Hello! Don’t know if you’re accepting prompts but just saw a clip of gerrit and amy cole playing catch- she’s pregnant and still bringing the heat! Thought of emma and killian in the CMIYC verse :) hope the muse inspires you, pretty please and thank you :)
I saw that video @galadriel26! Too cute! If anyone wants to watch it, I’ll link it | Here |
And if anyone is interested in reading this on ao3, that’s | Here |
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September 2022
Emma hates him.
She really, really does, and she doesn’t plan on changing her mind about that anytime soon. He doesn’t deserve it, and she’s going to stick to that thought process for the foreseeable future.
Because that’s definitely rational, and she is a beacon for being rational at all times.
Or not.
Definitely not. But at least part of the time.
“Take the train home,” Ruby says as she hands her the largest cup of lemonade Emma has ever seen. She’s going to have to pee approximately eighteen times after she drinks it. “I’ll ride with you so you’re not alone.”
“We don’t take anything close to the same route, and I don’t care about riding alone.”
“I don’t care that we’re not on the same route.” Ruby taps her shoulder into Emma’s as Emma takes a sip of her drink. God, this is delicious. She could probably live off of lemonade right now if she didn’t think about how many calories she consumed with a cup this size. And the peeing. So much peeing. “We could get Graham to come get us. He can give us a police escort.”
“That’s excessive.”
“You look miserable. Excessive might be in order.”
Emma hums and leans back in the stadium seat, propping her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. She needs to wash her sneakers. They have seen better days, and she loves these too much to do anything but preserve them forever. She definitely should have bought more than one pair when she got these.
Killian would have killed her.
As if he doesn’t have a million shoes of his own.
She’s definitely buying at least two more pairs of these shoes when she gets home. She deserves them.
“I’m not miserable,” Emma promises before taking another sip, “but I’m tired. I have been here since eight this morning, and Killian is out on the field running around in circles.”
“That’s called jogging.”
Emma rolls her eyes and tilts her head to lean it on Ruby’s shoulder. “Shut up.”
“I will soon because I’m about to leave for the day. I just wanted to make sure my nephew was going to be okay.”
“Oh, so what about the woman who is wearing extremely elastic shorts to house your nephew? Because if you don’t ask about me, I swear I’m going to pop off on you.”
Ruby chuckles and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “People ignoring you and only mentioning your stomach today?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. And my boobs. I had actual, real people reference my boobs and how much bigger they are because I work with a bunch of assholes who can only focus on a woman for her boobs.”
“Your boobs are absolutely gigantic, and you’re only seven months.”
Emma’s eyes narrow. If she didn’t want this lemonade so badly, she’d pour it on Ruby for that comment. “If you ever have a kid, I’m going to remind you that you think being seven months pregnant in the summer in New York is an easy thing.”
“I only meant that your boobs are going to get even bigger along with your ankles.”
“Shut up,” Emma laughs, gently hitting Ruby. “I should have never told you I have to wear compression socks while working.”
“That was a mistake.”
“My ankles are normal size.”
“If you say so.” Ruby nods down toward the field. “It looks like your baby daddy is winding down. You going to be okay if I leave you to him? Or are you going to murder him for making you wait here? I’ll support you in that, but there’s only so much I can legally do to get you out of that situation.”
“Nah, I like him too much to murder him.”
“I’ve heard he’s really good at sex, too.”
“Rubes, you’re ridiculous.” Emma pulls herself away from Ruby, standing from the seats and wiping away the sweat that’s pooled at the back of her thighs before grabbing the hair elastic off her wrist and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You’re also not lying if I have to be totally honest with you.”
“Ha, I knew it.”
Her eyes rolls, and when Ruby stands, Emma leans over to hug her. She doesn’t actually know what she would do without Ruby and her penchant for asking totally inappropriate questions.
“Go home and let me go try to drag the crazy man off the field, okay?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s trying to win the World Series again to impress you.”
“That would be ridiculous.”
“But it’s definitely true. You might be married to the most romantic man alive.”
“I’m going to tell Graham you said that.”
“Please do. He could step up his game.”
“I’ll slip it into the next conversation, but try as much as you might, there’s not much of a chance of Graham winning the World Series. But I’ll send him a text with a very blunt hint.”
“Perfect.” Ruby places her hands on Emma’s stomach, and Emma has to bite her tongue. She only lets Killian do that because people touching her stomach is freaking weird and should not be a socially accepting just because she has a human growing inside of her. “Baby boy Jones, your mom is going to murder your dad for making her stay here all day, and she’s going to murder me for touching her stomach, so I want you to know that I am the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see.”
“Goodbye, Rubes,” Emma sighs. She takes another sip to keep from laughing. “I’ll let you know if we’re still here in the morning.”
“You might as well wait. You’ll just be super early for work tomorrow.”
“At this rate, we both will be.”
Ruby turns and walks away toward the exit while Emma makes her way down the stands until she’s at the gate that will let her out onto the field. The sun is nearly finished setting, the overhead lights turned on and beaming down onto the field, and the heat from the day is finally melting away so that it’s not excessively sweltering.
