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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 177: The Four Disappointments of Killian's Birthday

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.)

Other Chapters: (from the beginning) (previous chapter)

Tagging a few people who may be interested (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the list): @sailormew4 @annaamell @flslp87 @emmateo26 @bethacaciakay

@ultraluckycatnd @effulgent-mind @ilovemesomekillianjones @kat2609 @brooke-to-broch

@missgymgirl @galadriel26 @the-lady-of-misthaven @charmingturkeysandwich @jennjenn615

@laschatzi @kimmy46 @snowbellewells @iamanneenigma @daxx04

@nickillian @gillie @britishguyslover @ginnyjinxedandhanshotritafirst @kmomof4

@linda8084 @golfgirld @captain-swan-coffee @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious

@laughswaytoomuch @allyourdarlingswans @winterbaby89 @facesiousbutton82 @therooksshiningknight

@lfh1226-linda @tiganasummertree @jrob64 @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv

@i-will-sing-no-requiem @bluewildcatfanatic @laianely

(ao3)

January 26, 2019, around 4:00 pm

Emma cursed as she dropped the cake pan and then shook her burned hand as tears filled her eyes.

Everything was going wrong today. Everything.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Last May, she’d won the final battle, and the entire town had finally gotten their happy beginnings. She and Killian had taken a well deserved honeymoon, sailing the Jolly Roger down the coast and to the Caribbean. No new villains had shown up, no existential crises.

Wasn’t their happy beginning life supposed to be perfect now?

Don’t get her wrong. She was happy, happier than she’d ever been. She had a husband she loved, a family, good friends, a strong community, and a town where the worst crisis she had to deal with was Doc disturbing the peace after one of his brothers crashed into his Miata. She wouldn’t give up this life she and Killian had built for themselves for anything.

But into every life–even the happiest–sometimes the rain would fall (or more appropriately, the snow). Today was one of those days.

Last fall, when Killian and her parents had planned and organized an elaborate, town-wide 32nd birthday party for her, something had occurred to Emma: In all the time they’d known him, they’d never had a birthday celebration for Killian.

The thought made her incredibly sad. After all he’d done for the town, after all he’d done for her, after all he meant to all of them, they’d never even taken the time to ask him when his birthday was, let alone celebrate it.

That night, after the party as they lay cuddling in bed together, she’d asked him about his birthdays, and his answer had only increased her sadness.

“I hardly remember my birthday anymore, Swan,” he’d said, his hand rubbing her back as he held her to him. “It’s been so long since I celebrated it, so long since anyone gave a damn about it, that even I forget to mark the day most years.”

It had taken some prompting from her, but in the end, she’d gotten him to admit that he’d been born on January 26, 1781, and from that moment on, she’d been planning it–the most amazing 238th birthday party anyone had ever had.

Granted, it was probably the only 238th birthday party anyone had ever had, but that was entirely beside the point.

She and Henry had spent hours planning the party–to be held at Granny’s on his birthday night, with the whole town present–a huge cake, gifts, his favorite meal, the rum flowing freely, the whole nine yards. She’d come up with some excuse to get him there that evening, and then everyone would jump up and yell “Surprise”

The only problem? She hadn’t accounted for the fact that January was right smack-dab in the heart of a northeastern winter, and what tends to happen in the heart of a northeastern winter?

Snowstorms.

It was just her luck, that one of the biggest ones their area had seen in decades blew in the day before Killian’s birthday. What the rest of the Land Without Magic had named the storm, Emma neither knew nor cared, but they’d christened the storm Winter Storm Ingrid–for obvious reasons. They’d been under a Winter Storm Warning, a Blizzard Warning, and a Cold Weather warning for nearly 48 hours by the time Killian’s birthday dawned cold and white.

She and Killian had been working nearly around the clock for the last two days, being the town’s only law enforcement. Oh her dad still stepped in to help out from time to time, but after he’d pulled a double shift, she’d finally sent him back home to be with her mom and the kid while she and Killian soldiered on, responding to the endless calls to the sheriff’s station–slide offs, small fires from faulty space heaters, the electricity failing, drunk and disorderly conduct. It was utter chaos–so much so, it made Ingrid’s spell of shattered sight seem like a walk in the park.

Finally, at 11 am on Killian’s birthday morning, her dad had returned to the office with reinforcements–all seven of the dwarfs–and absolutely insisted the two of them get some rest.

“We got your back, sister!” Leroy said. “This storm is nothing a little hard work and dwarf ingenuity can’t handle!”

They’d returned exhausted to their house, only to find the second disappointment of Killian’s birthday–the freezing rain that had kicked the winter storm off had downed a powerline, leaving them utterly without power–or heat.

