Remember when Emma and Killian made pancakes and all was right with the world? And how everyone’s minds turned to all the smutty goodness that was and could have been, especially considering the large and sturdy nature of that table?
Well MY mind went somewhere completely different. As it does.
700ish words of nonsense. Thanks to @spartanguard for the pep talk
The Heist
“What are you plotting, pirate?”
Lost in his own thoughts, Killian looked up in surprise and straight into the face of Granny Lucas, coffee pot in hand and piercing gaze giving him the once over. Something in her eyes made him feel sure she could indeed read his thoughts - a feeling both disconcerting and with some potential.
An accomplice of Lady Lucas’s standing could be just what he needed - but first, he would need to be sure of her loyalties.
Mock offence at her assumption seemed a good starting point. He clutched his hand to his chest, shock plastered on his face. “That’s quite the piratical stereotype you are perpetuating milady. Why would you think I would be plotting…”
“Cut the crap, Captain,” she interjected, eyes rolling skywards. “You don’t work a diner for 30 years and not learn to read your regulars. That’s your plotting face. So, what cockamamie scheme is that water-logged brain of yours cooking up?”
Killian narrowed his eyes at his interrogator, sensing something amiss in the way amusement twinkled behind her stern facade. There was something not ringing true about her confidence, despite all assertions about her long years of skill-building. There was more to her inquiry than met the eye, of that he was certain.
The older woman’s steely gaze shifted for the briefest second, and suddenly it all became clear.
“Ah, Emma’s mother has been in this morning, I assume?”
To her credit, Granny held her composure for longer than he had predicted, before the twitch at the corner of her lips gave way to a full blown chuckle.
“She seemed quite flustered when I told her about the weekly specials,” she said, indicating a coloured chalkboard behind her. “Could barely look me in the eye when I mentioned my ultimate pancakes.”
Served her right for her lack of courtesy, Killian thought, perhaps a little uncharitably,but Granny wasn’t finished.
“Not much for keeping secrets, the poor dear, so it didn't take much to get the whole sordid story out of her,” Granny grinned. “ Just make sure you two keep your “pancake making” out of my establishment, thanks very much. I don't want the health inspectors around.” The delight in the woman's face as she exaggerated the air quotes spoke volumes about how long she had waited to have the upper hand in their ongoing banter and Killian found it hard not to reward her with a grin.
Especially as he knew full well that ship had already sailed. Several times, in fact.
A confirmation of that fact was unlikely to net him an ally in his endeavours, however, so he held his tongue. Not so his companion, who seemed most eager to hear every detail Snow White had been unwilling to share, and for whom no question seemed too forward.
Given the way he had teased her over the years, he could hardly take offence.
“Did you really tell her you were going for a cold shower?”
“Aye.”
Granny chortled happily at that thought. “You’re incorrigible, Captain.”
“Pirate,” he stated with a shrug, confident at this point in their conversation that he had indeed found the accomplice he needed. She was enjoying Snow White’s discomfort far too readily to have qualms about a tiny bit of banditry...
“Speaking of pirates, are you going to let me in on the plan now? Back to your old vengeful ways? Someone walking the plank?”
Oh yes, she was exactly who he needed.
“I was actually thinking about a small heist. Game for a spot of petty larceny?”
“Is Leroy a loudmouth?” she said with a grin. Without another word, she reached around and untied her apron strings, folded the garment carefully and placed it on the counter before leaning towards Killian and beckoning him to do the same. “So, what are we after?”
Killian ran his fingers across his chin, the image of a flustered Snow White mingling with the memory of cold, cold water on his skin. Frustrated in every possible sense, he had no intention of a repeat performance and he was going to do whatever it took to ensure that eventuality.
“You and I,” he began, pausing slightly to enjoy the excitement in his partner’s eyes. “We are going to retrieve a key.”