do you need a toothbrush to use? I’m sure Elsa has some extra ones tucked away somewhere. Liam always grabs two or three new ones when he goes to the dentist, because he’s a cheapskate and doesn’t want to buy them for himself.”
Emma laughed. “Sure, that would be great. I obviously wasn’t prepared to spend the night here.”
After brushing their teeth, Killian went into his bedroom to change into sleeping attire. When he made his way back out into the living room, he found Emma already snuggled under the pile of blankets.
“Did I take your side?” she asked.
“I don’t really have a side, at least not that I know of. I’m not used to sharing a bed. When Liam and I shared as kids, I always had to sleep on the outside so I could get to the bathroom quickly if I needed to. Sometimes I didn’t make it in time and...” He abruptly stopped speaking. “I guess that’s TMI. Sorry, Swan.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I like knowing more about your childhood. Elsa told me that your, uh, your father abandoned the family before you were even born.”
“Aye, that he did.”
She held up the blankets in invitation, and he dropped to the floor and began to crawl into the cocoon they had created.
“Wait a second. I’d better blow out the candles.”
“Oh yeah, good idea.” Emma started to throw back the covers.
“Stay put, Love. I’ve got it.”
She turned on her phone flashlight so he could see his way around. After he’d extinguished the candles that were scattered around the room, he slid under the mountain of blankets. Emma turned off the light, leaving them in complete darkness.
“It’s funny how quiet it is when the power is off,” she observed. “I guess we don’t even notice the constant hum that’s created by electricity.”
“Aye, that’s true. It always seems like the darkness is darker without any power, also, if that makes any sense.”
“It does, and I agree.”
Killian heard Emma shifting and soon felt her pressed up against his left arm. He lifted it and she nestled in closer to his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and left a breath of a kiss on her head.
She ran her hand up the soft fabric of the henley he wore until she encountered a soft tuft of hair peeking out of the unbuttoned opening halfway up his chest. She swirled her fingers through it and felt him shudder.
“Ticklish?” she asked slyly.
“Your fingers are like icicles, Swan.” He removed his arm from around her, took both of her hands between his, and began rubbing them vigorously.
“How do you stay so warm? You’re seriously like a furnace.”
“Why, Swan - are you saying I’m hot?” Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew without a doubt that he was wearing his trademark smirk.
Just as she opened her mouth to answer, her text notification went off. She pulled her hands from his grasp and fumbled for her phone, quickly swiping her finger across the screen. “It’s from Elsa. They made it there safely.”
“That’s a bloody relief,” Killian breathed.
“She says Anna hasn’t started hard labor yet, and Kris is less than two hours away, so they’re pretty sure he’ll make it there before the baby is born.”
“Sounds like it’s going to be a long night for them,” he said, as Emma tapped out a response.
“I think the birthing rooms have sofas and recliners in them, if it’s like the one Mary Margaret had. They should be able to get some rest.”
“Have you ever spent any time around Anna? That girl can talk the wallpaper off the walls! I doubt they get a whole lot of rest.”
Emma laughed. “She used to come visit quite often when Elsa and I roomed together in college. After a while, you learn to tune her out.” She laid her phone down and yanked the blankets around her shoulders again.
Killian gathered her back into his arms, this time holding her more tightly against his chest. She sighed in contentment.
After several moments, she felt a rumble under her cheek as he said, “May I ask you something, Emma?”
“Of course.”
“Elsa has mentioned that you don’t have any family. What...what happened to them?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I was abandoned when I was just a few days old. I went through the system until I was almost fifteen, then I landed in a foster home with Ingrid, who kept me with her until I graduated from high school. It was the longest I ever stayed in one place. She helped me apply for scholarships so I could go to college.”
“Do you keep in touch with her?”
“Yes. I’ll be going to Boston to visit her sometime during the holidays, I just haven’t figured out when.”
They fell into a comfortable silence again, as Emma rubbed small circles into Killian’s shoulder, and he glided his hand up and down her back.
“I guess we have a lot in common with our lack of parents, don’t we?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, yes, but I feel like Elsa and Mary Margaret are as close as any sisters I could have ever had. And Liam and David treat me like their little sister - sometimes almost annoyingly so.”
“I completely understand what you mean when it comes to Liam!” he laughed. “I’m looking forward to getting to know David and Mary Margaret better. They seem like a great couple.”
“They really are, and their little boy D.J. is adorable.” She paused for a couple of minutes before she asked, “How old were you when your mother passed away?”
“Fourteen. Liam was only eighteen, but he became my guardian. He worked and held off going to Uni for a few years, then took home courses until I graduated secondary school. It was lucky he went on campus eventually because that’s where he met Elsa. Did you study overseas, also?”
“No, I was just scraping by financially. I’ll never forget when Elsa came back from Ireland, though. I knew right away that she’d fallen in love, just the way she talked about Liam.”
“Aye, he was smitten with her from the very beginning, just like…”
She gave him some time to continue, and when he didn’t, she prompted, “Just like what, Killian?” ` `
He swallowed. “Just like me, when I first saw you.”
She pushed up onto her elbow, moving her opposite hand across his collarbone, and into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Leaning down, she connected with his lips and they shared a leisurely kiss.
After laying her head back down on his chest, she murmured, “Killian?”
“Mmmhmm?”
“I really like kissing you.”
He let out a chuckle. “The feeling is mutual, Love, I assure you.”
“Despite the circumstances, this is really nice, isn’t it?”
“Aye, it certainly is,” he agreed. There was another period of silence before he asked, “When would you like to go out on our date, Emma?”
“Are you thinking of planning it for next week?”
“Would that be too soon?”
“No, that would be fine. I have to close on Tuesday and Friday. Other than that, my evenings are open.”
“Shall we say Wednesday then?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Killian thought that Emma had fallen asleep when she didn’t speak for quite a while, so he was a bit surprised when she asked, “Do you think we’ll be able to dig my car out tomorrow?”
“We’ll have to see how things look in the daylight. Are you in a hurry to get back to your apartment?”
“No, I don’t have any plans since the bookstore is closed on Sundays. I feel like I should stay until Elsa and Liam get back, or at least until the power comes back on.”
“I definitely wouldn’t mind the company.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead, then she tilted her face up to press one to his jaw. He turned his head to meet her lips and they engaged in another languid kiss.
Soon after they separated, he heard her yawn. “Do my kisses bore you, Swan?” he chuckled.
“Not at all,” she reassured him firmly. “It’s just been a long day. I had the early shift which started at six-thirty. I don’t usually have to open the shop, but Mary Margaret and David wanted to take D.J. to see Santa this morning.”
“Ah, your exhaustion is quite understandable then.” He pulled the blankets more snuggly around her. “Are you warm enough, Sweetheart?”
“Mmmhmm.” She yawned again. “Goodnight, Killian.”
“Goodnight, Love. Pleasant dreams.”
A few minutes later, he heard her breathing grow deeper and more regular. He continued to run his hand up and down her back until he felt sleep beginning to pull him under, as well. His last thought before he drifted off was how he could very easily get used to holding Emma Swan in his arms every night.
*********
Several chimes from Emma’s phone pulled her out of a very good dream. Sitting up groggily, she haphazardly patted the couch to search for it. When she finally located it, she squinted at the screen and saw that it was shortly after five-fifteen in the morning and there were several messages from Elsa. She entered her passcode, as Killian stirred beside her.
“What is it, Swan?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.
“More texts from Elsa...oh!” she exclaimed, slapping him on the arm excitedly. “Anna had the baby at four thirty-seven! It’s a little boy, and they named him Aaron Dale. Elsa says he’s strong and healthy, 8 lbs, 6 oz, and Anna is doing fine. Kris made it there in plenty of time, so she and Liam are going to get some sleep at Anna and Kris’s house. She says they plan to go back to the hospital afterwards, then they’ll head home later this afternoon.”
“That’s nice.” He gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
Emma was busy typing out a response to her friend. “I’m telling Elsa the power is out, but we’ve got everything under control. I’m also gonna tell her that you’re being grumpy.”
“Mmph.”
“For some reason, I’ve always pictured you as a morning person, Jones.”
“Too bloody early,” he mumbled into his pillow.
She sent the text, then playfully shoved him in the back. He shot his hand out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down onto the thick comforters.
Emma giggled as he nuzzled into her neck. “I thought you were tired.”
“I could be persuaded to stay awake for the right reason.”
“What would that reason be?”
“Keeping a certain lovely lady warm.”
“That is a good reason.” She wrapped her arms around him and her lips found his for a brief but sweet kiss.
“Mmmm, I have to say that this is a very nice way to wake up,” Killian’s voice rumbled in her ear.
His accent was more pronounced in his drowsy state, and that, combined with the chilliness of the room, caused Emma to shiver. He noticed immediately and, after securing the blankets around her, began to rub his hands up and down her arms.
She yawned. “As nice as it is, I could do with some more sleep. How about you?”
“Absolutely, especially since we won’t be able to use the coffee maker.”
Emma groaned. “Ugh, I forgot about that. Maybe if we go back to sleep, the power will magically be on when we wake up again.”
“It’s worth a try.” He stopped massaging her arms and pulled her into his chest. She could feel his lips press to the crown of her head twice, then her eyes closed and she gave in to sleep once more.
*********
The next time Killian awoke, the room was bathed in light coming in through the windows. He was laying on his right side, with Emma tucked up against his back. Her left arm was draped over his waist, and he felt puffs of her breath on his neck. He could tell she was still sleeping soundly, so he let himself enjoy the feeling of being in the arms of the woman he’d dreamed of holding for such a long time.
Liam and Elsa had encouraged him to ask Emma out every time he’d visited them, knowing that he harbored feelings for her. He always balked, claiming that it wouldn’t be fair since he lived in Ireland, which was a valid excuse, but in reality, he was afraid of being rejected. Even though he talked a good game when he was around her, he completely lacked the confidence he needed to initiate anything that might lead to a deeper relationship with her.
He thought about the events of the night before and smiled as he realized everything had fallen into place for Emma and himself to be alone in the dark, cuddling together to share their body heat. He couldn’t have planned a better opportunity to open up to her and admit how he felt. And then for her to confess that she felt the same, well, that was more than he could have ever asked for.
“Why are you thinking so loud?” muttered the subject of his thoughts.
He chuckled and flipped over to face her. “I wasn’t aware I was doing that.”
“Trust me, you were.” Her eyes blinked open and she smiled sleepily when they connected with his forget-me-not blue ones. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Love. Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh. How about you?”
“Surprisingly well for being on the floor of a house that has no heat, with someone snoring in my ear.” His dimples became pronounced as he failed to hide his teasing smirk.
“Watch it, Buster!” she retorted, lightly pinching his side. His yelp of feigned pain made her giggle, then she stretched her arms above her head and released a wide yawn. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now.”
“Should I be nervous?”
“Possibly.”
“Note to self - keep Emma Swan supplied with coffee or risk an untimely death.”
“Don’t you forget it.” She plucked her phone off the couch to look at the time. At Killian’s questioning look, she reported, “It’s almost eight o’clock.”
It was his turn to stretch, then he tossed back the blankets, pushed himself to his feet, and crossed the room to look out the window. “It looks like the snowplow has gone through. I think I’ll try to take Elsa’s car to get some coffee and breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that, Killian. I’m not that desperate for coffee.”
“It actually looks pretty clear. I’ll just go to the gas station down the street. It has a convenience store inside.”
“That would be great, if you really don’t mind. I’ll text Elsa and tell her the roads are plowed but the power is still out.”
“Aye, that’s a good idea. I’m going to go get changed.”
After Killian brought back some food and the caffeine fix Emma needed, he asked, “Do you want to try to dig out your car? The plow pretty much buried it, and the snow isn’t going to melt anytime soon.”
