I have no idea what this is.

No idea where it came from, it's all over the place, and I'm not even sure it's that good. Mentions of Walsh/Emma, implied Killian/Tink, but Captain Swan endgame, lovelies.

Thoughts?

Love,

Annaelle

PS Sorry if the tenses jump here and there, tried to pay attention to that, but it's unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

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"Damn," Walsh chuckled as he rolled off of her, slowly slipping out of her with a soft, suctioning sound that made her flinch a little, "Now, I don't know what I did to deserve that, but I'm glad you finally dumped sailor boy and came to your senses." He leers at her, rubbing his thumb over her nipple before leaning down to press a kiss to her neck.

Emma winced, tossing an arm over her eyes and sighing heavily. She was sore, and she felt used and it was exactly what she should feel like after a six-hour sex-marathon with Walsh.

It had been a while since she'd last had sex with Walsh—for obvious reasons—but he was good, and he could go for hours, and she knew Killian hated him and vice versa and that was why it was perfect.

She'd known Killian since last year, when they met in their English Literature class. She'd just taken the class because she needed to add something to add to her curriculum, and it had seemed easy enough. They'd been partnered up for a project, and he'd been charming and snarky and refused to back off until she would go on a date with him—and after a decent amount of grumbling and whining, she agreed.

It had been a good date.

They'd stayed friends (with a lot of benefits) for a few months after, because Emma didn't want a relationship—it terrified her, and even though she knew he was slowly falling in love with her, she kept pushing him away—until he'd asked her out again, simply refusing to take no for an answer.

That date had been really good—romantic, original, the works—but not very long.

They really sucked at keeping their hands off each other.

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"Hmm..." she purred in satisfaction as his fingertips slid up and down her back, teasing her sensitive skin. She rested her head on his chest, allowing herself to drift off slightly, comforted by the slow, steady beat of his heart, as his fingers teased the skin on the back of her neck, massaging the skin around the dark hickey he'd left gently, while they both waited for her to start scolding him about it.

The mark she had left on him was irrelevant, in her opinionKillian had laughed at her when she pouted and expressed her desire to visibly mark him as hers; or at least to mark him so he'd remember where she'd been.

He'd just kissed her senseless and told her he was never going to let her go—and none of the other girls he'd ever been with got to say that, so in his opinion, it really didn't matter.

Granted, she did not like his high number of ex-loversnot that she had much room to complain; her number rivalled his—but she did appreciate what he was trying to tell her.

And she did like him.

A lot.

She pressed a kiss to his chest and smiled at his soft, satisfied sigh. "What does this actually mean?" She muttered softly, after a short, comfortable, lazy silence. "What do you want it to mean, darling?" His chest rumbled against her ear when he spoke and she giggled at the vibrations.

She felt ludicrously happy, and all he'd done was give her an orgasm—given, it was multiple, and it was really, really good, but still…

"All of this," she said, propping her chin up on his chest to look into his eyes—she really does love his eyes—, "The overly romantic date, the sex, all of it. What do you want this to be?"

Killian sighed and bit his lip slowly, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips—but there was something in his eyes that threw her; apprehension?

Fear?

"I would like," he finally said, "to see what we can be. You know I love you, Swan."

She was stunned for a moment; did that mean that he wasn't just trying to get into her pants? "Are you for real?" she whispered softly, unsure how to… Well, how to go about this.

The only guy she'd ever really dated was Neal, and she refuses to let that bad memory taint a really, really good night—Killian was smart, hot, and a beast in bed.

She refuses to let her insecurities over Neal's cheating and leaving her ruin this too.

She's done sabotaging herself, damn it.

"Of course," he shrugged, "I thought I'd made that clear already. I want to be with you, love—the ball's in your court." Killian bit his lip again and sat up against the headboardclearly that was the thing he was most apprehensive of; he only bit his lip when he really didn't know what to do with the situation at hand.

He was silent for a moment before he looked up at her; the full impact of his dazzling blue eyes hitting her all at once; and whispered, "Would it be that bad? If we gave us a try?"

The vulnerability in his voice nearly killed Emmashe cursed herself once again for not allowing herself to give into Killian earlier; because she had pushed him away time and again, he had himself convinced that she was going to change her mind any second; and she couldn't blame him.

She was the one reminding him they really weren't anything more than fuckbuddies every time he tried to open up to her or get her to open up to him.

It had made so much sense at the time; she wasn't ready to give in; to be completely swept away by Killian's love; so she had clung to being with him when she felt like it and going out and fucking other random guys when he came too close as though it was the last lifejacket on Titanicand in a way, that was what they had been for hera lifejacket; a way to find her way back to who she used to be.

