“Bugger,” the key scraped against the lock, light and flighty as though it was teasing him. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth, concentrating harder as if sheer stubbornness would get him to her faster.
His pocket buzzed, and he grunted at the interruption, closing one eye in an attempt at better aim. It took a handful more tries, curing under his breath while the silent anger of his cell phone thummed as if alive in the back pocket of his jeans.
Rob would no doubt be looking for him, annoyed that he’d left, or perhaps worried as to where he had gotten to, disappearing out the back entrance, jacket abandoned in the booth, hailing a cab and returning to the apartment he hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.
“Ah ha,” he grinned, turning the knob quickly, the smell of cranberry candles- I don’t care if it’s not Christmas yet, babe, I’m burning it- hanging softly in the air. They had gone shopping, him smiling indulgently as she skipped around Bath & Body Works, thrusting bottles and jars into his face- smell this one!- asking which he preferred. When the dozens of overly scented products had started to smell the same, he had pulled her to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, her hands occupied holding three different soaps, and pressed a kiss to her mouth, tasting her smile under his lips.
♥️♥️♥️
Tag List (let me know if you would like to be added!):
Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…The Tale of a reunited family, an inescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan
♥️♥️♥️
“I can see three from here, lad,” Killian heckled, delighting in Henry’s frantic searching of the bookshelf, the small multicolored wrapped chocolates glittering in the morning sunlight. He had stayed up late, having plotted for weeks since learning of this pirate-approved holiday- it’s religious, babe, not pirateous- mapping out the perfect places to hide his grocery bag of loot- hiding treasure? That’s a pirate activity, Swan.
She had stolen a handful of eggs from his bag, and he tsked his tongue at her, setting a small egg on the ledge to ensure it would stay in place, before snatching it back and moving to the next location he had selected. “That’s not a word, Swan.”
“It’s on Urban Dictionary,” she defended, cheeks bulging from the eggs she had popped into her mouth lest he try to retake them. His answer was a disgruntled grunt and the side look he shot her told her exactly what he thought of the dictionary he had never heard of.
The morning was slightly less chaotic than Christmas, but the children vibrated with an energy echoing the sugar which awaited them, and Killian couldn’t help but feel swept along with their enthusiasm, heart skipping as he watched Henry kneel and point to the eggs he had hidden in plain view for Hope.
The sight settled something, a small piece of his soul which still remained anchorless and drifting, calling out to the memory of a home they left behind. This was better, his heart whispered, warm and solid in his chest, this is far, far better.
Hope vibrated with excitement, hoping like a bunny through the living room as Henry helped her find enough eggs to fill her small basket. She was sated for the time being, small fingers diligently unwrapping yet another foiled chocolate egg- she probably doesn’t need any more today, kid- attention entirely on her task as she ignored the dramatic hunt taking place in the next room, Killan’s laugh reverberating through the main floor- warmer…ah, no…. cooler now…. warmer- dressed in bunny pajamas Mary Margaret had brought the evening before, declaring she had informed the Easter Rabbit- it’s a bunny, Mom- that it was to stop by the loft on its way through town.
They were heading to the loft for dinner, instructed to bring baskets for the eggs that the Rabbit would leave- rabbits are the same as bunnies, Emma- and the boardgame Henry was telling them about the weekend before.
“Ugh.”
“Getting warmer.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re cheating,” Henry groused, dragging a chair from the kitchen over, the feet scraping angrily over the gleaming hardwood Killian insisted they keep polished with the floor attachment her mother had bought him for Christmas- aye, Swan, I do like this contraption- before hopping on the seat, cawing gleefully when he seized a caramel filled egg from the top shelf.
“I would never,” Killian scoffed, hiding a smile behind the mug of coffee Emma had pressed into his palm, weary eyed and grumpy over the early morning- enjoy this for me, babe.
“You do,” Henry surveyed the room from his new perch, leaping down and dragging the chair behind him to retrieve two candies from the window ledge. “All the time!”
He found two more eggs before gloating that there could not possibly be any more left hidden, and he was more than prepared to move on to the kitchen.
Killian’s response was to raise an eyebrow, push dramatically away from where he had been lounging on the sofa and swipe four eggs Henry had missed from the picture frame above the mantel- Hey! Wait!- smirking as he unwrapped and popped them into his mouth. “Now, the living room is clear,” he ruffled Henry’s hair and picked the chair up to return it to the kitchen.
Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…
The Tale of a reunited family, an unescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan❤
♥️♥️♥️
The motor whined in protest as Emma shoved the vacuum across the carpeted landing, annoyed with the confetti they were still finding- how is this possible? Are we producing it?- from the New Years Eve party her mother decided to throw in their new house. Christmas has been a complicated affair, and while he knew a key to surviving it would be to keep Emma content and comfortable on the sofa with her cranberry ginger ale- these are amazing, babe, you need to try one- and the mess contained as much as possible to the kitchen, it hadn’t been a smooth evening, and there had been more than one awkward silence.
“Everytime you vacuum it smells like burning, love.”
“That’s not my fault,” she snarled at the vacuum, malice taking over her face as she banged the poor contraption against the floor, a veiled threat bordering on a meltdown.
Her emotions had been an erratic mess the last few weeks, far more so than they had been at home. He stopped, hand extended to take the vacuum from her grasp, the threat of tears clear on her face. No, he corrected himself, forcing his body to move once more. This was home.
It had been a mantra of theirs since they had moved into the house, entirely unfurnished and so very much like their move to the cottage that they had both cried that first night, overwhelmed with longing and the old-new-wrongness of Storybrooke. It wasn’t the same. But it was home.
“Have you cleaned it?”
“It’s a vacuum, babe, you don’t clean it, you clean withit.”
“That’s a no. So it will be full of your hair again?”
She huffed and stomped down the stairs, and he counted to ten before the refrigerator door opened.
He pulled the plug from the socket at the wall- it’s not a tripping hazard if you know you need to step over it, babe- coiling it quickly and hauling the small machine down the stairs. He had set up a small workshop in their garage, which had come in handy several times already. Henry had sat beside him holding a laptop steady as a video played on repeat- this is YouTube, and it’s awesome- to teach him how to repair whatever it was that had broken.
“There is more of that juice you like in the garage, love,” he pressed a kiss against the top of her head, the smell of her shampoo, something floral and almost right, filling his chest, “I’ll go get it, aye?” She merely nodded, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a jar of fruit preserve- it’s called jam here, or jelly I guess, I don’t know if there is a difference- which she had happily produced from her shopping bag the day before.
The garage was dark, the high ceiling with it’s exposed rafters reminding him of the barns he had spent the last three years working in, but the smell of animals was replaced by stale motor oil and he supposed, hoisting the vacuum up onto the workbench, there was something painfully poetic in that reality.
Emma has asked him, voice quiet against his skin as he read to Hope one night from a brightly coloured book about a rainbow fish, if he thought Soarise noticed she was gone. His voice had caught in his throat and Hope pulled at the pages as he held the book, falling loose in his grasp. He nodded, not knowing which answer was best, but choosing honesty over anything else.
A slip of bright paper floated in the gentle breeze from the half open door, confetti from over a week ago, and he watched it as it settled in the corner, fluttering as if cornered and alive. A pinboard was hung on the wall in front of him, a leftover remnant from the last owner of the house, and he swiped the square of paper, bright blue like the sea, like the dress Emma wore for their wedding, like the bright clever eyes of their child, and pinned it to the cork. It may not have been the most successful of parties, but it had been theirs.
“Bugger,” the key scraped against the lock, light and flighty as though it was teasing him. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth, concentrating harder as if sheer stubbornness would get him to her faster.
His pocket buzzed, and he grunted at the interruption, closing one eye in an attempt at better aim. It took a handful more tries, curing under his breath while the silent anger of his cell phone thummed as if alive in the back pocket of his jeans.
Rob would no doubt be looking for him, annoyed that he’d left, or perhaps worried as to where he had gotten to, disappearing out the back entrance, jacket abandoned in the booth, hailing a cab and returning to the apartment he hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.
“Ah ha,” he grinned, turning the knob quickly, the smell of cranberry candles- I don’t care if it’s not Christmas yet, babe, I’m burning it- hanging softly in the air. They had gone shopping, him smiling indulgently as she skipped around Bath & Body Works, thrusting bottles and jars into his face- smell this one!- asking which he preferred. When the dozens of overly scented products had started to smell the same, he had pulled her to him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, her hands occupied holding three different soaps, and pressed a kiss to her mouth, tasting her smile under his lips.
♥️♥️♥️
Tag List (let me know if you would like to be added!):
Emma & Killian have found their way back to their own time, but finding their home again will prove to be another adventure entirely…The Tale of a reunited family, an inescapable destiny and the marvels of indoor plumbing.
Thank you to the world’s best beta and most wonderful human ever @elizabeethan
♥️♥️♥️
“I can see three from here, lad,” Killian heckled, delighting in Henry’s frantic searching of the bookshelf, the small multicolored wrapped chocolates glittering in the morning sunlight. He had stayed up late, having plotted for weeks since learning of this pirate-approved holiday- it’s religious, babe, not pirateous- mapping out the perfect places to hide his grocery bag of loot- hiding treasure? That’s a pirate activity, Swan.
She had stolen a handful of eggs from his bag, and he tsked his tongue at her, setting a small egg on the ledge to ensure it would stay in place, before snatching it back and moving to the next location he had selected. “That’s not a word, Swan.”
“It’s on Urban Dictionary,” she defended, cheeks bulging from the eggs she had popped into her mouth lest he try to retake them. His answer was a disgruntled grunt and the side look he shot her told her exactly what he thought of the dictionary he had never heard of.
The morning was slightly less chaotic than Christmas, but the children vibrated with an energy echoing the sugar which awaited them, and Killian couldn’t help but feel swept along with their enthusiasm, heart skipping as he watched Henry kneel and point to the eggs he had hidden in plain view for Hope.
The sight settled something, a small piece of his soul which still remained anchorless and drifting, calling out to the memory of a home they left behind. This was better, his heart whispered, warm and solid in his chest, this is far, far better.
Hope vibrated with excitement, hoping like a bunny through the living room as Henry helped her find enough eggs to fill her small basket. She was sated for the time being, small fingers diligently unwrapping yet another foiled chocolate egg- she probably doesn’t need any more today, kid- attention entirely on her task as she ignored the dramatic hunt taking place in the next room, Killan’s laugh reverberating through the main floor- warmer…ah, no…. cooler now…. warmer- dressed in bunny pajamas Mary Margaret had brought the evening before, declaring she had informed the Easter Rabbit- it’s a bunny, Mom- that it was to stop by the loft on its way through town.
They were heading to the loft for dinner, instructed to bring baskets for the eggs that the Rabbit would leave- rabbits are the same as bunnies, Emma- and the boardgame Henry was telling them about the weekend before.
“Ugh.”
“Getting warmer.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re cheating,” Henry groused, dragging a chair from the kitchen over, the feet scraping angrily over the gleaming hardwood Killian insisted they keep polished with the floor attachment her mother had bought him for Christmas- aye, Swan, I do like this contraption- before hopping on the seat, cawing gleefully when he seized a caramel filled egg from the top shelf.
“I would never,” Killian scoffed, hiding a smile behind the mug of coffee Emma had pressed into his palm, weary eyed and grumpy over the early morning- enjoy this for me, babe.
“You do,” Henry surveyed the room from his new perch, leaping down and dragging the chair behind him to retrieve two candies from the window ledge. “All the time!”
He found two more eggs before gloating that there could not possibly be any more left hidden, and he was more than prepared to move on to the kitchen.
Killian’s response was to raise an eyebrow, push dramatically away from where he had been lounging on the sofa and swipe four eggs Henry had missed from the picture frame above the mantel- Hey! Wait!- smirking as he unwrapped and popped them into his mouth. “Now, the living room is clear,” he ruffled Henry’s hair and picked the chair up to return it to the kitchen.
A/N: So sorry for the long hiatus, life got in the way. But I have every intention of finishing this fic! As always, thank you to my amazing beta @thejollyroger-writer for correcting my mistakes! :)
Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation…
“It’s a lie! It’s all just nonsense! He must have been held up and arrived later than Arthur. Or he had another mission before that. What you’re suggesting is impossible!” Emma shook her head feverishly, racking her brain for more excuses, but nothing else came to her mind.
She hardly dared to think of the worst-case scenario. What if he was injured? What if he was attacked?
But in the end, she wasn’t even sure if it really was the worst-case scenario.
“Emma, calm down! The Council has given Killian until eight o’clock tonight to show up. If he doesn’t, they will hunt him down. The Council hasn’t revealed anything about whether he’s a Bounty Hunter or not, they’re biding their time and refusing to tell us anything.”
“But why? What’s all this secrecy?” She angrily jumped up from her chair and began pacing up and down the kitchen.
“Those are the rules,” August replied in a calm voice as if they were having a casual conversation about the weather. “You don’t understand, Emma, this—”
“If no one tells me anything, of course, I won’t understand! Will you please explain to me what the hell is going on? Even if the Council is just stirring things up, they don’t know anything!”
“That’s enough!” August growled at her and vacated his seat as well. “It’s not forbidden for a Bounty Hunter, nor is it their duty to disclose what kind of orders they have received. Most of them don’t even do that because it would only endanger the person entrusted with the information, and the Council won’t take action — at least, not immediately — if something goes wrong. They will only act when the deadline set in the rules expires,” August explained in an even voice.
“So everything will be clear by eight tonight…” she muttered, staring at the floor.
“Yes,” he nodded quietly and slumped back in his chair.
A/N: So sorry for the long hiatus, life got in the way. But I have every intention of finishing this fic! As always, thank you to my amazing beta @thejollyroger-writer for correcting my mistakes! :)
Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation…
“It’s a lie! It’s all just nonsense! He must have been held up and arrived later than Arthur. Or he had another mission before that. What you’re suggesting is impossible!” Emma shook her head feverishly, racking her brain for more excuses, but nothing else came to her mind.