Emma sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we might as well. It’s not like we have anything else to do.”
Killian grinned. “Oh, I could think of much more enjoyable activities that we…” He stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry, Emma, I wasn’t thinking…”
She put her hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I really don’t mind, you know. I think I would actually miss your comments if you stopped making them altogether.”
“Still, I don’t want you to think that I’m treating you with disrespect.”
“I don’t think that at all. I feel like we established where we stand with each other last night.” She watched him nod in agreement, then asked, “Do you know if Elsa has any ski pants and snow boots? I’m not going to last very long out there in jeans and the boots I wore here last night.”
“I’m pretty sure she has winter clothing in the cedar chest underneath the window in their room. There’s a storage tub for boots in the garage. I’ll see what I can find.”
They dressed as warmly as possible, then headed outside. Emma was plodding around her little yellow bug, dismayed to see that the snow was piled up to the windows, when Killian came down the driveway gripping two snow shovels. He handed one to her and asked, “Ready, Love?”
“Sure. Let the fun begin.”
He chuckled and trudged toward the front of the car, while she dug her shovel into a drift that was against the driver’s side door.
They worked diligently for nearly twenty minutes and Emma was finally beginning to see some progress, when suddenly a snowball hit her in the back while she was bent over beside the rear tire. She straightened up and turned, “Jones! You’re playing with fire by start-”
Another snowball hit her square in the chest. She looked down at herself, then her eyes shot up to see her attacker knelt down and peeking around the front of the car with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Oh, you’re asking for it!” she shouted, throwing down her shovel and grabbing a large chunk of snow. She packed it tightly between her hands and drew back her arm, waiting for an opportunity. Before long, she saw his head pop up and threw the snowball as hard as she could. He ducked, but not before it knocked his black beanie askew. “Ha! Gotcha!” she celebrated.
Soon snowballs were whizzing back and forth through the air as the couple’s teasing threats and laughter rang out. After a few minutes, there was a lag in the action and Emma cautiously crept around the back of the car. As soon as she poked her head around the fender on the passenger side, she was tackled and landed in a large pile of snow with Killian laying on top of her.
“I win!” he crowed. He stole a quick kiss, then got up and brushed himself off.
“Okay, fine!” Emma conceded. “Can you just help me up?”
He offered her his hand, but before he could pull her to her feet, she yanked hard on his arm to knock him off-balance. Then she took advantage of his momentary unsteadiness to shove him into another snowdrift, scoop up two handfuls of the fluffy white stuff, and plop it right into his surprised face.
He sputtered and gasped, shaking his head briskly from side to side. “Swan! Bloody hell, that’s cold!”
A frigid battle ensued until both of them lay panting on the ground, surrounded by the trampled snow that attested to the wrestling match that had just occurred.
“Truce?” Killian asked breathlessly, reaching across his body to offer her his hand.
“Truce,” she agreed, putting her hand into his and shaking it, “but I won.”
“I don’t believe that’s how a truce works, Love,” he chuckled.
She rolled over and leaned on her elbow, looking into his cold-reddened face. “It is when we play by my rules!” She smiled widely at his outburst of laughter, then bent forward and rubbed her frozen nose against his.
He raised his head to brush his lips over hers, before dropping it back down so he could look into her sparkling green eyes.
“You are so beautiful, Emma.”
She ducked her head at the compliment, and he lifted her chin with his gloved finger. “You are, you know. The moment I met you, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen.”
“Thank you, Killian,” she said softly. “I guess, um, I guess we’d better finish shoveling out my car before we both freeze to death.”
“Aye, good point.”
Once their task was finally done, they headed back inside to try to warm up, even though there was still no heat. Killian was more than happy to join Emma in a nest of blankets on the couch, and they cuddled together, laughing and talking until they could both feel their fingers and toes again.
The electricity flashed back on just after eleven o’clock. They checked the house to make sure everything was working properly, opened the bedroom doors, and inspected the food in the refrigerator to verify that it was still edible. Then they reheated the leftovers from the previous evening, which now seemed so long ago.
They chose not to turn on the television or seclude themselves with their phones. Instead, they raided the game closet and played several rounds of Sorry and Clue, and a very competitive game of Risk, as the house gradually got warmer.
By the time Liam and Elsa arrived home late in the afternoon, they were surprised at what they found. When they’d left less than twenty-four hours before, Emma seemed to be merely tolerating their brother. Now, as they entered the living room, they came upon a couple who was so wrapped up in one another that they hadn’t even noticed the return of the homeowners.
Elsa turned to her husband and gave him a knowing smile.
*********
Emma and Killian went on their date, although they still argued about whether it was the first or second one. That led to many more afternoons and evenings together until they were nearly inseparable.
He bought a little house close to the harbor eight months after moving to Storybrooke, and she joined him when he flew to Ireland to pack and ship his belongings. He was glad to have her with him as he faced the bittersweet memories that the task stirred up. Upon returning home, he helped her box up the things in her apartment, and they were also moved into the house.
By the time Anna and Kris threw a party for Aaron’s first birthday, Killian had placed an engagement ring on Emma’s finger that featured an emerald which matched her eyes. He had secretly purchased it the day before they left the Emerald Isle.
They were married two months later in a small, intimate, candlelight ceremony...while the snow fell steadily outside the chapel windows.
*********
I hope you are happy with your gift @girl-in-a-tiny-box, and that you have a wonderful Christmas and start to your New Year!
Here it is @thisonesatellite! your 2020 CS Secret Santa gift. It was a complete and total delight to get to be your gift giver this year. That is not hyperbole - you are a gosh dang delight! Each of your message responses left me in stitches and while I will NEVER try and convince you a movie you think is bunk is good, I am delighted at the opportunity to recommend rom coms that don’t make you want to gouge your eyes out.
This fic is heavily inspired by your love of coffee shops AUs (except...you know, a pub), your travel stories (which I shamelessly incorporated into the fic) and I believe rates about a 4 on the reindeer scale of Christmas cheer. You’re a total eagle eye, so I just need to say I am well aware that Colin O’Donoghue’s accent in no way resembles an accent from Cork, but I just need that to be ignored, please and thank you.
Also, I’ve decided we’re fandom friends now. Okay? Okay! Finally, thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this exchange and being the actual best and most patient fandom soul.
***
Title: the gift of gab, the gift of you
Summary: Emma needs an Irish man. Wait! No! It’s not what it sounds like. And then the universe just has to go and provide her with the world’s chattiest, flirtiest, blue-eyesiest Irish man in existence.
Available on AO3.
***
Emma is in no position to complain. From where she sits both literally – (perched upon a comfy barstool in the world’s coziest pub) – as well as existentially – (traveling abroad for the first time in her life) — she is fortunate and blessed.
It’s just –
It’s just it would be easier to enjoy it all if she didn’t have to deal with a rather annoying request from her rather annoyingly persistent mother.
Her headphones are in but Emma still takes great care to speak in hushed tones over video chat. There’s nothing she wants less than to be the loud American who shares her private conversation with an entire establishment. The pub she found is at the end of a quiet lane off of Cork’s high street. The customers within the pub appear to be locals well known by the staff who tend the pub. In truth, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for —
“Who have you talked to today?” her mother asks.
“Uh, I’m pretty sure I thanked the barista who made my coffee. And I ordered a pint in this pub.”
“That’s not talking.”
“It is by definition talking.”
“That’s not what I meant. How else are you going to get to know the city?” Her mom interrupts before Emma can properly formulate a snarky reply. “And don’t you dare say ‘guidebooks.’ Your father and I raised you better than that.”
“Mom, please don’t make me do this.”
“You said I could have anything I wanted as a souvenir.”
“What about a mug? I bought Grandma Ruth one with a big fat sheep on it.”
“Sounds lovely, sweetie, but no.”
“Mom.” Emma realizes that as a twenty-six year old woman it is probably unbecoming to whine, but her mother is being absolutely ridiculous. Where is her dad when she needs him to rescue her? All he requested was a bottle of whiskey. What a sensible person!
“No. It’s fine. If you don’t want to get your mother the one thing she asked for on this trip that’s okay. I won’t say one word about paying for this celebration trip, or paying for graduate school, or —”
“Shit, mom. Did you take a Guilt Trip 101 class or just Google how to?”
“Oh, this is natural talent. My present, please.”
“Fine.” There’s a group of bearded men, the ones she pegged as locals, tucked into one corner of the pub. They’re probably her best bet, but she just arrived last night, and the combination of jet lag and travel nerves make her feel not yet up for that. Which leaves the staff working the bar.
One of the two men she’s seen pouring pints and serving up food has gone missing. Besides, Emma wouldn’t trust herself in her sleep-deprived state to not say something utterly absurd to the blue-eyed, dark-haired, scruffy bartender. Probably a good thing he’s gone. Much safer is the other man working the bar – the one who refused to serve her Guinness but was very kind about it. While arguably attractive, he is a decidedly less intimidating sort of handsome. Unfortunately, he is in the midst of a heated discussion with one of the patrons, the two of them gesticulating to something happening with a football match on the screen. Which leaves the blonde haired woman currently polishing glasses.
Emma lightly clears her throat. “Excuse me, ma’am?” When the woman turns to look at her, Emma smiles, and signals her over. She sets aside the pint glasses and tucks the polishing rag into her apron. Her mother, on the other end of the video call, is not satisfied.
“Did you say ma’am?”
“Mom,” Emma whispers.
“I said an Irish man, Emma Blanchard Nolan. Man.”
“No. You said person.”
“The man was implied.”
“Then you should have been more specific.”
“Ready for another?” the woman at the bar asks.
Emma looks down at her half-full pint. “Not quite.” She frowns. “And, uh, you’re not Irish, are you?”
“No. Canadian.”
“Ah. Okay.” Emma lowers her voice again and looks at her phone screen. Her mother remains unimpressed. “That’s foreign. Technically she’s a foreigner.”
The sternness of Mary-Margaret’s expression is evident even over the video call. “Emmaline —”
“Not my name, mother.”
“Emmaline Blanchard Nolan, you promised me.”
“I’ll find an Irish person tomorrow.” It’s about this time Emma realizes she’s rudely ignoring the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender. The one she asked to speak with. What’s more, the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender has been joined by the curly haired bartender. Both of whom peer at her with matching expressions of amused befuddlement. Emma removes her headphones and addresses the man. “You’re Irish, right?”
“Well, miss,” and the gentle brogue of his accent, even with those two short words, is quite evident, “you are in Ireland.”
“Excellent! Can you talk to my mom?” She detaches the headphones from her phone and turns the camera around to face the man and woman. “My mom wants to have a conversation with an Irish person.”
“Irish man,” her mother corrects.
“An Irish man. Out in the wild.” The bartenders stare at her, nonplussed. “It’s her souvenir.”
The woman presses her lips together – an obvious attempt to stifle a laugh.
“Well, uh, aye.” The man tugs at his ear. “I guess I could —” He’s interrupted from his stuttering by the return of the blue-eyed, stubbly bartender, hauling a new keg into the back of the bar.
“Actually,” the woman cuts in. “My husband,” she hip checks the curly-haired man, “needs to replace the keg.”
“I do?” he asks.
“He does?” This from tall, dark, and holy hell! also possesses an Irish accent.
“But Killian is in the middle—”
“Shh,” the blonde woman interrupts her husband.
“Yeah. Killian is—”
She goes on to shush the man Emma now knows to be Killian.
“Oh no,” Mary Margaret whispers over the video call, “there’s two of them.”
“What is happening?” Emma’s not sure which of the two men asked, this whole interaction spinning rather absurdly out of control.
“I don’t know,” Emma says.
