My girl Zelena was so slay this season. Everything about 3B is just so good! Zelena is a great antagonist and character in general and the flashbacks with her are amazing. I also really liked captainswan time travelling. The only thing I didn’t like was Rumple being defeated basically the whole time but that wedding at the end saved it!!!
Instead of the fairytale folks being cursed again and brought back to Storybrooke, they are stuck in the Enchanted Forest
Snow and Charming start to rebuild their lands to keep themselves busy, trying not to be consumed with sadness over being separated from their daughter once again
They go back to their beautiful castle, tho very run down, as the true King and Queen of the Enchanted forest but everywhere they go they start to see Emma and Henry
Hook goes off in search of his ship like in the show
Regina stays good and ends up feeling all the guilt and regret of her actions
She is determined to truly make up for her past sins, and after a bit of time she decides to leave the charming and the castle to figure out how to do this
that is where Robin Hood comes into the picture, she tries to ‘rough it’ much like bandit snow (tho she stills wears her ridiculous outfits) but can’t get the hang of it
Robin comes across her actually trying to light a fire by rubbing two sticks together (because she is trying abstain from magic), he is charmed and she is annoyed
All the while the wicked witch is wreaking havoc, and she starts to zero in on the charming, ruining all the work they have put into rebuilding (this brings all the main characters back together in the Enchanted storyline)
Hook finds Emma in New York and this time has enough memory potion for both her and Henry, he tells her he has a magic bean to take them to the enchanted forest and that her parents are in danger, everyone is in danger
Emma agrees right away to go, and Hook tells her if she goes with him, there won’t be a way back, he only managed to get 2 magic beans
One to get to Emma and one to get to the Enchanted forest
Emma and Henry still agree to go, and the 3 venture to the Enchanted Forest
That’s all I have so far but I want to possibly turn this into a fan fiction, tho I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s been done before
Tho I am not sure if I am going to add Snow’s pregnancy in
Also Emma would wear fairy tale clothes which I love and in my imagination I can actually dress Snow nicely unlike the show
But most importantly charming family is the biggest part like it should be
Summary: Being back in Storybrooke brought up a lot of emotions in Emma—some forgotten, some new, and mostly unpleasant. Is that why she literally seems to be turning green with envy? And what can she do about it? (canon-divergent-ish from 3x14)
A/N: Hello! I am still here! This is just a kind of silly idea I've had floating around for a while, and finally finished. All the thanks to @optomisticgirl for looking it over! Hope you enjoy it!
rated T | 5.7k | AO3
Emma was wired with nervous energy as she and her dad shuffled into the loft. Finding the Witch’s hideout—and apparently that she had been holding the supposedly-dead Dark One captive—was definitely jarring, but it wasn’t the only thing that had her on edge.
That moment with Hook in the woods was still playing through her mind.
“If it can be broken, that means it still works.”
Despite the distance she’d put between them after it (even though she came dangerously close to closing it), the idea lingered. She hated that he wasn’t as wrong as she wanted him to be, but mostly, she was envious that he could still have such an optimistic outlook, especially knowing that he’d been through as much shit as her, if not more, in the heartbreak department.
Jealousy wasn’t a good look on anyone, but that hadn’t stopped her from metaphorically taking on the same pallor as the forest around her. So she was going to try to ignore that—and him—as much as she could. There were much bigger issues at hand. But for now, she’d settle with a nap and a drink.
Cruelly, though, this new curse had taken her mother’s expectant condition into account, and upon inspection of the cabinets and fridge, there wasn’t a drop of anything harder than ginger ale in the loft. She was making a mental note to bug Granny for the good stuff once she got back to the inn, but her mom had a different idea.
“Well, Zelena left this tea here,” Snow offered, holding what looked like a homemade tea bag. “It’s green, so it’s got too much caffeine for me, and your father doesn’t like it. Why don’t you take it?”
Eh, what the hell; it would do in a pinch. And Emma did have to admit, as she sipped it from one of the mugs she’d favored before the first curse had broken, that it was probably the best green tea she’d had in a while, even better than from her favorite sushi place in New York.
It worked, for a bit, even though it made her a little homesick for the Big Apple. (The shot of whiskey she eventually got from Granny helped, too.)
