Summary: Set in 1920, Emma and Killian are on their way to spend the Christmas weekend at the Jones family estate. Overbearing older brothers, societal pressures and norms, separate sleeping quarters, and secrets being kept left and right could make for an interesting holiday… to say nothing of the current thorn in the nation’s side. Prohibition.
A/N: The final part of my CSSS25 gift for Marta. I hope y'all enjoy it!
Shoutout to @cssecretsanta2020 for putting on another incredible event and thank you to those involved in running it this year! You guys are awesome. A special thanks to my bestie @kmomof4 for giving this the once over and, when necessary, cracking the whip!
Rated T-ish / Also available on ao3 / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me! / Part One
Part Two
Killian accepted the cup of demitasse from the footman station by the bar and sipped a soothing swallow of the strong, hot beverage. Slipping his other hand in his pocket, he leaned against a flat piece of molding on the room’s ornate walls and surveyed the gathering. A number of ladies, his Swan included, had just excused themselves to powder their noses now that the party games were at an end. He and Emma had come out victorious in many of them, which did not surprise him in the least. They made quite the team.
Running his thumb over the velvet exterior of the item stowed in his pocket, Killian let out a hopeful sigh and took another drink. Perhaps this would be the weekend she’d agree to becoming more than a teammate. More than a cohort. More than a lover. Perhaps, should he find the courage to get down on one knee and ask her properly, she would agree to--
“Enjoying yourself, little brother?” Liam inquired with a clumsiness to his words and a glassiness in his eyes.
“Not as much as you, apparently,” Killian needled, nodding his head towards the martini glass currently held precariously in Liam’s loose grip.
Liam held up the glass and scrutinized it as though he’d only just remembered it was there. “I’m still not sure I approve, but…” A wide grin broke over his face and it heartened Killian (though he’d never admit it out loud) that this beaming expression of joy and affection, which had for far too long been a rarity, had become more frequent since he’d met Belle. “My wife insisted I ease up and soften my viewpoint in the spirit of the season, and who am I to argue with such a wise and sensible woman.”
“Well, then,” Killian mused, an opportunity presenting itself that he would be foolish not to capitalize on. “Since you have softened your views towards imbibing in alcohol during Prohibition, perhaps you would be so inclined to reverse your decision about certain sleeping arra--”
“Forget it, Killian,” Liam said with a shake of his head. “David would have my guts for garters, to say nothing of the earful I’d likely get from Belle tomorrow. And I have enough of my wits about me to know that I’ll likely pay dearly enough for my reconsiderations tonight in the morning, so if it’s all the same to you…”
He did not finish the thought, but must have felt he’d gotten his point across and purposely set off to engage Philip Briar who was also awaiting the return of his wife, Aurora, from the facilities. Killian had not the opportunity to get to know their latest business partner very well, but Briar seemed a decent enough fellow; one who would fit in rather nicely with the Jones brothers and Graham Humbert. To say nothing of the potential new mergers and acquisitions such a partnership offered them. Many of the other men in attendance were, in a sense, auditioning for just such an opportunity. Earnestly hoping they might find themselves tied to the Jones’ interests in the new year. And the capital that came with such a lucrative alliance.
Not that the Joneses hadn’t benefited from mergers and partnerships over the years. Humbert was proof of that. The intel he’d brought with him concerning one of their biggest rivals, the Mills, had been invaluable. As was the man himself. Killian had never met anyone with sharper instincts and steadfast resolve. He was as cunning as he was charming, with a boyish air about him. It was the latter quality that made him likeable enough for others’ defenses to drop, lulling them into a false sense of security before they realized they’d conceded the upper hand.
Indeed, Humbert was a valuable asset. Killian almost wished he could lure him into the ‘off the books’ sector he’d created, but it was simply too risky. He needed to keep his clandestine affairs as separate from his legitimate ones as possible. He’d already mixed the two with Emma, and while he did not regret the outcome thus far, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned for her each and every time she’d made a run for him.
He still hadn’t recovered from her most recent close call.
“Pleasant thoughts?” Emma’s voice cut into Killian’s musings and he forced a smile (though he did not have to force it for long), hoping his turmoil would go unnoticed.
