Apr 18, 2020
wait no not like that
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wait no not like that
Pretty much sums up the chemistry between these four
The Storybrooke gang goes away for a trip and get up to lots of hijinks! Bedsharing for CS please. Maybe mutual pining?? What about all of the tropes? You are the best at those, and I can’t wait to see what you do with this weird prompt, lol.
found on ao3 | here |
-/-
This is not what she was expecting.
She’s not 100% sure what she was expecting, but this wasn’t it.
When Ruby said she’d booked a weekend away for David and Mary Margaret’s joint bachelor and bachelorette trips, Emma imagined a mediocre chain hotel, some bar hopping, and maybe one or two little excursions to get their nails done if Ruby planned ahead. God love her. She’s a great friend, but she can be spacey, not that Emma has any room to talk there.
But this, this does not seem like something Ruby would book.
Lake Point Cabins.
Emma drops her bag on the floor, and dust settles in the air. Okay, so no one cleaned beforehand. That’s cool. She’s standing in a small cabin that’s in a wonky circle of several other small cabins with a dining hall in the center of them, and if the others are anything like this, they too have floral couches that have seen better days, a television thicker than Emma’s head, and those old wood-burning stoves with the long black pipes. She bets when she walks to the bedroom, it’ll be a wrought-iron bed with a floral bedspread full of slightly mysterious stains that she’ll try not to question when she goes to bed.
She flips the light switch, and while the overhead lights and wall sconces are slow to flicker on, the colored lights hung around the ceiling quickly turn on, even if a few bulbs are burnt out.
Huh. That’s a nice touch from the holidays, and either those lights have been here for years or someone was here to clean up before their trip and simply didn’t bother getting rid of all this dust.
“This looks like my nana’s house.”
Emma turns to Killian. “I’ve known you for a decade, and not once have you mentioned your grandmother.”
He shrugs. “She died when I was young, but this is what her house looked like. I imagine it would still look like this now.” He runs his finger over a table and collects dust. “Lovely.”
“What are you doing in this cabin? Isn’t this mine?”
Killian raises his brow and hands her the key, the same number four written on it. “This is the key I was given and the cabin I was told to go to.”
“I thought you were staying with Will.”
“He brought Belle.”
“Ruby?”
“Mulan.”
“David?”
“Obviously here with Mary Margaret. As Eric is here with Ariel and Elsa with Liam. Everyone has a partner, so I believe you and I are stuck with each other.” He pats her cheek, his hands cold as ice from the three minutes it took to get from the car to the cabin, and Emma’s entire body nearly turns into an icicle. She is not great at dealing with this kind of cold, and she’s lived in Massachusetts for most of her life. “Don’t look so glum, Swan. It’ll be just like college when we had to share my dorm room when your roommate was fucking like a rabbit.”
“I told Ruby to give me warnings when she did that, but she never did.” Emma picks up her bag and starts walking through the cabin toward what she assumes is the bedroom. It’s not. It’s the bathroom, and the floral pattern unfortunately continues in there along with some pink tile. When she opens the next door and finds the bedroom, she wonders how long she’d go to jail if she killed Ruby for this. They’re both forensic analysts. They would know how to cover it up…okay, weird thought. “No fucking way.”
Dammit, Ruby.
“What?” Killian asks, stepping behind her. “Oh. Well, that’s interesting.”
The bedroom, like she predicted, is full of floral and outdated furniture, and while she was expecting two wrought iron beds since these are guest cabins, what she sees is only one. That would have been fine if it was only her like she thought it would be, but now she’s stuck with a roommate. A roommate who she really likes most of the time but not a roommate she wants to share a creaky old bed with, even if it’s bigger than his old dorm room bed. There are a hell of a lot of reasons why this isn’t a good idea.
“That’s Ruby,” Emma corrects, pouting. “She did this on purpose. Trust me. This is how she works.”
Killian pushes past her and moves into the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. It squeaks under his weight, even more so when he moves around, and Emma watches as he tries to get comfortable until he’s got his head resting on the pillow and his arms resting under his head. He looks relaxed, even still dressed in his coat, beanie, and heavy boots, and for a moment, she thinks she might be able to get a good night’s sleep. Then Killian moves over an inch and the bed makes this awful noise.
“Why the bloody hell does this thing sound like I’m having rigorous sex when I move half an inch?”
“Oh, buddy, you set me up for the perfect ‘that’s what she said’ joke, and it’s really hard not to use it.”