And, like she was prone to, she swallowed down all those difficult feelings as she drifted off to sleep that night.
═══════════════
The alarm on her phone came way too early the next morning, even if it was one of her favorite songs. She started to groan and curl inward, until she remembered that Henry was still asleep, and quickly silenced both her phone and herself. She shivered a bit as she got out from under the thick covers, wishing she could stay in the warmth but knowing she had stuff to do.
That didn’t stop the brief pang of jealousy as she looked over at Henry, still asleep and snug in his bed. But that was why she was doing this, right? To make sure he stayed safe and comfortable? She’d take a nap this afternoon or something.
As quietly as she could manage, she grabbed some clothes and headed into the bathroom to get dressed and ready. Except—was it just her, or were the lights in there terrible? She knew she was probably a little pasty after having spent most of the last year indoors, but she didn’t think she looked…green.
It looked better after she put on her foundation, though, so she finished her makeup, pressed a kiss on Henry’s head, grabbed her coat, and headed downstairs to meet her parents and the rest of their motley witch-hunting crew.
She blatantly ignored the flip of her stomach when she saw Killian was already in the sitting room, quickly jumping into business with her parents, who were also expectedly punctual. They set a plan for the day, and if Killian noticed that she intentionally put distance between them—both during their meeting and in their plan of action—he made no effort to breach it, thankfully.
Though even that was its own kind of torture—that he knew her so well as to give her space. Ugh.
Anyways. The rest of the day went without event—no progress, but no setbacks, either. She’d take that as its own kind of win, and couldn’t wait for one of Granny’s grilled cheeses for dinner.
At least, she had been, until she walked into the diner and saw Killian seated at the counter, leaning across it with a lascivious smirk on his face as he apparently flirted with Ruby. That jealous feeling from this morning turned her stomach again, so badly that she made a dash for the restroom. She thought she heard a “Swan” spoken on her breeze as she crossed the dining room, but she didn’t want to stop.
In the privacy of the ladies’ room, she took a deep breath. The nauseous feeling dissipated, but the longing didn’t quite. She splashed some water on her face to cool the flush that had arisen, and put a bit on her neck, too—but when she brought her hand back, it wasn’t red on her throat…it was more green, all along the left side. Not anything dramatic, but a noticeable change from her normal skin tone, and she couldn’t blame it on the lighting this time..
What the hell? Was there something wrong with the water? Maybe she should shower at her parents’ tomorrow.
But for now, she just tied her scarf tighter around her neck and decided to call it a night; there were some Pop-Tarts in the room that would have to suffice (goodness knew she’d had worse meals in the past).
She hit something warm, solid, and wrapped in leather when she emerged, though. “Love, are you alright?” Killian had a steadying hand on her shoulder and worry in his brow.
“I’m fine; just tired,” she said quickly, stepping away from him—and pointedly avoiding his eyes.
“Swan, I know that’s not the whole of it,” he protested as she started to move for the stairs.
“Well, it’s certainly part,” she tossed back. “I’ll see you tomorrow; tell Ruby I said hi.”
She probably didn’t need to say that last part, but the jab felt good as she took the stairs two at a time. (The fact that he had no response—and knowing it was a low blow—wasn’t something she’d think about until she was safe in her room. She also may have feigned a headache as a reason to dim the lights, lest Henry notice the odd spot on her neck.)
═══════════════
It seemed like the spot had faded the next day; or, at least, she’d done a good job of convincing herself it had. She still needed her scarf to cover it, though; winter in Storybrooke necessitated one, so no one would really notice.
In fact, she was feeling totally fine until she got down to the dining room. Henry had headed down first (only after promising not to talk to strangers, which was still most of town) and she saw him across the way, seated at a booth, laughing. For a minute, she was confused, until she saw David was sitting across from him.
She should have been happy to see that, even without Henry’s memories, he was still getting on well with his grandfather, and how good David was with him regardless. She may still have a hard time accepting David as her father, but there was no denying the man’s paternal leanings.
The longer she watched, the more that sour, jealous feeling stirred in her stomach again. Henry didn’t have a complicated relationship with his father—not that he knew about, anyway; and he didn’t have to grapple with all the fairytale BS in his background. (She may have told him that he came via stork when he asked when he was 5, but that was still more probable than being shoved through an intra-realm portal in a tree.)