The woman ignores all of them. “I’m Elsa, this is Liam, and that,” she points to Killian, frozen with a hand on the keg like he’s uncertain what to do, “is my very single, very Irish brother-in-law.” And all at once it becomes clear what Elsa’s intentions are. “Killian, can you come over here and help our lovely patron and her lovely mother?”
“Oh, Emma, Killian even sounds like an Irish name.”
“Mom!” Originally she found her mother’s request to be silly but harmless. The more people who become involved, however, the quicker it approaches mortifying. Emma watches as Elsa whispers something to her brother-in-law, likely explaining the unconventional request.
“I’m very friendly,” Mary-Margaret reassures anyone who might be listening.
“You are a flirt, is what you are,” Emma scolds. “And what would dad say if he found out about this?”
“He asked for whiskey. I asked for this.”
“Come on, lass. Don’t deprive me of a dashing rescue.” Killian leans across the bar, his hand reaching out for her phone. All that stubble and the blue-eyes and the accent are worse when directed directly at her. “Besides, your mum sounds like a woman after my own heart.”
“If you’re sure—?”
“Absolutely.”
To her abject horror, the moment she hands Killian the phone, he walks away with it in hand.
“As requested, milady,” he says to the screen, “one genuine Irish man.”
Her mother’s delighted giggle is embarrassing for all Americans everywhere but it seems to delight Killian. She can just makeout her mother’s question about where he grew up when he rounds the corner, out of her hearing.
“Where is he going?” Emma asks, craning her neck. “Where is he taking my phone?”
“If I know Killian, your mum is probably about to get the most thorough oral history of Irish pubs she could have asked for,” Liam says, tossing a towel over his shoulder.
“Oh. Okay.” She drums her fingertips on her glass. “I’m sorry about all the trouble.”
“Nonsense,” he waves her off. “This is the most exciting thing to happen in our pub since Seamus and Willy hosted their wedding reception here.” He jerks his chin towards the group of bearded men she noticed earlier, though which one is Seamus and which is Willy she can’t be certain.
After another fifteen minutes, Emma has finished her pint and Killian still has possession of her phone. He crossed through the room once, merrily chatting with her mother as he regaled her with the story of how he got the scar on his cheek.
Elsa is filling a series of pint glasses for a group of women standing at the bar, and Emma feels the need to apologize again. “This isn’t what I expected,” she explains.
“What’s that?” Elsa asks.
“I was kind of thinking, best case scenario, there’d be an exchange of hellos and that would be that.”
Elsa nods, hands the pints off to the women, and then fills one more. “Are you familiar with the legend of the Blarney stone?”
Emma nods. She has absolutely no intention of kissing the dang thing (her research indicates local teens do all manner of ungodly things to the stone, knowing that tourists intend to kiss it), but it’s on her list to go see.
“Well, Jones family legend —”
“I take it your husband and his brother are Jones’?”
“And me by marriage. Jones family legend has it that Killian must have been birthed upon the stone because never has there been a man more endowed with the gift of gab.” Elsa finishes pouring the pint and sets it in front of her.
“Oh, I didn’t order this.” Right at that moment, Liam returns to the bar and sets a turkey sandwich in front of her. “Or this,” Emma says.
“Knowing my brother, you might be here a while,” Liam explains.
“Gift of gab?”
He nods, pleased that the Jones family lore has reached her. “Gift of gab.”
Liam proves to be correct, which means Emma has ample time to get to know both Elsa and Liam. The two of them are freakishly adept at juggling bartending, interacting with their customers, and keeping up a steady flow of conversation with her. The highlight is hearing the full story of Seamus and Willy (she is able to identify them by their matching navy sweaters – sweaters which Willy apparently handknits for the both of them), two men who worked on the same fishing boat for decades before realizing they were in love.
“Once they sorted that bit out, they got married three weeks later,” Elsa says.
“So which one of them is the designated driver?” Emma asks.
“That whole lot lives down the street.” Liam raises his voice so the group can hear them. “And they do nothing but hassle me every day of my life!” The group all raise their pint glasses and cheer, indicating this kind of teasing is something central to the pub’s dynamic.
Killian returns from wherever it was he was busy flirting with her mother and sets her phone on the bartop. She looks down at the display only to find it blank.
“Uh, your mum had to run to the market, but she indicated she’ll call you later.”
“She didn’t even say goodbye? Unbelievable.” As Emma gears herself up for peak mom-annoyance, she gets a text message. “Speak of the devil.”
4:38 PM - Mom to Emma
hubba hubba
“Ah, geez, mom,” she grumbles.
“What’d she say about me?” Killian asks.
“What makes you think that text was about you?”
“Because you have roses in your cheeks.” Emma frowns. She what? “You’re blushing,” Killian says.
“No I’m not.”
“It’s getting deeper, I’m afraid.” He takes away her empty pint glass. “Another?”
“Yes, please.”
He sets another pint of Murphy’s in front of her (Liam was the one to inform her that one drinks Murphy’s when one is in Cork). “Your mother is lovely.”
“Yeah, she’s something alright.” She sips the beer and licks the foam off her lip. “What were the two of you talking about for so long?”
“Oh, just having a chat. She wanted to know about the pub and how Elsa and Liam met.”
“The gift of gab.”
“Ah,” he says, “Elsa told you of that, then?”
“Like my mom didn’t tell you anything about me?”
“It was all good, Emma.”
She snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Why a conversation with an Irish man?” Emma frowns at Killian, not quite certain of what he’s asking. “For a souvenir. That’s truly all your mum wanted?”
“Oh, that. In between flirting, did she tell you anything about her and my dad?” Killian shakes his head. “It’s kind of a long story.”
As if waiting for his cue, Liam comes up behind Killian and slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “My dear little brother has time.”
“Younger brother,” Killian corrects.
“Shorter brother.” Liam bumps Killian towards the other side of the bar. “Why don’t you keep Emma company?”
“I have another three hours on my shift.”
“I think Elsa and I can handle it until Will arrives.”
“Liam.”
“Don’t make me fire you.”
“You can’t fire me. We’re co-owners.”
“Fine. Don’t make me quit.”
Killian rolls his eyes but slides out from under Liam’s arm. He crosses to the other side of the bar and sits beside Emma. “I’ll take a pint, then.” He raps his knuckles on the bartop. “And make it quick.”
Emma hides her smile in her pint glass. Both Liam and Elsa have been so lovely. There’s no reason to switch allegiances at this point. Regardless of how much she might be tempted by the stubbly-faced, blue-eyed flirty Irish man sitting beside her.
“Between the two of them and my mother,” Emma says.
“Yeah, not the most subtle lot.” Liam shoots Killian a glare as he sets the pint down to which Killian responds with the cheekiest grin Emma has ever seen. The interaction has older and baby brother written all over it. “So, your mom and Irishmen. Go.”
“Oh, that.” Unlike her mother, and even her father, Emma holds the details of her life close to her chest. She’s made the mistake in the past of sharing too much too fast. When people leave her, either by choice or circumstance, it physically pains her to know there are people out in the world with knowledge of her worries, fears and dreams. But maybe it’s the sandwich sitting warm in her stomach, or the jet lag, or simply the buzz of international travel, because she feels inclined to share at least a few details of her life with Killian.
“My mom and dad both took a gap year after high school and met while backpacking across Europe. They met at the Roman Colosseum, decided to match up their itineraries, and by the time they arrived in Budapest five months later they were in love and my mom was pregnant.”
“And they’ve been together ever since?”
“Almost 27 years.”
“That’s quite the story.”
She nods. “They cut their year of travel short, and went to live with my Grandma Ruth, my dad’s mom. They always talked about returning to Europe, finishing their trip at some point, but by the time I was old enough to leave behind with my grandma, dad was in vet school, mom was teaching, and they were running a wildlife rescue from the family farm. They kept making new plans to travel but they just kept getting pushed back and back and back. Until, one day, they decided to put all that money towards sending me on my first trip instead. So, as much as I fight every silly request she has of me, I would do anything if it made her smile.”
“Your mum and dad never made it to Ireland?”
“Nope.”
“Thus the strange request.”
“Thus the strange request.”
“Well, it gave me a reason to chat with the lovely lass at the bar, so for that I’ll be forever grateful.”
Her Grandma Ruth, Aunt Ruby, and frankly everyone who knows her parents well, routinely comment on the resemblance between Emma and her dad. Apparently in temperament and affectation they are almost identical. But maybe she’s more like her mom than anyone knows because the conversation between her and Killian flows fast and easy. Easy enough that she barely notices when she and Killian finish their pints and Elsa slides new glasses in front of them. Emma’s head is feeling a little buzzy, and that turkey sandwich was more than a couple hours ago. Maybe she can hint at Killian that she wants to go to the Christmas market. Hint even more specifically that she wouldn’t hate if he went with her.
No, she can’t do that. To even think such a thing would be ridiculous.
She can’t possibly ask a practical stranger to walk up and down the stalls of the festive market with her. She can’t expect him to want to sample all the baked goods and food they can handle. Or to hold her hand while they drink spiked apple cider. That kind of thinking is romantic, and hopeful, and not at all her brand.
“This is really your first trip out of the states?” Killian asks.
“I mean, Canada, but that’s so close to home it doesn’t count.” Emma catches herself, eyes darting to Elsa. “Don’t tell your sister.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” Killian angles his body on the stool to face her more directly. Without Emma realizing it, they’ve drifted close enough together over the past hour or so that the move makes it so their knees knock together. Emma could move away, put some distance between them, but everything is foggy and hazy in that delicious way, and she can’t bring herself to move. “What does that make me, then? The ruggedly handsome foreigner you intend to seduce as a notch on your bedpost?”
“Who said anything about seduction?”
“You’re giving me bedroom eyes.”
“I do not make eyes of any kind. Especially bedroom eyes.”
Elsa jumps in, setting glasses of water down for each of them. “Yeah, but Killian does. And he needs to put them away.”
Emma tries to react quickly enough to Elsa’s teasing to evade Killian’s detection, to turn away and hide her smile in her shoulder so he can’t see, but the gentle tug on the end of her braid indicates he caught her.
“Think that’s funny, do you?”
“You and my mom ganged up against me. I deserve to join with your family against you.”
“Your mum is great.” He shrugs. “Well, based on the little I know.”
“I know she can be a little intense. I hope she didn’t—”
“She was as lovely as her daughter.” Before his words can fully sink in, perhaps bringing that blush back to her cheeks, he’s moved on. “You’ll have to bring her with you when you return.”
She rests her chin on palm, blinking up at him. Okay, maybe she sometimes makes eyes. “What makes you think I have any plans to come back?”
“Ireland gets in your blood. You’ll be back.”
This time they’re interrupted by Liam. He swipes away the pint glasses in front of them, remaining beer and all. “That’s about all I can stomach of that.”
“What do you mean?” Killian asks.
“You’ve been flirting with the kind tourist long enough. Time to go.”
Oh. Emma looks down at her boots. A surge of deep embarrassment heating her cheeks and causing her stomach to churn. “Sorry,” she says quietly, her eyes turned down. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No!” The twin cries from both Liam and Killian startle her. She’s not sure which one appears more stricken by her announcement she intended to leave.
“Apologies, Emma, I wasn’t clear,” Liam says. He extends his hand to Killian. “Apron.” It takes Killian a moment to react but when Liam stays in his place, his hand extended, Killian removes his apron and hands it to him. “See you tomorrow, little brother.”
“Younger.”
“Dumber.”
“Stubborner.”
“Not a word.” Liam stalks back over to Elsa who is shaking her head at the whole display. “They’re both idiots,” Liam says, and Emma is just going to pretend she didn’t hear that, thank you very much.
“Have you been to the Christmas market yet, Emma?” Killian’s voice brings her back to the pub, and this particular bar stool, with this particular man. This particular man who has somehow intuited the secret desire of her heart to go to the town’s Christmas market with him.
“No. No. Not yet.”