“Too easy there again, Swan.” He sits up, the bed creaking with him, and he flashes her the trademark smile she’s grown used to. The one that reminds her that Killian Jones can charm anyone into doing anything with the subtlest of smiles and the smallest of movements with his baby blue eyes. “It’ll be just like college, love. Everyone else will be having sex, and you and I will be watching a movie on an out of date TV.”
“You say that like we were both celibate anti-social people when we were neither of those things except for on those few nights.”
He shrugs. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Now c’mon, I hear Ruby has planned a scavenger hunt filled with clues about Mary Margaret and David’s relationship. Apparently, the clues are separated by years.”
“They’ve been together for ten years.”
Killian shrugs. “Guess we have a lot of work to do.”
Again, dammit, Ruby.
They’re all paired off into teams based on who is in each cabin, and as much as she was dreading having to share with Killian earlier, she’s not now. She’s got a professor for a partner in a scavenger hunt. Even better, she’s got a man who flirts and spews innuendos as much as Ruby. He speaks her language, and that’s going to work in their favor.
Emma is a little too competitive, especially since David and Mary Margaret should probably be the one to win this. From the way Killian winks at Emma, she knows he’s in it to win it as well. Of everyone here besides Ruby, Emma and Killian have known David and Mary Margaret the longest. They were all in college together, saw most of the beginnings of this relationship, and that gives them an advantage over everyone else.
Hopefully.
Ruby has apparently gone all out despite the creepy, cabin in the woods houses, and Ruby Lucas is nothing if not unpredictable.
Killian wasn’t kidding when he said the clues were themed and had to do with David and Mary Margaret’s relationship. The first note handed to everyone is filled with riddles about firsts and blood that sounds a little bit like a man who’s never had sex writing about a woman having sex for the first time, and while it has everyone else confused, Emma knows exactly what it’s referring to. She and Killian almost immediately walking up the resort’s, if you can call it that, hiking trail while everyone else who got that clue keeps reading it to themselves.
David and Mary Margaret went on their first date in senior year of high school by walking around Mary Margaret’s neighborhood. David fell up a hill and bloodied up his arm on the concrete before having to meet Mary Margaret’s parents. Emma finds the next clue on the top of the hiking trail on the ground wrapped in bright yellow caution tape.
“Gotcha,” Emma says as she rips it open and Killian snaps a picture to confirm they found the clue themselves. “When David and Mary Margaret first used a condom, Mary Margaret said it…The next clue is by the lake,” Emma immediately says, stuffing the card in the back pocket of her jeans as a chilled breeze runs over them and makes her wish she had a scarf to cover her nose.
“How could you possibly know that already?”
“When Mary Margaret is drunk, she talks about how condoms would make great water balloons. How do you not know that?”
“I rarely see her drunk.”
Emma laughs. “It’s a sight. C’mon.”
“Wait,” Killian says as she feels his hand in her back pocket, “we need to leave the clue here for the next person.”
“Don’t you want to win, Jones?”
“I like to do it the honorable way.” He drops the card back in the caution tape and gently shoves Emma’s ass until she’s stumbling forward. “I am a gentleman after all.”
“Says the man who just slapped my ass.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’m not a gentleman to you. Now, let’s go, Swan. I want to win this mystery prize.”
The clues get a little more obscure as they go on, and Liam and Elsa start to catch up because those two are nothing if not perceptive, but since they go in a separate order with the clues, they’re at least not literally nipping on Emma and Killian’s heels.
Emma takes back everything she said about Ruby being spacey. This must have taken her days to come up with.
But as expected Ruby makes the clues dirtier as they go on, some of which have Mary Margaret protesting from her seat next to the fire where she and David have been watching. They were going to play along, but David apparently decided it’d be too easy for them to win and much more fun to watch everyone scramble for the clues. There’s one particularly inspired riddle involving a tree and, well, climbing it, and Mary Margaret is never going to forgive Ruby for that.
It all ends with a giant cooler of alcohol, edible underwear, some gummy penis straws, and if Emma wasn’t laughing so hard at Killian holding a bag of tiny penis straws, she’d be pissed off that she ran through the woods in freezing temperatures for alcohol and phallic gummy candy.
“Why the bloody hell did we have to do all of that just to find the drinks for this weekend?”
“Because the escape room we were going to go to got shut down, and I had to come up with something else to do to occupy our time.” She shrugs, confident smirk gracing her lips. “And because non-teacher Marg loves stuff like this, and David loved getting to drink a beer while all his friends ran around like chickens with their heads cut off.”