“Pleasant enough,” he crooned, circling his arms around her waist.
Emma hummed, dubiously, and scrutinized his face. “Applesauce.” The admonishment was delivered in a teasing tone, her raised brows and cocked head emphasizing her confidence that she’d caught him out in the falsehood. Wrapping her hand about the back of his neck, her fingers toyed with his hair sending a ripple of want down his spine. “Wanna try that again?”
“It’s nothing, Swan,” he assured her. “Just thinking about business, which…” he repositioned his hold on her, a grin spreading across his face as a new song began to play on the gramophone. “I shall gladly put off until a more appropriate time. For now. Shall we?”
“We shall,” Emma giggled, following his lead and joining the others who were already cutting a rug to the lively tune.
After a few vigorous dances, a slow speed 78 was put on, allowing everyone to catch their breaths and enjoy a more intimate moment with their partners.
“Having a good time, love?” Killian inquired, tucking an errant strand of her hair that had worked its way loose of its pins behind her ear.
“I am,” she said with a contented sigh. “Tonight has been lovely. Much of the stress about the weekend is gone and I’m really looking forward to the holiday now.”
“I’m glad,” Killan replied with a slight chuckle in his tone. “Though, you may come to regret those words tomorrow when our guests are gone and it’s just our families.”
A smile lifted the corners of Emma’s lips even as she confessed, “I didn’t say all the stress was gone. Only some.”
“Well, you know…” he drawled, running his tongue salaciously over his bottom lip. “I happen to know a very effective way to alleviate stress from one’s body.”
“Do you, now?” Emma replied, pulling her bottom lip teasingly between her teeth.
“Aye,” Killian purred. “And I have no qualms in defying my brother’s edict.” His fingers skimmed down her bare back, a trail of raised fresh left in their wake that made Emma visibly tremble. “Tell me what room you’re in and I’ll come to you later tonight.”
Emma’s brows scrunched together as though she were confused by the request. “You… You don’t know which room I’m in?”
“My git of a brother refused to tell me, as if that would keep me from finding out.”
A sly smile tugged at her lips and a saucy expression took over her exquisite features. “And what makes you think you’ll get that information from me?”
“Come now, love,” Killian countered, his voice dropping to a lower register, a timbre he knew made her toes curl. “You would deny us both the pleasure of my having that knowledge?”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t find it pleasurable,” Emma shot back in a husky tone. “I simply don’t think it would be good form of me to blatantly go against my host’s wishes.”
“You’re serious?” Killian asked, a bit astonished at Emma’s resolve.
“What’s the matter, Hook?” she taunted, evoking his code name. “I thought you loved a challenge.”
Pulling her flush against him, Killian growled, “That I do, Swan. That. I. Do.”
~/~
It was well after midnight before the party goers retired to their rooms, and later still for the house to become quiet and settled, the servants having to finish their work before they could retire as well. Killian waited until he was certain all were abed, not wishing to run into anyone in the corridors and start tongues wagging. With some sly questioning, he’d been able to narrow down which room his Swan occupied through the process of elimination. All he had to do was make his way to the other end of the expansive house without being detected.
Creeping out from his room, he tread lightly along the carpets, thankful for the soft glow of the sconces that remained illuminated in the hallway. His ears strained for any hint of movement; his body tense and ready to dart into one of the common rooms at a moment’s notice. Quick strides had him crossing the open expanse at the top of the staircase, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to the east wing.
That was until a figure stepped out from the shadows. A weary eyed footman who did his best to maintain proper posture despite his evident fatigue.
Knowing he’d already been spotted, Killian continued forward, his demeanor exuding the confidence that he belonged there, and began to sidestep the servant.
The footman blocked him.
“Excuse me, my good man.” Killian attempted to step around him once more, but was again thwarted.
The footman’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously at Killian’s incredulous look, and his voice shook slightly as he stated, “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Jones, but I am on strict orders from your brother to not let you set foot in the east wing.”
“You can’t be serious.” Of course, Killian knew he was absolutely serious. He’d been a fool not to anticipate something like this.