Before Neal.

So, slowly, she crawled up into Killian's lap, her arms wrapping around his neck while his hands fell to her hips, and pressed her lips to his in a soft, short, sweet kiss.

"Of course it wouldn't be a bad thing," she whispered against his lips, "I just—" she leans her forehead to his and shrugs a little, "I'm not good at this, Killian, you know that." He smiled against her lips, before pressing their lips together once again, flipping her onto her back as he left strategically placed kisses down her torso.

"I'll take great pleasure," he breathed, smirking devilishly at her, "in teaching you then." Right before he disappeared beneath the sheets. The first tingles of his amorous and very intimate kisses started to hit her instantlyshe managed to choke out his name before he catapulted her body into oblivion once again.

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They'd been together ever since.

At least until last night.

Emma huffed again when she thought about it, rolling her eyes at herself—she really should have known that Killian would turn out to be no better than Neal.

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Emma pouted, shaking her head at herself when she pushed the door to Killian's apartment open —it was really pathetic, she knew he wasn't here, he'd be in Washington with his brother until Monday, but she missed him, and she figured sleeping in his bed might actually help.

She almost wished they'd moved in together already, but since graduation was still two weeks away, she'd have to wait a little longer.

She rubbed her hand over her belly nervously and sighed—and she wanted, needed, to feel close to him right now. With a sigh, she dropped her overnight bag, halfway out of her jacket when she heard a moan and froze—a female moan.

'You're wrong, Emma,' she told herself as she followed the moaning towards the guest bedroom, noting briefly that the shower was running too, 'Whatever's going on, it's not that, Killian wouldn't—'

Whatever the end of that sentence would have been, she didn't remember. She stood frozen just outside the room as she watched the small, curvy blonde on the bed push her fingers in and out of herself, moaning loudly as she did.

"Come on, Irish," the girl groaned loudly as she added another finger into her dripping pussy—Emma wanted to stop watching, she really did, but she was frozen, horror-struck, unable to tear her eyes away—, "I'm about to finish without you. I haven't fucked you in two days, I need that dick of yours in me, now."

Emma choked soundlessly when an all-too-familiar chuckle came from the bathroom, his voice sounding slightly distorted through the sound of the shower, "Patience, woman. You know I loathe airplane germs. I prefer being clean before I fuck you."

A tear rolled down Emma's cheek, and she could finally move again, stumbling out of the apartment as fast as she could manage, barely remembering to grab her bag as she ran out the door.

She barely made it back to her own building before collapsing against the wall, hysterical sobs tearing through her chest.

He cheated on her.

He told her he'd be gone the entire weekend so he could bring in some slutty undergrad and cheat on her without her ever finding out.

He made her fall in love with him and then just turned around and cheated on her.

He got her pregnant and cheated.

After a long, long time, she managed to get herself together, scolding herself for allowing a guy to get close enough to her to hurt her like this, to break her heart—she should have known better, after Neal, after everything.

She wiped away her tears angrily and stood up, running her fingers through her hair—there's a party in her and Ruby's place (one of the prime reasons she went to Killian's in the first place; a positive pregnancy test two weeks before she'd graduate with a master's degree in criminal justice did not leave her in a partying mood) and she refused to be seen with red, bloodshot eyes.

She sighed a little at the obnoxiously loud music playing in the apartment before pushing the door open, shoving her way through the throngs of dancing people until she reached the safe haven of her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She wanted to do something.

She wanted to get back at Killian—son of a bitch.

"Hello sexy," a deep voice purred behind her, and her skin broke into goose bumps when his arms slid around her waist, a muscled male body pressing against her back, his arousal pushing against her bottom.

She grinned wickedly, turning around and sliding her arms around his neck. "Hello Walsh."

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She really had been better off with a string of one nightstands and no-strings-attached fuckbuddies.

"Yeah," she chuckles roughly, "I really don't want to talk, Walsh." She glances at his naked body furtively, pouting a little. He really had lost all his appeal after her last orgasm. "You should leave," she adds, pushing his hand off her breast disinterestedly.

She sits up, shakes out her curls and gets up, slipping her large sleep shirt over her head, ignoring Walsh's feeble protests.

A small pang of nausea hits her, and she groans quietly when the doorbell rings, rubbing her hand over her forehead tiredly. Really, after being up for seventeen hours, six of which spent doing very intense physical exercise, she really just wants to kick Walsh out, change her sheets and sleep for a week.