“What an awful image,” Ariel mutters as she walks up to the circle, her nose as red as her hair.
“Not as awful as having to solve a riddle involving all of David’s favorite pick-up lines,” Eric sighs.
“You all laugh, but I’m the one who is getting married! They obviously work.”
Mary Margaret stands behind him and slowly shakes her head no.
Poor David. Poor Mary Margaret. At least they have each other.
And at least Emma is finished having to run through all of her knowledge about their sex life for the scavenger hunt. Still, it’s better than the time Ariel got engaged and they had to take a picture licking a stranger’s tattoo because it was on some list Ariel’s sister found online. Emma will never get over that, but hey, she was just drunk enough to do it, which pretty much sums up a lot of Emma’s stupid decisions in life.
Being just drunk enough is not Emma’s friend.
As everyone else starts filtering in from finding all the clues, drinks begin to be poured and passed around. It’s beyond freezing (not literally, as Killian corrects when she complains) even with the sun shining brightly ahead, but the fire is warm and eventually the resort’s staff brings them some space heaters. There are a few other people staying in the cabins, but most of them are scared off by how loud their group is. This one poor family has their children with them, and God, Emma hopes they brought earplugs.
But despite the fact that Emma can’t feel her toes and her nose is as red as Rudolph’s, she’s having a damn good time. Life hasn’t been her friend lately with hard days at work and Walsh breaking up with her because she wasn’t ready for marriage, and even though that was a few months ago, she still thinks about it more than she wants to. She thinks about a lot of relationship-type things she doesn’t want to.
The warmth of the rum running down her throat makes her forget just that little bit more.
Killian nudges her foot with his, and she leans over until she’s resting her head on his shoulder. His scruff scratches her forehead, but his arm is warm when it wraps around her shoulder. Ruby and Mary Margaret are currently doing a reenactment of the dance routine they made up in college, and Emma knows every step of it. They came up with it with Britney Spears blaring from the stereo, and even though it’s been a decade, Emma still knows most of the steps.
No way in hell she’s getting up to dance along to it, not when she’s finally warm.
“This is the oddest bachelor’s weekend I’ve ever been on,” Killian tells her as his hand moves up and down her arm, “and Liam had us spend the entire weekend fishing.”
“That sounds like my worst nightmare.”
“More than this?”
“Yeah, this is fun.”
“Wait, wait,” Ruby stops, holding her hand up, “didn’t Emma do this with us? Emma, get your ass up here!”
“Absolutely not,” Emma protests. “I’m too comfortable to get up and embarrass myself.”
“Oh come on,” Ruby insists, walking over to her and grabbing her arm, trying to pull her up. “You’ll have time to cuddle with your lover later. I did give you guys one bed.” Dammit, Ruby.
Emma narrows her eyes. “I knew you did that on purpose.”
“You and Killian will thank me. Just bang one out and get it over with, okay?”
Emma’s cheeks heat and her stomach does something that doesn’t feel great. She never wants that to happen again, so she decides to appease Ruby. “I’ll get up and do the stupid dance if you stop talking about this.”
Ruby’s eyes light up. “Deal.”
Begrudgingly, Emma gets up and walks over to them. She’s a little mortified at the moment for a myriad of reasons, so while she’s walking away from one mortifying moment, she’s walking into another. It doesn’t help that Killian is smirking at her, obviously amused at Ruby’s antics, and she is so going to yell at him later, probably when they’re in that creaky old bed.
“Start the song over,” Mary Margaret tells David, who happily obliges, and the beginnings of Toxic start to play.
She’s not drunk enough to be doing this, but hopefully everyone else is drunk enough not to remember that she basically twerks to this song and makes a fool of herself. But hey, she’s been doing that in front of most of these people for a long damn time. And believe it or not, when you don’t have people for the first two decades of your life, you’ll do just about anything to keep your friends with you.
Including dirty scavenger hunts and stupid dances that you came up with in a tiny dorm room after being sleep-deprived because of midterms and nearly working full-time to pay for, well, life.
“Let’s go, Swan,” Killian wolf whistles.
“Shut up, KJ!”
He shrugs, his smirk still there, and he nearly makes her lose her step. She doesn’t, though. At least not then. There’s a moment near the end of the song where she and Mary Margaret both start laughing so hard that they nearly fall forward into the firepit, but Ruby pulls them back and they all fall onto their asses in the dirt.
“Are you guys planning on doing that dance at the reception?” Liam asks. “It would be bloody brilliant and likely safer with no fire around.”
