Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 172: What a Lovely Way To Burn, or, Killian Learns the Upsides of a Storybrooke Heat Wave
Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 172: What a Lovely Way To Burn, or, Killian Learns the Upsides of a Storybrooke Heat Wave
Pairing: Captain Swan
Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)
Genre: Season 3b canon divergence–I realize it was winter during 3b, but for this story’s purposes, I needed a very not-winterlike heat wave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Killian frowned fiercely as he felt a bead of sweat make its way down his back beneath his thin, cotton shirt. He’d long since shed his leather duster and even the vest beneath. Damn this infernal heat!
Had Swan brought him back to Storybrooke in that yellow vessel of hers, or to the pits of hell? Being a seaside burg, he’d been under the impression he was in for a temperate climate.
He had most assuredly been under the wrong impression.
This morning, when he’d ventured from his room into the common area of Granny's establishment, one of the other guests had turned on the moving picture box (the TV, he believed he’d heard someone call it), and a man stood before a map of the area and detailed the weather they could expect for the day.
“Well folks, we’re in for a hot one,” he said. “A heat wave of epic proportions is set to hit the Storybrooke metropolitan area today. Temperatures are expected to hit the high nineties. We might even hit triple digits! We haven’t seen weather like this since the curse broke–the first curse, that is. I have no idea what the weather was like during the missing year, mainly because I have no idea about anything during the missing year.”
Killian shook his head as he sipped at his morning coffee. First wicked witches, then flying monstrosities, and now a heat wave. Why had he ever come back from the Enchanted Forest?
Emma walked from the back room into the diner, her arm slung around her lad and a lovely smile on her face. Ah yes. This was why.
He’d endure far more than a hot day in order to be with her.
“Hey, Killian!” Henry said, hurrying over to his booth and taking a seat. “You guys making any progress on the skip you’re chasing?”
Killian hurriedly moved his left arm under the table so as to hide his hook from the lad. He knew Swan wished to keep up the ruse, as Henry’s memories had yet to return, but he wondered how much longer they could keep him in the dark. There were, after all, flying monkeys about, and Henry was a perceptive lad. He was bound to figure out something was amiss sooner or later.
Emma reached the table, face reddening. “Henry! You can’t just intrude on someone’s breakfast!”
Killian waved to the other side of the booth where Henry had already taken up residence. “It’s no intrusion, love. You both are more than welcome to join me.”
She smiled gratefully at him, before sliding into the booth. “Looks like it’s gonna be a hot one today,” she said, glancing up at the TV.
“Aye,” Killian said with a grimace. “So it would seem.”
“Hey Mom! Are you gonna be busy with your case all day?” Henry asked excitedly. “Maybe if you guys have a little extra time, we could go swim at the beach!”
Emma shrugged. “I mean, we’re kind of at a standstill right now. No sign of the Wick–uh, I mean the skip. I don’t see why we couldn’t get some beach time in. What do you think, Killian? Wanna join us?”
Killian’s smile lit up his entire face. “I’d be delighted.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
By the time their beach excursion began, Killian was rethinking his state of mind. She was trying to kill him. There was no doubt about it. She was trying to burn him alive with desire–in a way that was most certainly not appropriate with her lad about.
It all started about an hour after breakfast ended and Killian, Emma,, and Henry went their separate ways. Swan had knocked on his door and presented him with the strangest article of clothing he had ever seen. They appeared to be short pants of some sort, but never had he seen pants like these. They were a deep, royal purple, and throughout were drawings of songbirds. Across the arse was emblazoned the single word “Charming”.
“So, I figured you probably didn’t have any swimming trunks,” she said, her tone a touch self-conscious. “I asked David if he had any spares, and he gave me these. Apparently Mary Margaret had them custom made to reflect who he is or something, and when I told him they were for you, he thought it would be hilarious. Told me to take pictures.”
“I’m…I’m meant to wear this to go bathing in your realm?” he asked, holding the abomination of an article of clothing between two fingers and pouring over it.
“I mean…you can’t exactly swim in your leathers,” she said.
He grinned saucily at her, playfully wiggling his eyebrows. “I could always not wear my leathers.”
She rolled her eyes, grinning and shoving him playfully. “Yeah, let’s try not to traumatize my son any more than we have to. Plus public nudity’s a crime. I’d rather not have to arrest you on my day off.”
He chuckled. How he’d missed this–the flirting, the playful teasing. He’d missed everything about her, but he’d especially missed how buoyant she made his spirits.
“Very well,” he conceded. “In the interest of not corrupting your son–and not seeing the inside of your brig–I shall wear these–what did you call them?--swim trunks. But what manner of shirt am I meant to wear?”
She looked flustered at that, averting her eyes. “Uh…well, most guys just wear the trunks and no shirt.”
He grinned again. “Why Swan, I’m shocked. If you wished me to get half-naked for you, all you had to do was ask.”
She rolled her eyes again.
Suddenly it occurred to Killian that he had one more difficulty that most men of this realm did not. He reached up to scratch behind his ear. “But what am I meant to do about this?”
He waved his hooked arm before her.