Killian jumps down from his seat and extends a hand to Emma to help her down. “Come on, love. Let’s sail away.”
There’s 100 ways Emma could respond to that. She could tell Killian she isn’t his love. She could jump down from the stool on her own. She could insist she’s fine going to the market by herself. But she tries to channel a little magic, that particular magic which for her mom and dad turned one day in Rome into a lifetime, and chooses differently.
(Not that she’s saying she expects—)
She takes Killian’s offered hand and his answering grin is all the confirmation she needs she made the right decision.
And so they go to the Christmas market, and at Killian’s insistence she tries mulled wine but quickly trades it in for a cup of boozy cider. They ride the ferris wheel, the cold stinging her cheeks from the top, the lights of Cork spread out before her, and that thrum of love for this place beats loudly in her veins. Suddenly every travel story her parents have ever told her makes sense and maybe Killian is right – maybe Ireland is in her blood.
They walk together side-by-side and at a point Emma can’t remember – somewhere between sampling whiskey, buying several bottles for her dad, and licking salt and malt vinegar from hot chips off her fingers – they transition to walking hand-in-hand. The heat of Killian’s skin, even through two layers of gloves, is what she blames for the fact that she actually starts humming along to Christmas carols. Where’s that deep cynicism she has been committed to for her life when she needs it?
“Told you,” Killian says after the two of them step away from a stall with handmade ornaments. She must have been channeling her mom because she couldn’t stop herself from striking up a conversation with the vendor. Somehow by the end of the interaction she’d agreed to join him and his wife for their annual holiday pub crawl the following night.
“Told me what?”
“That you would fall for Ireland.”
“You get the honor and privilege of keeping me company on my first full night on my first real trip out of the country and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?”
“I believe what I am trying to say, love, is you appear very much at home here.”
The sentiment makes everything in Emma buzz, but she does what she does best and works to diffuse it. “Well, uh, I don’t know. Does it ever snow here?”
“Eh, we get about 50 mm every year?” At her look of confusion Killian smiles. “Not much.”
“Have you ever had a white Christmas?”
“Can’t say I have. They’re pretty rare in Ireland.”
“In that case, I think this means you should come to Maine. We do a great white Christmas.”
“Maybe I will.”
“Great. Next year sound good?”
Killian laughs and squeezes her hand. “Sounds great.”
She hears the faint echo of advice her dad once gave her. It was right when she was fresh off her heartbreak with Neal and wasn’t sure she had it in her to apply for grad school. He said something to her about moments. About the need to notice good moments even in the midst of bad ones.
Standing here hand-in-hand with a man she met only five hours ago, the glow of Christmas lights dancing in technicolor hues against his cheeks and hair, Emma is absolutely certain this is a good moment.
“Emma?”
She answers Killian’s question by rising up on her toes and kissing him. It’s quick and fleeting, barely a brush of her lips against his, but the look on his face as she pulls away, all bright eyed-wonder, deserves to be classified as a good moment all on its own.
It takes self-control Emma wasn’t aware she possessed to not drop their shopping bags to the ground, grip him by the lapels of his jacket, and kiss the crap out of him. Instead she loops her arm in his.
“It’s getting late,” she says. “Want to walk me back to my hotel?”
He swallows, that poleaxed expression still on his face. “Aye.”
The next morning, Emma is woken up by the sound of her video call alert and boy it was a mistake to not extend her do not disturb until noon. She reaches out and blindly bats at the bedside table until she makes contact with her phone. As soon as she swipes up on her mom’s call, she squeezes her eyes shut again.
“Hello?”
“Oh, sweetie. Are you still jet lagged?”
“And a little hungover.”
“Sounds like you had a very eventful night.”
Killian grumbles from somewhere behind her. “What time is it?” he asks.
It’s right about this moment Emma realizes her error. Her mom goes quiet and Emma considers taking the opportunity to end the call. And then maybe ignore every call thereafter for the next five days.
“Emma Nolan. Is there a man in bed with you?”
“No,” Emma answers, though it’s perfunctory and not at all convincing.
Killian presses closer to her, and shifts so his chin rests on her shoulder. “Hello again, Mrs. Nolan. And this must be Mr. Nolan.”
That gets Emma’s attention and she opens her eyes enough to see her mom and dad sitting beside one another on the couch. While her mom is positively gleeful, her dad looks as though he wishes he could melt into the couch cushions and disappear.
“There are certain things I don’t care to see,” her dad says. “Certain things I don’t care to know.”
Emma rotates in bed and onto her back, holding the phone above her head so both she and Killian are still in view of the camera. “Oh hush, Dad, you and mom did it the first night you met.”
“You told her that?”
In response, her mom shrugs. “She asked.”
“And not that it matters, but Killian and I didn’t have sex.”
Though it didn’t stop them from trading long, slow kisses that left her dizzy and wanting more, more, and more. Killian must have felt the same because it took little to no convincing to get him to stay the night. Perhaps most remarkably, after extending the invitation, Emma had no desire to retract it or pretend it didn’t mean anything.
“Your daughter was far too drunk to have sex.” Emma turns her head so fast in Killian’s direction she hears something crack.
“That, for instance, is one of the things I don't want to know about,” her dad says.
Killian cheerfully waves at the camera, ignoring both her father’s indignation and her glare. “I’m Killian, by the way. Happy to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Nolan.”
Emma elbows Killian. The man is a total menace. “I’ll call you guys back when I’ve had coffee,”
“I want details,” her mom says.
“And I want no details.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma hangs up the phone and tosses it in the direction of the foot of the bed. She flips over onto her side and Killian mirrors her, reaching out to trace the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “So that was my dad.”
“He seems a charming fellow.”
“Don’t let the responsible tough guy act fool you,” she says, and snuggles closer to Killian. He responds just as she hoped, by wrapping his arms tight around her. “He once spent all his money on a cross country train ride and stole oyster crackers from the dining car for food. And during a California road trip, my mom almost froze to death sleeping in her wet bathing suit on the side of the road.”
Killian chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh making her feel even warmer. “You’re saying they can deal with a half naked man in their daughter’s hotel room?”
“Yeah, they can deal.” After a moment’s hesitation, Emma slips her hands up and under Killian’s shirt. It’s the one he wore to work, and she can still smell the faint aromas of beer and fried food that linger. She presses her palms against his back and bunches the shirt up, up, and then over his head.
“Emma?”
A girl could get used to the way his voice moves over the syllables of her name. “They might have a problem with a fully naked one, though.” She kisses his bare shoulder.
Killian’s hands move under her shirt to span her waist. Goosebumps breakout across her skin. By the slight twist of his lips, Killian notices. “So you’re saying—?”
“I’m saying you should quit gabbing and kiss me before they call again.”
“As you wish.”
And a week later, when she is back in Maine celebrating Christmas with her family and Killian is in Ireland with his, Emma convinces herself she imagined it. She must have. She must have imagined how safe she felt in the presence of another person. Imagined the comfort she felt as he joined her for a quick road trip to Dublin. Imagined that it could feel like your heart was split in two, half residing in the chest of a person you just met.
But the week of New Year’s Eve, when he arrives in Maine to celebrate with her, she’s startled to find it was all real.
The morning after Killian arrives, she sits with her mom in her parents’ breakfast nook, the two of them sipping coffee as Killian and her dad make waffles.
“Not such a dumb souvenir after all, huh?” her mom whispers.
Emma shakes her head, too happy to even react to her mom’s shameless gloating. “No. Not so dumb.”
We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!
Hello @everything-person!! Here is your second of two gifts for CSSS! I know you said you’re looking for some fic inspiration, so I hope that this festive CS family aesthetic might spark some ideas for you. It’s been great getting to know you and I hope to talk with you more off-anon now. ❤️
Thanks again to the mods of @cssecretsanta2020 for hosting this wonderful event this year!
Summary: Emma’s life had always been carefully curated for her as the daughter of a Navy Admiral. To follow in her mothers footsteps: meet and marry a suitable husband and be the best wife possible. But what she hadn’t expected was for her father to be reassigned halfway around the world to Egypt, and she certainly had never expected to meet and fall in love with a man so opposed to everything her father stood for...
A/N: Well, @shireness-says, I guess it’s finally time to reveal myself. Hope having me as your @cssecretsanta2020 isn’t too disappointing. I think I managed to get 90% of your wish list tucked into this little monster. I hope you have the most wonderful of Christmases this year!
Hiraeth: A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was. Grief for a loss, something you can never have again.
She hears a crackling noise coming from the next room, the oversized fireplace recently stoked with with wood, and even in its muffled state through the doorway, it brings a calmness to the home. Winters in London have always been chilly, but this one is by far the most brutal that Emma can remember and the snow piling up outside has brought transportation to a halt as the cobblestone roads give no grip to passing carriages. She briefly considers taking a few sips of the bottle of brandy she has hidden in the back of the cupboard to warm her, but considering the small child playing with her doll in the great room, Emma decides against, choosing to boil some water instead.
It’s strange, being in the house, just the two of them after all this time. Stranger yet celebrating a family holiday without the entire family, but such is life. She will allow herself to cry tonight once the child is safely tucked into her bed with a story told. She will allow herself to grieve for the man not sleeping at her side and the chill that’s taken hold of his side of the mattress. For the quietness of the home, but for now, she’s going to smile and tell her daughter a tale of Father Christmas.
The kettle begins to whistle, taking Emma by surprise, having lost track of the time in her wistfulness. Quickly she composes herself and sets about mixing up two cups of cocoa, complete with whipped cream and a generous dusting of cinnamon on top for good measure. Always with the cinnamon.
She places both cups on a small wooden tray, adding in some biscuits, before taking the tray into the living room. There, she finds the small girl playing a game of imaginary flight. The girl has named the doll Wendy, based on some fairytale she’d been told at school. One retold to her by a classmate whose father spun such tales for a living.
“Fly Wendy, you must believe. You simply must!”
“What must she believe, my Poppet?” Emma can’t help but chuckle at the earnestness of her daughter’s words.
“Oh, it’s quite simple really. She has to believe in the magic for it to work so she can fly.”
“Ah, well maybe she just needs some cocoa to help her outlook. What do you say?”
The young girl nearly tossed her doll in the air in her haste to run to the table where her mother has set the tray. Tiny fingers move at nearly impossible speed and it’s all Emma can do to prevent her from burning her mouth again.
“Careful, it’s still warm, you must take care to blow on it, sweetheart.”
The little girl rolls her eyes before nearly sinking her face into the whip cream, catching a dollop on her nose as she blows. Giggles fill the room and Emma’s heart begins to warm just a bit.
“Mummy, Theo told me that cinnamon on cocoa was wrong. That it doesn’t belong.”
“And what did you say in return?”
“Well, I told him that he was silly of course.”
Emma laughed. Her daughter has inherited so much of her father in physical appearance, but tucked away inside the girl, Emma often finds her own spirit.
“Have I ever told you the story of how I came to use cinnamon on my cocoa?”
The little girl shakes her head as she takes a sip of her now cooled drink.
“Well, then, where should I begin?” Emma smiles wistfully before continuing. “Once upon a time…”
_____________________________________
1881 Port of Alexandria, Egypt
She’d been sick since the day they’d left London, never having experienced the open waters before. She’d been on boats a handful of times as a child with her father, yet they’d never had the occasion to leave their position in the berth and weeks at sea had taken their toll. Emma, like a handful of others unaccustomed to the waves, had taken ill, turning nearly green in the face. Most of the men aboard had served in her Majesty's Navy for years, making such simple work of setting about the ship with ease. Emma envied them that, having spent nearly every day in her room sick over a bucket.