"Stay, please," she ordered Walsh, "And do not talk."

She stomped out of the bedroom, dodging stray cups and garbage as she made her way to the front door, opening it with a graceful, "What?!"

"I missed you too, love," Killian smirked, leaning against the doorframe—Emma's eyes went wide with shock, before anger and hurt set in again. "What are you doing here?" She all but hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

How the hell dare he show up and pretend like he hadn't been cheating on her?

He raised an eyebrow at her and leaned in, "We got home two days early, and I missed you, love—I would have come by last night, but Liam and Tink wanted a tour of the town, I needed to go grocery shopping and I knew Ruby and you planned the party, so…" He shrugged a little and smiled that charming smile she had loved so much.

And then his words register.

Liam and Tink.

His brother and his soon-to-be sister-in-law.

The nausea she already felt doubled as her stomach turned over, guilt slamming into her at full-force.

Oh dear God, no.

"Tink," she frowned a little, smiling tightly, "your brother's fiancée?"

"Aye," Killian nodded, "I did tell you they'd be coming back with me, didn't I? Liam's very eager to meet you," he chuckled, "I do believe Tink is as well, but she's always excited and perky about everything, so I cannot really tell the difference."

"Right," she choked, "the pretty blonde one—you told me. She has your brother wrapped around her pinkie finger?"

"That very one," Killian smiled, before moving, catching her hand to tug her into his arms, his lips suddenly pressing against hers.

She startled for a second, before immediately kissing him back—she couldn't let him know something was wrong; she couldn't let him know how stupid she had been.

She'd lose him, and she'd deserve it, but she needed him.

'What am I going to do?' She groaned internally, trying not to wince when the kiss grew more heated, and his hand slid down her back to her bottom—she wasn't wearing panties and she could feel Walsh's release slowly sliding down her thigh and shit.

She pushed him back slowly and offered him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm just really hung over and tired…" She ran her fingers through her hair and asked, "Do you think we could meet for dinner at that place at the harbour instead?"

He pouted sympathetically and nodded, stroking her hair softly. "Of course, love. Are you certain you do not wish for me to stay?"

"Nah," she smiled tightly, "I'm just gonna take a shower and crash until it's time for dinner." She rubbed her thumb over his cheek nervously and added, "Go spend time with your brother. I know you miss him."

"Alright love," he leaned in to kiss her again, "I'll be but a phone call away if you need anything, Emma."

She nodded quickly, desperately attempting to keep her emotions in check until she could kick both Killian and Walsh out of the apartment, preferably without the both of them running into each other. "Yeah, I know. I'll see you later, okay?" She lets him kiss her one more time before practically shoving him out the door, slamming it shut behind him and leaning back against it.

"Oh God," she moaned quietly, "What did I do?"

Walsh strolled out of her bedroom casually, his button-down shirt hanging open as he lazily buttoned his jeans. "Well, you did me," he smirked, raising an eyebrow at her, "And I'm assuming pretty boy doesn't know."

"Look," Emma spit, shaking her head, "I was drunk and angry and stupid, and you were there—it never happened, okay?"

Walsh chuckled, closing in on her until her back is pressed against the door, his body plastered against her front. "You'll come running back," he breathed against her lips, "You always do."

She shoved him away angrily. "No, I won't," she insisted, opening the door and raising an eyebrow at him, "Now get the fuck out."

"Emma?"

She froze, her eyes widening in panic as she watched Walsh's insufferable smirk grow. "Killian," she breathed, turning around to face her boyfriend, who was looking between her and Walsh with something akin to disbelief, anger and utter heartbreak.

"This isn't—" she stuttered, glancing between the two men, "This isn't what it looks like."

"What does it look like?" Killian spit, his eyes blazing with anger, "Like you fucked the first man that came along the second I turned my back?" Emma winced—essentially, that was what she did, no matter what her reasons were at the time—shaking her head desperately. "No, Killian, I—it's not…"

"Well, this is lovely," Walsh drawled boredly, "but I have places to be, so I'll be leaving." He winked at Emma and intentionally slammed his shoulder into Killian's when he pushed past him, leaving Emma to deal with the mess she'd created.

"You cheated on me?" Killian questioned, his voice breaking in the middle of his sentence—Emma felt sick to the stomach at the look on his face, knowing she put it there; knowing there was nothing she could do to make up for this, for betraying him, for not trusting him—for not trusting them.