“I’m afraid I am. His exact works were, and I quote, ‘Tell my little brother he is prohibited from setting foot in the east wing.’”
The use of that particular word - prohibited - was not lost on Killian. Seems he was resolute to uphold some sort of prohibition this weekend, and since he’d wavered on the alcohol he chose to double down on the pre-marital relations.
Wanker.
Before Killian could respond, a door several feet down the hall opened and a man’s head poked out. Killian groaned internally when he saw who it was.
“Jones?” David said, exiting his room, carefully closing the down behind him, then tightening his robe as he made his way over. “I thought I heard voices. What are you…” He paused as realization set in. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sneak into my sister’s room.”
Slipping his hands into his own robe, Killian nonchalantly rocked back on his heels and replied. “Very well, then. I won’t.”
Taking a menacing step forward, David grit out, “I oughta knock your block off.”
Killian relaxed his cocky demeanor, his expression turning serious in the face of the man’s justified ire.
“You’d be well within your rights to do so,” Killian conceded, causing David to blanch. “I won’t even attempt to defend myself.
“Gentlemen, please,” the footman implored. “Our guests are all asleep. What would Mr. Jones say to having the entire house woken up to fisticuffs in the hallway?”
David unclenched his fists and studied Killian with a skeptical eye, still taken aback by the man’s response.
“Out of respect for my host,” David began in a calmer, but no less firm tone. “I shall refrain from any untoward actions, however…” His stare was piercing as he delivered the words Killian had long expected to receive from the man. “I think it’s time you and I had a talk about your intentions with my sister.”
“I agree,” Killian replied. Then, gesturing to a door just off the landing, he suggested, “Shall we do so in Belle’s library.”
“After you.”
David followed Killian into the freshly remodeled library, adorned with wall to wall bookcases that stretched to the ceiling. Out of all the renovations, Killian knew this room was his sister-in-law’s pride and joy. He only hoped, surrounded by words of wisdom and the knowledge of a variety of interests from those who had come before, that they would help keep the present topic and those wrestling with it in the here and now, civil and level-headed.
“You inquired about my intentions towards Emma,” Killian began, positioning himself next to the grand fireplace and allowing himself to be backed against the wall (metaphorically and literally) as a show of respect to David’s position as Swan’s elder brother. “I assure you they are entirely honorable.”
Scoffing, David replied, “Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. Don’t forget,” He raised his finger and wagged it at Killian in the same insufferable way Liam did. “I know your reputation. Emma isn’t some conquest.”
“I wouldn’t carry around a two-thousand dollar diamond ring in my pocket for someone I only saw as loot.”
David’s eyes grew wide, and his brows shot up into his hairline. After gaping at Killian like a fish for a moment, he stammered, “You…You bought her a ring? An engagement ring? When?”
A soft smile lifted the corners of Killian’s mouth and he confessed, “The day she finally agreed to accept my dinner invitation and give me a chance to win her heart.” Stepping forward, Killian closed the distance and placed his hand on David’s shoulder, still tense with uncertainty. “Mate, I’ve known Emma was the one for a very long time now.”
“Then why haven’t you proposed? What are you waiting for?”
“I’m waiting for her,” Killian stated, thinking it was obvious. “Whatever we become is as much up to her as it is to me, and when I get down on my knee I want her to be as sure and as ready for that step as I am.”
David stood there, clearly gobsmacked, unable to utter a response. Taking advantage of the man’s current state, Killian added, “There was also the matter of… your blessing.”
That snapped the man back into action. “My blessing? You want my blessing?”
“Of course, I do,” Killian affirmed. “You are Emma’s only family. She loves you more than… well, anyone, probably.” And Killian did not begrudge that one bit. “You’ve carried the duty of her protection and well-being since she was a child, and I… I want to know that you trust and have confidence in me to take on that honor.”
The war was evident in the man’s eyes, the fight to reconcile what he knew of the rake pursuing his sister with the sincerity pouring out from the scoundrel’s heart.
“I don’t expect it tonight, mate,” Killian assured him, letting him off the hook. “I’ve had to prove to Emma over these many months that I am not the same man I was. That I’ve changed. That I’m trying to be better. I want to be a better man… for her.” Swallowing tightly, Killian clenched his jaw and dropped his eyes as he tried to extinguish the guilt burning in his gut as he confessed, “I have a ways to go in many regards, but not when it comes to her. I’m in this for the long haul.”