“Will they be as tipsy as they are now?” Ariel adds in.
“Hopefully not,” David sighs as he opens his arm back up to Mary Margaret, who sits down on the bench with him. “I’d like us to all remember that day. Your meals are too expensive for you to not thoroughly enjoy them.”
“Romance right there,” Mulan mutters.
“Hey,” Mary Margaret protests, patting David’s chest, “David is the most romantic man in the world. Did you know that one time…”
They collectively groan at the beginnings of one of Mary Margaret’s David is secretly Prince Charming stories, but they all listen. Emma brushes the dirt of her ass and sits back down with Killian who is still laughing at her little performance. She ignores him in favor of listening to Mary Margaret, and as cynical as Emma can be about love sometimes, it’s nice to see when it works out.
This one is definitely going to work out. Her gut is giving her a good feeling about it.
Long after the sun sets, they all walk to the large cabin at the entrance of the grounds where they’re served a warm meal and sober up a bit. For an hour or so, they’re civilized adults again until Ruby puts those penis straws in everyone’s drinks. The woman must have spent a fortune ordering this junk off Amazon, and Emma already knows whenever she goes to Ruby and Mulan’s place, she’s going to be served meals with leftover phallic accessories.
It is what it is…of course as long as Ruby doesn’t bring them into work. That definitely wouldn’t go over well.
On this night, though, it’s all great.
That is until Emma’s buzzed again and she’s back in her dusty, floral covered cabin with Killian next to her in bed, his mouth so close to hers she can feel the warmth of his breath when he speaks.
This was a bad, bad idea, and Ruby should have known that.
Dammit, Ruby.
But, like, it should be fine. It’s just a weekend, and Emma can handle anything for a weekend.
“Would you kill me if I told you I recorded your little performance earlier?” he whispers.
“No, I saw you doing it.” She rolls her eyes and tries to put a little more space between them. This is the smallest queen bed in existence. “I’m sure that’ll be all over your Instagram.”
“Perhaps.” He winks, and she’s caught up in how beautiful the color of his eyes are, even when they only have a dim lamp on. “It was nice to see you smile tonight, love.”
“That’s cheesy, Jones.”
“It’s the truth. It’s good to see you happy.”
Emma shuffles in the bed, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going, but she flinches when her foot accidentally hits Killian’s leg. She’d turn the other way, but that would make this situation even worse.
“I’m happy all the time,” Emma mutters. It’s a lie, and they both know it.
“Swan.”
“Look, don’t Swan me right now. It’s been a long, exhausting day even if we had a good time, and now is really not the time for you to go all Killian on me and make me talk about how I got my heart broken.”
He blinks, slowly, and Emma sucks in her breath. “You’ll think I’m crazy to say this, but I’m glad you got your heart broken.”
“You’re glad I got my heart broken,” she repeats, incredulous.
He reaches from under the covers and pokes at her collarbone. “If it can be broken, it means it still works.”
Emma doesn’t know what to say or do or have any inkling as to how to respond to that, so she closes her eyes and burrows into her pillow, hoping that the alcohol helps lull her to sleep.
“You know I love you, Swan,” Killian whispers. “All I’ve ever wanted was the best for you. One day you’ll meet a man who doesn’t break your heart.”
Even more than before, she doesn’t know what to say. This is the conversation she didn’t want to have the most. Killian has been her closest friend for a long damn time, has seen her go through men more than anyone else just as she has seen him do the same with women, and for most of that time, they’ve stayed firmly in their friendship. But there was that one night years ago when they dipped their toes into something more, when the alcohol was flowing through their veins and repressed feelings floated to the surface, pushing through until thoughts became actions. Emma remembers every moment of that night, from the first kiss to the feeling of his skin on hers, and rarely does she think about it. It’s too damn dangerous to think of things that could drown her. But when she does, it comes roaring back like a blazing fire that never wants to be put out.
Now, when she can feel the heat of Killian’s body next to her, when she can feel every movement he makes and the subtle rising and falling of his chest, there’s no way she’s putting that fire out.
She, stupidly, has to suffer with it, flames burning around her forever.
Emma doesn’t pine or make eyes or do any of that stupid sentimental stuff when it comes to men, not when it hurts so badly when they eventually leave, so why does she do it with Killian? They never talked about that night, never discussed what it meant, so obviously it meant nothing. It was a stupid mistake, and they both went on to be in serous relationships after that.