Her only solace was the blaring horn of her father’s ship alerting them that they’d finally arrived at their destination. Leaving London hadn't been easy, saying goodbye to so many of her friends. To the only home she’d ever lived in. Her mother told her to think of it as an adventure, reminding her constantly that it wasn’t a house that made a home. It was family. But Emma and her mother had experienced very different upbrings.
And the idea of moving to Egypt had been off putting. She’d been warned of the heat and the impoverished people. The less than ideal sanitary situation had also been worrisome. It was only at the insistence of her father and that Emma was able to avoid hesitation all together.
But that was then, before her family drug her nearly kicking and screaming halfway across the world to an entirely different continent. She didn’t know much about Egypt other than the English had recently begun to colonise it to ensure the protection of monetary interest. She knew even lesser still about Alexandria. An oasis of sorts her father had said, situated between the Nile and the new Suez Canal, producing some of the most fertile land in the country, which was also the very reason they were there. To protect more than the land the Queen now laid claim to, but to ensure safe passage for the ships returning to England from India.
“Emma, sweetheart, are you coming?”
Emma looked up to find her mother’s head poking in through the doorway, cheerful as always. “We really mustn’t dotile, it wouldn’t make for a good first impression.”
“Of course, we couldn’t possibly be late,” she mocked as she rolled her eyes, trying to find a place to stow her recently used bucket.
Heaven forbid they ever step one toe out of line. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the importance of her father’s role as a Rear-Admiral and how important it was to keep up the image of the perfect family, but for Emma, it meant everything had to be just so. No creases in her dresses, no new fashions that were considered too provocative as they may have shown the slightest hint of skin around the reduced neckline. It also meant that every moment of her day must have been accounted for.
It wasn’t as if she had a rebellious streak, but she longed to have any semblance of autonomy in her own life. But that wasn’t the life she was destined for. Instead, she was expected to find a suitable husband of good social standing and wealth, and to bear his children. To provide for him in any way necessary and to see only to his happiness. So many of her friends had been all too eager to accept marriage proposals from men that ill fitted their personalities just for the sake of not being labeled a spinster.
At nearly twenty one, Emma had already pushed the boundaries, having recently turned down a marriage proposal from the son of the Admiral of the Fleet, a reason she strongly believed had led to the sudden reassignment of her father. Neal’s father had always stuck her as a horribly controlling man, a trait that she saw more and more in Neal as their courtship progressed.
“Emma, really, I must insist that you hurry.”
“Yes, mother.”
Emma rose from her seat and placed her bucket on the floor at the foot of her bed before putting herself to rights. She checked her hair in the small mirror hung on the wall opposite her luggage, trying her best not to look as bad as she felt.
The top deck of the ship was beaming with life. People milled about everywhere, barking orders to some, saluting others. It was the most organized brand of chaos Emma had ever laid eyes on. She followed her mother, taking caution not to step in anyone’s way as they made their way to the gangplank.
It was there that she caught her first sight of her new home. It was breathtaking, not at all what she’d expected. The sky above the city was the bluest she’d ever experienced, like the ocean itself had been reflected into the heavens, and the buildings lining the seashore erupted in a mountain of golden sandcastles.
She’d barely had time to take it in before her mother began tugging on her elbow, a silent signal to move faster. Once on land again, Emma and her mother were greeted by the women’s auxiliary group. There were a handful of other officers that had brought families with them to their new duty station, and as was customary, a greeting party had come to meet the newest arrivals.
The women, some as young as Emma swooned and cooed over her mother. It wasn’t every day that the wife of such a high ranking official appeared, and the women clearly wanted to make a positive first impression, cementing their good standings as well as their husband’s in the mind of her mother. Much of the privilege afforded to soldiers and their families depended on rank, but social status had long been its own form of exchangeable collateral.
They all exchanged pleasantries as the woman walked them to the nearby base, a small wall and barbed wire barricade the only thing separating them from what some of the women had referred to as natives. Emma tried not to show her disgust at the term, but it was difficult when they seemed so unapologetic for the slur. Especially when they spoke of the uprising and how some of them needed to be put down like dogs.
Emma had seen her fair share of aristocrat snobbery before, but nothing quite so brazen. If not for the young brunette ambeling beside her, rolling her eyes as the women spoke, Emma certainly would have lost her sanity.
Eventually the gaggle of women made it to the house that Emma would call home. It wasn’t nearly as fancy as what she’d been accustomed to in London. There weren’t any of the ornate embellishments on the walls, no wood carvings, not even any color really. By some miracle though, the house did have plumbing, which had been one of Emma’s greatest worries. Some of her friends had warned her that she would be forced to use outhouses and public bathes.
The home itself was bleak, but her mother took it in stride, finding whatever she could to be excited about, and told the women that she would make her own in no time. Soon, she’d even managed to command the kitchen enough to make tea for all of the ladies who’d been kind enough to stock the house with groceries for the newcomers. They sat around the small table in the living room and discussed what it was like living in Alexandria, gossiping about one of the wives who hadn’t been able to make it. At one point, the conversation had shifted back to the natives, a warning not to venture into the city without a male escort to prevent savagery. Emma felt the walls closing in as the conversation continued. This small base made of a few homes and barracks had become a small prison. All of her dreams crushed.
As the women rose and exchanged parting words, Emma moved to take her leave but felt someone grab her wrist, tugging her outside and around the corner of the house. The girl continued to pull her farther and farther away from any other people.
Not sure what was happening, Emma braced herself to dig her heels into the ground, not wishing to move another inch.
“Where are you trying to take me,” she demanded.
It was the same brunette from earlier, and with a wolfish grin she shrugged.
“To the city of course.”
_____________________________________
She wasn’t quite sure what had possessed her to follow the young woman she now knew as Ruby. Perhaps it was a rebellion from all of the rules that had been forced upon her in such a limited amount of time. Perhaps it was sheer curiosity, but she went, almost eagerly.
Emma listened as Ruby told her about all of the places as they passed them and the people, even watching Ruby greet a few of them as friends. It was such a different picture from the one the women on base had painted. Half of her had been expecting men hidden under robes and veils to jump out and grab her, but the men and women that they came across all seemed friendly enough.
Soon, she found herself entering a brasserie. Ruby didn’t miss a beat in rushing to a table with a couple already sat across from each other. With no prompting whatsoever, Ruby took the spot next to the gentleman, edging him further against the wall. She motioned for Emma to sit as well. Carefully, she slid onto the bench next to the other woman, making sure not to crowd her.
It wasn’t until she’d become fully situated that she’d really been able to take stock of the people sitting with her. The woman to her right was beautiful in her own right. Brown hair tied at her nape, flowing over her shoulder in curls. It was odd for Emma to see a woman wish such relaxed standards and so carefree. In old London society, it was an unspoken rule that women wore their hair up in fanciful twists.
But as surprising as the woman’s demeanor was, it was truly the gentleman that had caught her attention. A slight scruff speckled the entire lower half of his face, and his cheeks had a sunkissed glow about them. But his eyes, they sparkled a deep blue, and all thoughts she’d had about the Egyptian sky upon her arrival had been put to shame by him.
“Emma, I’d like you to meet my friend Belle, and her pet, Killian. Everyone, this is Emma. She’s just arrived today and I’m trying to dispel the lies she’s heard of the city thus far.”
Killian nodded in her direction, but remained silent. Belle on the other hand had been eager to speak, having originally been born in France, but she’d lived in London until only a few years prior. She asked all sorts of questions about the museums and libraries, and life in general. Emma filled her in on all of the newness of what she’d missed since leaving. Before she knew it, a table full of food had appeared, enough to feed a small army.
She’d been reluctant to eat any, not yet having currency to pay for her share, but Ruby insisted, telling her it was on Killian. He barked out a laugh, but assured her that lunch was on him as a welcome gift. The four of them ate and spoke. Or more aptly, Ruby and Belle did most of the speaking, which was fine by Emma. She’d learned so much about Alexandria.
As it turned out, Ruby was the daughter of another office stationed at the base, but Belle had no affiliation with the Navy. She’d simply come to Egypt for the adventure of it all. She was actually on a small team searching for the lost library of Alexandria. She told Emma how many of the explorers that had come to the country had done so for the glory and treasure. Most of them were in Cairo, exploring pyramids and digging in the middle of nowhere hoping for the best. She on the other hand was intrigued by the library, her treasure was the lost books. The knowledge that had slipped away.
Eventually, lunch came to an end, their bellies all well and full, and Killian informed them that he’d stayed as long as possible, but that he needed to depart. Emma wasn’t sure why - he’d barely spoken, and she’d no knowledge of anything about it - but there was a small twinge of sadness at his leaving.
As they excited the brasserie, she watched as he turned and gave both Ruby and Belle hugs before handing Belle a small satchel. Emma had been taken back. In her previous social graces, a man and women were never to embrace unless they were married, and even then, they were to maintain a certain amount of propriety in public. But there, amongst a city of strangers, they seemed to give it no thought.
She was taken back yet again when Killian grabbed her hand, brushing the slightest of kisses against her knuckles. She felt her breath quicken and her heart begin to pound within her chest and she worried that the others might hear it.
“My lady.”
And then, before Emma could catch the breath that had left her body, he walked away. She tried not to watch him as he left, but her eyes had affixed to him, and there was no prying her sight from him until he’d turned into an alleyway. A gleeful squeal from Belle as she peaked inside the satchel and pulled out a worn book was the only thing that finally allowed Emma to focus her attention elsewhere.
“Hook always brings her a new rare book when he returns to the city, and everytime she loses her mind as if it were not to be expected from him.”
“Hook, is that Mr. Killian’s last name.”
Ruby snorted.
“Mister Killian? We’ve really got our work cut out for us with this one.”
Belle shushed Ruby, only giving the smallest of snickers.
“To answer your question, no. His last name is Jones. Hook was a moniker given to him back in his navy days. He was always very prim and proper of course, but if the occasion called for it, he had a mean left hook.”
Emma nodded in understanding, trying to reconcile the image of a clean cut soldier with the man she’d just met.
“As as far as Ruby is concerned, the best part of living in Alexandria is the freedom to not abide by strict formalities.”
“Exactly, you needn’t be so formal here. There’s no Mister Killian or Mister Jones. No one here is going to rat you out for being human, Emma.”
“I-”
“No. You’re going to have enough thrust upon you on post, so in the rare moments you have for yourself like this, take advantage.”
Emma understood Ruby’s intentions, but she’d let her guard down once before and it had led to her father being exiled from his position. She couldn’t risk letting him down again. Instead, she nodded and did her best to change the subject.
After some time, Emma and Ruby returned to the base, parting ways near each of their homes. Ruby lived with her father and grandmother on the opposite end of the street. The girls made plans to meet up later in the week once Emma had her footing under her.
That evening, her parents discussed their days. Her father had his work cut out for him. Not only was he tasked with maintaining order in the city of Alexandria, but he’d just been informed that there had been a ship in the Medditeranian Sea that had been terrorizing cargo ships departing the Suez canal on their way home to London. He told them that the Royal Navy had searched exhaustively for the ship, but hadn’t had any luck and that they suspected that one of the neighboring countries was helping to provide a safe haven for the pillagers. They were ghosts.
Emma went to bed not long after, exhausted from all of the events of the day. Her mind couldn’t help but replaying everything over and over again in her mind. She’d managed to make new friends sooner than expected, and she genuinely enjoyed her time with Ruby and Belle. They were both so different from her social circle in London, more free and uninhibited. Something she’d always wished she could be but nothing she could have herself, given her station. The other member of her group had been more of an enigma, so quiet and mindful. She had to admit to herself, he was very handsome, and if not for his obvious relationship with Belle, she may have even allowed herself to dwell on his blue eyes and raven black hair. But he was already in a courtship, and she would do well to think of other things.
If only her dreams had understood propriety.