But at the same time, she didn’t want to rain on their good time with her descending mood, so she took the last seat on the counter instead. Granny almost immediately noticed the way she was slouching in her seat. “Hot chocolate and bear claw?” she called out from the other end of the bar.
“Please,” Emma gratefully replied.
It only took her a minute to get the necessary sustenance to Emma, and she expertly slid them across the counter. But before Emma could even pick up the mug, Granny’s firm grip was holding her chin. “Hold on there, girl; you have something on your nose.”
Emma had never known the feeling of a grandparent tending to her; it was simultaneously touching and embarrassing—especially when Granny used a little too much force trying to wipe away whatever was on her face. “Huh; it’s not budging. How did you get green on there, anyway?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and peering closer.
Shit—more of that? What the hell? “Oh, I must have knocked into something and bruised it,” she quickly lied, hopping up off her stool and out of Granny’s grasp, covering her nose with her hand. “I should…probably go look at it; I’ll bring the dishes back,” she blurted out, grabbing her plate and mug, and hurrying back upstairs (well, as fast as she dared with a mug of steaming hot cocoa).
Once back in her room, she set the food items aside and ran to the bathroom, flicking on the light. Sure enough, there was a greenish smudge on the side of her nose—not terribly dark, but noticeable.
Quickly, she grabbed her concealer stick and attacked her nose. A few times. That seemed to moderately cover it up. But this was getting weird; just what was in the water here that was causing—whatever this was? A rash, maybe? She’d gotten hives from nerves a couple of times; maybe this was related?
She stared for one more minute, but then just sighed and put her concealer in her pocket. There were bigger things to worry about than some weird blemish.
To her dismay, she ended up needing it more often than she expected. It seemed like every time she was in the restroom, she was reapplying makeup on some new spot. The rest of her nose changed color after a meeting in the mayor’s office, where Regina and Robin were shamelessly flirting (and honestly, they should just get together—but she envied that they both seemed so comfortable together); she had to cover up a spot on her chin after patrolling the woods with Robin and Roland and being in awe of how great a dad Robin was (she was jealous of how confident he was, and maybe a bit that Henry didn’t have any positive male role models like Roland did in abundance); and nearly caked it on the back of her hand during another stop at Granny’s, just after seeing a mouthwatering-looking grilled cheese on someone else’s plate.
As she frowned at her pallor in Granny’s washroom, still coveting that sandwich, she had to remind herself that envy didn’t look good on anyone, even though that was all she’d been feeling all day.
Wait—was that it?
Was she literally turning green with envy?
This was Storybrooke; stranger things had certainly happened. (Flying monkeys, anyone?)
But…this seemed like a step too far. No, it was just a weird rash or something. She’d just make a dermatologist appointment when they got back to New York, she’d get some cream, and it’d go away in a couple weeks. Yup, that was all.
And everything was fine until she went back out to meet Henry for dinner. She glanced around the dining room for him, only for her stomach to turn more than once.
First, when she saw Killian seated at the counter with Tink, deep in what seemed like a friendly, light conversation. There was a salacious smirk on his face, but Tink looked to be giving it right back to him—especially when he threw his head back and laughed, showing off the cords of his neck and that constantly teasing bit of chest hair that seemed to become even more exposed as his body heaved and shook. She’d love to have something like that with him, but her damn walls and worries kept that from happening.
Forcing herself to look away, her gaze settled on her parents, seated together on one side of a booth. The way they were cuddled together was almost sickly sweet, but what really got to her was the way David’s hand rested high on Snow’s so-round baby bump, likely feeling her future little sibling move around. God, was Granny chopping onions? She wiped some mist from her eyes, but it was hard to ignore the overwhelming jealousy she felt—both that her baby sibling would always know they were loved and wanted, and that she had to go through her own pregnancy just like she’d done everything else in life: alone.
God, she was queasy from how much it stung—both of those sights. Hopefully no one had seen her yet because, oh god—she was gonna be sick.
Fast as she could, she ran back to her room, just making the toilet in time before bile came up. She felt flushed and angry and bitter, even if she really had no reason to feel those things—or every reason to, and had just been triggered too many times in one day.
