A birthday present for the beautiful alwaysbeenapirate 3
Nothing infuriated Emma Swan more than Killian Jones.
She hated him the minute he waltzed into her department, announcing that Storybrooke was basically bankrupt and that he and his friend were there to make sure that didn't happen. Which, in hindsight, sounds like a good thing, but not when doing so meant slashing half of the parks department's budget. As Director of said department, how could she be okay with that?
"It's not just us, Emma, it's everyone," her deputy, David, reminded her.
She groaned in response.
"Would you rather the city went broke?"
"Yes."
She hated that sinful British accent of his, and the way his dark hair sometimes fell in his blue eyes, and how that scruff-covered jaw was just begging for someone to run a thumb across it. Those were the things she noticed when he took her out for a drink in an attempt to assuage her regarding the coming changes.
And that he was annoyingly charming, and funny, and flirtatious, and unfortunately, he too wanted to do the most good for the most people.
"Why is it you went into parks, Swan? Someone as fierce as you seems more fit for politics."
She snorted, then shrugged. "I mean, I've thought about it. Running for office. I'd love to. But then I had my son, and I really wanted to make sure that he always had a safe place to play and have adventures. So this was kind of logical."
He took a sip of his rum, swallowed, then looked up at her. "No, that's not all, is it?"
"Beg your pardon?"
(This was when she learned she hated how well he could read her.)
Those too-blue eyes bored into hers. "You're trying to give him something you never had, aren't you?"
Her gaze narrowed; how could he know that?
"You're something of an open book, love," he said, apparently reading her mind. "You've got that look in your eyes—the one you get when you've been left alone."
Damn, he was good. She didn't tell many people about her life before Henry and then this guy just figures it out on his own. To her own surprise, she found herself filling in the blanks to this relative stranger. Reluctantly nodding, she explained, "I was a foster kid, and for a long time, I didn't really have a place that was mine. But no matter where I went, there was always a park, and I could always find some quiet space there, even as a troubled teenager. So at some point, I got it into my head that that was what I wanted to do: make sure that there were always clean, nice parks for everyone to enjoy—and yes, most of all my son."
His stare softened at her admission, and something seemed to shift between them ever so slightly. Then he smirked and replied, "Guess we have a few things in common."
"What, were you a troubled teenager, too?"
"You could say that."
She scoffed. No way this straight-laced, albeit somewhat lascivious, stud was anything but a goody-two-shoes in high school or primary school or whatever they call it in England. "I find that hard to believe."
He looked down to study the wood of the bar. "Have you ever heard of Captain Jones, Teenage Pirate?"
Her jaw dropped. Of course she had—how could she not? Right around the time of her own rebellious teenage years, she'd heard the story of a kid not much older than her who'd taken to the high seas of England, terrorizing any ship he could, though doing not much more than being an annoyance to the Navy and convincing some wealthy minor royals to part ways with some jewels. She remembered the one picture she'd seen: a scrawny young man, wind whipping his long dark hair and reddening his babyish face. But his eyes…
"Holy shit, that was you?"
He was blushing—the nerd was actually blushing. "At your service."
She couldn't reconcile those two images in her head. "Just...how? How do you go from that to...this?" she demanded, gesturing to him.
"I was protesting what I thought was an unjust action by the Royal Navy that put my brother in unnecessary danger. He survived, but he's my only family and I was just angry enough at the world to go rogue. When they finally caught me, I went to jail for a short while but then was released to him, and he made me realize just how foolish I'd been. So I straightened up, went to university, and eventually found myself over here, working to right wrongs in government as a way to atone for my youthful follies in a more productive manner."
She was speechless. Yeah, it was an incredible tale, but, damn...they really did have something in common.
She hated the way he seemed to have no remorse in shutting down the government, despite their conversation—despite all that he and Robin had seen in Storybrooke. She hated that she had started to let another guy in only for him to betray her again.
"These are people's jobs, Killian! Their livelihoods! And not just them—this is going to affect all of Storybrooke!"
"You think I don't know that? I'm trying to save the town, Emma. Sometimes you have to pick your battles."
"And what am I supposed to tell all these people who were looking forward to that concert?"
"It's a concert, Swan; there will be others. You think these people can't handle it?"
"Here? No."
They glared at each other for another moment, tensions high, and while most of her was raging, a small but significant part of her just wanted to kiss him.
"There's more to this, isn't there?" he asked, voice low.
Damn him. Of course there was, and of course he knew it. She could give him some drivel about how Henry was looking forward to it, or that it was a tradition, but those would be lies. It just...stung.