“You’ve given me much to think about,” David said, softly. “But you’re right,” Killian’s head snapped up and it was now he who was taken aback. Never in all their association had the man ever looked at him with respect. The expression he was giving now was damn near… friendly. “Ultimately, it’s up to Emma. And I learned long ago to not get in her way when she sets her mind to something.” Tilting his head forward, he gave Killian a significant look and added, “Even if that something is as reckless as racing.”
Reaching up to paw a patch of skin begins his ear, Killian shot David a chagrined expression and merely shrugged his shoulders, refusing to confirm nor deny that man’s statement.
“But that’s a topic for another time,” David said on a stifled yawn. “I suggest we both get some sleep… in our own rooms.”
“Aye,” Killian agreed, unwilling to do or say anything that might derail the progress they’d made as he followed David back into the hall, where the footman remained at his post. “I’ll bid you goodnight.”
Nodding farewell to both men, Killian made his way back to his room. Although he had not made it to his desired destination, his efforts had not been in vain. His step was a bit lighter down the dimly lit hallway, and a contented sigh released heavily from his chest when he entered the room, leaning back against the closed door with a swirl of elation (slightly tinged with disappointment that he would not being seeing his Swan that night) zipping through his chest.
A chest he grabbed in startled response to a voice calling out from his bed.
“I thought you’d never come back,” Emma said, stretching as she sat up from beneath the covers. “What took you so long?”
“Swan?! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you… When did you… How did you get to my room?”
“I used the secret passage.”
“I beg your pardon?” Killian said, certain he had misheard her.
“The secret passage,” Emma repeated, a sassy and amused expression taking up the entirety of her face.
“What secret passage?”
“The one uncovered during the restoration that leads from my room, to a secret hallway downstairs, to another set of stairs that leads…” Moving off the bed, she sauntered to a bookcase in the corner of the room and pulled on one of the volumes, causing a hidden door to spring open. “Here.”
Flabbergasted, Killian marched over to take a closer look. “How did you--”
“Belle told me when she showed me my room.”
Spinning around, Killian faced Emma in shock. “She did? Why? I mean… Why just you? Wh--”
“Come here.” Emma took his hand and led him back to the bed, allowing them to both get settled before explaining. “She promised Liam not to tell either of us when he realized we were assigned these rooms, but thought he was being a ridiculous prude in making us stay in separate bedrooms. I thought she would have told you, too, but when you asked what room I was in…”
“You couldn’t help but have a little fun?” he accused, though his tone carried no weight of agitation.
“Something like that.”
“Wait.” Killian said, agitation now hitting him full force. “Liam knew about the passage?”
“Of course,” Emma laughed. “It’s his house afterall.”
“That’s it,” Killian said, throwing up his hands. “I am going to murder my brother.”
“That might put a damper on the holiday.”
The two of them could only gaze at the other and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Once their amusement was spent, Emma tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze to where her fingers were lazily drawing senseless patterns against his skin.
“You know,” she began, hesitantly. Wetting her lips and swallowing nervously, she took a deep breath and said, “There’s a way to ensure we never have to have separate bedrooms again.”
Killian’s heart skipped, then began to hammer loudly within his chest. Sitting up, he crooked a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he could address her eye to eye. “Swan. Are you suggesting we get…married?”
With a small shrug and hopeful expression, she replied, “Would that be such a mad idea?”
“Well,” he drawled out, reaching over her to the bedside table and retrieving something from the drawer. “If it is, then…” Opening the black velvet box, he murmured, “We’re both a bit mad.”
“Oh, Killian!” Emma gasped.
Shifting his position, he pressed his knees into the mattress and held out the ring. “Emma Swan Nolan. Will you marry me?”
With tears glistening in her eyes, Emma leaned forward and carded her fingers through his hair. Pressing their foreheads together, she murmured against his lips, “What do you think?”
From the way she kissed the holy hell out him, Killian gathered it was a yes.
The End.
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