"No, I—" she choked, tears burning in her eyes (damn those stupid hormones that made her overreact about everything), "I—it didn't…"

"You didn't what, Emma?" Killian exclaimed angrily, slamming his fist into the doorframe, "You didn't sleep with him?" His eyes were wide and angry, but she could see the hurt too, and it made her feel even worse than she already did.

"No, I…" She swallowed thickly, "I thought you—I walked in on Tink and Liam yesterday. And I thought it was you, in the shower, not Liam. So, when I came home, Walsh was there and I just…" A tear rolled down her cheek, and she shook her head, "I'm so sorry, I just didn't… I was so scared and hurt and I overreacted."

She was too scared to look up at him, unable to face the heartbreak she knew she inflicted, too damn terrified to face the consequences of her own insecurities.

"That's just great," Killian sighed, shaking his head, "Well, I'm glad to know how you really feel about us before this got any further." Emma winced at the harsh, cold note in his voice, finally looking up at him, reaching for his hand desperately. "Killian, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—I thought—"

"Yeah," Killian said bitterly, "I got that. I'm going to… I'm going to go." He pulled his hand from hers rather forcefully, "I think it's best if we do not see each other for some time."

"What?" Emma choked, tears rolling down her cheeks, "No, Killian—we're not… I love you." It was a rather pathetic plea, and she knew it, but she needed him to know, she needed him.

Killian looked down, shuffling awkwardly. "Aye, and I you, but—" he bit his lip as he looked up at her, the hurt in his beautiful blue eyes nearly breaking her, "—I cannot simply get over this, Emma. Clearly, you do not trust me at all, and I can't… I don't think we should be together if there is no trust between us."

He shook his head and offered her a tiny smile, "I'm sorry, love, but I can't… I can't just let this go." Without another word, he turned around, freezing at the top of the stairs when she called out to him once again.

"Killian, I'm really sorry," she whispered, clutching the doorframe to stay upright.

"Aye," he breathed, closing his eyes briefly, "As am I."

And, no matter how it pained him to do so, he walked away without looking back.

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Two months later

Emma fidgeted nervously as she studied the many posters on the walls, waiting for the doctor to finally call out her name. It was her first ultrasound appointment, and though she had told Ruby to tell Killian of her pregnancy and the date of the appointment, he wasn't here.

She hadn't seen him since the day he caught her with Walsh, if she didn't count the brief glimpse she'd caught of him the day they graduated.

She hadn't spoken to him directly either, but she knew he was asking Ruby about her, and eventually, she realized she couldn't keep the pregnancy from him any longer without him finding out—she was starting to show, and people were already speculating whether or not she was pregnant and who the father was.

She knew it was Killian, and she knew he knew as well, and she really hoped that he wouldn't shun the baby because he was angry with her.

"Emma Swan?"

She jumped when her name was called, looking up at a friendly, red-headed nurse with a comforting smile. "Dr. Whale can see you now," she offered, gesturing towards the door.

"Thanks," Emma smiled weakly, getting to her feet clumsily, casting one more furtive glance towards the door, willing him to walk through so they can look at their baby together, so he could hold her hand when she'd cry.

Of course, life didn't work that way.

She broke his heart, and she had to pay the price.

She bit her lip and moved to the examination room, unable to focus on anything the doctor was telling her. She moved as though in a haze, wiggling to get comfortable on top of the examination table, rolling her shirt up to expose her slightly swollen stomach.

"So," Dr. Whale checked the chart, "You're a little over three months along?"

"Yeah," she nodded, looking up at the ceiling blankly, "thirteen weeks, I think." Whale nods and writes something down on the chart before setting it down and smiling at her. "Well, since your almost out of your first trimester, you should get sick less and less, though some women have it throughout the entire pregnancy."

"Okay," Emma sighed, glancing down at her belly and wondering how the hell she was going to be able to do this on her own.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" Whale smiled at her, lathering her stomach with the cold gel, moving the wand towards her stomach as the door burst open and Killian stumbled in. Emma choked a little at the sight of him standing frozen in the doorway, his fingers clenched around the cutest little teddy bear she'd ever seen, his eyes a little red-rimmed and his mouth hanging open a little.

"I'm sorry," Whale started, "This is a privat—"

"No," Emma shook her head, "No, it's okay. He's the… He's the father."

Whale looked between them suspiciously before nodding and gesturing impatiently. "Well, come in then, close the door and let's have a look at your baby."

Emma couldn't look at anything but Killian though, and not even the promise of seeing their baby on the small screen could make her tear her eyes from Killian's as he took a seat next to the examination table, both hands clenching around the small teddy bear he'd brought.