She hardly dared to think of the worst-case scenario. What if he was injured? What if he was attacked?
But in the end, she wasn’t even sure if it really was the worst-case scenario.
“Emma, calm down! The Council has given Killian until eight o’clock tonight to show up. If he doesn’t, they will hunt him down. The Council hasn’t revealed anything about whether he’s a Bounty Hunter or not, they’re biding their time and refusing to tell us anything.”
“But why? What’s all this secrecy?” She angrily jumped up from her chair and began pacing up and down the kitchen.
“Those are the rules,” August replied in a calm voice as if they were having a casual conversation about the weather. “You don’t understand, Emma, this—”
“If no one tells me anything, of course, I won’t understand! Will you please explain to me what the hell is going on? Even if the Council is just stirring things up, they don’t know anything!”
“That’s enough!” August growled at her and vacated his seat as well. “It’s not forbidden for a Bounty Hunter, nor is it their duty to disclose what kind of orders they have received. Most of them don’t even do that because it would only endanger the person entrusted with the information, and the Council won’t take action — at least, not immediately — if something goes wrong. They will only act when the deadline set in the rules expires,” August explained in an even voice.
“So everything will be clear by eight tonight…” she muttered, staring at the floor.
“Yes,” he nodded quietly and slumped back in his chair.
Emma followed his lead and propped her head on her folded arms.
“Emma, don’t let it get you down, it’s just…” For some reason, he couldn’t continue. Flustered, he paused and bit his lower lip.
“What? It’s just what?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really understand anything either,” he confessed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He obviously didn’t have a good handle on the situation and was visibly tense.
“Did Arthur say anything else? And don’t hide anything from me this time, please,” she sighed in exasperation, closing her eyes. She was already tired of being angry and idly waiting for the next blow. It didn’t matter anymore.
“Well, not much. Nothing significant, really,” he waved it off, but her built-in lie detector was flicking on furiously. She could tell by the look on his face and his eyes that he was holding something back from her.
“Tell me! Don’t spare any details, and don’t try to protect me from whatever it is!” she growled in frustration.
“Emma…” August groaned in despair, almost pleading with her. “I…ah, how do you manage to put me in such an awkward position almost every time? I don’t want to—”
“Damn it, August! Just say it!” she growled, losing her patience.
“Well, Killian’s relationship with that woman, Regina, is pretty clear… I mean… You know.”
Her eyes flashed impatiently at August, who was completely flushed. “No, I don’t. And how would you know?” She replied calmly. She didn’t need to panic because what August said didn’t make sense. It would all clear up; it was unnecessary to overthink this.
In the meantime, she would find out everything she could, and then weigh in with a clear head. She just needed to calm down.
But that was easier said than done.
“Well, Arthur is pretty low down in the hierarchy there, but that was exactly his assignment. He was to blend in as an insignificant nobody and observe every little event, then report back to the Council. In contrast, Killian is quite an influential man in the Vampire Court. Arthur mentioned there was a rumor that Killian had gained a higher position and was Regina’s concubine or something like that. With those beasts, you have to fight for everything, even for a sip of water. Arthur also mentioned that Regina wasn’t the only one Killian got close to in that way. He often got involved with others at the parties … ” August air quoted, saying the word like it was something dirty,” …that took place at their headquarters. But I still think that’s the better part of it, though not from your point of view.”
“Is there anything else?” She didn’t recognize her own voice, it was as thin and shaky as her hands, which she had to press down on the table to keep August from noticing.
“Arthur said he had witnessed one of his duels. They often challenge each other at the Court if they want to rise in the hierarchy, it’s the price they must pay for power. Killian was also challenged, but the other guy came out on the short end. Killian tore the guy to pieces with his bare hands, literally. He killed him within ten minutes, and…Um… Emma, are you okay?”
While August was reciting Arthur’s tale about Killian, Emma got up from the table and walked with shaky steps into the living room. Her head throbbed, and she suddenly felt dizzy and exhausted. She glanced furtively at the pile of blankets and people on the couch. It was a wonder their heated conversation hadn’t woken them up.
Quietly, she crossed the room and hurried up the stairs, straight to her room. She closed the door behind her, leaned back against the hardwood, and stared at the ceiling. Her mind was completely blank, as if it was just trying to protect her heart. Slowly, she let herself slide to the floor and propped her head on her knees.
If this was all true, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see Killian again.
-/-
“Emma! Hey! Open up!”
She found it difficult to rise from the floor where she had sat motionless for a good three hours. She thought, or rather hoped, that sleep would eventually find her, but the endless thoughts in her head had kept her wide awake. Slowly, she got up, opened the door, and stepped aside so Mary Margaret could enter the room. Emma immediately realized that her friend had probably just awakened from sleep. Her tousled dark, short hair and sleepy expression brought a smile to Emma’s face. She was never a typical early riser.
“August told me.” She shook her head as she closed the door behind her. Her sympathetic look, however, did nothing to make Emma feel better.
“What do you think about this?”
Mary Margaret didn’t answer for a few seconds, but walked over to the window, closed it, and drew the curtains before turning to Emma. She could see that her friend was as perplexed as she was.
“I don’t know if it’s true. I think Arthur is trustworthy. I mean, if he didn’t see it, why would he say he did? Why would he lie if there was no reason to? He doesn’t even know Killian, so we can rule out that he has some personal motive. And if it really happened the way he told us, you shouldn’t be thinking about Killian anymore! If this is all true, Killian is just a petty scumbag, waiting for his death sentence. The Council won’t turn a blind eye, that’s for sure. They will catch him. Sooner or later. No one can escape their fate.”
Emma didn’t know what to say to that. It was obvious that Mary Margaret was right. Emma just stared ahead and as hard as she tried to hold it back, the first tear cascaded down her cheek. She hadn’t cried when August told her about Arthur’s experience, not even when she locked herself in her room afterward.
But now, she just couldn’t bear it anymore.
-/-
All day long, she paced restlessly up and down her room. Every minute she glanced at the clock, which seemed to tick stubbornly slowly, her annoyance increased. She couldn’t sit down even for a minute. She walked around like a perpetual motion machine, fretting over everything she heard. Truth be told, both her legs were already starting to hurt, but that didn’t even come close to the throbbing, tearing agony that had been raging in her head and heart for hours.
Mary Margaret came into her room several times to see if she had done anything to herself or the room, and each time she asked her how she was doing. Emma didn’t interrupt her ceremony, she just kept walking in circles.
But now her friend’s face was unusually troubled and frightened, and that brought her to a halt after a few seconds.
“Has the Council said anything yet…?”
“No. He’s here… I mean, they captured Killian,” Mary Margaret replied, opening the door and stepping back. No one was with her, she came alone, though, for a moment, Emma hoped to see Killian behind her in the hallway.
But when the words finally registered in her mind, her stomach twitched in one fell swoop, her throat constricted and a cold shiver ran down her spine. “What?” Immediately she ran down the hall, and with Mary Margaret following her, they headed down the dimly lit corridor.
Their footsteps echoed in the silence. As they turned the corner, they nearly collided with two strangers who shouted scornfully after them. Emma ignored their indignant words.
“He’s on the lowest level,” Mary Margaret informed her. “In the Council Chamber. The others are waiting there, too,” she added.
Emma suspected she was preparing her for the meeting with David, Arthur, and August. For some reason, she didn’t even want to breathe the same air as them. She wasn’t particularly angry with them, but she didn’t want to see them. Especially not their faces, if it would prove that they were right about Killian.
“We’ll be there soon,” Mary Margaret encouraged, turning into a narrow, dark corridor.
Emma didn’t like this place at all; the decor was even more minimalist than upstairs. The smell of centuries-old dust on the bare walls, and the light from the torches that barely let her see anything, reminded her of a mid-century castle. The floor was covered with rough, old flagstones, echoing the sound of even the smallest of footsteps.
Then the hallways began to widen, barely noticeable. Emma didn’t ask anything, she just ran after her friend. If Killian really was a traitor, it could easily be that he was already dead by the time she got there. It didn’t matter if he was guilty or innocent, she didn’t want him dead either way. She tried to keep a clear and empty head, chasing away the horrible images that wanted to invade her mind.
Mary Margaret stopped unexpectedly as the hallway ended in front of a wide, double-leaf, wrought-iron door. Arthur, Will, Robin, David, Eloise, Ruby, and August stood uneasily outside the door. Ruby immediately rushed over to them, while the others stared wordlessly at Emma as if they were afraid she would explode like a time bomb at any moment. Well, it didn’t take much for that to actually happen.
“Are you all right?” Ruby leaned against the wall and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Not really,” Emma muttered, dropping her gaze to her shoes. “When…?”
“They took him in there about ten minutes ago,” Ruby said. “But I can’t imagine what’s all this is about because he really didn’t make a fuss, he didn’t fight back at all.”
“Huh,” Emma couldn’t get a clear word out. Mary Margaret fidgeted nervously beside her.
“Are all the members of the Council here?” she finally asked.
“Yeah. They haven’t even come out yet today.” Ruby nodded. “They’re restless. There’s this woman named Regina who called off the peace talks a little while ago, and then a pretty dangerous guy flies the coop. I mean, I’m sorry Emma, but Killian is…” Ruby muttered, then stomped impatiently. “What the hell is taking so long?
They waited in silence in the hallway for another twenty minutes. Everyone seemed tense, but Emma was sure no one exceeded her stress level.
Then finally, one of the wings of the wrought-iron door opened, and a bright light flooded the hallway. A woman in her fifties with ashen gray hair and a much older man stepped out of the room. They passed in front of them, arguing loudly.
“This is ridiculous! It coincides with Mr. Pendragon’s report about him! The task imposed on him is nonsense! We might as well execute him ourselves…” she muttered.
“My point is that if the assassination goes wrong, it was worth the risk. On the other hand, if he manages to kill that bloodsucking bitch, we can consider the war over,” the man replied.
Despite his toga-like attire, he made no comical spectacle. The furtive glance he gave her made her blood run cold because it was the kind of expression she preferred to avoid if possible.
“For heaven’s sake, Gold! I’m talking about our principles, not the outcome of the war! The boy is innocent, and yet we send him to certain death and—”
“You’re all heart, Ursula, that’s your problem. And Marco’s too, who’s still chatting with him. I can’t believe this…”
Emma stared at them, stunned. What the hell was going on here? And where was Killian?
She turned back to the door, but Killian was nowhere to be seen. With trembling limbs, she took a few tentative steps toward the Chamber’s entrance, accompanied by her brother’s disapproving look. Finally. she spotted him. Killian stood about thirty feet in front of her, accompanied by a tall, clean-shaven man. He had his hands clasped behind his back and stood with his legs slightly apart, listening to the man, who could only be Marco, with an expressionless face. Of course, Emma didn’t hear a single word of the conversation, but she still didn’t dare get any closer. All she could do was wait.
Suddenly, she felt a hand resting on her shoulder. She looked back in surprise, but it wasn’t Mary Margaret or Ruby behind her, as she had expected, but David and Arthur.
“What do you want?” she spat out immediately.
“I’m curious about what happened, nothing else,” David said thoughtfully.
Emma shrugged off his hand and turned her back on them again. She couldn’t look at Arthur either. He hadn’t done anything reprehensible, but she certainly wasn’t taking the guy to her heart.
She preferred to turn her attention back to Killian. With a cautious smile on his face, he bowed his head to Marco and then looked her straight in the eye. His face betrayed no emotion, but he turned back to Marco almost immediately. The older man also turned and looked around. An understanding smile appeared on his face when he spotted her, and with a nod, he let Killian go.
The man left the semi-circular hall through one of the side doors, and Killian walked toward them with quick steps. He looked downright angry now. In a matter of moments, he crossed the marble-clad hall.
“Killian, listen, I really didn’t mean to get you in trouble, I just—” Arthur suddenly stood in front of Emma, causing Killian to pause. She couldn’t imagine what he wanted — if she were him, she would have rushed out of the place long ago. Killian’s face darkened even more as he lifted his eyes to Arthur, and she was almost afraid he would attack the man on the spot.
“Oh really? Then mind your own bloody business next time!” he hissed, taking two steps toward the man so that their foreheads were almost touching. “Do yourself a favor and don’t stir shit up!”
“What’s the matter with you? You act like I got you in trouble on purpose,” Arthur growled as well, and Emma took a step back for safety’s sake, as did David.
“That’s right, Pendragon! Marco mentioned how cordially you described what you saw,” Killian’s voice quivered with rage and his icy magic swept almost explosively through the hallway. Only then did she pay more attention to their argument, and she feel her heart skip several beats. So everything Arthur said was true? “And that’s why they don’t trust me anymore. I’m lucky they didn’t kill me on the spot,” Killian continued.
“Oh, how dreadful. Shall I lend you my pillow so you can cry yourself to sleep?” Arthur began to lose his temper, but neither of them dared to interrupt their argument. Arthur seemed to touch a very sensitive spot because Killian’s gaze flickered with fire, his mouth twisted into a mocking, contemptuous smile. David fidgeted uncomfortably beside her, but she simply waited until they finally finished and tried to remain calm. It didn’t matter if she interfered or not, she wouldn’t find out anything sooner.
“You don’t fucking know who you’re picking on, mate!” Emma saw that Killian was only a hair’s breadth away from hitting Arthur or doing much worse. She remembered what he had told her would happen if he lost his head.
It would all work out… David, Robin, August… surely they could stop him if it came to that. Right?
“Wow, here comes the “I’m the boss” speech, huh?” Arthur laughed mockingly.
“No, Pendragon, there won’t be any grandstanding speeches like you expected with your shrunken little brain. We will have a nice little discussion in the Vampire Court. After all, you love to talk about your time there. Now you can give an exciting report!”
“Are you threatening me?” growled Arthur.
Unlike him, Killian only smiled amiably. “No, of course not. I’m merely warning you. We’re going to have a nice chat in the Vampire Court, understand it as you wish. That’s it. Now, get out of here before I lose my patience!” Killian shoved Arthur out of his way, but this time David tried to step in front of him.