She cannot wait for winter. It’ll be cold and comfortable and she won’t be pregnant anymore. She’ll probably be freaking out because she has no idea how to be a mother, but at least her ankles won’t be slightly swollen anymore.
Hopefully.
It’ll all be worth it. Supposedly.
No, definitely.
She’s just miserably hot today and wants to be home on the couch with Netflix on so that she can get up and do this all over again.
They’re going to the ALDS, and she’s so damn excited. They’ve been rebuilding the team for years now, getting back to the top of the game, and this is the first time in a long time that Emma’s felt it in her gut that they’ve got a chance. 2019 feels like decades ago, but it’s only been three years since their lives were insane.
Well, insane in slightly different ways.
At least there are no deadbeat dads working with ex-boyfriends to ruin their lives. She couldn’t go through that again. She needs some kind of calm to be able to get through the next few weeks and keep from getting too stressed.
Pregnancy was obviously a great idea.
“Hey, twenty-nine, they called off practice a few hours ago.”
Killian keeps jogging, but he slows his pace until he’s in a walk and heading straight toward her. He has absolutely soaked through his t-shirt and his shorts, and he is definitely going to smell horrible on the car ride home if he doesn’t shower here.
“I’m getting extra credit, love.”
“You’ve already aced the test. Let’s go.”
Killian pushes his hair off his forehead before reaching back to tug at the back of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground. Emma’s stomach swirls, and she swallows the lump in her throat.
Damn, she is luckier than she has any right to be.
Maybe sitting on the couch and watching Netflix isn’t what she actually wants to do right now.
“You see something you like there, Swan?”
“I feel like you took your shirt off because you know my hormones are crazy and that I’m still a little extra horny…on occasion.”
“I took my shirt off because I’m covered in sweat. Something like what you suggested would simply be a perk.”
Emma laughs and meets Killian halfway when he kisses her. “You are incredibly sweaty.”
“If you’re willing to wait a little longer, I’ll shower here.”
“I’m expecting it.”
“Good.” His lips run across her jaw before he pulls back. “You want to do me a favor and do some pitching practice with me?”
“You’re kidding.”
“I notice you didn’t say that as a question.”
“Because it wasn’t.”
Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, and she recognizes it. He’s about to try to charm her pants off, probably quite literally, but she’s not going to let him. She’s going to ignore him and keep on drinking her lemonade.
“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll cook dinner if you practice with me.”
“You’re already cooking dinner, so you’re really slacking on the convincing.”
“Damn. But to be honest, I was counting on not wearing a shirt to be all the convincing you need.”
Emma shakes her head and takes one last sip of her lemonade before putting it down on the ground. “You have to rub my feet when we get home, and you better promise that you’re not going to nail me with a ball.”
“So many dirty jokes I could make there.”
His brows waggle, and she reaches over to shove him before walking to the pile of equipment behind home plate. She finds a glove that she doesn’t hate, grabs a ball, and meets Killian on the side of the field where he’s waiting for her. They’ve done this countless times out here, in stadiums across the country, and on the rooftop of their house. Though, that last one has led to a broken window at the brownstone across the street, and that was not a pleasant conversation.
She misses one catch and disaster happens.
“I got another jersey today,” Killian tells her as she gently tosses the ball his way.
“For a newborn or for an older kid?”
“I’m thinking toddler. It was cute. They’d gotten it customized with my name and number.”
He pelts the ball back. Okay, so they’re not going super slow today.
“You get it from a fan?”
“Yep. A group of women.”
Emma closes her eyes and shakes her head as she smiles. That does not surprise her in the slightest.
“We’re going to have enough onesies and jerseys to dress this kid until he’s a teenager because of groups of women who love you.”
“What can I say? My pretty face attracts a lot of women.”
“How pretty would it be if I gave you a black eye?”
“I think I would still be at least in the top two of the most stunning men on the team.”
She hears the thwack of her ball in Killian’s glove. “You are never lacking in confidence, are you?”
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
All the time, she thinks.
He lacks it all the time, but he hides it until the darkness of night when it’s just the two of them. The demons have been coming out to play lately with the pressure of the season mounting, that possibility of greatness at the tip of his fingers, and with her due date getting closer as they’re all wrapped up in baseball.
The two of them wanted this more than anything, but their own parents screwed them over so badly that Emma gets the demons. She has them, too.
Not when they’re out here, though, and there’s nothing and no one in the world but the two of them.
“Did I tell you Ruth is coming to town next week?”
“Is she staying with us?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“Yeah, of course, love. I’ll wash the sheets in the guest room and get some groceries delivered. She still on a pasta kick?”
“She definitely is. You should see the texts she ends me. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at that much pasta.”
“I have, but it wasn’t the good kind of pasta.”
“All pasta is good pasta.”
His ball hits her glove a little harder than she was expecting. Damn, Jones. “That, darling, is not true in the slightest. For instance, wheat pasta and then that pasta you burned.”