"Hi," she whispered as Whale went on and on about how big the baby was and that it looked healthy.

"Hey," he breathed back, his voice gruff and his accent thicker than usual, like it always was when he was particularly emotional. "I'm sorry I was late, I couldn't find a bloody parking spot."

"I'm glad you're here," she offered softly, "I know you didn't have to be, but I'm really glad you are."

"Of course I had to be here," he grumbled, "that," he nodded towards the small screen, "is my baby too, Emma." She bit her lip and smiled tightly, before turning to look at her baby for the first time.

She gasped, and tears welled up in her eyes as she took in the sight. "He looks like a baby already," she whispered, her hand instinctively grabbing at Killian's, her teary eyes seeking his. "That's our baby."

"Aye," he genuinely smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her forehead, "Aye, it is."

She raised a trembling hand to touch his scruffy cheek, rubbing her thumb over his skin gently, "I'm sorry," she apologized again, looking him straight, "I'm so sorry. And I love you, so much."

"I know," he whispered back, dropping his forehead to hers, "I know."

Whale shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat and handing Emma a tissue to wipe the sticky goo of her stomach. "Would you like me to print a few pictures?" He offered, looking between the young parents.

"Yeah," Emma said slowly, "Can you print like…" she glanced toward Killian, "Ten?"

"Sure," Whale smiled, "I'll be right back."

Emma wiped off her stomach and rolled her shirt down, the silence in the room growing uncomfortable and painful. Finally, she mustered enough courage to look at Killian and choked, "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Aye," Killian nodded tiredly, "Aye, we do."

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"So… How are you?" Emma asked awkwardly, playing with one of the ultrasound pictures as he collapsed onto the large armchair in the corner.

He gave her a wry smile and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm… alright." He smiled tightly and played with the teddy bear he still hadn't let go off, "Got offered a good job, so the apartment isn't too expensive to pay by myself."

She winced at the subtle dig—she knew he couldn't afford the apartment by himself, and they'd only picked it and signed the lease so soon because it was close enough to the harbor for Killian to get to work on foot every day and also close enough to the city so she wouldn't have to drive an hour every day to get to work either.

It was worth the money.

"Oh," she muttered awkwardly, "well, that's great. Is it still in the harbor?"

He shook his head, smiling awkwardly, "No. It's with my brother's company—they needed someone with experience to lead the helpdesk department, and the money's fair, so…" He shrugged and smiled.

They fell silent again and Emma hated every single second of it—they never used to be awkward and even when they were angry, they always knew what to say to one another. "What are we going to do?" She finally asked, looking up from the picture, "about us, about the baby."

She bit her lip and set the picture down. "What do you want to do?"

Killian sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know, Emma," he said slowly, "I don't know what to do about any of this."

"Do you think you could ever forgive me?" She asked softly, biting her lip harshly.

"I already forgave you, Emma," he admitted, "I did almost right away. I was—am—hurt, but I understood your reasons, as messed up and stupid as they might have been." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees before looking at her. "I love you. I always have, always will, but…" he sighed again and choked, "I don't trust you anymore, Emma. And I don't know how to be with you without trusting you."

Emma swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. "I know. And I'm really sorry I made you feel like that. I just…" She shrugged, "I want to earn your trust again. I don't want to lose you—that's why I freaked out so much when I thought you'd lied and cheated. I knew I couldn't be in a relationship like that again, but I needed you so much it scared the hell out of me…"

"What about now?" He asked, his voice a little harder and guarded, "How do I know you won't just do the same thing all over again next time?" Emma offered him a small, weak smile and rubbed her hand over her small baby bump. "Because it's not just me anymore."

"Okay," he nodded after a long, tense pause, "Okay. We'll try."

She smiled brilliantly, her heart skipping a beat at his own, breathtaking smile.

Yes.

She was done running and overreacting.

They could do this.

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Two weeks later, they shared their 'second' first kiss.

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Emma lasted a month before her hormones took over and she literally dragged him into her bedroom to have her way with him.

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Six months later, she moved in with him in the apartment they chose together.

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And nine months later Emma gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, named Lukas Henry Jones. Killian proposed the second Lukas was in their arms and they were alone in the hospital room.

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Their second son was named after his uncle Liam.

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It might not be perfect and their wasn't always easy—they were both stubborn and temperamental and fought a lot—but it was a happy ending nonetheless.

It might not be fairytale worthy, but it was theirs.

It was real, and that was all that mattered.