_____________________________________
The following few weeks were packed full of events and social soirees. Her mother wasted no time jumping into her role as a mother hen to the entire base, organizing tea parties, book clubs, even planning a winter ball for all of the soldiers. The weather in Alexandria was a far cry from the snowy streets of England but her mother made due, and also made use of nearly all of Emma’s free time.
She’d seen Ruby nearly daily, allowing their bond to grow, but the two women had only been able to sneak off once in the four weeks that Emma had lived in Egypt to meet Belle. The women had shared a more traditional meal in a British Pub that time. Emma had learned that the British people who lived in the center of the city had begun transforming the buildings, erecting more Victorian style facades with not one, but two pubs offering traditional menus and ales for the homesick. It was a remarkable find, and Emma was grateful for any semblance of her life before, but a small part of her couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if her people were ravanging the land, forcing their ways on others.
Even Belle had noticed the lack of Egyption patrons, and had warned the girls that there had been gossip of groups speaking out against the British presence in Alexandria. Nothing had come of it, but she warned the girls to be cautious and never to explore the city alone. For her part, Belle had taken a guide, hired by her employer for her protection. It also helped that Belle spoke and read the language, making her less helpless.
The days turned to months, and every few weeks the girls were able to sneak away for lunches at the same Brasserie as their first meeting. Sometimes it was just the three of them and they would discuss Belle’s research or Ruby’s grandmother who lived with her and her father. They spoke of news from England. Sometimes Killian was there as well, regaling them all with stories that Emma often believed were complete fiction. She learned that he captained a ship that transported cargo, weeks of sailing the Suez Canal being what kept him away for such long stretches of time.
It was during hose visits with Killian present that Emma experienced some of the most amazing meals she’d ever eaten. The chicken curry with black cardamom had been particularly flavorful and the Mahlab bread had been perfect, but for Emma the Morracan saffron chicken had been her absolute favorite. The four of them became very close, but Emma still knew little about Killian, aside from the fact that he’d grown up in Yorkshire and sailed. The curiosity of it all ate away at ther, but it would have been improper for her to inquire into his life in such a way.
Instead, the small group continued to meet when they could, exchanging mostly pleasant conversation, with Emma occasionally venting her frustration of having to listen to her mother speak of some of the more eligible young naval officers with the sultity of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. She also spoke of her excitement over the Winter Ball and how it would be nice to have a formal dance once more with some of the young soldiers.
It wasn’t until nearly six months after Emma’s arrival that she learned that Killian and Belle were not in fact courting. The four of them met for a late lunch, eating their meal and catching up, and just as their plates were cleared, four mugs appeared, preordered by Killian before any of the rest of them had arrived. Killian had asked them all to keep an open mind, so Emma closed her eyes as she took her first sip, trying to focus on the taste, letting just the tiniest of moans escape her lips as the flavor exposed itself. It was sweeter than she’d remembered, but there was something else, something that gave it a small bite.
“Killian, this is delicious! What is it?”
Emma looked up from her mug to see a slight blush spread across his cheeks as he toyed with a spot behind his ear.
It’s cocoa, made from camel’s milk, with a sprinkling of cinnamon.
“Cinnamon?”
Emma wasn’t of simple mindedness. She’d seen the prices of many of the spices at the local markets, and while not as exotic as saffron or cardamom, cinnamon was still beyond the price she was willing to part with. While Killian never baulked at the price of their meals, nor did he seem to mind in the slightest the idea of paying for all of them, Emma often felt that she’d taken advantage of his kindness and polite manors, and the cinnamon cocoa that she savored did little to ease her guilt.
It wasn’t until after they all parted, all with hugs and Emma yet again with a kiss to her hand from Killian, that she learned of the true relationship between Belle and Killian. That they were merely friends, that they had been for years. Ruby teased Emma at her naivety, explaining that Killian had never treated them to such alluring meals before, not until he met Emma. That many of the dishes they consumed weren’t even on the menu but that Killian had brought the spices with him and bribed the staff to use them for the table.
Ruby also teased Emma for the way she sometimes looked at Killian, the yearning glances.
For her part, Emma assured Ruby that there was no such thing, embarrassed that she been caught mooning over a man she’d thought taken until only moments before. Instead, Emma changed the topic entirely, asking Ruby how the Christmas dinner her Grandmother was planning was coming along.
The next two weeks passed in a blur as final preparations for the Winter Ball took place. All of the women pitched in making sure every decoration was placed in just the right spot, and that every possible detail had been seen to. Even though the base was small, and word of mouth would have been sufficient, Emma’s mother saw to it that each person had received a personalized invitation.
Her mother had chosen silver and blue for the colors, to accentuate the uniforms worn by the gentlemen. She’d even ordered new dresses from England. Silver for herself to coordinate with Emma’s father, and a long sleeved cream gown for Emma, with ornate lace embellishments. Emma had insisted that it was too much, but Mary Margaret had been adamant that Emma put her finest foot forward - an obvious insinuation that it was time for Emma to begin a courtship less she waste away as a spinster in her old age.
The ball itself was magnificent. The meal was divine, dripping with decadent sauces that reminded her of the nicer restaurants she’d been privileged enough to dine at before their move to Egypt. The desert was scrumptious as well, but as everyone spoke of how lovely the meal was, Emma couldn’t help but glance at the center table centerpieces. Silver and blue christmas baubles had been placed in glass vases. Most were uniform in shape and size, but there was one small bauble out of place among them, lighter in color. The blue of a certain pair of eyes she’d been dreaming of more and more lately.
She’d been so engrossed in her thoughts of the man who’s eyes had captivated her over so many other meals, that she’d completely missed the music begin to play, as well as the young petty officer at her side. It was only the clearing of her mother’s throat that brought her back enough to realize that he was there with his hand stretched out to her, asking for her own hand for a dance.
Emma acquiesced, letting him lead her to the dance floor. There, they did their best to move in synchronicity, but Emma was rusty, and the poor petty officer had been born with two left feet. Emma had been grateful as the music came to an end and a new song began. Never had she been so grateful for social norms, the same one that prevented her from dancing with the same gentleman twice without being in a courtship. Not that it had really been much of a blessing. Each partner had his own quirks. Some moved too quickly, others too slow. One poor gentleman had clearly been taught by his friends, and had inadvertently learned the footwork meant for her. She did her best not to embarrass him or to bring attention to it. But after eight partners, she had become tired, and her feet ached.
Ruby seemed much more excited though, telling Emma not to seem so glum. She was just in the middle of explaining her reluctance to dance anymore, when she heard a man interrupt from behind her.
“Perhaps you just need a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
Emma turned, recognizing the voice but not being able to rectify what she saw before her. There, in a pristine Lieutenant’s uniform, stood Killian Jones, clean shaven and just as proper as any man in the room.
“How- How are you here?”
Killian chuckled and held his hand out for Emma, which she eagerly took as he guided her back into the center of the dance floor.
“I actually used to be stationed at this very post. It’s not exactly a fortress as I’m sure you know.”
“But, why are you here? I only mean that if you've left this post, then why would you come to a ball like this?”
“I’d never pass up a change to dance with a beautiful lady.”
There was such earnestness in his eyes and Emma couldn’t help but blush and look away, unsure of what to say herself. Perhaps Ruby had been correct in her assessment of Killian’s affections for her. They didn’t speak beyond that, but when the song came to an end, Killian made no move to relinquish her hand, and she made no effort to deny him. The next song began soon after and they continued to float across the dance floor to a waltz.
After the third song, Killian finally released Emma, knowing all too well how quickly gossip could spread in such small quarters. Together, they exited the dance floor and moved to gather some refreshments, but before they could make it to the table set for drinks, Emma came face to face with her father.
By any account her father looked rather austere as he took in the form of the man behind her.
“Emma, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”
Emma paused, not sure how to introduce Killian. It wasn’t as if he was meant to be there, or if he was even still in the navy - something she had questions about but would save for a later time - and didn’t know how many of the young naval men her father knew by name.
“Lieutenant Killian Jones, Sir. From the HMS Condor.”
Emma watched as her father’s features relaxed a bit.
“So you sail under Admiral Seymore then?”
“Lore Beresford actually. Admiral Seymore commands the HMS Invincible now.”
If it had been a test, Killian had surely passed given her father’s smile and invitation to sit at their table. David asked Killian all sorts of questions regarding his position and role aboard the Condor, and had Emma not been so enraptured by the ease at which Killian answered her father’s questions, she likely would have been bored of the conversation. The two men discussed Naval related items for a bit before the conversation shifted.
“So, Jones, as a man who’s recently sailed in the Mediterranean, what can you tell me of the rogue ship that’s terrorizing the cargo vessels?”
Killian scratched just behind his ear, a sign Emma had come to learn was an indication of his unease.
“Not much I’m afraid. I’ve heard a story or two but never encountered them myself. To be perfectly frank, I’m not even sure if they exist.”
“Well if they don’t exist, why would ships claim to have been attacked then?”
“Oh, it’s not uncommon actually. You see, before the canal was built, many of the ships would get caught in the storms around the cape. Sometimes they would genuinely lose a large portion of their cargo, and other times they would claim their losses to be greater than they actually were, especially if they’d been paid in advance. They’d hide the cargo and sell it at another port before docking in London.”
“So they pocket the extra purse?”
“Exactly, and now with the canal helping them avoid the more treacherous waters, they have no excuse to falsely declare their cargo manifest.”
Emma’s father sighed, trying to take in everything Killian had told him. It seemed far fetched, and Emma’s father even said as much, but it was such a bizarre claim that Emma couldn’t help but wonder if there was some merit to it.
“It seems like an awful lot of trouble for so many ships to go to, but I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. And if I’m being honest, I found myself questioning the stories all together when I heard the rumors of the vessel’s captain's name. Who would possibly ever wish to go by the name of Hook?”
Both men laughed at the absurdity of it, but Emma couldn’t rid herself of the knot that had formed in her throat as Killian watched her with a cautious eye. It may have seemed such an absurd name if not for the fact that her father was speaking directly to the man in question without so much as a clue. She had invited the wolf into their home and he had devoured the sheep.
Emma’s chair scraped the wood floor as she stood in a rush.
“Mr. Jones, I do believe it is getting late and you said you needed to return to your ship soon.”
Her father, completely stunned, told the young lieutenant that he didn’t wish to keep him, and Killian for his part nodded and thanked her father for a delightful evening.
Emma followed Killian outside, where he immediately turned to her and tried to speak, but she cut him off, enraged at his audacity.
“Mr. Jones-”
“Am I no longer Killian to you?”
“Mr. Jones, given the situation, I must insist on following proper social decorum as not to beseech or sully my father’s name and standing in his post. I ask that you leave and that you do not return.”
He only nodded and took his leave, breaking Emma’s heart in two as he did so.
_____________________________________
Three months passed in which Emma devoted herself to her mother’s causes. It had been difficult at first as her mother pressed her in the days after the ball as to who her young lieutenant was, and Emma had assured her he was no one as she fought the urge to weep and scream and riot at the very thought of him. But when her father came home two weeks later, irate at learning that there was no such Lieutenant Jones on the HMS Condor, demanding that Emma have nothing to do with him and to report it if she ran into him again, Mary Margaret finally let the subject go.
Instead, her mother nurtured her as best she could, teaching her a new needle point technique, recommending books for Emma to read as the newest member of the women’s auxiliary book club. Anything she could to keep Emma’s mind busy.
Ruby tried as well, showing Emma new places in the city, showing her a mix of the roads less traveled by most sightseers. They shopped at the market and even learned to cook a new dish from an older Egyption woman that Ruby’s Granny had befriended. Ruby still took her monthly trips to have lunch with Belle, but Emma always declined.
Still, despite all of her activities, Emma found her mind wandering to a certain pair of blue eyes. Sometimes the thought of him sickened her so, but sometimes it just left her with a sense of melancholy.