She turned back to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing a bit on her face to hopefully cool her overheated skin. She closed her eyes and did briefly enjoy the sensation; it helped a bit. At least, until she opened her eyes.
Because when she did, it became blatantly obvious that her hands were green.
And so were her forearms, when she pushed up her sleeves.
And then she looked in the mirror—and let out a yelp. Because whatever this new skin condition was had covered her entire face and neck now—even her scalp, when she moved her hair a bit to check. It wasn’t an ugly green, at least—kind of a light fern-y color—but still, so wrong.
What the fuck was going on?
She felt her face; her skin didn’t have any different texture than it usually had, so maybe the rash idea was out.
Algae in the water, maybe? No; that didn’t do…this, whatever this was.
She’d look perfect if she wanted to audition for Wicked once they got back to New York, but there wasn’t enough concealer in the whole town to cover this up until then.
For a moment, she was envious of the way she looked when she woke up that morning—and, to her horror, watched herself turn a shade of green darker as that jealous feeling overcame her.
Fuck. She hadn’t been wrong—she was literally turning green with envy.
She groaned and hung her head. This. This was why she wanted to go back to New York. Where none of this stupid magical shit happened. At least, she had to assume that was the cause; she’d worry about the ‘how’ later; for now, she just had to not make it worse.
Maybe if she just stayed away from the stuff that seemed to be triggering it, it might reverse itself? With all the other crap going on, she didn’t want to pile this on—but at the same time, she knew trying to go out and about would inevitably draw attention to it, and her mom or someone would want to fix it.
But mainly—how the hell would she explain it to Henry?
So yeah, trying to resolve on her own was the best plan of action.
She called down to Granny to see if she could run up some food; the old wolf was confused by the request but complied, and Emma was careful to make sure she’d gone back downstairs before opening the door to grab the (perfect, beautiful, delicious) plate of grilled cheese and onion rings.
Playing the headache card again bought her another night in the dark with Henry, but she’d have to come up with a valid reason for that tomorrow. (Was it logical to say there was a power surge and the room was out of electricity? Even though there were other empty rooms on the floor? Eh, that was a tomorrow Emma problem.)
Thankfully, he didn’t question it again, and she was able to chalk up the hoodie wrapped tight around her head to the room being drafty.
But the next morning was another story. She woke before he did and tiptoed to the bathroom, but there was no change in her complexion. Damn.
She managed to get back under the covers and wrap them around her head before Henry stirred. Bless her caring boy, he figured she was still asleep and moved quietly around the room as he got ready before gently shaking her “awake”. “Hey Mom, you want to get some breakfast?”
She had to feign sounding ill. “Sorry, kid; I’m not feeling the best,” she said weakly. “Maybe go see if Killian wants to go with you? And ask if you can hang out with him today?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just a stomach bug; I’m feeling a little green around the gills,” she said, then winced at the accuracy. “Give me a day and I should be fine.”
“Are you sure? Want me to get you some ginger ale?”
“Mm, maybe later; I just want to sleep right now.” Thank god her internal lie detector wasn’t hereditary.
“Alright,” he said, though he sounded uncertain. “I’ll check on you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she chuckled. “Have fun.”
She felt him press a kiss to the blanket wrapped around her head, then waited until she heard the door click shut to remove it. Hopefully, she could convince Granny to do delivery again.
Several minutes later, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling her phone absentmindedly (she’d been about to call Granny when she got distracted by a Facebook notification) when a sudden, insistent knock on the door made her jump and drop the device in her lap.
“Swan? Are you alright, love?”
Dammit. She should have known Hook would want to check up on her after Henry talked to him. Though, based on the way he’d been flirting with every other woman in town the last two days, she was mildly surprised.
“I’m fine,” she called back. “Just a stomach thing; I’ll be good by tomorrow. Can you watch Henry today?”
“Of course, but who’s going to look after you?”
She scoffed. “Me. I can take care of myself.”
“You don’t have to, you know,” he said softly; she almost didn’t hear it through the thin door.
“I’ve made it this far,” she bit back. “I’ll survive another day.”
“Can I bring you anything, then?”
“No!” she yelled, mostly out of panic; knowing him, he wouldn't be satisfied to leave her something without actually seeing her. “I’ll be fine; just—go.”