So when Killian says he loves Emma, she knows exactly what he means.
He loves her as a friend, like they all love their entire group, and that’s all it’s ever going to be.
Emma hates herself a little for even thinking about this, but rum does always make her a little weepy.
The damn drink. She doesn’t know why Killian loves it that much.
-/-
Emma is warm. Warm and comfortable and everything smells like pine. Why does everything smell like pine? She doesn’t have any pine candles in her apartment, and she really hopes she didn’t light one before she went to bed. Maybe that’s why everything is warm. She lit a candle and her apartment is on fire.
Her eyes shoot open, and Emma’s fears are immediately calmed by the wood-paneled walls and the floral bedspread. She’s still at those cabins. Her apartment is not on fire.
That’s probably the only good thing about this situation, though, because she realizes she’s only warm because like some kind movie cliché, Killian is half pressed up against her back with his leg draped over hers. Or maybe that’s her leg. She’s not entirely sure, mostly because she’s focusing on the warmth of his hand underneath her shirt and where his fingers are resting just under her breasts.
Dammit, Ruby.
Emma closes her eyes, but then slowly, she moves Killian’s hand off her stomach and moves her legs. He’s like dead weight, but she gets him off without waking him up, which she didn’t think would happen. Her heart and her head are pounding for two different reasons, and she thinks coffee would solve both of them.
So, of course, there’s no coffee in the cabin, so Emma stuffs her feet in her boots, pulls on her warm jacket, and treks toward the main cabin where she remembers seeing a coffee machine yesterday. And like a shining star, it’s right by the entrance, the light turned on and disposable cups next to it.
Halle-freaking-lujah.
Emma fixes herself a cup, downs it, then she fixes another to take back to the cabin. She’s about to leave with just that cup, but that annoying little voice in her head makes her fix Killian a cup too. It also makes her grab a bag and bring back some chocolate chip muffins and apples even though she knows they’re all going for brunch this morning.
There’s a light dusting of snow out this morning, but right now, it’s mostly slush. It sloshes under her boots, the leaves crunching below that, and Emma swears the water soaks through her boots to make her feet cold. She’s thankful to be back in the creepy little cabin even if it makes her mind race again.
At least her headache is fading.
As she closes the front door, the bedroom door creaks open, Killian emerging with his pajama pants hanging a little too low to expose the protrusions of his hips and his hair an absolute riot.
Emma gulps as warmth spreads through her. Oh boy, she is in trouble, and she needs out.
“That for me, Swan?” he asks, voice gravely with sleep. “Have I ever told you I quite fancy you from time to time when you do nice things for me?”
Emma laughs, hopefully casually, and hands over his cup. “I’ve heard it a time or two. There’s muffins and apples in the bag. I’m going to take a shower and get ready.”
“Don’t use all the hot water.”
“I definitely plan to.”
-/-
Emma isn’t avoiding Killian.
Nope, not at all.
It’s more like she’s casually doing everything she can to stay several feet away, just far enough that he can’t rest his hand on her waist or whisper little comments about their friends to her. There are enough people around them for it to not be obvious that she’s sitting next to someone else at brunch or that she steals Elsa to be her partner when they do a relay race through the slush. She leaves Liam to Killian, and their competitive streak against each other nearly brings them down. She’s almost glad to see it.
Emma isn’t…she’s not good with feelings, and she knows that. She has feelings, usually a hell of a lot of them, and she really doesn’t know how to deal with them even when she knows the other person loves her back.
A lifetime of trauma will do that to you, even when you’re so sure that you’re past it.
Killian does manage to get next to Emma when they’re eating dinner, and she stuffs her face with mac and cheese so often to keep from talking that she has to gain at least three pounds in one sitting.
Totally, totally worth it.
Her plan is working out wonderfully despite the few hiccups, but then everyone starts rolling off to bed. That doesn’t work for Emma when she has to share her bed with the last person she wants to share it with. Well, at least the last person here. She can think of a few other people who would make her sleep in the woods over sleeping in that creepy, creaky floral bed.
Once again, Dammit Ruby.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
She hopes none of their other friends want to get married and have another joint trip. Emma will absolutely lose her mind.
As soon as Emma’s back in the cabin, she takes her makeup off, brushes her teeth and her hair, and changes into warm pajamas. She quickly gets in bed and closes her eyes, trying to call sleep to her as fast as possible. This is the last night in this torture, and then she can go home back to her apartment and her own damn bed.