Killian winked at her and made some over-the-top innuendos about ways they could keep each other warm, but in the end, they were both too tired to make good on any of them and had fallen fully clothed into bed, asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

When Emma awoke at 2 pm on Killian’s birthday afternoon, the third disappointment of Killian’s birthday became glaringly obvious. It was still bad out there. Really bad. Regina had just declared a level 3 travel restriction and warned that she would start throwing fireballs at anyone who was stupid enough to be out on the roads for anything less serious than a heart attack.

There was nothing for it. Killian’s birthday party would have to be cancelled.

It was quite a blow. All their hard work, all their planning, ruined. With the travel restriction, even Henry, who had spent the last few days at Regina’s, would be prevented from celebrating with them.

Undaunted, Emma had decided to make the best of the far-from-optimal situation. Maybe they couldn’t have a town-wide birthday party. Maybe they couldn’t celebrate with their son or other family. Maybe they couldn’t even leave their house until their next shift at the sheriff’s station, but they were together. They could have their own birthday celebration, right? She could whip up something for dinner and they could eat it and then cuddle in front of the fire.

And what was a birthday celebration without a cake? Granted, her culinary skills were….less than gourmet…and baking would be made even more difficult by their lack of electricity, but she was resourceful! She had a fire, basic ingredients, a cake pan and the internet to search for no-oven cake recipes. She could do this!

Or so she thought.

She’d managed to mix cake ingredients and fashion a makeshift oven out of a dutch oven over the fire. All seemed to be going well until she noticed thick smoke seeping out of the pot. She’d pulled the whole concoction out of the fire, only to find not a fluffy vanilla cake, but a charred, black monstrosity.

And it was at that moment that she discovered the hitherto unbeknownst to her hole in her oven mitt.

So here she was, sitting back on her heels in front of the fire, her hand burning, tears of pain and frustration streaming down her face, finally ready to admit defeat.

“Swan?” Killian called in alarm, rushing to her side, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said, before looking down at her smarting appendage and amending her answer, “well, technically yes. I did burn myself, but that’s not….Killian, it’s ruined! It’s all ruined!”

Killian helped her to her feet and over to the sink, where they discovered the fourth disappointment of Killian’s birthday–given the fact they had well water, when the electricity was out, they didn’t even have running water.

“Can this day get any worse?” she ground out.

Killian chuckled. “Don’t tempt fate, Darling. Here, wait a moment, I’ll be right back.” She watched him step out the front door and gather a large pail full of fluffy, white snow before returning to her and placing her burned hand in the icy pile.

It felt good, so good against her burning skin, and she let out a quick sigh of relief before the tears started flowing again.

“Killian,” she said, “It’s your birthday, and I wanted everything to be so perfect for you. We planned a party, and then the blizzard happened. I was going to make you a cake, and then…well”

She gestured aimlessly toward the dutch oven where her confection was still listlessly releasing wisps of smoke.

Killian glanced skeptically toward it. “That was meant to be a cake?”

She glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“The point is,” she continued, “I wanted you to have a birthday that made up for all the lonely ones in your past. Killian, you mean everything to me–to Henry, to our family–and I wanted to do something to show you that.”

Killian kissed her softly, and when he pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes. “Swan…” he swallowed hard, taking a moment to contain his emotions, “I’m honored and humbled. I don’t need a fancy party. I don’t need a cake. I don’t need any of it, as long as you’re by my side, but the fact that you would go to such trouble just for me…I don’t even have words.”

She leaned forward and kissed him hard, her non-injured hand coming up to pull him toward her. “You really aren’t disappointed?”

He chuckled. “Disappointed is the last word I’d use. Swan, you are bloody brilliant. Amazing.”

“But your party….”

He waved her concern away. “It’s been a few centuries since my last birthday party. Postponing this one for a few days is no hardship. In the meantime, I have you all to myself on my birthday, and that is a delicacy far more enjoyable than even the most delectable cake. What say we dress your hand and then adjourn to our bedroom where I can properly express my gratitude.”

Notes:

–Surprise, I’m back! I don’t even know how long it’s been since I last added to this collection, but one of my New Year’s resolutions was to write at least 2500 words per week. (I have spectacularly failed pretty much all month…but the year is still young!)

–If you live in the United States, you probably are well aware of where I got the idea for this fic. Last weekend, a powerful winter storm slammed a good 40 states, leaving devastation in its wake. Luckily my area didn’t have the freezing rain or the power outages, but we did get a lot of snow, followed by bitter cold, all of which trapped me in my house for a good 4 days. What better way to spend the time than to make my favorite fictional pair suffer the way I was suffering.

–Add to that the fact that Monday was Colin O’Donoghue’s birthday, and I had all the perfect ingredients for a Fluffy Friday fic! With regard to the date I came up with for the day of Killian’s birth, that required a bit of math. (Ew! math!) I decided Killian would physically be the same age as Colin, so I figured out the year Colin was born and subtracted 200 years. As to “238”--Colin was 38 in January of 2019, the winter after OUAT ended.

–Up next: Who knows what or when? Any suggestions? I could be persuaded to write a prompt that catches my fancy.

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