He sighed, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him hanging his head in frustration. “Can you at least open the door for a moment? Assuage my worries?”
She rolled her eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I look super gross.” That part wasn’t entirely a lie, at least.
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“Trust me,” she lamented, looking over her chartreuse hand. “Seriously, just—take Henry fishing or something, or go hang out with Tink; I know you’d be happier hanging out with her.”
“Swan, you do realize that by insisting on my absence, I’m far more likely to want to stay?”
Emma groaned at his persistence and flopped back on the mattress, making her phone clatter to the floor.
“What was that? Hold on; I’m coming in.”
“No!” she shouted again, jumping up and running for the door. Henry hadn’t locked it so Hook had no trouble turning the knob. But she was on her feet immediately, and he’d only opened the door a few inches before she was slamming her whole body against it, forcing it shut.
“Emma, what the bloody hell is going on?”
“Nothing! Can’t I just have a day to myself?”
“If it were that simple, then why feign illness?”
“Well, I thought that meant people would leave me alone, but I guess I was wrong.” Who knew she’d long for the days when she didn’t have people looking out for her—but, more importantly, expecting her to save the day? She held her hand up, and sure enough, it turned another shade of green darker. At least she’d have good camouflage the next time she went into the forest.
“Perhaps it’s because people care about you,” Killian snapped. He may not have said it specifically, but they both knew he was referring to himself. “Have you considered that?”
“Yeah, well, maybe they care too much. The sooner they figure that out, the better.” She was being dramatic, she knew, but until she got over this thing, it’d be better to keep people at arm’s length.
“Swan,” he nearly whined. “You can’t possibly still think so little of yourself. There are so many people here who—”
“Don’t even start,” she cut off. “I’ve heard that hope speech before. But it’s not exactly something you can easily accept when your whole life, you’ve been some orphan freak. No one wants that.”
Well, now it was getting personal, it seemed. Why did he always have that way of cutting to the deep of her issues?
“You are not some ‘orphan freak’, love,” he replied, almost indignantly. “You are a fierce, strong—”
Okay. It was time to shut him up. Without even thinking, she swung the door open and finished his sentence for him. “Green-skinned weirdo?”
It was rare she was able to render him speechless; this situation wasn’t quite the confidence boost it normally would be, though. His jaw hung slack and she could see his eyes roving over what skin he could see (not much outside of her hoodie and sweats).
After an eternal several seconds, he closed his mouth and swallowed. Then, to her surprise, he gave her a smirk. “That’s quite the look, Swan—it rather complements your eyes.”
She rolled her eyes; of course he’d turn this into flirting, so she tried to close the door on him. But he stopped it with his hand. “Hold on, darling—might I come in? I suspect you don’t want to draw any wandering eyes into our forthcoming conversation.”
She hung her head; he was right—they needed to talk, but she didn’t want anyone else to see her. “Where’s Henry?”
“He’s downstairs with Ruby.”
She snorted. “Surprised you’re not there to properly teach him how to flirt.” It slipped out automatically.
“Beg your pardon?” Killian sounded slightly offended.
“You heard me,” she scoffed. “I saw you with her yesterday; I know you can’t resist her charms,” she replied, mimicking his accent (poorly).
His brow furrowed, but not in anything resembling the shame she wanted to see on his face; no, his eyes were wandering over her own face and neck in a way that made her feel exposed. She looked away, down at her feet, but that was when she noticed that the skin of her hand was yet darker. Dammit.
She just sighed and stepped aside, extending an arm to invite him in. He slipped into the room swiftly and quietly with a grace that she was doing her damnedest to not be envious of; surely there was a maximum on this thing? (Plants could only turn so green, right? Maybe this was a…chloroform? No, chlorophyll—thing. She’d never paid much attention in science class.)
She closed the door quickly behind him, and he turned to face her, his jacket swishing distractingly around his legs and making it seem like he was taking up more of the room than he actually did. Or maybe it was just the overall immensity of his presence in the room, or the weight of the tension between them.
“Is it safe to assume that this isn’t a cosmetics choice?” he started, gesturing at her face.