“Well, I mean, you can leave the brace and cuff on if you want,” Emma said, “but Killian, you can also take it off.”
“I rather doubt you wish to be subjected to the sight of my stump, love,” he said in a small voice, eyes looking at the carpeting. “The wound had to be cauterized and stitched quickly, and I’m afraid it is rather unsightly.”
She was silent for a moment, and then she reached up, turning his face toward her. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your missing hand, Hook. You know that, right? Neither Henry, nor I care about your stump. It’s just a part of you.”
He felt warmth suffuse him. Though he didn’t have Swan’s superpower for detecting lies, there was no doubt that she spoke with absolute sincerity and conviction. “Thank you for that.”
“Welcome,” she said breezily, “although I can’t guarantee Henry won’t ask you awkward questions about amputation. He is a twelve-year-old, after all. I’ll talk to him about appropriate topics of conversation.”
Killian chuckled. “I’m well aware of the inquisitiveness of the pre-teen lad. Not to worry, Swan.”
They stood smiling at each other for a moment, and if Killian didn’t know better, he’d have believed Emma wished for his company–perhaps even wished for a repeat of the kiss he’d tried at her apartment door (preferably without the knee to his nether regions this time). But after a moment, she seemed to think better of it, shaking her head slightly and taking a step back.
“Yeah, so I’m going to get Granny to put together a picnic for all of us. Meet out in front of the diner in, say, half an hour? We can take the bug down to the docks.”
“Sounds good, love.”
Seeing the blatant look of interest–maybe even want–in Swan’s eyes when he emerged from the diner and headed toward her vehicle almost made it worth his while to wear these absolute travesties of “swim trunks”.
“Like what you see, love?” he purred as he reached her, standing tall so his chest–bare of all but a generous peppering of hair–showed to full display.
Her cheeks reddened, and she stammered, “Just get in the car, Hook. Henry’s waiting.”
Apparently the lass was so flustered she couldn’t even come up with her normal witty repartee.
He grinned as he obeyed and got into her vehicle, but his grin turned to a groan when she reached over to help him with the buckle of the car’s restraint and her hand brushed his chest. Had the temperature suddenly risen even higher?
But it wasn’t until they reached the beach that Killian realized he was in serious danger of spontaneous combustion before this day was at an end.
While the lad ran toward the water, ready to frolic, Killian helped Swan spread colorful towels along the sand, and then she reached for the hem of the short, rather formless bathing dress she wore, and before he could divine what she was about, she pulled it up over her head, displaying far more creamy white skin than he had ever expected to see outside of his lurid daydreams. Indeed, she was clad only in two tiny swaths of fabric which left very little to his imagination.
Killian felt his jaw drop.
“Like what you see, Hook?” she asked, turning his own question back upon him.
For a moment he merely swallowed hard, unable to speak, sure his desire for this woman would consume him whole.
“It’s…” he began, voice squeaking like an inexperienced lad. He cleared his throat. “It’s rather…daring, isn’t it?”
She laughed, before sitting gracefully on her towel and rummaging in the bag she’d brought with her. “It’s called a bikini,” she said, “and I had my suspicions you may like it.”
“Is this the customary attire for women of this realm when bathing?”
She shrugged. “For some. Others like a one-piece suit, or some combination of the two. Have I shocked you, Hook? I never would have taken Captain Hook for a prude.”
He scoffed, before looking her slowly up and down in a way that brought the heat to her cheeks. “A prude I am not. I’m just not accustomed to seeing a woman in this state of undress outside of the bedchamber.”
“So my question remains,” she said, leaning toward him. “Like what you see?”
He groaned again. “Gods, yes.”
Henry took that moment to reappear. Probably for the best. The thoughts Killian was having were hardly conducive to a public place. “Hey guys, hurry up! The water’s perfect!”
“Hold on just a second before you go running off again,” Emma chided, reaching once again into her bag and pulling out a plastic bottle. “Don’t forget the sunscreen.”
Killian watched curiously as Swan opened the bottle and squirted a generous dollop of white, coconut scented cream onto her hand and then began applying it to the lad’s skin.
“What precisely is sunscreen?” he asked curiously.
“You don’t know what sunscreen is?” Henry asked with a raised eyebrow. “It keeps you from getting a sunburn.”
Killian felt his face reddening yet again. “I’ve lived a rather sheltered life, I suppose.”
Swan snorted. “A swashbuckling pirate leading a sheltered life? That’ll be the day.”
“A pirate?” Henry asked, turning to him with eager eyes. “You were a pirate?”
“Er…” he said, looking at Swan, unsure how he was meant to answer that.
“Uh–yeah,” Emma said. “Didn’t I tell you, Henry? Killian, um, well, he does this pirate reenactment show thing on a ship. That’s why he was dressed like that.”
For a woman with the ability to spot lies, she was hopeless herself at prevarication. The lad, however, did not seem to notice her falsehood. Instead, he looked eagerly back at Killian.
“A pirate? Like Captain Hook?”
Killian shot a startled look at Emma, but she just shrugged. “Aye, I suppose so.”
Henry narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look like Captain Hook. No curls or mustache or anything.”