Emma, on the other hand, didn’t have the patience to wait for another argument, so she intervened. “David, knock it off! I want to talk to Killian.”
She grabbed her brother by the arm and pushed him towards the others, who were already on their way out. She was surprised that he let her, but she was sure he would visit her in her room soon. He gave Killian and her an irritated once-over before turning his back on them and following the others.
For a few seconds, she just stared after him. To be honest, she was afraid to look at Killian and dreaded the conversation that awaited them. She didn’t know what to say, even though she wasn’t supposed to be the one to start the conversation. She shuddered as she felt him step around her and slowly turn to face her. He was standing right in front of her, so close that her chest was almost touching his, her nose filling with the familiar sweet scent of him. He gently reached under her chin and lifted her head so she could look into his stormy blue eyes.
“Why did you leave, Killian? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you do… all this? Do you have any idea—” She couldn’t say everything that was going through her mind, Killian’s penetrating gaze making her tongue freeze. She gasped as he pulled her into his embrace and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I’m sorry, Swan. Believe me, if I had known it was going to come to this, I would have told you everything. But you have to understand that I had a good reason to keep this from you,” he whispered in her ear, his voice calming her nerves and almost making her forget all her worries. She leaned her head against his chest and simply listened to the beat of his heart. She knew that at that moment she should have been stronger and tougher with Killian.
“We need to talk about this, Killian.”
“I know, and I promise I’ll explain everything.”
“Let’s get out of here, I don’t like this place,” she muttered, breaking away from Killian’s embrace. She didn’t feel like arguing with him in the middle of a hallway where anyone could overhear them.
She made her way back to her room without a word. She didn’t turn back, but she knew he was following her. He didn’t say a single word until they arrived at the door to her room. He slipped quietly into the room behind her and was so close, she gasped slightly when she turned and almost bumped into his chest.
She didn’t want to touch him again, because then she definitely wouldn’t be able to pay attention to his words. Instead, she walked over to her bed and lowered herself onto the blanket. She looked up at him expectantly. Her throat tightened almost unbearably.
“Arthur also mentioned that Regina wasn’t the only one he got close to in that way. He often got involved with others at the “parties” that were held at their headquarters.”
“So? Where have you been? What was that all about? Tell me everything! I’ve had enough of your secrets, Killian.”
“I… I don’t even know where to begin. I didn’t tell you everything because I was afraid that… well, I suppose in the end it would be clear if my fears were justified or not,” he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but she could see it wasn’t easy for him. “The truth is, the Council took me among the Bounty Hunters as soon as I arrived here. They wanted to take advantage of the fact that I held a good position in the Vampire Court. They sent me back as a spy. It was uncertain if they would take me back or even let me live, but Regina persuaded Zelena, convinced her that my leaving was only temporary insanity. She kept repeating that I must have regretted running away from them. Though I was grateful to Regina for saving my life even though she owed me nothing, I suspected she hadn’t done it out of the goodness of her heart. I was right. She did expect certain… things from me. If I had defied her, she would have executed me without batting an eye.”
Killian paced back and forth in front of her, unable to look her in the eye. He was terrified, of her judgment or something else, she couldn’t tell. But he clearly didn’t want to see the expression on her face.
“So you slept with Regina under duress,” she concluded roughly. She knew he least expected her, of all people, to turn on him, and even though she knew he hadn’t done it for fun, she was furious. But what angered her most was the fact that he had lied. Things would have been so much easier if he had just told her the truth by the lake.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” he nodded. He didn’t even try to defend himself. He looked miserable and could see it on her face that her anger was justified, which weirdly made her feel better.
“And then? Your other sluts didn’t like this, did they?”
“What? What the bloody hell did that bastard say?” Killian snapped in shock and finally was able to look at her.
“He told them that… he saw you with a whole bunch of girls in the Vampire Court,” she replied hesitantly. It was much harder to say it than to hear it from others. Yes, she was jealous, she couldn’t deny that anymore.
“Good God!” Killian came to a halt and put his head between his palms. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but he seemed to be getting more agitated by the second. “I suspect he forgot to mention that it all ended a few months ago.”
“What? What ended a few months ago, Killian?” She raised an eyebrow. She slowly raised herself from the bed and stepped directly in front of Killian, forcing him to look at her.
“When I said that I was living in the filthiest infestation, I wasn’t jesting. And I wasn’t just thinking about the blood,” Her stomach twisted again when she noted the look on his face. “You’re so different… You… I couldn’t handle it, and I still can’t if you turned your back on me for who I was in the past. I haven’t been afraid of anything for a long time… except now this. Back then, I only found joy in physical pleasures. Yes, I’ve bedded almost every lass who I came across, and then, a few years later, I got bored. They were all the same, empty and shallow,” he laughed compulsively. “They came willingly. I didn’t even have to fight for them, they threw themselves at my feet, and I’d had enough. When I finally realized what I had become, I fled. What I did was simply disgusting. And the thing with Regina later… I was mainly afraid that I would grow to lo— like you. According to her rules, I wasn’t even allowed to touch other women. I’m nothing but a sentimental, weak bastard… I should have stayed away from you and not let it get this far, but… I needed you so much, and I still need you. But now I’ve gotten myself and you into trouble, too, and since Regina has become their queen, as her minions call her, the situation has gotten even worse.”
She turned her head away. She didn’t know what to say, only Killian’s words echoed in her mind.
“Say something, please… or just send me away.”
She couldn’t do any of those things, she just cast her eyes down, and the pattern of the hardwood floor became fuzzy. “And what happened today? And last night?”
“I had to return to Regina at her request. I couldn’t get away without arousing suspicion, I had to stay and—”
“Then quit!” she snapped firmly. That was the simplest and probably only solution.
“What?” his eyes widened in shock.
“It’s easy, really. Quit being a Bounty Hunter and stop being a spy. You said you didn’t like doing it anyway.”
“I can’t,” Killian muttered. “Swan, there’s already a bloody noose around my neck. I have been given a new assignment by the Council. I have to kill Regina. If I said no, they would have killed me on the spot. If I make a mistake in the Vampire Court, Regina’s guards will do the same. That’s it!”
She saw nothing in him that would have convinced her he was an unreliable, degenerate bastard. It would have been easier to hate him, sure, but she couldn’t. Killian was not evil, and she wasn’t capable of thinking that of him. Her anger was directed at the Council now, and Regina, it had nothing to do with Killian anymore. She was sure that one day her heart would take her to the grave. But it would be her own fault, she was the one who had instantly taken everyone to her heart, even those she would have done better to avoid.
She let her hand slide gently to his waist, and then pulled him into a tight hug. She tilted her head against his chest, wishing she could stay in this room with him forever.
“But you are better than them! You have nothing to fear, do you?” She wanted to protect Killian at all costs, even if her skills were quite lacking. She didn’t care what he did, she wanted him the way he was. He said he needed her, but the opposite was also true.
“Regina’s guards are made up of the ones I trained with back in the day. I’m only a wee bit better than them, and that’s not enough against the two dozen assassins—”
“They can’t do that to you!” she snarled angrily. This couldn’t be happening.
“Oh, aye, they can,” Killian smiled bitterly. “ I have to do it in less than three days…”
Even after all they’ve been through, she’s still getting used to how easy it is to just be with him because they’re not just sex, the usual urge to run away after a night full of pleasure never crosses her mind when she’s with him. Set in an undefined timeline of the series.
The first rays of sunshine bring her back to consciousness as they break through the thin curtain, and she lets out a short breath because yes, they forgot to close the blinds again. She keeps her eyes closed and focuses on the steady beats of his heart under her palm, her fingers glide through his chest hair almost involuntarily.
He lets out a puff of air and she suppresses a smile, burying her face in his collarbone, inhaling his familiar scent laced with her strawberry shampoo. She suppresses a smile.
She loves waking up before him (which is a rare occurrence considering his built-in alarm clock thanks to his Navy days that usually rouses him at the ass crack of dawn).
His arm then tightens around her (because he can always sense when she’s starting to wake up) and shift her closer, her bare chest molds to his sleep-warmed body. His right hand finds hers on his chest, engulfing it and stroking over her fingers with his thumb once, twice in a gesture that distinguishes him just as equally as his accent or the timbre of his voice.
He pulls her closer, his left arm sneaking under her hip and blunted wrist settling on her back, his nose nuzzling into her hair with a languorous inhale.
“Good morning,” she whispers, and gentle lips brush against her temple. “Sleep well?”
His nod is faint against her head, just enough that the stubble on his chin and jaw brush against her skin. She squirms a bit and feels him smile, his leg winding over hers to keep her still. His hand finds hers on his chest, tangling their fingers together. She tucks their intertwined hands under her chin, and his thumb frees itself to caress her cheek.
She never thought her favorite thing would be to wake up with Captain Hook.
Even after all they’ve been through, she’s still getting used to how easy it is to just be with him because they’re not just sex, the usual urge to run away after a night full of pleasure never crosses her mind when she’s with him. Set in an undefined timeline of the series.
The first rays of sunshine bring her back to consciousness as they break through the thin curtain, and she lets out a short breath because yes, they forgot to close the blinds again. She keeps her eyes closed and focuses on the steady beats of his heart under her palm, her fingers glide through his chest hair almost involuntarily.
He lets out a puff of air and she suppresses a smile, burying her face in his collarbone, inhaling his familiar scent laced with her strawberry shampoo.
She loves waking up before him (which is a rare occurrence considering his built-in alarm clock thanks to his Navy days that usually rouses him at the ass crack of dawn).
His arm then tightens around her (because he can always sense when she’s starting to wake up) and shift her closer, her bare chest molds to his sleep-warmed body. His right hand finds hers on his chest, engulfing it and stroking over her fingers with his thumb once, twice in a gesture that distinguishes him just as equally as his accent or the timbre of his voice.
He pulls her closer, his left arm sneaking under her hip and blunted wrist settling on her back, his nose nuzzling into her hair with a languorous inhale.
“Good morning,” she whispers, and gentle lips brush against her temple. “Sleep well?”
His nod is faint against her head, just enough that the stubble on his chin and jaw brush against her skin. She squirms a bit and feels him smile, his leg winding over hers to keep her still. His hand finds hers on his chest, tangling their fingers together. She tucks their intertwined hands under her chin, and his thumb frees itself to caress her cheek.
She never thought her favorite thing would be to wake up with Captain Hook.
She also never would have guessed he was a huge cuddler, all soft whispers and tender kisses in the morning. He likes everything quiet, unhurried, unstressed, and un-everything that used to define the typical chaos of a pirate captain’s life.
When they eventually make it out of bed and start the day, the teases and taunts, rolled eyes and flirty smirks appear. But she can’t fault him for something she actually enjoys now that she can freely return his innuendo-filled jokes. She likes that she’s the only one who gets to experience the Killian Jones that is underneath all the black leather and pirate swag.
She wiggles a little so his hold loosens, allowing her to scoot further up the pillow so their noses almost touch. His eyes stay closed, black eyelashes swept down and she slips her arm under his head and palm on his shoulder so now she’s the one holding him. He never resists her in the morning, snuggling into the space beneath her chin so his lips rest lazily against her collarbone. He gives her one small kiss when she threads her fingers into his already disheveled hair, her nails massaging his scalp in a perfected pattern that practically makes him purr.
Her lips press against his forehead, and he hums happily in response.
“Did you have a good dream?” she asks and his right arm over her waist moves, one fingertip trailing a line from the top of her ribs down to her hip before it re-settles on her stomach. “Victorious swashbuckling tales and chests full of gold?” She teases and he lets out a soft growl into her neck, rolling his hips into her.
She gasps at the feeling and then she’s on her back, cuddling a sleepy Killian with dawn coming in through the windows, and this was totally not how she imagined his next move. Even after all they’ve been through, she’s still getting used to how easy it is to just be with him because they’re not just sex, the usual urge to run away after a night full of pleasure never crosses her mind when she’s with him.
“A replay of last night, then?” A nod. “Very nice,” she says and presses a kiss into his hair.
“Amazing,” he mumbles, and she smiles. Her hand leaves his hair to cup his jaw, tilting him up so she can see his eyes flutter open for a brief moment.
“There he is,” she beams at him and gets her first taste of his lips, pressing her mouth to his as delicately as possible. They linger a little longer than they will later in the day, the pressure just enough to promise that whatever they face when they leave the room, they will come back here at the end.
She releases him so he can return to burrowing into her like she knows he wants to, his feet kicking off the sheet and comforter in the process. She sucks in a breath as goosebumps erupt over her skin under the blast of frigid air. He knows how cold she gets, but he’s always complaining that she’s a furnace, and the war of the blankets has only become more intense as time goes by.
She scrabbles for a sheet, but he dramatically yawns and rolls further on his stomach so he’s fully on top of her, the weight of his chest pinning her to the bed.
“So much better,” he sighs.
“Killian…” she complains, the comforter just beyond her fingertips.
“One would think…” he starts and pauses to yawn, for real this time. “You’re still stuck in that bloody ice cave. Unnatural…”
“Killian, please. I’m freezing!” She whimpers and he huffs before reaching for the blanket, his longer arm easily making up the distance she couldn’t cross. He pulls the comforter up and tucks the edges in over the top of her shoulders, almost covering his head from where it’s resting on her chest.
“Thank you,” she breathes in relief.
And all she gets in return is a grumpy sounding, ‘Mm-hmm.”
Once her shivers are finally gone, she brings her hands up and starts massaging his shoulders, paying special attention to the knots he gets in his neck from stress and what she thinks is actually a byproduct of tilting his head at people so freaking much. He stretches and turns his head, granting her the angles she needs, while a low rumble vibrates through his chest. It’s not often that he lets her take care of him, and she tries to make the most of it.
She listens as his breaths relax, so rhythmic that they almost put her to sleep. In fact, she thinks he may have drifted back off. She continues anyway until his muscles are loose under her hands, yielding to her suggestions without the slightest opposition.