“Obviously,” she confirmed, rolling her eyes. “And last I checked, my foundation hadn’t gotten moldy.” Though she did need some more—she’d just about used hers up with all of this.
“Am I to gather, then, that it’s something a bit more…supernatural in its occurrence?”
“If that’s your fancy way of asking if it’s magic, then yeah; at least—I think so,” she shrugged. “I don’t know how or why it started all of a sudden, but every time I feel jealous, I get a little more…like this. Looking like the freaking Wicked Witch herself.”
“Do you think it was her?”
“I don’t know; maybe,” she huffed, then flopped down on the end of the bed. “I hadn’t exactly gotten that far. It’s not like I’ve really had a chance to think about the things happening to me. It’s as good a guess as any, but it doesn’t solve a damn thing.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he concurred, his voice gentle, and she could almost cry—it was the first time anyone had just simply agreed with her in nearly a week and let her vent. “What started it?”
She recounted as much as she could remember over the last couple of days—the little things, like wanting to sleep in or coveting a sandwich, and the bigger emotions from last night when it came to her parents and Henry. She couldn’t bring herself to mention anything regarding her emotions towards him, though.
He listened, but tilted his head when she was done. “That doesn’t seem like everything, love. I’m no expert on magic, but I know it involves emotion, and you haven’t described anything particularly deep.”
“What, seeing my parents getting ready to have the perfect life with their new baby isn’t a deep enough emotion? Why would they still want me around when they’ll have everything they ever wanted with that one?”
It was a cathartic release of everything she’d been holding in on that subject pretty much ever since they got back to town. Killian said nothing, just stared intently, seemingly inviting her to go on—so she did.
“And Henry—I’m so jealous of the fact that he doesn’t have to deal with all this magical bullshit, but even the fact that he’s missing those memories is magic in itself and…god, I wish I was still there with him. I miss our old life, and I feel like such an awful parent having to lie to him constantly here.
“And you!” she continued, now on a roll. “I’m still mad and a little heartbroken over the Walsh crap—absolutely not in the market for a new guy, at all—but you’re here and being all caring and I think, y’know, maybe? But then I see you flirting with Tink and Ruby and I just remember—why on earth would you want someone with all my baggage?”
She paused to catch her breath. Then, in a small voice, ended with, “And how much of an asshole am I for thinking all of this?”
She wasn’t prepared for whatever judgment was on Hook’s face, so she just fell backwards against the bed and threw her arm over her eyes.
No response came immediately, but then she felt a dip in the mattress near her and the springs squeaked as Hook took a seat a respectable distance away. “A completely normal one,” he finally said. “Perhaps even justified.”
She rolled her eyes, even if they were still hidden under her arm. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. It’s not uncommon for an older child to feel replaced by a younger one; even if the age gap is a bit more dramatic here, given the course of your life, it’s completely understandable. And it’s even more so that you miss what you and Henry had; even if it started falsely, the last year was real, and special, it sounds like.” There was a bittersweet edge to his voice at that, reminding her that he still hadn’t been fully honest with her regarding his past year. Not important now, though.
“And, love,” he went on. His careful fingers found her wrist and gently pulled her arm away from her face. She was hesitant to meet his gaze, but when she finally did, the condescending look she was expecting wasn’t there—only a small, almost insecure smile and understanding. “I don’t know why you’d think I’d be concerned about the complications of your past, when my own is significantly moreso—a fact of which I know you are aware.”
He had her there; it was no use to try to argue that fact.
“And when it hasn’t stopped me from admiring you thus far,” he added, a bit quickly—like he was blurting out a confession, even though he’d never exactly hid his feelings. She certainly hadn’t forgotten the Echo Cave, or their brief encounter prior to that. The one that meant a lot more than she’d told herself it did.
Although—she’d kind of just admitted as much, hadn’t she? She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she blushed (and wondered what color it came up as).
“Yeah, well, I’m sure your daydreams didn’t include some green freak,” she countered, rolling on her side away from him and crossing her arms. Even if she had just accidentally admitted her feelings, that didn’t mean she was ready to pursue them right away. So back behind her walls it was.
“Emma,” he sighed, sounding almost exasperated. Good. He stood and stepped around her, looking down at where she was pouting. “Despite my care for my personal appearance, I’m not actually that shallow. I don’t give a damn what’s on your outside; your spirit and your soul are what’s beautiful to me. And don’t you dare doubt it for a second.”