Killian turns off the lights and gets in the bed, his weight shifting the mattress, and Emma, closes her eyes even tighter and tries to focus on evening out her breathing. Sleep isn’t coming to her easily, but she can sure as hell fake it.
“Emma, love?” Killian whispers after a few minutes. “Emma?”
She doesn’t answer, doesn’t flinch. None of that seems to deter Killian.
“You know, normally I prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back,” he continues, and Emma has to try not to laugh. “And since I know you’re not actually asleep, I thought I’d let you know that I’m aware you’ve been avoiding me today. I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team. Let’s get back to that tomorrow, yeah?”
Emma doesn’t say anything back. Yet again, her tongue is twisted, but in her mind, she knows exactly what she wants to say.
She just…she can’t fuck things up, so she doesn’t say a word.
“One day, love,” he continues, and Emma nearly groans at the man’s inability to shut up, “you’ll learn to trust me like someone who’s been by your side for a decade.”
Emma twists to her side, not caring that it makes it more obvious she’s awake, and she buries her face in the pillow to keep from speaking.
“Do you remember a few years ago? It was the fourth of July, and Milah had just ended things with me. I was heartbroken, and all I wanted to do was get drunk and bash that frightfully American holiday. And then at the party, you grabbed my hand, squeezed it as tight as you could, and then told me ‘chin up, buttercup, let’s go set shit on fire.’ It was the least eloquent thing I’d ever heard, and that’s coming from me, but God, for some reason it made me feel like everything was going to be alright.”
Emma remembers that moment. She figured there was no better way to get over a long relationship ending than blowing things up, and hey, the fireworks were just waiting to be lit. it was a good day, even if Emma has no idea why Killian is bringing it up now.
He shifts on the bed, and she imagines that he’s moving to his back and crossing his arms behind is head. That’s how he always falls asleep but rarely how he stays asleep.
“You’ve always been by my side, Emma Swan. I’m always, always going to be by yours. No matter what happens between us.” His fingers flutter against her ear, pushing her hair back, and she was wrong about how he was positioned in bed, especially when she feels his lips press against the shell of her ear. “Goodnight, love.”
Seriously, Dammit Ruby.
Emma wouldn’t do this if the lights weren’t turned off, if she didn’t have the shield of darkness to keep her from having to look at Killian when she spoke. The light would take away her courage, dampen it and put it away never to be found again. Most people search for the light, they want it to be sure of what’s ahead of them, but right now, Emma craves the darkness so she can forge on ahead with no idea of what’s around the corner.
At least that way she can be hopeful of the outcome instead of knowing that it’s doomed before crossing the line.
This is, undoubtedly, the stupidest thing she’s ever done, and Emma has done a lot of stupid things.
What the hell is wrong with her? She was supposed to ignore it, deal with it, and live with it in silence like she’s been doing for years now. She definitely shouldn’t do what she’s about to do.
“I think I love you,” Emma murmurs into her pillow. “I think I have for awhile, probably since you bought me that dumbass T-shirt with your face on it when we graduated so that we’d never have to be apart even though we were both staying in Boston. God, that was so fucking stupid. But yeah, I’ve probably loved you since then, which has always been an issue, but it was really an issue when we slept together and then never talked about. And then, you know, we both dated a lot of other people and acted like it was fine, and it was fine. But it’s really fucking always bothered me that we never talked about, which is weird because I don’t even really like talking about stuff. I’m not good at it. I’m not good at expressing my feelings even when I want to, which is so damn frustrating, and – ”
Suddenly, there’s a warm hand on her shoulder, tugging her until she flips over, and in the darkness of the room, she sees the outline of Killian Jones. She knows his face well enough to be able to fill in each freckle and scar and loose piece of hair. Hell, she could even point to where his beard gets a little more red than black, but she’s not supposed to be doing any of that. She’s supposed to be embracing the uncertainty of the darkness.
If her soaring heart if any indication, she thinks she is.
“Emma?”
“Yeah?” she whispers, terrified. What the hell has she done?
“I want to address all of that at some point, including the fact that I know that I love you, but right now, I just really, desperately need to kiss you.”
And in the darkness of the night with all that ugly floral around them, he does.
They’ll talk about the rest later.
(Thanks, Ruby.)
Dash finally kind of did a thing. In older news Ruby thinks he is God.
I have 7000 words to write and I am loitering on this godforsaken website...
I hate myself and want to die, but i also feel incredibly hollow, you feel?
some very not okay things are happening in in the afterlight right now and i just want to skip ahead to make sure it all works out