When she’s satisfied with his comfort and comes to a gradual stop, he doesn’t seem to register it, and now she knows he’s asleep. Her eyes are just dropping closed when his left arm twitches, always the second part of his body that wakes up. She doesn’t think the first part really goes to sleep. He grumbles a moan and rubs his cheek against her, the feeling of his beard sends shivers down her body. He inhales her scent with the corner of his mouth perking up.
“Feel good?” She asks and he nods dozily, pressing a kiss against the curve of her breast. “You about ready to get up?”
His grin grows and she rolls her eyes, but doesn’t miss the scratch of his jaw when he shakes his head no.
“We gonna stay in bed all day?”
His nod is more enthusiastic than she expected it to be, and she can’t help but to laugh quietly.
“You sure you don’t want to go out? Visit the Jolly and teach me how to tie a proper knot?” She asks and starts combing through his hair.
“Gonna have to teach you inside,” he mutters into her skin. “It’s going to rain.”
“Nuh-uh. It’s supposed to be sunny all day.”
He works his right hand out from beneath the covers and holds three fingers. He takes them down to two, then one, and the moment his hand drops back to the bed a crack of thunder strikes outside.
“How did you do that?” She whispers, and his chest shakes against her belly in a silent chuckle.
“Once you’ve been a seafaring man for hundreds of years, you can just feel the pressure, darling,” he says and yawns again, not seeing her blush before she does her best to hide it.
She nods dutifully so he doesn’t look up and bust her for being overly happy at the endearment, going back to focusing on his hair.
“You need a haircut again,” she tells him, and he bats half-heartedly at her hands.
“No.”
“What? I didn’t say I was planning on doing it.”
He lifts his head so his chin is centered on her sternum, his skeptical gaze on a low simmer compared to what she’s received in the past. She bites her lip against a grin and he lays back down, not mentioning out loud what happened the last time she told him he needed a haircut. And then convinced him she could do it.
She winces at the memory. It’s a good thing his hair grows so fast.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” he says, and she doesn’t argue, just focusing on the patter of the rain starting against the windows. But she thinks he takes her silence for something else because he glances up at her again, and even though she smiles sweetly his face falls. The next thing she knows, he’s crawling further up and over her, plopping down on his side and shifting her so she’s curled up against his chest.
“I wanted to watch the rain,” she pouts at him, and with a roll of his eyes, he slides her over his body so she’s snuggled against his left side, facing the windows again. He pulls the blankets back up and straightens them from where they came loose, making sure she’s covered.
“Better?” He asks quietly, and she nods. “Good.”
They don’t speak for a long time, both of them silent as they watch the rain. His stump starts sliding down and back from her shoulder to her waist and she knows he doesn’t like when she’s on his left side because he can’t caress her properly, but he still abided by her whining and it’s not like she cares about it. It’s nice anyway, and she loves him more for it. He trails a line over her skin until all she knows is the sound of water on glass and his touch.
“Weather permitting,” he starts softly when he does speak, “you want to have dinner at that probably terrible restaurant you’ve been eyeing since it opened, recover with some drinking and watching something on the moving picture box?”
She stifles a chuckle because for the life of him he can’t memorize “television”, but he doesn’t mention, probably knowing how his nicknames for modern technology amuses her.
But she blushes when the rest of his words form a sentence in her mind. One of the things she never expected to learn when they actually got together is that Killian likes to date. And not in a let-me-buy-you-a-drink-and-get-you-into-bed way, even though she knows from their trip to the past that he used to do that too, but in a let-me-show-you-off-and-spoil-you kind of way. And she figured that even though they’re technically dating, the dating aspect was sort of unnecessary because they were already in love with each other by the time they became a couple.
Dating, to her understanding, is mostly about testing out a person to see if you could love them, and then after that, you were just together. Like dating a spouse, it just seemed to be a moot point. But a quiet part of her wonders if Killian worries about them becoming stagnant. That if he doesn’t constantly stoke that fire, it’ll burn out. And she doesn’t think it ever would, but she doubts she’ll ever get the chance to know because he wouldn’t dare risk losing her to something like inattention or complacency. Who would have thought Captain Hook would be the one teaching her about healthy relationships?
Because the thing is, they could stop going on dates. They could just always hang out at the house or grab to eat whatever was quick and easy (probably always at Granny’s), lounge on the couch and watch TV and they do those things too, and she loves the domesticity of it all, but he keeps her on her toes when he suggests things like tonight. It’s fun to get dressed up, go out to dinner and have him pull out her chair, laugh and flirt and tease and talk about them and only them, not discussing just the how-was-your-day or guess-what-problem-I’m-having stuff. They leave together and they come home together, but it’s surprisingly, wonderfully romantic.
“Sounds perfect,” she tells him, and he hugs her closer to him for a second before going back to brushing her back with his marred arm.
Dating also helps to kick them out of the bedroom once in a while. Which sounds like a weird problem to have, but they have to be careful.
They spent so long just as friends and reluctant allies. Incredibly close, and fraught with sexual tension, but still platonic. They built a relationship based on trust and respect and not just chemistry, though they have it in spades. And while she always thought the anticipation would kill her, it’s the knowing that’s the true demon between them. Because it’s good, so so good and addicting, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that they are much more than just sex. Especially now that they have the freedom to have it as much as they want.
(Although, another crisis can happen anytime. It’s Storybrooke after all).
His gaze falls to her and he presses a long kiss into her hair.
“I love you,” he whispers and she smiles, her hand on his chest reaching for his right one. They find each other and his fingers slide through hers.
“I love you,” she promises, and his grip tightens for a moment before he faces the window once more.
They have to take the time to see each other, hear each other, spend time loving each other with their words and not their bodies. It took them a long time to come together and they both want it to last, to work, and for that to happen they have to stay grounded to who they are and where they began. So they clean (he cleans and she distracts him). They cook (she cooks and he distracts her). They lay in bed and listen to the rain. They don’t always make it through without eventually attacking each other in a frenzy of passion, but they try. And it isn’t easy.
They can never seem to be together enough and Killian needs to know that she’s not using him for all that he’s between the sheets, and she knows he wants her to be reassured that as much as he jokes about needing to make love to her all the time, that’s not why he wants or loves her. So sometimes they say no for the simple reason of owing each other these moments, the promises that they are more. To respect their relationship enough that it doesn’t become focused on one, admittedly amazing, thing.
He’s careful about it, but it’s still there and he’s doing it right now. His body woke up ready to be joined with hers, and even though they’ve been laying here for a while, he hasn’t made a move to satisfy it. He’s been sweet with his touches and mindful to keep his lower half separate from hers since they’ve been in this position so she doesn’t feel his erection, and the thing is, knowing he’s doing it only makes her want him more, love him more.
She peeks up his face, relaxed and comfortable, unknown endless thoughts sifting through his mind. His arm is light on her back, trailing circles over the dimples above her bottom, his right hand laced lovingly with hers and lying by his hip. He clears his throat and shifts a little, his abs rippling and the sheet pulling down to highlight the deliciously bare, sculpted slant of his hips as he props a knee up.
One little movement. That’s all it takes.
“Killian?” Her voice is a little shaky, nervous even, though she has no reason to be.
She waits until he turns to look at her, calm curiosity in the way he tilts his head and how his stump never pauses, not even for a moment. His eyes are awake and clear, and beautifully unworried. It’s taken a long time for her to say his real name and have him look at her like that.
“Make love to me,” she whispers with a shy smile and he returns it, just the slightest hint of an uptick in the curve of his lips and it makes her grin grow to a full-out beam.
He brings their hands up from his side and flattens her palm on his chest, her fingers instinctively curling around the hair on it. He rubs the back of her hand in a move so smooth she doesn’t know when one action started and faded to another. When he’s sure she’s comfortable, he leaves it behind, his fingertips tracing her face from her temple to her jaw until they rest on her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek when he leans forward to kiss her.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he breathes right before his mouth brushes hers.
He only comes close enough to tease her into wanting more, letting her absorb the fullness of his bottom lip but not fully tasting him. He pulls away too soon but returns to nuzzle his nose with hers, his head tilting like he can’t decide if he wants to lean left or right.
It’s to the right. It’s always to the right.
Carefully, his mouth opens over hers, his tongue dripping in slowly like she’s something to be savored, as if it’s the only chance he’ll ever get and he wouldn’t dare to hurry. And when he does stop and start again, it’s the gift that keeps on giving, final words on repeat, and a prayer immediately answered. Tiny drops that equal a flood because Killian kisses like the rain.
She’s lost somewhere between the drizzle and the downpour when her legs slide over his hip, brushing against what he kept hidden from her all morning. His hand drifts down her body, but instead of pulling her closer, his palm lies on top of her thigh, keeping them apart.
She moans her disappointment and he caresses her skin tenderly, not giving in but asking that she be patient. She’s already forgotten what she was upset about when his hand draws up to her belly, flattening her with a throaty moan, and she can’t help but giggle.
“Something funny?” He mumbles into her skin and she nods her head, sinking deeper into the pillow when he pulls back, propping his head in his right hand to look down at her without rolling off. “Pray, do tell.”
It’s just…” she starts and shrugs, biting her lip as she caresses her hands up his back. “With as much as you were always staring at my ass, I never thought for a second that my shoulder was the real target.”
“First of all,” he says, and his handless arm slides under her, dragging it up her bottom and pulling her closer, “your arse wasn’t the only thing I was staring at. Second, it’s not like I ever stopped staring at it, thanks to whatever genius declared that jeans are socially acceptable to wear by women in this realm. And third, I happen to like this shoulder,” he says defensively.
“So I’ve noticed,“ she teases. “Is that why the two times I’ve dared to wear a strapless dress I barely made it out of the closet?”
“You should’ve known better,” he says seriously, and she can’t help but laugh. “And it’s not like you can blame me. I mean, look at it,” he says and gestures to the body part in question. “It’s smooth,” he tells her, bending to kiss it. “It’s soft…” Another kiss, longer this time. “Deliciously sexy…”
Her back arches when he scrapes her with his teeth, her hips rolling on their own, and just when she brushes against him, he tilts his hips away from her. She huffs a frustrated sigh and her hands leave his back, flopping down to the bed.
“Aw, don’t be like that, pouty,” he says and kisses her cheek.
“You’re being mean,” she tells him, and yes, she’s totally pouting.
“Not mean. Taking my time.”
She frowns a little, unable to argue with his reason despite her impatience. She releases a breath and tries to calm herself down, focusing on his touch. He’s sort of playing with her hair, brushing it back from her forehead in light sweeps as his gaze drifts over her. She studies his eyes, the faint crow’s feet that will only deepen with time, and she can’t wait. She brings up to cup his face, her thumbs massaging over the skin and down his stubble, still not a single silver hair can be found, but she’s a patient woman.
“What?” He asks softly and she blushes. “Really? Again?”
“Yeah,” she nods as adorably as possible and he rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he does it.
He lowers his head, lips lightly brushing her skin, and then he buries his face in her neck. She lets out an involuntary giggle as he starts rubbing his way to her cheek, leaving feather-light kisses on the skin he scrapes with his stubble.
“What does it feel like to you?” she asks when he moves to the other side of her neck and does the same.
“I imagine it feels the same as for you,” He lifts his head and tilts as he considers, then finally says. “Itchy.”
“It’s not itchy to me,” she laughs, and his eyebrow cocks.
“Really? Then how does it feel like, Miss I Know Everything?”
“It’s…it’s complicated,” she says, and he props his head on his hand again as though he’s settling in for a story. “Okay,” she says, and she can’t keep the excitement out of her voice that she’s getting to explain something to him that she’s spent a lot of time thinking about. And the fact that he looks eager to hear just urges her on. “You know how when your arm or leg or hand or whatever fall asleep, when it wakes back up it’s all tingly?”
“You mean when your circulation restarts and the nerves start firing?”
“Whatever,” she says, and he chuckles. “So, when I was a kid, I would always imagine that the feeling came from a Daddy Long Leg-”
“A Daddy Long Leg?”
“The spider,” she clarifies, and his lips twitch like he wants to laugh at her again.
“I’m sorry, do continue.”
“So, I always imagined that a Daddy Long Leg was walking around inside me, only his feet were getting stuck in my skin so every time a leg moved, it would pull at it and make this weird tingling feeling.”
Killian bursts out laughing, head thrown back and everything. It’s really hard to be offended when he looks so cute and happy.
“Let me get this straight,” he says and tries to catch his breath. “You’re telling me that it feels like you have a spider walking around in your face?”
“No,” she says, mock irritation. “Not walking, more like… ice skating. Wait, that’s too sharp,” she mutters and thinks. “Rollerblading!” she says happily. “Definitely rollerblading.”
“Mm-hmm. Because a rollerblading spider makes so much more sense.”
“It does! That’s what it feels like.”
“Itchy,” he whispers with a grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“You just have no imagination, whatsoever.”
He leans forward until his lips are hovering right over her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “That’s not what you thought last night…”
Shivers race through her body and her back arches on its own, pressing her bare chest into his. Her leg slips higher around his waist and this time he doesn’t push her back, his hand cupping her bottom and pulling her closer. Something between a moan and a whimper escapes her when his mouth travels to her neck, soft and wet kisses being placed one after another and everywhere he can reach.
The rain picks up outside and the steady thumping against the glass sounds like her heart in her chest, only increasing when he begins to slide down her. Light grazes of fingertips precede his lips, deliberately relishing every inch of her exposed skin. Maybe that sound is her heart after all.
Her eyes close with a sigh when he cups and massages her breast, the lines in his palm drawing her nipple taut, aching and anxious for the sharp scrape of his teeth. He rubs his cheek against it, rough and prickly hairs giving her some relief but not fully releasing the tension.
“Killian…” she pleads quietly, gasping when he flicks his thumb over her nipple.
His voice is low and deep when he murmurs. “I know.”