“Perhaps,” Killian said, “the problem is that your Captain Hook doesn’t look like me.”
Henry shrugged. “Can I go back to the water now?”
Emma nodded and the lad scampered off.
“Nice save,” she murmured as soon as Henry was out of ear shot. “I need to be more careful what I say around him.”
“No harm done I suppose,” Killian said. “I find myself quite curious, though, to see a rendering of what your world believes to be Captain Hook.”
She laughed. “We have got to watch Peter Pan sometime. The look on your face when you see your Disney counterpart is going to be priceless.”
Killian raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Something tells me I’ll rather dislike what I see.”
She laughed again.
“The lad is perceptive, though,” Killian continued, going back to the main topic of conversation at hand. “He’s bound to–”
He stopped abruptly as he watched Emma squirt another generous dollop of the sunscreen onto her hand and then begin applying it to her arms, her legs, her chest, her stomach.
Was the woman trying to kill him?
“Bound to what?” she asked.
Killian cleared his throat. “Bound to notice things are amiss at some point or another.”
“Yeah,” she answered, sounding utterly unaware of what she was doing to him with her ministrations. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Hey, can you do my back?”
His eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Do…your back?”
“Yeah,” she said, holding out the bottle to him. “I can’t reach it on my own, and I don’t want to burn.”
She…she wished him to rub lotion onto her back? She truly was trying to murder him, burn him alive with the want of her.
He must have taken too long to answer, because she turned toward him with questioning eyes–that slowly widened as she saw the look in his own eyes. “I…um…I can have Henry do it if you don’t want to.”
Killian closed his eyes and groaned. He was on fire, but what a lovely way to burn. “The wanting is not the problem,” he muttered. “But no matter. I’m fully capable of completing the task you’ve assigned me.”
As he applied the lotion, caressing her silky soft skin, moving steadily from the nape of her neck down toward her delectable arse, he began to wonder if he’d spoken the truth. The thoughts he was having were most assuredly NOT fit to be engaged in in public or in the company of a child.
He was in need of a cold and bracing shower.
“Come on guys! Aren’t you ever going to be ready?” Henry asked, running back to them once again.
Saved by the lad again!
“As it happens,” Killian said, getting to his feet, “I’m ready right now. Lead on my boy.”
What followed were several of the most enjoyable hours Killian had spent in years. He was reminded of the days of his boyhood before his mother had passed. She’d often take Liam and him down to the beach, where they’d frolic and play until the sun went down.
Killian helped Henry build a sand castle–complete with moat and drawbridge built of twigs they’d found along the shore. They swam, all three playfully splashing each other. They dined on sandwiches prepared by Granny, and they combed the beach for interesting rocks and seashells.
Finally, as afternoon turned to dusk and then night fell, it was time to return to the inn. They gathered their things and headed back to the car while Henry chattered a mile a minute about all they’d done that day.
Later, back at their rooms, Emma closed the door behind Henry and then turned back toward Killian. “Hey, thanks for joining us today,” she said, smiling happily up at him. “I think we all needed a little break from the stress of Wicked Witch hunting.”
He reached up and brushed a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear, returning her smile with a tender one of his own. “You’ve no need to thank me, love. It was my very great pleasure.”
She smiled again, looking at his eyes, and then focusing on his lips, her hands flexing at her sides. He wanted nothing in the world more at this moment than to pull her toward him and kiss her breathless–and from the way she was looking at him, it would seem she wanted the same–but Killian was determined to let her set the pace. And so he waited for her to make up her mind.
After a moment where the tension between them sizzled as hot as the pavement that day, she took a deep breath, and then stepped back. For a moment Killian felt an intense stab of disappointment, but then he schooled his features. Swan may not be ready to give herself over to her feelings for him yet, but they were there. If there was anything this day at the beach told him it was that.
He was a patient man. He could wait until she was ready to move forward.
“Well…” Emma said awkwardly after another moment. “Guess I better hit the sack. No doubt it’s only a matter of time before the next crisis hits. Need to get rested up.”
“Goodnight love.”
He watched as she disappeared into her room and then shut the door before turning to his own room across the hall. No, Killian had never been a fan of hot, summer weather, but if it was to afford him days like this, he may need to reassess his opinion.
Notes:
–Like many places in the U.S. right now, my little corner of the country is experiencing a significant heat wave right now. Some of the ladies on my OUAT Discord decided we should use that fact to our advantage–keeping in mind the fact that literally EVERYTHING can be made into a CS fic if you try hard enough. And when I think of heat waves, what comes to mind? Swimming–it may be the only outdoor activity that feels even remotely tolerable in weather like this. And with swimming involved, I could not resist introducing Killian to the modern wonder that is the bikini. I suspect Emma’s right. He’d rather like the article of attire when it’s being worn by a certain blonde savior-princess!
–But lest this fic venture into territory far more explicit than a T rated fic should, I decided to add Henry into their swimming excursion. And after all, who doesn’t love Captain Cobra and Captain Cobra Swan?
–Shout out once again to the ladies of the OUAT discord for helping me design the swim trunks David lent Killian.