She swallowed; he sounded genuinely angry, and she could see something resembling hurt within the fire in his gaze. She sat up. “You really mean that?” she asked quietly.
He sat down again next to her. “Bloody hell, love; how else can I convince you?”
Her entire body was suddenly aware of how close his was to her—even more than their moment in the woods the other day. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling heat from the adrenaline of their conversation, or just off of him, or both, but she found herself swaying ever so slightly closer to him, chasing it, until her face was hardly even an inch from his.
He was watching her carefully, his blue eyes taking her in under the studious set of his brow. She held his gaze, but then glanced at his mouth—and that was all it took.
Almost involuntarily, she leaned the rest of the way in and found his lips with hers. He stiffened at first, but only for a fraction of a second before leaning into her, his hand finding its way into her loose hair.
She hadn’t forgotten how skilled he was in this department, but it was a nice refresher; like their first time, she grabbed his jacket to get closer and deepen the kiss. His hand slid down, gripping her waist, and she felt his hook settle on her other hip.
And as they sat there making out, it was like a weight lifted off her—yeah, she was dealing with some pretty heavy feelings, but she didn’t need to feel guilty about it; she just needed to feel them, and then move on. The people that loved her would love her no matter what. She maybe wasn’t ready to admit that was what the situation was with Killian, but he was on her side—and that was enough.
And goddamn, could he kiss.
She couldn't help it—she was craving more and threw her leg over his lap to straddle him. But he wasn’t ready for that and ended up falling back on the mattress, bringing her with him. “Oh, shit—sorry!” she blurted out (while trying to catch her breath).
He just laughed, that deep chuckle that did nothing to tamper her growing arousal. “It’s plenty fine, love,” he wheezed, grinning with his eyes squinted shut.
She at least rolled to the side so she wasn’t crushing him while he tried to catch his breath, and couldn’t help but laugh a bit herself. Finally, he turned his head to her and opened his eyes, a soft expression settling over him. “There you are, Swan,” he said, reaching across and brushing her hair out of her face. “Looking more yourself already.”
Huh? She glanced at her hand where it had settled on his chest, temptingly close to the open vee of his tunic. It was back to its normal (probably too) pale color.
“Though I must admit, the green had been growing on me,” he quipped. She lightly slapped his chest where her hand rested. “You seem to be in better spirits, then,” he observed.
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Thanks for getting me through that.”
“Anytime, love,” he said softly, and she knew he meant it.
So she kissed him again.
(Several times.) (And maybe a bit more than kiss.)
═══════════════
They did eventually meet back up with Henry, who had been hanging out with Ruby in the meantime. He might have given Emma a knowing smirk she pretended to ignore, but was mostly happy she was feeling better. (And later, when he got his memories back, was far too amused by the fact his mom was dating Captain Hook.)
She might have leaned a little bit harder into her parents’ hugs that week. And might have enjoyed a couple more grilled cheeses.
But the most satisfying moment came during an encounter with Zelena at Granny’s, once they knew she was their enemy. She looked at Emma and sneered. “Why aren’t you green?”
Emma glanced over her shoulder at Killian, who was giving her an encouraging smirk. “Guess I just didn’t let envy get the better of me. Better question is: why aren’t you?”
Zelena screamed in frustration and disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. They hadn’t beat her yet, but with everyone who loved her on her side, they were bound to yet.
Though if she took a few extra kisses from her pirate for moral support…that was her business.
Since we’re on the 3B train tonight, do you have any fun CS mutual pining headcanons or anything like that? 3B was filled with so much slow burn it was insane.
I absolutely head canon that their rooms at Granny’s were close to one another, and they would both find themselves standing outside the other’s door wanting to knock, but never going through with it.
Emma would press Henry for every detail about the times (I think there was more than just the one day) he and Killian had spent together. Asking what they talked about, lying to herself that it absolutely wasn’t to determine if he’d mentioned her at all and what he might have said. And Killian did likewise.
I’m sure I have others, but it’s been so long since I watched 3B. Really need to go back and revisit that arc, because you’re absolutely right. The slow burn was delicious.