She gets one faint kiss but no bite before he continues kissing and adoring his way down her body, lingering over her stomach and her hips, petting and stroking every nerve and sensation to a blistering peak. Her hands come up to fist in her hair, tugging at the roots as she tries to control her breaths. Killian must notice, and she knows he doesn’t like it when she takes the tension out on herself, but she can’t help it. His palm slides up her arm until he finds her hand, untangling it from her hair and lacing it with his before he brings both back to rest on his neck.
“Use me,” he whispers and her other hand joins her first in his hair, but she can’t be anything but gentle when she feels him.
He hooks his left arm under her thigh and she squirms, shamelessly tilting her hips up towards him. It’s useless, though, because the more she rushes, the slower he goes, waiting until she’s still before he blows a stream of air across her clit that is a jolt to her senses.
He chuckles and she wants to dig her nails into his neck and wrench him closer until she gets what she wants, willing to do anything that will relieve the throbbing between her legs. Her grip must tighten without her permission because she hears him wince and then his hand weaves with hers, squeezing lovingly even as he pulls it away and lays it by her hip, his other arm petting her leg as he kisses the inside of her thigh.
She waits as long as she can stand, a plea for mercy ready to leave her lips when his tongue finally touches her: one long slick line from her entrance to her clit. A wave rolls through her body with the tortuously gradual movement, her back bowed by the time he pulls away with a rumble of approval. She collapses back down, panting and dizzy and uncontrollably restless.
“Breathe, Swan,” he says gently, and she can’t help but to laugh a little, unsure how she’s supposed to do something like focus on air when all she can think about is him touching her. How desperately she wants him to do it again. What she would sacrifice for him.
Everything. The answer is everything.
Her free hand threads into his hair and she forces herself to pay attention to the silkiness of the strands, trying to ignore the way his warm breath is somehow cooling her. One of life’s many mysteries.
“Don’t move,” he commands and her muscles lock until they quiver, his hand holding her steady when his tongue dips inside her.
A sound rushes from her mouth, but she has no idea what it is, a curse, his name, maybe both, and maybe nothing because the only thing in this whole world is soft but also firm, full and velvety and delicious as it strokes in and out, twirling and searching and feeling her. He could do this forever and she would never get used to how intimate it is, how special he makes her feel.
Her mind is flashing through all the ways she wants to show him, explain to him, repay him for how incredibly he loves her when he replaces his tongue with a slender finger, curling it inside her to pet the Holy Grail of spots he knows drives her insane with pleasure.
“Oh, God… Killian…” she mumbles as his lips circle her clit, his replying moan vibrating from his throat right into her, and her body spasms.
He’s restless even when tender, scraping and soothing, sips and flicks as he tastes all of her and it’s too much, too good, too strong, and too everything and she wants to make it last, but she never will. Not with the way he moans like he’s enjoying this as much as she is. Impossible when their hands join again, locking them together. Infeasible when he tells her what he wants, what he craves and that’s for her to come for him.
And she does.
Long and slow, wave after wave, he commands passion to pulse through her until she has nothing left to give. And she’s glad, because she’d rather he have all the best parts of her.
Sound comes back to her first, trickling taps of water on the windows, splashes on the pools that have formed outside. Lightning flashes and her world is silver, sleek lines punctuated by black hair, his head resting on her belly. Thunder booms and he looks up at her, a pleased tranquility playing across his lips that mirrors pure adulation in his eyes, and this is the look that tells her that in endless years, it will be his voice that she wakes to and the last one she hears before she sleeps at night. And she wouldn’t want it any other way.
He’s silent now, dropping a kiss to her skin before sitting up, smoothing his hand up her side and wordlessly telling her to turn over. She smiles and rolls onto her stomach, her hands hugging the pillow so she’s perfectly, wonderfully comfortable. There are no words enough to describe how much she loves their bed.
She shivers when his lips touch her spine, goosebumps racing up her back long ahead of his measured ascent.
“Cold?” He breathes when he reaches the shell of her ear and she shakes her head no, but he brings the blanket up and over them anyway, his body warm on top of hers.
He works an arm under her so she’s snuggled in an atmosphere of Killian, his cheek against her own so she can feel him smile between tender kisses to her neck and shoulder. Like they have all the time in the world and they’re going to take every minute of it.
“I love you,” she whispers, and his chest shakes once under a laugh.
“Tell me later,” he says quietly, and she nods because she knows better than to say that when they’re in bed like this. It’s not that he doesn’t believe her, but it’s easier for him to hear it when he knows she’s not being swayed by sex or anything other than her true feelings.
“I will,” she promises and turns her head so she can kiss him fully, re-giving him her words in the best way she can think of and this time, he accepts them.
They’re both breathless when he hooks his left arm behind her knee, drawing it up to her side so she’s open to him. He slides against her and she pulls her lips from his with a gasp, dropping her face into the pillow. The arm he has under her comes free and he sweeps her hair to the side, nuzzling her neck, and she trembles. Her hands need purchase on something more solid and they find the headboard, pushing her back towards him, where she knows he’s waiting.
Long fingers slip through hers so she never feels alone. His forehead drops to her neck and with his breath washing over her skin, he starts to push into her.
They moan together as she stretches around his swollen tip, gradually welcoming him into her body and glorifying in each solid inch he has to give until he’s buried as deep as possible. His heart is hammering against her back and in the pad of his thumb. He waits before he strokes into her again, fiercely controlled strength and hitting the spot he seems to be attuned to that strips her from reason.
Her head whips back and he stills, letting her settle before her moves again. His pace is relaxed and graceful while their bodies mirror each other, the same roll traveling from their hips up to their shoulders so their skin never separates. It’s amazing, like they’re the same person, same soul, all in one body. And it’s something that she’s only ever known with him, the way they can understand each other without ever uttering a word. They just know.
Because she wants to see his eyes, she needs to taste his lips, and as though he can read her mind he pulls out, helping to guide her so she’s once more on her back with her legs around his waist. He comes right to her, dropping his forehead to hers and entering her in one smooth stroke that pulls the air from both of them.
She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately as he makes love to her, his hand sliding up her side and her back, brushing the hair from her face when he pauses to look at her with an affectionate smile. She has no idea how he makes everything so beautiful.
She barely presses against his shoulder, and he rolls them like she wanted, settling her on top of him. He props his knees up to tilt her forward, his hand and stump on her shoulder blades easing her down to him and it’s exactly where she wants to be, both of them smiling when their lips connect. She loves being able to make him happy, and she’s learned precisely how to do it.
She rolls her hips once and he moans throatily, his arms around her waist holding her tighter as he rocks into her.
“Don’t move,” she whispers into his lips, and he chuckles quietly at her repeated instructions. She squeezes her inner muscles around him, and his whole body jerks with a groan.
“That’s cheating,” he tells her, and she bites her lips wickedly.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t like it,” she says and squeezes him again, this time rewarded with a gasp for her efforts.
“Emma…” he starts and pauses when she distracts him with a swivel of her hips. “That is so not the point.”
She bends to kiss him and even though she knows he’s worried about finishing too fast without satisfying her first, she doesn’t see that as a problem at all. She wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t what she wanted. Killian just doesn’t understand that his pleasure means just as much to her as hers does to him and when she can get away with it, she tries to let him come out on top. Not that it ever works because he’ll repay her, over and over, but it’s worth a shot. He deserves to be prioritized.
Her lips travel to his jaw, hitting the spot she knows drives him crazy and scraping it with her teeth, kissing the hollow under his ear that makes him shiver. She’s tracing the vein in his neck with her tongue when she squeezes him gently, using the control she’s mastered to pull tighter against his shaft in one long roll, just as if it was her hand against him. He swells and twitches inside her, his back arching in a way that makes her ego soar.
“Stop that,” he mutters, and she holds in a laugh.
“Be still,” she reminds him and she knows that if he really wanted to stop her he could do it in a dozen ways before she could utter a word of protest, but instead, he just blows out a breath, his fingertips trailing up her spine. “Just relax, feel me.”
She shifts so her mouth teases his, giving him one flicker of tightening, and listens to his breathing hitching.
“Feel good?”
“Mm-hmm,” he nods and takes her face in his hand, looking at her like he’s never really seen her before.
“What?” She asks and he just shakes his head.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” he says softly, and her heart melts.
She leans down to kiss him and he holds her like she’s precious, like she’s something to be cherished. She just wishes he understood that he is, too.
She starts to move slowly, rolling her hips and muscles massaging him at the same time, working him up until his breaths are shallow and head tilted back, neck strained against all that he’s feeling.
He grits out her name and she tells him to let go, to come for her just as she did for him, his grip tight on her hip when he slams up to her, pumping his release where she can claim it as her own private reward.
His body unwinds under hers, taking long breaths to calm his pounding heart as she does her best to soothe him, stroking her thumb over the cheekbone and nuzzling the other side of his neck between light kisses. When he regains the ability to command his arms, he drapes them over her contentedly, good hand tucking her hair behind her ear before he shifts and presses his lips to her forehead.
“I swear, woman,” he says with a light chuckle, “you’re a danger to my reputation.”
“Ungrateful,” she teases, and he laughs again.
“Never. Just…”
“Just what?”
He’s quiet for a long time before he says, “That was entirely your fault, so you can’t blame me at all.”
She presses another kiss to his cheek and sits up. “That’s some apology you got there, Captain.”
“Aye, well I’ve had practice,” he shrugs, running his knuckles up and down her arm. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You better,” she glares mockingly and crosses her arms. “Because I am horribly mistreated and if you can’t satisfy me, I guess I have to invest in a vibrator.”
His eyes widen with a devious grin, and then he’s flipping her onto her back, her breasts bouncing and hair fanning over the pillow.
“You are in so much trouble, princess,” he growls playfully and pretends to attack her neck, sending a burst of giggles to come unbidden from her lips. They cut off with a gasp when he pulls out and then slams all the way into her, still rock hard and hitting that perfect spot. He does it again and her breath seizes in her chest, her whimper of a moan giving light to a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“You were saying?” He says haughtily, and she attacks his lips, tightening her legs around him in an urge to feel him deeper. His tongue delves into her mouth as he thrusts harder, stopping suddenly when a crack of thunder shakes the house.
They both look at the window, what should be blue skies are now black with the storm, water pounding against the glass with no sign of letting up.
“So much for our date,” he mutters, and she smiles, turning his face back to hers.
“Killian,” she says and leans up to kiss him. “Just enjoy the rain…”
CS Neverland New Year 2022: “Hearts Like Wildflowers”
Summary: He was used to the darkness until she brought light into his life with her wild blonde curls and prickly attitude. Even on this godforsaken island, she manages to make him feel alive. (Canon Divergent from 3x06)
A/N: this is my contribution to @neverlandnewyear. This is my first time participating in this event, and I couldn’t be more excited to share this story with all of you! Hope you like it!
He didn’t plan to kiss her again, but it happened anyway.
They have been wandering the jungle for hours. They were still trying to locate Pan’s hideout and had split up from the others, which, if anyone had listened to him, was a bad idea.
The air is so steamy and humid it feels like it’s raining. Her blonde ponytail has doubled in size, with soft curls springing everywhere. It fascinates him a bit as he follows her, trying to figure out how to get her to let him take the lead. Even if he is enjoying the view. Now he’s convinced he can’t get them more turned around than they already are.
“Hey, you hear that? It’s a nightingale, supposedly a symbol of love and anticipation,” he says, trying to make conversation and keep his voice matter-of-fact, standing still. She turns to look at him and starts back in his direction, and he has no idea if she wants to punch him or just walk past him because they have passed that moss-ridden rock three times already.
But her foot catches on something when she almost makes it in front of him, and she stumbles. Her hand reaches out, landing against his chest. He puts his hand and hook on her arms to steady her. She looks up at him, her green eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted. She is very, very close to him.
Oh, bloody hell, he thinks with a harsh intake of breath. Then his hand and hook on her arms draw her against him, and he closes his eyes and kisses her.
Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation…
“Mary Margaret, close everything, even the entrance! Open only to those we know. If any bastard lurks here, shoot them. Emma, take care of Killian and I’ll look around to see if the coast is clear. “
Will acted like a newly minted training officer, his voice authoritative, but Emma had no intention of arguing with him. Mary Margaret merely nodded, indicating that she agreed with the order, and Will slipped out the door into the storm. Mary Margaret slammed the door behind him and began to put the locks on.
The house, like most of the buildings nearby, remained intact, probably because it was a rather sparsely populated area and the residents didn’t return to their homes until late in the evening. That was why David had chosen this apartment, and Emma could now see how good that decision had been. It saved their lives today.
She decided it would be best if she took Killian directly to the upstairs bathroom. She put her arm around his waist and lifted his arm so that it was around her neck. They started walking, slowly, at his pace. They made it their way up the stairs relatively quickly and stumbled into the bathroom. Killian lowered himself onto the edge of the bathtub while she retrieved a bandage from the cabinet and two towels with old bloodstains.
Yeah, well, she’d patched David up a few times too. It wasn’t her first rodeo.
“Are you completely out of your freaking mind? You could’ve died!” She couldn’t hold back her frustration any longer as she walked up to him.
It seemed so absurd, the way he sat there on the edge of the tub, in the flickering orange light of the ceiling lamp, with blood dripping from his skin.
“It’s nothing, Swan. I’ve had it worse itching my nose with the wrong hand,” he replied, looking kind of tired.
She turned up the heater a little, though she doubted Killian was cold at all. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head as she gently reached for his chin and turned his head to the side so she could get a closer look at the wound on his temple. His five o’clock shadow tingled her fingertips.
“A simple thank you would suffice.” His lips twisted into a smile and Emma rolled her eyes. She believed he must be feeling better.
“Okay. Thanks. But don’t do that again! Look at your hand, too! By the time I’m done picking out the shards itbe will be morning,” she grumbled, but she wasn’t annoyed by the potential night’s work, but by Killian’s ability to be completely insane.
As if he didn’t care about his life at all.
“Okay, I don’t think that needs stitches,” she said after cleaning his face. He calmly let her treatment wash over him without making a sound. She could see, however, that he was gritting his teeth as she reached for his wrist.