“That was one time,” Emma groans as she shakes out her hand while adjusting her stance. “I swear I can cook. I haven’t died of starvation yet.”
“It helps when cereal is available.”
Emma throws the ball as hard as she can at Killian, but he doesn’t even flinch when he catches it. She can throw a fantastic ball, too, so he definitely should have flinched.
Sweat is now dripping down her back, the humidity in the air seeping into her clothes and her skin, and maybe she should take her shirt off as well so she doesn’t get covered. Killian might have had the right idea there.
She is not taking her shirt off in the middle of Yankee Stadium no matter how badly she wants to. That would somehow not go well for her and someone would see, and she’d have even more shit to put up with. Emma’s definitely punching the next person to tell her that she looks like she’s going to pop any minute now.
She’s not.
But why the hell do people think that’s okay to say to a pregnant woman? She swears some people forget that pregnant women are still people all on their own.
“Twenty-nine, I love you, but if you keep making fun of me while killing my arm, you’re going to have to sleep on the couch. And the bad one, not the one in the living room.”
“Does your arm really hurt?”
“I may be a little sore from working out this morning. I’m mostly miserably hot even though I thought it was getting cooler out here. Can we move somewhere that never gets this hot?”
Killian nods and starts walking toward her. He takes his glove off and once he reaches her, he pushes the hair that’s curled on her face back up into her ponytail. “We can go someplace with air-conditioning right now. I feel like that’s an okay compromise.”
“After you shower, right?”
“What? I don’t smell great right now?”
“I already told you that you smelled awful.”
Killian hums as the corners of his lips turn up, and she doesn’t have enough time to run before he’s wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in until she’s covered in sweat and the awful smell of someone who desperately needs to shower. It’s a million times worse than when he leaves his sweaty clothes in the hamper instead of putting them in the washing machine.
“Stop,” Emma groans as she pushes him away. “Killian, stop. I’m going to smell awful.”
“I think it’s too late for that.”
“Oh my gosh,” she laughs as she stops trying to pull back. She’s already screwed. This is disgusting. “You’re a child.”
He shrugs and smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle. “I’m in my thirties, and I play baseball for a living. I’ve never had a reason not to be.”
“Well, that’s not true.”
“No, I suppose it’s not.” Killian releases her from his embrace before stepping away. “C’mon, Swan. There’s no one in the clubhouse. We can go shower. I’ve got clothes for you.”
“If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was say.”
“I have been trying for that this entire time.”
Emma shakes her head and chuckles. “You’ve got an early game tomorrow, and you actually have to play. Let’s go shower and then go home. I’m exhausted, and I was promised a foot rub.”
-/-
“What the hell?”
Emma shifts in bed and twists her neck to look at Killian. “What?”
The mattress dips and suddenly Emma feels Killian’s pressing into her back as his arm loops over her stomach. “Look at this.”
She looks down at his phone and at the video that’s playing. It’s the two of them from last night when they were throwing the ball back and forth.
What the hell?
“How did someone get this?”
“I don’t know. There must have been someone still in the stands that saw us and then they sent it in to SportsCenter.”
“Usually I’d be bothered by something like this, but I look like a hell of a lot better pitcher than you here. Look at that accuracy. And according to the caption, I’m a catch.”
“It also says it’s unfair to me because we’re playing two on one.”
“Shut up,” Emma laughs as she leans back into Killian’s embrace. “Have you already looked at the comments?”
“Against my better judgment, I did. There were quite a few about my lack of a shirt and how they could understand how you got pregnant.”
“I feel like a hell of a lot of people have no idea how sex works then.”
Killian snickers into the back of her neck and drops his hand to her stomach. “You do have great accuracy, love.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Rob?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely, Rob. He’s undoubtedly the best pitcher on the team.”
“I guess you’ll have to keep practicing with me until I get that title.”
“We’re going to be practicing for a long damn time then.”
Killian pulls her back against him and buries his nose in her neck. His scruff is prickly against her skin, but the burn of it is pleasant as his lips run across the cords in her neck before settling just below her ear.
“Are you and the kid going to gang up on me or are we going to let him like me for a little while?”
“I think we’ll let him like you until he’s five, and then he’s my partner in crime.”
“That is the most reasonable plan you’ve ever had.”
She huffs and places her hand over Killian’s on her stomach. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, babe. Though, I’m definitely going to be the one to teach Jace how to throw a ball. You suck.”
“Aren’t you the one who broke the Taylor’s window?”
“I said teach him how to throw. That was a catching problem on my part. We’ll have to let Scarlet teach him all about that.”
“The thought of Scarlet teaching my kid anything is terrifying.”
“Please. You trust Will with your life.”
Killian nods into her neck again and places a soft kiss there. “I trust him with you, yeah. Do you want some breakfast? We need to get ready for work soon.”
“Do we still have that fruit bowl?”
“Mhm.”
“I’ll have that. Just give me five more minutes and then we can get up and get ready.”
“Five more minutes tends to mean about an hour.”
“No,” Emma sighs. “Five minutes. I mean it.”
“Fine, Swan, we can have five more minutes.”
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