He’d been the only man to captivate her so, to make her feel like she had value as a woman as more than just a future wife or daughter. She’d seen it in the way he interacted with Belle as well. He was different, and she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe him her equal in many ways.
But he was a coward and a cod.
Two month more passed before Ruby finally broke, telling Emma she was being stubborn. That there was more to the story and that if Emma would only keep an open mind, that she would understand.
They fought, and Emma sent her away just as she had Killian. But Ruby had managed to dig her way into Emma’s mind, and her will shattered, curiosity settling into the cracks. Finally, Emma gave in and sought out Belle, with Ruby’s help.
She learned that Killian once had an older brother named Liam. That Belle had actually been engaged to Liam before his passing, and that Killian and she had latched onto each other in the years since as the only family either one had left. That both Jones brothers had been sent by her Majesty to oversee the construction of the canal. That the working conditions for the Egyptians had been less than ideal. It was essentially slave labor, and many of them became ill and if they didn’t die from exhaustion and hunger, they died of cholera instead. That Liam had passed after getting sick as well.
It had all been too much for Killian, who had witnessed everything first hand. The poor conditions, the way his countrymen had come to ravage a country, to indoctrinate themselves. He couldn’t be a party to it anymore, so he took his brother’s ship and crew and they revolted. They shed their uniforms and sailed under no man but themselves. They captured vessels and stole cargo belonging to the queen, giving it back to the Egyptians to sell for profit in reparations.
It was so much more than Emma could comprehend. She’d seen firsthand how the British had taken over parts of the city, but she’d never considered it on such a large scale. And the thought of everything Killian had witnessed, she wouldn’t have had the strength to survive it all the way he had.
She’d been such a fool to dismiss him so carelessly, ignoring everything she’d known about him in favor of the limited gossip her father had spared her over a meal one night.
Belle told her that she expected Killian in a few days time, and told Emma where his ship usually made port to avoid the Naval ships in the area and where’s she’d likely find him in the mid morning. The next two days Emma felt her stomach in knots with anticipation and nerves. She’d barely been able to eat dinner and her mother had fretted that Emma had taken ill.
Sneaking away had been a thing of miracles, and had taken Ruby’s use of distraction, leaving Emma to roam the city alone for the first time. She knew the way, but there had been rumors of unrest in the city again, and although the port Killian used wasn’t far, she’d wished she’d heeded everyone's warnings when she found herself surrounded by two angry men, screaming at her in a language she didn’t understand. She tried to apologize for whatever she’d done and move on, but the men were enraged, and before she knew it, one of them and moved closer. She hadn’t been prepared for the stinging blow that crossed her cheek, nearly knocking her to the ground.
She felt herself being shoved back and forth between the two of them and felt nothing but fear. She’d never been in such a situation and had no way to defend herself. But just as one of them had pushed her against the wall, she heard another voice call out for them to let her go. There was a commotion, but her tear filled eyes had prevented her from seeing most of what had happened. All she’d caught was a blurry figure punching one of the men and both of them taking off down an ally, leaving her in the man’s charge.
The man tried to comfort her, but she recoiled from his touch, breaking into full hysterics, screaming at him to get away, trying to push against his chest when he didn’t leave. Instead he only pulled her closer and hugged her tightly until exhaustion set in and she collapsed into him.
“Shh, It’s okay, love, I’ve got you.”
It was only after she’d calmed down that she was finally able to make sense of what had occurred. Killian had seen the men pushing her and had come to her rescue. She collapsed into him once again, letting herself sink into his embrace that time. When they broke apart, she felt his fingers lift at her chin while he looked her over.
“Emma, what are you doing out here alone?”
“I,” she hesitated, not sure how to begin her apology. “I actually came to find you. I needed to speak to you.”
He gave her a small cautious smile, but he kept his distance, still unsure of his place with her. It broke her heart all over again, knowing that she’d caused him pain.
“Come now, let’s get you out of here.”
Emma followed him back to the market where more Englishmen were milling about.
“Smee, something has come up that I must see to. I trust you to take care of things here.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Emma watched as Killian handed the stocky man a small notebook before taking her hand and guiding her away towards an area she had never been to before. They walked for a bit in silence before coming upon one of the most breathtaking views Emma had ever experienced. The water stretched out as far as the eye could see.
“I’ve always found the sight of the sea from this place to be calming. I thought that perhaps you could use some of that calmness after what happened back there.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Killian removed his jacket and set it on the ground at Emma’s feet, signaling for her to sit. With his aid, she lowered herself down until she was in a seated position where he joined her. They sat in silence for a bit while Emma worked through her muddled thoughts. She’d had a plan before the incident but everything she’d practiced in her head seemed silly by comparison.
“I wanted to thank you, Killian.” She hoped that the use of his name would have the impact it deserved.
“It was nothing.”
“No, I- I’m sorry, I’ve lost all sense of myself. I just needed to apologize, for that night, for everything. I acted rashly without knowing all of the details and I was a child throwing a tantrum. And then after I treated you so poorly, you still came to my rescue.”
The longer she spoke the more incoherent her words became and she was sure she’d messed up anything all over again. But once again, Killian was the pinnacle of kindness and good form.
“Emma, you had no reason to act any differently. I selfishly crashed your party and then made a cad of myself in front of your father. I’m ashamed of myself for the way I carried on that night and your actions were completely justified.”
“They weren’t though, and I’ve been sick at myself ever since. Please forgive me.”
“Emma, love, there’s nothing to forgive on your part.”
“Then there’s nothing to forgive on yours either then.”
He nodded.
“But I must ask, why did you come that night?”
“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you. I’ve been besotten with you since the moment I met you, and with all the talk of the ball, I drove myself mad at the idea of you dancing with all of those men. I know it was stupid and selfish, but I couldn’t not go. Belle gave me the information.”
“And should I have not sent you away, what would have happened?”
“Emma,” he warned, but she continued.
“Would that dance have been the end of the evening?”
“Emma, I’m trying my best to be a gentleman here. Please. I beg of you.” There was a pleading in his voice. Something she knew was dangerous to push at, but she couldn’t help herself. Not after all of the time she’d wasted avoiding him.
“Would you have watched as I danced with my next partner?”
“Yes. I would have watched with hatred in my heart towards the man holding you in his arms, and I likely would have slipped out before you could notice.”
“And that would have been it?”
“Aye. But I would have left wondering,” she nodded for him to continue, “what it would have been like to kiss you.”
“And now, would you continue to wonder?” All sensibility clearly having left her head as she never would have been so forward had she had her wits about her.
But all thoughts of her impropriety were gone as his lips met hers, ever so softly. Nothing more than a light press of his mouth to hers before he pulled back. She let out the softest of sighs before flashing him a smirk that left him beaming from ear to ear light a young school boy.
They stayed there, in that calm little island among the land for another hour, discussing things Emma had never allowed herself to voice aloud before, an ease and understanding having formed between them. Emma told him of the true reason her father had been stationed in Alexandria. She’d also spoken of why she’d been so sullen at the idea of leaving England. It wasn’t the idea of leaving her childhood home, or her friends, but at leaving behind any chance she had at independence.
Two years prior, the University of London had become one of the first in the country to allow women to not only sit for exams but to earn their degrees. Emma had dreamt of becoming a solicitor, but her move to Egypt had all but assured that dream dead. Instead, she would become like every other woman she knew, marrying an eligible suitor and bearing his children, to live a dreadfully boring life.
Killian told her that her dream would only die if she let it. That he believed in her and that he’d yet to see her fail at anything she’d put her mind to. He encouraged her to apply to the university and to speak with her parents. That even in his limited interaction, he could see the love her father had for her and that he’d want nothing more than her happiness.
He also told her the truth, the entire truth about the activities aboard his ship. That they had many friends that gave them safe harbor and protection from the Navy. That they ever only took items that belonged to the royals and other aristocracy. They never took from people that needed it.
She learned of his childhood. A drunk sot of a father and a sick mother. He and Liam joined the Navy as soon as they came of age hoping to improve their station. He spoke of Liam in the highest regards, and Emma wished she could have met him.
They eventually were forced to leave their little oasis to join Ruby and Belle for lunch, receiving knowing looks from both of the ladies as they sat side by side for the first time, feeling a rush each time their hands brushed each other’s at the table.
When they parted, Killian promised to write to her as often as possible as he had no idea when he’d next be able to visit. Soon he hoped, but they both knew that her father had doubled down on his efforts to capture the elusive Captain Hook since letting him slip through his fingers at the Winter Ball. More patrols had been sent and there had even been a reward offered for information leading to his capture. He assured Emma that he knew the waters better than anyone and wouldn’t get caught but she worried just the same.
Over the next few months, Emma and Killian exchanged letters through Belle. Their mutual friend knew of Killian’s confidants in the city that could get corresponce out by other means. From what she gathered, Killian spent a large portion of his time in Turkey, an ally of England, but not under its control and therefore having no obligation to the crown. Higher officials could more easily be bought there as well, making it a safe haven of sorts for him to hide from her father’s constant searches.
She wrote to him as well telling him that she had secretly applied to three universities in England, not that she expected anything to come of any of her applications when there were so few spots available and much more well connected families, while she was doing it completely alone. She wrote to him about the books she was reading as well, many of which he’d read himself, with Killian recommending more she may like.
Emma spent most of her free time with Belle. Ruby had taken a new beau and they’d only connected in passing. Emma envied her the ability to properly court her young petty officer, even if it meant having Granny as a chaperone most of the time.
Belle’s research had nearly come to an end. With no results, receiving funding had been more difficult and her employer had nearly exhausted his own purse in their search for the library. There had been a few times that they’d believed themselves close, but each of those resulted in disappointment.
Emma dreaded the idea of Belle leaving Egypt, but if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, it was likely for the best. Incidents like the one Killian had saved her from had become all too common in the city. Reports of attacks on British men had begun to circulate, and Emma knew it was only a matter of time before venturing into the city would be impossible. She often worried about Belle. Her hired guide knew the area, but should a situation arise, she wasn’t sure where his true loyalty would lie, or if he'd be able to protect her friend, and the idea of anything happening to Belle left Emma feeling ill.
And as it always happens, all good things did come to an end. Belle’s research was cancelled and her entire team had packed up, ready to return to London after years away. Emma spent the morning with her, helping to see to the rest of her belongings in her small apartment, making sure nothing was left behind. Ruby had managed to pry herself away from Peter long enough to join them as well. Emma had written to Killian, but given tensions everywhere, knew that it would be unlikely that he’d be able to see their friend off.
Not that anything between them would ever really be goodbye with their connection. In time they would find eachother again. But it was that very connection that ensured Killian was there for one last farewell lunch. They ate and despite the stories told and the laughs had, the entire meal was a somber affair, each person there realising that everything was changing and nothing would ever be the same.
When lunch was over, they all left the brasserie one final time, exchanging their goodbyes. The woman all cried as they hugged and promised to write one another. Seeing the embrace between Belle and Killian nearly broke Emma’s heart. She knew how important they were to each other, the familial bond between them, and she knew how hard it must have been for Killian, knowing that he’d be unable to return to England to visit her. Not when he was deemed a deserter by many. She watched as he whispered something in Belle’s ear, and how Belle could only shake her head in return, too choked up for words.
Ruby left first, having made plans with her father and Peter, hoping to seek her father’s approval. Belle left next, her ship departing shortly after, which left only Emma and Killian. They walked slowly through the market, Emma’s hand placed gently in the crook of Killian’s arm, just like any normal couple. Together, they simply enjoyed the time they had before he had to leave again.
They continued through the city until they’d made their way to the spot Killian had brought her to before. Just as before, he removed his jacket for her to sit on, and there they talked as they took in the sight of the sea before them. As the sun lowered, Emma knew she should be getting back before her family missed her, but she hated the idea of saying goodbye to him.