“They’ll come out on their own soon enough,” Killian said with a shrug as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She gave him a withering look and he seemed a little embarrassed.
“Oh, yeah. And in the meantime, you’d be screaming in pain, completely beside yourself. I saw what happened in the car when your body was trying to get rid of the shards. No, don’t even try to deny it,” she waved him off as he opened his mouth.
She spread one of the towels on his lap. “Now, hold on, this is not going to be pleasant…” she warned, then grabbed the largest shard of glass as carefully as she could and pulled it out with a determined motion.
She could feel his whole body twitch, but only a soft hiss left his lips.
“Is your hand going to be okay? I mean, a human would definitely not be able to use it after that…” She tried to make him talk and distract him so he paid as little attention as possible to what she was doing.
“Sure,” he nodded, then glanced down at his hand. “It’ll be as good as new in two days at the most.”
“Two days?” she asked, puzzled. “But so far your wounds have healed much faster…”
“The healing doesn’t always work that well… It’s um… periodic,” he muttered, wincing again as she plucked out another piece.
In fifteen minutes, she had managed to remove all the shards from his hand. He didn’t say a word during the “surgery”, but when the bandage was applied around his palm, he let out a barely audible sigh of relief.
“Thank you, love. I’ll go down and see if Will is back…”
“We’re not done yet,” she informed him as she grabbed another towel and reached for his shirt as a matter of course, completely forgetting herself.
“Oh, there’s no need, it’s really not serious…” He shook his head, almost in fright, and tried to bounce off the edge of the tub, but the result was a painful “oomph”.
“I can see that. Don’t be such a child, I promise I’ll be careful.”
“No.” His eyes gleamed with horror and his face flushed.
She grinned against her will.
Well, well.
“Are you… seriously shy?” She burst out laughing.
When she noticed Killian’s cold and impatient look, her sudden joy evaporated.
“Sorry, I was just surprised,” she apologized, and at his grim look she began to wonder why he really didn’t want to take his shirt off. “Look, Killian, I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to-”
“It’s alright,” he waved off her apology. “Just leave that here and I’ll take care of the rest.” He gestured to the first aid kit next to the sink.
“How? You can’t even use your hand. Let me help you,” she pleaded softly.
“I’ll figure it out,” he continued stubbornly.
She couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to her help. What does he think is going to happen? That she would run screaming out the door screaming at the sight of a male torso? Come on.
When her eyes fell on his face, she realized it was exactly what he was afraid of, and her cheeks grew hot again. It wasn’t nice of her to laugh earlier.
“Arms up! I want to see it,” she declared firmly, stepping closer to him.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me,” she sighed, reaching for the hem of his shirt and was about to pull it up, but Killian, anticipating her intention, captured her hand.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” He stared at her in shock.
“I’m undressing you,” she replied with a sly grin to make him relax and not feel so uncomfortable.
She had to look at the wound, he had already lost a lot of blood. Unfortunately, he wasn’t immortal, he couldn’t survive everything, even if he sometimes acted the opposite.
“You know this is sexual harassment, don’t you?” he finally smiled. He seemed amused by her impatience. She, on the other hand, was immensely relieved. Sometimes, he really did act like a man-child. It was much better to see him like this than angry and desperate, so she felt better, too.
“So sue me,” she played along, letting out a soft laugh. “Now, come on, arms up!”
He grumbled for another half minute, but then, at the sight and knowledge of the amount of blood he had lost, he changed his mind and bitterly raised both his arms — as far as his wounds would allow — and she pulled off the once black, now rather dark red, blood-soaked fabric. She tossed it into the laundry basket, then turned to Killian, and on a sudden impulse, brushed a lock of his dark hair from his forehead.
Looking down, she immediately understood why he protested, but she didn’t even flinch when she saw the many scars and scalds tarnishing his lightly sun-kissed skin. It was nowhere near as repulsive as he believed and expressed. He tried to cover a larger scar with a tattoo of a compass, with more or less success. The drawing was beautiful, the motif was adorned with an unknown type of flower, but it still couldn’t quite hide what Killian wanted so badly. On the other hand, his upper body was muscular and lean, the dark hair that always peeked out from under his shirt spilling across his chest.
“Beautiful, is it not?” his voice tinged with intense irony.
“I really like the compass. It goes well with your pirate shtick you got going,” she replied, pointing to his earring and eyeliner, noticing how his eyes bore into her in amazement. “You look really good,” it slipped from her lips before she could even think about what she was saying. She would have liked the ground to just swallow her because she didn’t want to let him know that directly. She could feel her cheeks reddening dangerously fast.
“You really don’t see…”
“Of course I see them, Killian. But those are just a few scars. Now stop being a child and sit back down. Or if you can stand through it, then by all means.”
As she cleaned the wound above his belly button, she felt his eyes boring into her head. She tried to focus on the cut, which, unfortunately, needed stitches. It was long and deep enough, but thankfully free of broken glass. Killian was obviously not concerned about her having to stick a needle into his stomach without anesthesia.
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I have had to endure this before,” he said with a shrug. “I can suffer through it now, too.”
Only a few quiet groans escaped his lips during the entire procedure.
“I think it’s done,” she announced solemnly after bandaging the remaining minor wounds.
She tossed the two bloody towels into the wash next to his shirt, which he probably wouldn’t use again.
When she finished cleaning up, she walked over to the tiny window and glanced out over the city. The rain was tapping rhythmically on the glass, and from here, in this part of town, everything seemed fine. The world showed every sign of being peaceful again, and today’s events just seemed improbable, as if it were just a nightmare she had finally woken up from.
She leaned against the cool tiles and turned her head toward Killian. He poked at the bandage on his stomach and managed to put a smile on her face. Few would use the word ‘cute’ to describe him, but that was the first word that came to mind as she watched him.
After he finished fiddling with the gauze, he lifted his eyes to hers, and after some hesitation, walked slowly over to her, but for some reason, she felt that his unusually leisurely pace had nothing to do with his injuries.
“Thank you,” he finally blurted out when he had been standing in front of her for a good half-minute, and that made her smile.
Was that why he put his body so close to hers? To thank her? Well, not that it bothered her. In fact, his closeness felt frighteningly good. Her fingers reached out to him almost involuntarily, longing for him to embrace her. To kiss her.
She was still scared to death of her own thoughts and feelings, and was half sure that she had just fallen into his trap like a silly little mouse and it would be very painful to get out of it. But for now, she wanted to enjoy the pleasure of this “cheese” and forget about what was probably still waiting for her.
“You’re welcome.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Was it right? Not right? Was it allowed? Or was it forbidden? Honestly, she really didn’t care about the answers, she just wanted him, plain and simple. She wanted to live with the knowledge that someone really and truly loved her. A small glimmer of hope lit up in front of her, and that was enough for her to solidify her decision. She trusted Killian. She wanted to trust him. He would never hurt her.
While she had thought that would be the case with every guy in her past, they had all turned out to be major disappointments.
He must have seen the desperate and frightened look on her face. He took a step back, but as if her arm had taken on a life of its own, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.
“Swan? Are you all right?” He tried to decipher her thoughts through her eyes, but she wouldn’t let him. She closed her eyes and turned her face away from his scrutinizing gaze.
“No. Nothing’s all right,” she murmured, more to herself, but of course Killian understood her every word crystal clear.
He lifted his hand and gently stroked her face with his thumb, and she let her cheek rest in his palm as her heartbeat quickened.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“Killian, I’m afraid of almost everyone,” she admitted, and she thought she had managed to surprise him again with her answer.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he assured her, and she had to grimace. But for him, she was happy to believe it. Oh, sweet, blissful ignorance.
He put his arms around her waist and hugged her, and she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. His hot breath tickled her skin on the side of her head and she melted completely into the embrace. She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, snuggling up to his entire body as her heart tried to burst through her ribs with a furious thump.
“Shh, calm down, lass. It’s alright.” He stroked her hair and she didn’t understand why, but a single tear rolled down her cheek. He was too kind. Until now he had been like a rock, but she had seen the real Killian, and was no longer fooled by the tough and stoic exterior. She could trust him.
“Do you want me to leave?” It wasn’t an accusation, just a polite offer. He couldn’t decide what would be better for her and he wasn’t alone in this dilemma.
“No. Stay.” She pressed tighter against him and he stroked her back reassuringly. He lifted his head from her shoulder and leaned over to her again. He pressed an innocent kiss to her lips, hesitant as a teenager on a first date.
Until it became anything but.
Emboldened, he tasted her lips with renewed passion when he saw she didn’t protest at all. The softness of his mouth and the gentle advance of his tongue spoke to her, giving him permission and fiercely returning the kiss she so dreaded, yet so longed for.
Gently, she ran her sharpened nails over his back, careful not to break his exposed skin. She could feel the scars beneath her fingers, weaving thickly around his skin. Her heart sank, for he deserved a much better life than his wounds told her.
He took a deep breath, sighed into the kiss, then his lips left hers in favor of the side of her neck. He bit gently into the sensitive, heated skin and kissed her, when the bathroom door suddenly flew wide open.
Killian threw his head back in surprise, and Emma blinked over his shoulder in alarm.
Ruby stood in the doorway with her mouth and eyes wide open. With a similar expression, Eloise stood behind her. Then, within seconds, they thankfully overcame their minor shock. Ruby’s mouth twisted into a wide grin, but Eloise just stared rather unkindly at Emma.
“I see you’re feeling much better, Killian,” Ruby remarked with a mischievous grin. ”Emma’s first aid skills are spot on, they don’t need us here. Come on, Eloise,” she chuckled, and then quietly closed the door behind them.
“Great,” she muttered dejectedly.
“What’s wrong?” He pulled her to his chest again.
“Eloise is going to run straight to David with the news.”
“And?” He didn’t seem to give the slightest thought to what that meant.
“And David made me promise that I would stay away from you. I guess you know he doesn’t like you very much…”
What was the little bitch doing here, anyway?
“Of course I know that. He’s already made it perfectly clear and even threatened me,” he added. It seemed that David’s behavior only amused him. Her, not so much.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I haven’t had a chance to. It just happened last night when we came back from the woods. Somehow it got through to him that we were out there together,” he replied calmly, David’s hostility not troubling him in the slightest.
“But what exactly did he say to you?” She was deeply upset by her brother’s behavior. What the hell had he been thinking? Threatening Killian? She couldn’t believe it.
“Just the usual thing when one’s brother is worried about who his sister is spending her time with. He told me that if I so much as touched you with a finger, I’d surely regret it. That he would beat the crap out of me. Oh, and that he would castrate me. I think that’s all of it.” he grinned.
“I’ll talk to him later. But you should rest now—”
“No, I’m completely fine,” he protested, as if he was more afraid of being in bed than David himself. “And I should go anyway—”
“Go? Go where?” she asked, confused.
“I have a few… things to do,” he blurted out reluctantly.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to tell me what?”
What the hell was so urgent?
“Because I’m not going to,” he answered quietly. “Maybe later—”
“Killian, don’t do this,” she groaned in exasperation. Why was he being so goddamn secretive again?
“Just trust me, love. I promise I won’t do anything… wrong.”
She turned her head away from him. “Go get some rest in my room, I think the guest room is occupied now. I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in the same room with David,” she murmured, turning to leave the bathroom. But before she could do that, Killian grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.
“Swan, don’t do this. If I could, I would tell you.” He held her face between his hands and scanned her face anxiously.
“Okay,” she replied softly. “I’m not mad, I’m just… scared.” She took his hands and pulled them away from her face. “Take care of yourself!”
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He stared at her for a while, then she hurried out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
-/-
Killian didn’t come after her, although she stood outside the door for several more minutes. But not a sound came from the room, and she finally made her way down the stairs to meet the other members of their ragtag group. Eloise, as usual, stared at her with a cold expression on her face and the hatred in her eyes didn’t subside. Ruby blinked at her in surprise, obviously questioning the absence of Killian beside her. Will, Mary Margaret, and the guy named Arthur lingered under the arch that led to the kitchen while August and David argued heatedly about something.
Emma stood hesitantly at the foot of the stairs for a few seconds, but before she could bring herself to scold her brother and the Elf, David pushed himself off the wall and walked right up to her. He gave her a dagger-like look, but she suspected hers was similar. This time she wasn’t impressed by his anger.
“Where is he? Is he in your room?” He tried to march up the stairs beside her, but of course, she wouldn’t let him, stepping in front of him and pushing him back to the foot of the stairs.
“Leave him alone! He needs to rest. And by the way, in case you haven’t heard, he just saved my life! And Mary Margaret’s. And if I remember correctly, he saved your life, too,” she growled, apparently loud enough that everyone in the room turned to look at her.
“I don’t care! I talked to him and that’s not what we agreed on!” David hissed.
“That’s not what happened. You threatened him, that doesn’t exactly fall under the category of agreement,” she raised her voice and her brother became even angrier. The whole thing was turning into a full-blown argument. But it was too late for her to stop herself, David had managed to piss her off irrevocably.
“Don’t you realize that I only want what’s best for you? That bastard is just taking advantage of you! And I’m going to talk to him now, whether you like it or not! I don’t even care if he’s dying!” he shouted in her face, pushing past her and striding up the stairs. She stumbled against the banister and almost fell over.
“David! Stop right there!” she shouted after him and hurried up the stairs as well. She took two at a time so she could catch up with him. She almost managed to grab a hold of his sweater, but it slipped from her fingers.
He dashed down the hall, straight to the door leading to her room, and burst through without knocking. He opened his mouth in surprise.
“David!” She was at the end of her patience, his ridiculous behavior had to stop.
“I told you!” David’s triumphant grin confused her and she came to a halt.
She stepped up beside him, confused, and a little afraid.
To her surprise, the room was completely empty and the window was wide open. The dark blue muslin curtain was swirled around by the cold, biting wind.
Icy fear coursed through her limbs and she couldn’t believe her eyes. He was gone.
“Why are you so surprised about this? I told you he was just a petty—”
“Shut up!” she shook her head and stumbled into the room.
Killian obviously hadn’t rested on the bed for even a second, the bedclothes were completely untouched. She walked over to the window and leaned over, but there was no sign of him outside.
“Seriously, Emma, I don’t know what you were expecting. I thought you’d be smarter than that. He played the gentleman and you fell into his arms the first chance you got. That’s not you.” David shook his head and continued to ignore her completely. “I have no idea how he managed to seduce you, but I bet you anything that he was lying through his teeth.” Emma tried not to pay attention to David’s words, but each sentence reverberated uncomfortably in her head, and she felt like her skull would crack if he kept talking. He didn’t seem to care in the least that every single word hurt her physically. She slumped on the bed and buried her face in her hands.
“Did you really think that beast would turn into a lovesick puppy-dog? And now I’m the bad guy for trying to warn you! Now look at you! This is exactly what I was trying to prevent…” David’s voice gradually softened and then fell silent.
Emma felt him sit down next to her on the bed. He tried to hug her, but she pushed him away. She was still angry. “Get out! Leave me alone!” She pushed him off the bed and barely waited for him to get to his feet before she shoved him out of the room. Once he was outside, she slammed the door with all her might, and the bang echoed through the empty hallway. She didn’t understand what had come over her, she was afraid of herself. She was acting like a crazy person.
She plopped back down on the bed and tried to convince herself of Killian’s innocence. He couldn’t have tricked her, but… everyone thought she was wrong about him. What if they were right?
She didn’t understand herself or what was happening to her. Why was she so upset? Surely he couldn’t be that important to her. It didn’t make sense that she had gotten caught in this particular trap. There had to be a way out. An escape.
No! Everything was all right! Killian would definitely be back tomorrow, and then she would discuss everything with him. Everything would be fine, she had nothing to worry about!
She took a deep breath and the thought that everything would be settled tomorrow calmed her down.
Her gaze slid to her desk, where at least half a dozen photos adorned her homemade picture frames. Her favorite, however, had been carved by Neal. She knew he had been working on it for over a week, but his hard work had paid off, it had turned out beautifully.
She put her favorite picture of them in it, it fit perfectly in the frame with the tree leaves intertwined. In the picture, they were lying on their backs in the woods behind the house, facing each other. Their heads were side by side and for once, he was the one holding the phone. She was always the one taking pictures like crazy, capturing everything she liked.
She picked up the frame and gently stroked the smooth, cool surface of the glass, and for a moment, the fading, silvery glow of the moon shimmered on the picture. Neal never lied to her, he never hid anything from her.
Her thoughts returned to Killian, she couldn’t help but think of him. Had he really lied to her? It didn’t make sense, because why would he do that? But then what did he have to hide?
The only thing she was sure of was that David had managed to rattle her again. The thought that Killian might be leading her on hurt like hell, and it settled relentlessly in her mind.
She glanced at the photo again. She missed Neal terribly and the security that only he had given her so far in her life. Guilt also curled in her stomach with renewed force; she felt like she was betraying him. And she felt like she was betraying herself as well, because she had promised never to let anyone near her again. But Killian managed that too; she had undoubtedly fallen in love with something in him.
She hugged the picture to her chest and leaned back on the bed. Joyfully, she surrendered to the sweet, empty nothingness that suddenly weighed on her. She enjoyed the almost intoxicating coolness of the wind caressing her face and every thought slowly left her mind…
-/-
She didn’t think there was another fool in the house who could wake up at four in the morning and wander into the kitchen, but she was clearly mistaken. August seemed to have been sitting there for a long time when she entered, with only the flickering light of the candle in the center of the table to keep him company. He propped his chin on his palm and stared into the small flame. He didn’t even look up when she entered.
She deliberately refrained from greeting him, trudged stubbornly to the refrigerator, grabbing a jug of milk, and took a big gulp.
“What are you doing up so early, Emma? Or did you not go to sleep at all?” August finally looked at her, and his cautious gaze worried her a little. He studied her ruefully.
She was already thinking of a biting retort when he sighed and pulled one of the chairs toward her.
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
That piqued her interest, and she quickly decided she wasn’t going to be a jerk this time.
Without saying a word, she walked over to the offered chair and took a seat. She placed the milk in front of her and looked questioningly at August. “So talk.”
“It’s about Killian,” he began with an embarrassed cough. “Over the course of the evening, I have noticed something that I just can’t place. You probably already know more about it than I do, and it will no doubt make more sense to you—”
“August, I swear to God…” she warned and he immediately continued.
“I don’t know if you know this man, Arthur—”
“No, I don’t know him. Can you get to the point?” she interrupted him impatiently. Her nerves were on the verge of snapping.
“All right, I’ll tell you. So, the Guild’s bounty hunters came up in a conversation. I’m sure you’ve heard about them.”
“Maybe David mentioned them once. They’ve done spying and assassinations in the past. But I thought their activities were banned years ago. How is that relevant now?” She raised her eyebrow. August’s expression wasn’t reassuring in the least. He was clearly torn, which was not at all in keeping with his habits, and his always determined actions were evaporating.
“The group of the Bounty Hunters hasn’t been disbanded at all, and Arthur is one of them. I was surprised when he told me that. They’re not exactly shouting it from the rooftops. But it doesn’t matter, it’s up to him to decide how much he wants to blab about his own life. But he also told me something much more interesting,” August remarked somberly.
“What is it? Please just say what you want to say!”
“So Arthur is working as a spy, infiltrating the Vampires and other creatures. He said the new leader had been chosen before yesterday’s disaster, but under somewhat stormy circumstances. The two most likely candidates were someone named Regina and Zelena, Vampire sisters. Which is why it’s shocking what happened. Regina killed her sister and declared that anyone who would dare to question her power, would find death. And yesterday’s bloodbath was arranged at her request and in her honor,” August explained, watching her face carefully, waiting for her reaction like a predator lying in wait for prey, but she was very careful not to twitch a single facial muscle. She didn’t want to give anything away, certainly not about Killian’s past.
She stared at August impassively. “Yeah? This is all very interesting, but I still don’t understand the connection. What does any of this have to do with Killian?”
“Then you know very little about your knight in black armor,” he snorted harshly.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered, freezing in her chair. She was beginning to have a very bad feeling.
“Arthur had to spend a lot of time in that filth and mentioned that he saw Killian there an inordinate amount of times, plus he moved in pretty elite circles, so to speak. He seemed to be very good friends with their leader, Regina. However, Killian is not one of the Bounty Hunters of the Guild, at least not as far as Arthur knows. And that’s more than suspicious, because usually, they know about each other. If you’re not a Bounty Hunter, you can’t do missions like that at all.”
Emma didn’t answer, she had no idea what to say. Her mind was completely blank, just staring at August. She seemed unable to digest and comprehend what she had heard the first time.
“It’s a lie,” she finally whispered. That was the only explanation. Killian would never do such a thing, he was…
“Emma, listen to me! If he really was a spy, he should have reported to the Council that night, along with Arthur and—”
“How do you know he didn’t?” she snarled, losing her patience. That was it! That was the solution! Killian worked for the Hunters too, but he just didn’t tell anyone he was a spy! A triumphant grin spread across her face. She knew Killian was innocent.
“I know because Arthur returned a few hours ago and the Council hasn’t heard from your precious boyfriend in over twenty-four hours.”
CS Neverland New Year 2022: “Hearts Like Wildflowers”
Summary: He was used to the darkness until she brought light into his life with her wild blonde curls and prickly attitude. Even on this godforsaken island, she manages to make him feel alive. (Canon Divergent from 3x06)
A/N: this is my contribution to @neverlandnewyear. This is my first time participating in this event, and I couldn’t be more excited to share this story with all of you! Hope you like it!
He didn’t plan to kiss her again, but it happened anyway.
They have been wandering the jungle for hours. They were still trying to locate Pan’s hideout and had split up from the others, which, if anyone had listened to him, was a bad idea.
The air is so steamy and humid it feels like it’s raining. Her blonde ponytail has doubled in size, with soft curls springing everywhere. It fascinates him a bit as he follows her, trying to figure out how to get her to let him take the lead. Even if he is enjoying the view. Now he’s convinced he can’t get them more turned around than they already are.
“Hey, you hear that? It’s a nightingale, supposedly a symbol of love and anticipation,” he says, trying to make conversation and keep his voice matter-of-fact, standing still. She turns to look at him and starts back in his direction, and he has no idea if she wants to punch him or just walk past him because they have passed that moss-ridden rock three times already.
But her foot catches on something when she almost makes it in front of him, and she stumbles. Her hand reaches out, landing against his chest. He puts his hand and hook on her arms to steady her. She looks up at him, her green eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted. She is very, very close to him.
Oh, bloody hell, he thinks with a harsh intake of breath. Then his hand and hook on her arms draw her against him, and he closes his eyes and kisses her.
CS Neverland New Year 2022: “Hearts Like Wildflowers”
Summary: He was used to the darkness until she brought light into his life with her wild blonde curls and prickly attitude. Even on this godforsaken island, she manages to make him feel alive. (Canon Divergent from 3x06)
A/N: this is my contribution to @neverlandnewyear. This is my first time participating in this event, and I couldn’t be more excited to share this story with all of you! Hope you like it!
He didn’t plan to kiss her again, but it happened anyway.
They have been wandering the jungle for hours. They were still trying to locate Pan’s hideout and had split up from the others, which, if anyone had listened to him, was a bad idea.
The air is so steamy and humid it feels like it’s raining. Her blonde ponytail has doubled in size, with soft curls springing everywhere. It fascinates him a bit as he follows her, trying to figure out how to get her to let him take the lead. Even if he is enjoying the view. Now he’s convinced he can’t get them more turned around than they already are.
“Hey, you hear that? It’s a nightingale, supposedly a symbol of love and anticipation,” he says, trying to make conversation and keep his voice matter-of-fact, standing still. She turns to look at him and starts back in his direction, and he has no idea if she wants to punch him or just walk past him because they have passed that moss-ridden rock three times already.
But her foot catches on something when she almost makes it in front of him, and she stumbles. Her hand reaches out, landing against his chest. He puts his hand and hook on her arms to steady her. She looks up at him, her green eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted. She is very, very close to him.
Oh, bloody hell, he thinks with a harsh intake of breath. Then his hand and hook on her arms draw her against him, and he closes his eyes and kisses her.
He feels her stiffen against him, but only for a brief second before she relaxes. His lips brush hers gently at first. Then she opens her mouth to him, her tongue meeting his eagerly. His heart hammers in his chest and he buries his hand in her hair. She touches his face and he groans into her, his hook in the meantime has found its way to her waist, pulling her closer.
He kisses her harder, and she keeps kissing him back. That initial rush of adrenaline begins to fade, and he gentles the kiss. Nibbling at her lips with his. Until his mouth separates from hers, leaving them both gasping. He presses his forehead to hers, his eyes still closed, his stomach full of strange nerves. He thinks that once he can catch his breath, he is going to do it again.
But a second later, his arms are empty. She’s gone. He opens his eyes and sees she’s pulled away. Her lips are damp and swollen, and he starts to reach for her again, but then he sees that her eyes are frowning and confused. She’s breathing heavily, too, but has one arm wrapped around her stomach.
The thrill of excitement bubbling in his chest turns to dread and disappointment. Even as his instinct is to fight it.
“Come on, that was a good kiss,” he says. “You were as into it as I was.”
She looks at him like he’s gone insane.
Maybe he could have said something else instead. Something more… romantic?
But he can’t stop looking at her. The tangled mess his fingers made of her hair. How green her eyes are in this godforsaken place. How soft he knows her lips are now.
“Oh, no,” she says warningly. “Do not start looking at me like that.”
“I wasn’t looking at you,” he lies blatantly. Defensively. Because he does not understand this at all. That was a damn good kiss, and why the hell is she acting this way when all he wants to do is kiss her again?
“Go make other friends, Killian,” she says, biting off his name. The name she’s never, ever called him. “You don’t need me.”
“What if I do?”
She walks around in a little circle, like she’s trying to figure out what to say, and then she walks up to him. She says in a low, small, dangerous voice, “Every man I’ve been with only wanted one thing from me. My boyfriend left me in jail and proposed to another woman. The last man I kissed died in my arms. You are still hung up on your revenge and in love with-”
“I’m not,” he interrupts.
“Of course, Hook,” she says, calm, hard, not believing a word. “Of course you’re not.”
“Then what do you want?” he demands. “Right now. Who do you want to be with?”
“Maybe I’ll just be alone for a while,” she says. “Maybe some people are meant to be alone.”
“Maybe so, but you’re not one of them.”
She just looks at him. Almost pleading with him.
He hears what she isn’t saying. He understands. “You’re scared of getting hurt. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re so desperate for a connection that you’ll go after the first one who comes along. Even if it’s me.”
“You’re breaking my heart,” he says, sarcastic. Because she’s touched a nerve, and all that excitement he had a minute ago turns into anger. He wouldn’t go after just anyone. It’s her that he wants.
“Go away, Hook,” she says. She raises her arms above her, fixing her hair, preparing to walk away.
“I don’t give up that easily.”
“I guess we’ll find out who’s more stubborn, then.” She twists her hair into a knot and secures it.
He gives her his very best smile, because he loves a challenge like that. He sees it having the desired effect on her. “You’ve already come with me on this search party,” he points out. “And we both know that was one hell of a good kiss.” He slides over to her, nice and slow, right into her space, so close he thinks he can feel her breathing. She doesn’t move.
“Bye, Hook.” She’s still not walking away.
“Friends with benefits?” he offers. He brushes back one of the long locks of her hairs that has already escaped from its knot.
“How about just friends,” she counters, even as she is breathless with anticipation.
“For now,” he says. She meets his gaze, and he kisses her again. She leans in to him, pressing her body against his, and it’s all he can do not to snake his hand underneath her shirt. But instead, he opens his mouth and lets her do the work. She’s kissing him relentlessly, for someone who has just made so much noise about not being the least bit interested and wanting to be alone.