They waited as long as possible, until they could wait no more. But before they headed back, Killian told her that he had a gift for her. She’d expected a small jar of spices or a book like he’d brought to Belle in the past, but instead she watched as his hand rummaged with the collar of his blouse before freeing a small silver chain. She caught just the faintest glimpse of a jewel before Killian had closed her hand around the chain, the weight of it in her palm heavier than expected.
“This belonged to my brother, who gave it to me before he passed. He told me that it would keep me safe, just as it had him, and for all of these years it has. And now I want you to have it. To keep you safe as well when I can’t be with you.”
“Killian, I can’t accept this. It’s too precious!”
“Emma, love, nothing is more precious to me than you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you here.”
Throwing away all sense of propriety, Emma lifted to her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest as she did so, kissing him with all of the affection she felt in her heart.
Her joy was short live though as she heard a throat clear from behind her. Stunned, she turned, only to find her father staring back. She’d never seen such a look upon his face, and her blood turned to ice.
“Emma, come here now,” he growled.
“Daddy, please, it’s not what you think.”
“Now!”
Emma did as her father commanded, helpless to disobey him, but she continued to plead for Killian, telling her father that he was a good man and that she loved him. Her father baulked at the idea, telling her that she was a naive child that had been taken advantage of. He told Killian that had it not been for Emma’s presence, he would have had the man seized and chained to the stockades already. That he’d found the letters Killian had sent his daughter. David was livid that his Emma had been so irresponsible and had betrayed his trust.
Emma wept as Killian left, unable to say anything to change her father’s mind. He parted with a promise to her that not a day would go by that he didn’t think of her. In return, her father promised that if he ever saw Killian again, he’d have him hung for treason.
In the weeks and months that follow Emma was inconsolable. She’d lost nearly everyone that had meant anything to her. Her father kept a strict eye on her and her interactions with Ruby were limited, and only allowed under supervision. Without Belle to help her send letters, she had been completely cut off from everything.
Most of her time was spent in a melancholy daze. Her mother tried her best to lift her daughter’s spirits, but Emma was despondent. Even when her letter from the University of London arrived informing her she had been accepted to study with them hadn’t been enough to pull her from her misery. It didn’t help that her father had become upset at learning of her intent to leave for school, just another secret she’d kept from him in his eyes.
She moved through life as a walking ghost.
The climate surrounding the city has escalated as well. Many of the Europeans had fled the city in favor of Cairo where the political situation was less terse. The officers on the base had been warned to stay ever vigilant, and visits into Alexandria had been officially forbidden.
No one could have predicted what had come next though. A member of the Egyptian Army who went by the name of Ahmed Urabi, had sparked a revolt among the people. The whispers among the countrymen had become shouts heard from all the way across the Mediterranian. Killian knew all too well the anger dwelling among the Egyptian nationals. He’d seen first hand how the canal had run red with the blood of the men that built it long before it had with the sea. And he knew it was only a matter of time before the land became overrun with devastation.
He’d also heard chatter of British ships collecting in the sea, ready wage an assault on the city, and how quickly tensions could rise. Emma was in danger, and it killed him not being there to protect her, and while her father was formidable, David didn’t know the people or the city.
Eventually, it became too much, and his worry for Emma’s safety outweigh any consideration he gave to his own life. What was the use of avoiding the hangman’s noose with her gone? So he sailed into the heart of the beast, to the ship he knew Emma’s father commanded, allowing his ship to be boarded by British officers for the first time since Liam’s death.
Killian pleaded with Emma’s father, telling him that a revolt was coming, but his warning came too late as the city had been taken under siege that morning. Riots had broken out all over the Alexandria, and that the British armada had orders to attack the city. It took ages of arguing between the two men before a resolution had been found. Killian was certain that the base was in danger, that it would be one of the first places attacked if it hadn’t been already. David, ever as stubborn as his daughter assured him that the base was the safest place Emma could be. It wasn’t until Killian listed all of the ways to sneak it that David realized his concerns may have merit. And it was only on Killian’s solemn word to return with Emma and Mary Margaret and turn himself in to be tried before a British court for his actions against the crown that David relented, letting him sail on towards Alexandria. Killian was sure that if not for his strict orders, David likely would have sailed right next to him.
When he and his crew docked at their usual spot, he found the city in near ruins already. Fires raged through the buildings, people fought in the streets, dragging expats through the narrow corridors by their clothes. Killian rushed through the city as quickly as possible, taking shortcuts wherever he could, throwing a few punches along the way. His sword found its way in the belly of a particularly large rioter at one point. Eventually he reached the base, as just as he had worried, there were already rioters beating against the building doors, tearing down everything in their path.
Killian pushed past them to the house he knew belonged to the highest ranking officer. Knowing that Emma and her mother were likely hiding inside, he kicked down the door, searching for them room by room, calling out her name until he heard her voice, small and weak, coming from a closet. Inside, he found Emma, her mother, and Ruby all huddled together trying to shelter themself from the chaos of the outside world.
With reluctance, Killian finally managed to convince Mary Margaret that she wasn’t safe there and that she needed to follow him. That he would keep them all safe. They fought their way through the pandemonium, running as fast as they could from the hoards of men screaming in the street.
When they reached Killian’s ship, his crew wasted no time setting sail again. They had only barely left when they heard the shots of cannon fire ring out from the other side of the city. Smoke and ashes overtook the sky as Alexandria burned before them. Killian’s first mate tended to the women aboard, making sure they had food and blankets as the ship drifted further and further to sea.
It was surreal for Emma, the dichotomy of the beauty she experienced from nearly that same spot as she arrived in Alexandria only the year before to the way she left it, in desolation. For hours, the ship stayed anchored away from the battle that raged on between the British and Egyptians. The booming cannons rang out through the night, and silence overtook everyone on the ship, each man and woman understanding the weight of what had happened.
It wasn’t until morning when Killian’s crewman witnessed an Egyptian boat float out to sea with a flag of truce that everyone was able to breathe again. As promised, Killian returned Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret to David’s ship, awaiting his own fate at the hands of Her Majesty's Navy.
And whether it was exhaustion from the night before, or the gratefulness of a man whose family was safe, David didn’t immediately take Killian into custody. Instead, he had the man escorted to the Captain’s day cabin, while his family was taken to his quarters to rest. Emma was too tired to even protest, but Killian couldn’t begrudge her. She’d been through too much and no matter what fate befell him, knowing she was safe was all that mattered. David had been right before, and as much as Killian had been remiss to admit it to himself at the time, he wasn’t good enough for Emma. He couldn’t give her the life that she deserved as a man on the run, and after years of always looking over his shoulder, he was ready to accept his fate. He was just too tired to continue.
He wasn’t sure how long he waited, likely only an hour, but it felt as if weeks had passed before David emerged, his fatigue obvious in the bags under his eyes. David gestured for him to sit at the round table in the middle of the room, before taking a seat himself.
“I’ve looked into your record. One of the fastest promoted Lieutenants in recent history. Plenty of commendations. You were once an honorable man and I have to believe he’s still in there somewhere.”
Killia had no idea how to respond. It was a far cry from the dress down he’d expected and deserved. So he said nothing.
They sat in silence, each savoring the calmness of the moment.
“I can’t let you go, but I can’t send you to your death after you sacrificed yourself for my family. I’m at a loss for what should happen next.”
“What I did, saving Emma wasn’t to barter my way into your good graces, or to leverage my situation. I did it because I’m in love with her. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, and I’ve acted rashly at times, and I stand by the actions I took. But I’ve also come to see through Emma, that I wish to be a better man than I’ve been. And that begins now with me accepting the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be.”
David barked out a laugh.
“Yes, and that would go so well for me with my daughter.”
“She loves you. Surely you must know that.”
“I do.”
“Emma carries a great deal of guilt over the end of her relationship with Neal, and the adverse effects it had on you. She holds you in the highest regard and I promise you, she didn’t enter into a courtship with me lightly.”
David stood and walked to a small porthole where the view of the sun setting against the water was visible.
“Is that what it was then? A courtship?”
“You would have to ask Emma.”
David's gaze remained fixed on the horizon as they continued to speak.
“My daughter was accepted to a university back in England. She doesn’t know yet but she begins her courses in a month’s time. And although I know it’s what her heart truly desires, I find that I’m having a difficult time letting her go.”
“Aye, I can imagine.” Killing couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in Emma's accomplishment, even if it did sting to know she was leaving.
“How did you do it? How did you let her go?”
Killian swallowed, trying to find the words. It wasn’t that he had let her go, as much as he had let her free.
“It wasn’t easy for me either, but as I said before, Ilove her, and sometimes loving someone means realizing that you have to put their needs above your own.”
David grumpled before rubbing his face with both hands.
“I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can do about having your charges dismissed. No one outside of my family knows who you are. As far as the navy is concerned, you’re nothing more than a deserter.”
“I’m grateful, but you needn’t-”
“What I need is to know Emma has someone with her in London watching out for her. I can’t leave my post, and most of the officers back in England are terrified of Neal's father and will keep their distance out of fear of repercussions. As reluctant as I am to say this, you’re the only person I trust with her.”
It took some doing, many favors called in, but David was able to clear Killian’s record and his time was considered served. Many of the crew members aboard Killian’s ship had been just as grateful to step back on English soil after so many years away. While none of them had verbalised it, they’d each grown homesick in their own rights.
Killian found honest work with Belle and her research team, translating some of the more rare manuscripts they had come across on their newest search for the Temple of Deir el-Bahri, believed to be the resting place of the only three women to rise to the position of pharaoh.
And over the next few years, Emma was able to finish her degree, receiving it under her new married name with David’s blessing. Her father remained in Egypt, still under banishment from Admiral Gold. Long after their daughter was born, Belle and Killian managed to decipher the exact location of Hatshepsut’s resting place, which meant returning to Egypt. Killian had been reluctant to leave, but Emma insisted, reminding him that while Belle was great with books, they needed him for translations. The dig turned out to be a once in a lifetime find, and kept growing, so much so that he’d written to Emma, devastated that he’d be unable to return home in time for christmas.
Which had led to a lonely Emma telling her daughter the very story in question.
_____________________________________
The cocoa has cooled and the fire in the hearth long dwindled. It’s chilly in the drafty house once more, and while she briefly considers adding more wood to it, the hour is late and she really should be getting her little one to bed.
“So Papa started the cinnamon tradition?”
“Yes my little duck. You father introduced it to me, and he passed it on to you as well.”
The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh.
“I miss him. In class we wrote to Father Christmas and I asked him to bring Papa home. Do you think he got my letter?”
Emma’s heart breaks at the question. Her daughter is still young, too young to understand that Father Christmas is only an illusion, something told to little children to get the magic of the world alive, and that no amount of magic in the world can bring Killian home in time for Christmas morning.
But sometimes, just as her daughter told her that evening, you only have to believe in magic for it to work, and her daughter's belief has apparently been just enough for the biggest Christmas miracle that Emma has ever witnessed.
Because there before them, in a freshly opened doorway just before midnight, stands Killian covered in snow from head to toe. And he isn’t alone. Shuffling into the entryway behind him is her mother and father, neither of which she’s seen since leaving Alexandria. It’s everything she can do not to cry as she rushes to hug them all.
Her daughter screams once she realizes what’s happening and leaps into Killian’s arms as he introduces her to her grandparents for the first time ever. They speak of David’s retirement and her parents plans to move back to London as they’ve already missed so much time together.
Later, when everyone is settled, Killian pulls her aside, and he reveals a small sprig of Mistletoe from his jacket pocket, kissing her with all of the passion of a man who hasn’t seen his wife in nearly seven months.
Things may not be what they were, but this is so much better.