He’s hard and aching, and he wants so badly to touch her. It wouldn’t take much to have this turn into a good lay in the jungle, but he knows if that happens, he will lose her. And he can’t afford to lose her right now, not when he’s stranded on this damned island again with the bloody hero squad. She’s not wrong that he doesn’t want to be alone.
So he keeps his hand and hook off, and when the kiss dies down, he ends it with several impossibly soft little closed-mouth kisses. Neither of them wants this moment to end. But it does, and this time he lets her go when she pulls away and disappears into the trees.
“Bloody hell.” He shakes his head at himself, wondering what in the hell he’s going to do next.
-/-
He finds his way back. After a long, cold bath in the creek. Then he goes to the treehouse. The Queen made it clear that he and his “pirateness” are not welcome to socialize with her, but he does have to eat.
He skips the “spot for heroes” with Dave and Snow tonight and turns to a lone fallen branch. He grabs a mango and some dried pork they gathered from his ship. From his seat furthest from Tinkerbell’s house, he can see the entire camp. He sits there, watching and waiting.
Finally, Emma shows up. She has not had a bath. Her hair is still tangled and fuzzy, and she’s sweating. Making him think that she’s just stumbled in from the jungle, and wasn’t just lurking around, confirming his theory about her sense of direction. There’s a smudge of dirt in the shape of his thumbprint on her cheek.
He watches her grab some food as well; her hands are full of all kinds of fruits, dried meat, and a coconut for drink. Running around in the jungle makes a lass hungry, apparently. She accepts the canteen her father offers her and takes a few big gulps from it. She sits down with her parents, not even looking up from the bounty in her hands, and he watches her start with the dried meat.
He pretends not to notice that her eyes look a little red-rimmed.
He slinks away from the camp, then, with mission accomplished. He just needed to know that she made it back safe.
-/-
The next morning, they all meet for breakfast by the tree house, as has become their usual practice. He keeps looking at Emma, but she is looking anywhere but at him. Mostly she seems interested in the bottom of her wooden cup.
“I’ll go with David and Mary Margaret today,” she says, and when he glances at her again, she is staring into space in his general direction.
“Guess it’s you and me, little fairy,” he says to Tinkerbell, who rolls her eyes heartily at the new nickname.
They head out, and Killian can’t help thinking about Emma and her parents and what they’re up to out there at the same time. He wonders what she’s thinking about.
“You make it with her yet?” Tinkerbell asks, out of the blue.
“How’s that lost magic treating you?” Killian shoots back.
“Wings.”
“What?”
“I lost my wings,” she raises her arms in a wave as though to demonstrate.
“Congratulations, Birdy, why are we having this conversation?” He snaps. It’s hot, there’s no trail, and he’s suddenly worried that he’s so transparent that even magic wingless Tinkerbell can see right through him.
“Baelfire is alive and back. You need to seal the deal or you’re going to lose her.”
“I’m not worried.” He is very worried, especially with her reaction to what happened yesterday. And he’s not going to correct the fairy that he can’t lose her if he hasn’t even had her in the first place.
“Maybe you should be, Hook.”
“Well, I’m open to suggestions,” he says, still aggravated.
Tinkerbell shrugs.
“That’s what I thought. How about you work on getting your wings back, then?”
“I will,” she says, the verbal equivalent of another shrug.
Killian looks at her sternly. He doesn’t understand at all.
“No, you won’t. Because if you could, you would have a long time ago, isn’t that right?”
“Nope.” She sounds so nonchalant. Killian can see she’s lying. Good at it, but lying. This makes Tinkerbell uncomfortable.
And then he sees it. Files the knowledge away for later.
“You can be my backup plan, little fairy,” he offers, and she laughs.
But he knows Tinkerbell isn’t wrong.
-/-
The Hero Squad organizes a lot of extracurricular activities. Replenishing water supplies. Scouting their paths. Hunting for meat.
Collecting anything that is edible.
In which Killian made the mistake of letting the royal couple and Emma join him when he could’ve accomplished the task by himself, just fine.
Because when, for the umpteenth time that afternoon, he smacks the blue fruits out of her hand and warningly says, “The blue ones are for the eyes only, avoid even touching them.”
It earns him the familiar eye roll and attitude, “Thank you, berry expert. I just moved them out of the way to get to the red ones.”
And that concluded their day. Killian lets it all slide by. Thinking that Emma will come to him eventually - that he should let her come to him. Hard pursuit will scare her off.
But it’s not working.
That same night, the four of them go out on patrol. She’s gone back to being normal, for the most part. He watches her, pretending that it never happened, that she’s not interested in him. She never ends up alone with him. The more she pretends, the more he thinks he’s got a chance.
-/-
Tinkerbell suggests a bloody barbeque.
David managed to hunt down probably the only boar on the island, or maybe it was the Queen’s magic, but they have the animal up by the fire, ready to roast. The flames cut through the dark night. They are also singing some songs, which Killian thinks is a pretty good reason to leave the camp and finish his rum-filled flask.
But then she walks down from the treehouse and he’s glued to the spot.
She’s wearing a not-Emma white sundress that probably the fairy gave her and her hair is loose and shiny. She must have taken that bath. She walks in like she feels awkward. He runs his fingers through his hair and wishes he could’ve made more of an effort. She catches his eye and he wishes she hadn’t just seen him preening for her.
She comes to him. “Hey,” she says.
“Hello, love,” he replies. “Nice dress.”
“It feels like forever since I wore something clean,” she says, smoothing down her dress and he chuckles.
They stand there for a minute. Smiling at each other. The moment kind of dies in awkwardness.
She looks away. Noticing the bowl of fruits and roasted meat by the fire. “You want some?”
“No,” he says, and takes her hand to keep her from bolting.
She looks at their hands, entwined, but doesn’t pull away. One corner of her mouth pulls up a little in a smirk he recognizes very well. Maybe this is all a manipulation, he thinks, but he doesn’t care.
“What do you want to do?” she asks.
He looks at the now dancing heroes and the mysterious bottle in Tinkerbell’s hand that Killian assumes contains alcohol.
“Murder folk music and introduce sea shanties,” he says. “But seeing as how that isn’t an option…” He squeezes her hand experimentally.
“I’m not dancing with you, Hook,” she says.
“I’m not asking,” he points out, with his eyes wide at her, like he’s shocked she would suggest it. “We can be outsiders together.” A moment goes by in awkward silence. “Your parents are having fun.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I think your father can’t really hold his liquor.”
“I can see that,” she agrees.
“What about you?”
“I’m okay. Though, Tinkerbell’s drink is pretty strong, whatever that is.”
“Well, you’re always welcome to my rum.” He likes this. It feels easy.
So that’s what they do. They stand on the sidelines and watch. He makes up nicknames as the night progresses. All of them are either mean or absurd, depending on the situation. She laughs at one of them, and from that point on, his new goal in life is to hear that sound more often.
He’s trying too hard, and she encourages him, and he likes her that much more for it.
When the meat is gone and David runs out of songs, he walks her to the treehouse. The candles are on inside. He notices again the dress she’s wearing, how pretty it looks on her. He wants to say it but doesn’t want to screw this up.
“I had fun,” she says.
“Me too.” They stand there. Ever so awkwardly. “I guess this is goodnight,” he says.
“Goodnight, Hook.” She’s still standing there. Looking pretty. Looking at him.
Then the Queen pushes past them, right between them, to go through the door. In her wake, the moment is gone.
“See you in the morning, Swan,” he says and turns to go. He walks away determinedly. He can feel her eyes on him all the way and doesn’t dare turn back. In his head, he does dare, and takes her face in his hand and kisses her senseless. He thinks about it all night. What might have been.
-/-
Morning comes too early and they’re back out in the jungle again. “Swan, you’re with me,” he says before anyone can suggest anything to the contrary. “Regina and Bae, head north. You two, go that way.” He points for David and Snow.
“Guess Fred and Daphne want to make out, Scoob,” The Queen says to Baelfire, and he gives Killian a hard look as they walk away.
Killian doesn’t understand the reference, though, and when he looks at her, Emma’s eyes are blazing.
“I’ve always thought of myself as more of a Shaggy,” she says, trying to defuse the situation somehow.
“You want to?” he offers, giving her a killer smile. Knowing she won’t take him up on the offer to make out.
“Maybe after some more witty banter,” she says, in that serious-deadpan way she has.
“Very funny,” he says.
“What are we even doing?”
“What kind of question is that?” He looks at her, half-wild and half-confused. “We’re looking for Pan’s hideout so we could find your boy.”
“Well, yeah, but we’ve been looking for it for almost a week. I feel like we’re going in circles. Aren’t you supposed to know where he is anyway?” She puts her hands on her hips.
“Oh aye, how could I forget it? There’s my favorite leaf leading to his camp,” his tone is mocking, on the verge of angry, because she’s almost implying something that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You don’t have to be a smart ass about it, I just thought you knew this island better,” she rolls her eyes, and he fears that one day it will get stuck in her skull.
“I do know the island, but Pan moves his camp every day. What we do out here is to find clues to where he might be right now or where he is moving,” his voice is calm again as he kicks at a rock in his path.
“Fine,” she sighs, frustrated, and a stubborn lock of hair finds its way out of her ponytail and falls into her eyes. He watches her fingers as she tries to place it back. “I just want to find him and get the hell out of here.”
“And you will, Swan. You’ll be back home with the lad and your family in no time,” he tries to encourage her, but at the same time, he firmly believes she will succeed against Pan.
She looks at him and nods, a silent understanding passing between them because he will always believe in her and her strength, and maybe she will start to believe him too.
“I wonder what Gold is up to. I hope he’s not trying to screw us over again,” she says after a while.
“I wouldn’t put it past the Crocodile. He is not exactly a team player.”
“I think that’s what he likes,” she shrugs.
“What about you?” He demands. Thinking about what she said when they were out here together before.
“What about me?” She asks.
“Tinkerbell tells me you keep turning down Baelfire’s advances.”
“Maybe I’m waiting for you to make another move,” she says, and he blinks rapidly, thinking she’s making a jest. But there’s something dangerous in her green orbs.
“How long are you willing to wait?”
She doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and looks off into the distance.
She’s killing him like this. He’s had enough of women playing games to last him a lifetime. But he doesn’t think she’s playing a game. “What do you want, Emma?” He uses her name to emphasize his seriousness.
She runs her hands through her hair and looks at him so hard he can feel it. It’s like a lightning bolt to the chest.
“Bloody hell, why didn’t you say so?” He’s closed the distance between them, and his hand and hook are sliding around her waist before he finishes the sentence. Pushing his hips into hers. Her skin is so soft under his fingertips, and he feels the tremors that go through her as he skims against her.
She pulls her head back to look him in the eye. Her breathing is ragged.
“I think I need to know you’re not going to hurt me,” she says.
“I never-”
“Not like that.” She doesn’t mean physically. She’s been hurt in another way before.
He doesn’t say the words, but they come to some kind of agreement without them. Her lips touch his, tentatively. He waits. Barely breathing. Hand and hook encircling her waist. He knows she can feel how aroused he is against her in this embrace. But they can take their time.
The kiss ends. He lets her slide away. They start walking through the jungle again, side by side.
“If we get back, you could leave Storybrooke and get back to the Enchanted Forest,” Emma says, out of the blue.
Are these the things she thinks about? “Maybe I won’t,” he says, but he knows he definitely won’t. Not without her, at least.
“Maybe,” she concedes.
They walk some more. Looking for the trail they might never find. “Is maybe enough to build something on?” she asks.
He wants to say yes. He wants to say he would always be by her side if she wishes.
But he doesn’t. They just keep walking. In circles. There’s that broken tree limb again.
He’s wondering what they would do if they found something. Someone. The lost boys. Including Pan and Henry. He must have been thinking it really loudly, because she says, ”Don’t forget I saved your ass.”
He knows she means on the beanstalk or after that blasted vessel hit him. But what she doesn’t know is that she may as well did a thousand times since then when she looks at him like she wants him in her life. But she doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.
“I didn’t forget. Maybe that’s when I fell in love.”
Oops. He didn’t mean to say that.
“You don’t love me,” she says.
His face is hot and his dirty fingernails are suddenly fascinating. He doesn’t say anything.
“Then you don’t know what love is,” she says and starts walking away.
“And you’re the expert?” he snaps. Thinking about her and Bae. Now she’s the one who doesn’t reply.
“So we’re friends?” he says. Frustrated. Feeling the need to put a name to things.
She turns on him. “You don’t want to be my friend, Hook,” she says. Her voice is husky. She wets her lips. Meets his eyes. “And I don’t want to be yours.”
And then she finally, finally kisses him.
He lets her. Softly, at first. She explores his closed lips with her tongue. Her hands rake through his hair as she presses deeper. He meets her tongue with his, still letting her take the lead. She wants him. They aren’t going back to how things were before this moment. His hand slides up her side, underneath her shirt.
They kiss for what feels like hours. Then she slides away, eyes opening to meet his gaze. He sees the desire there. She wipes her wet, swollen mouth with the back of her hand, and he finds it impossibly sexy.
She notices the broken tree branch. “I think we’re lost,” she says, half-laughing.
“I think I know exactly where we are.” He hitches her around the waist again, pulling her against him. He holds her for a long moment, then kisses her again. He doesn’t ever want to stop.
-/-
When they’re standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger, watching the island getting smaller and smaller behind them, she slips her hand into his. He loves that nothing with her is easy. That she makes him work for it,
He also hasn’t forgotten all the ways she tried to push him away. He suspects she knows that this is exactly how to hook his interest and keep it, pun intended. If things were easy, he’d get bored.
“We did it,” he says with a grin.
She squeezes his hand tighter. He thinks this confirms his theory, and he feels pretty smug about it.
And she thinks that her manipulation has been successful because he has no idea her heart is racing. Every time she sees him, her knees go a little weak, and she can feel those dimples of his all the way down into the heat of her body. She’s terrified and exhilarated. She doesn’t want to fall in love with him. Didn’t want to. She already has.