"No, there isn't." She turned away. "Call me when you've figured this shit out."
She absolutely hated that, when she had found a way to nearly save the community concert, it was Killian that actually did, by rehiring the band out of his own pocket. She hated it so much she cried happy tears in the privacy of her own car (which freaked out Henry a bit, so he hugged her tight).
And she really hated it when she overheard the conversation between he and Robin about staying in Storybrooke, even after fixing the budget. Worse yet, they'd be working with her in city hall, both in the city manager's office.
How awful it had been to see him every day, especially once she got the idea to revive the Miner's Festival, and Killian was totally on board. He helped her every step of the way, even when she was delirious with the flu and drunk off her ass.
"You really think we can pull this off?" she wondered aloud, hopelessness seeping in after a sponsor pulled out.
"I do, Swan," he assured her, completely sincerely. "I've yet to see you fail."
She kind of hated that he was right, though she was mostly relieved. Everything had gone off without a hitch; everyone was having fun; and Mayor Mills had managed to find the town's mascot dog, Wilby, before he'd ran off too far. It was pretty much perfect.
"Told you. I knew you could do it, Swan. You're a bloody hero."
She blushed, uncomfortable with the praise. "So are you. I wanted to thank you, Killian, for all your help—for staying in Storybrooke in the first place. We couldn't have done it without all your help."
"It was the right thing to do."
There was something that had been bugging her the more they had worked together—and gotten closer—over the past few months. "I've gotta ask: why did you?"
"Why did I what?"
"Stay. You told me about how you've been all over the place, never staying in one town for long. But you're here, in this crazy little town. Why?"
He took a step closer, somewhat nervous. "Don't you know, Emma?" She tilted her head, confused. "It's you."
She prayed Henry was nowhere nearby, because after so many close encounters, awkward hugs, and exchanged wanting glances over the past few months, she was tired of holding back. She didn't even care about Robin's no-dating rule that she'd been using to justify not acting on her growing feelings. She just stepped right into his space, grabbed the lapels of that silly leather jacket he was always wearing, and hauled his lips to hers. He didn't hesitate to reciprocate, pulling her tight, and she quickly got lost in their kiss.
She hated how perfectly they fit together, how easy it was to have him in her life. She hated how well he got along with Henry. She hated how sweet and caring he was, always supporting her fully and so in tune with what she needed. She really hated sneaking around, but there was a certain thrill in having to hide their relationship work.
That is, until David caught them. And until someone approached Emma with running for a position on City Council. And Killian was just too damn perceptive for his own good.
So what she really hated was how he put her dreams and wants above his.
They sat down at the table and she took a deep breath, building up courage for the conversation she'd been avoiding for weeks.
"I know I've been really weird lately. I...like you a lot, even though that contradicts what I'm about to say—"
"I know," he cut her off, understanding as ever, and sliding toward her the small box he'd been trying to force on her all day, ever since lunch at Granny's. "Open the box."
"Killian, would you stop it with the box?" she complained, exasperated that he was trying to give her a gift when she was trying her damnedest to keep it together despite what was coming.
"Okay, then, I'llopen the box." He calmly tugged the box back, flipped the lid, and put it back in front of her. And she was speechless.
Inside was an oversized campaign badge. In white text on a red background was written SWAN 2017.
"Wow," she breathed. "You knew."
"Aye," he nodded, looking down. "I know I should have told you sooner, but...I wanted this to last as long as possible." He looked up at her through his lashes. "We have to break up, love."
Knowing it and hearing it were two different things; a stone dropped in her stomach. "Why? Why do we have to break up?"
"Emma, you've worked so hard for this—you've earned this. And I don't want anyone to think you've gotten here by sleeping with your boss, as devilishly handsome as he may be."
"But I like sleeping with my boss."
He teasingly offered every bad breakup line in the book— "It's not you; it's me"; "you disgust me"—but it didn't reach his eyes and she could always spot a lie.
She really, really hated seeing him with another girl on his arm.
It had been six weeks since their reluctant breakup and while things were progressing in her campaign—and she was getting ever closer to achieving one of her dreams—she wasn't sure if the success was worth the aching loneliness she felt every night, lying alone in her bed. Henry, bless his little heart, had tried to cheer her up, and she appreciated it, but it only partly filled the void.
She still saw Killian every day, which was probably the worst part—being close to him but not being able to be with him was a whole different kind of torture. She'd been through her share of heartbreak, but this was on a whole other level.
And then he started to pull away from her, and she had no idea why. She'd even selfishly tried to drag out a low-level parks project—installing the smallest park in Maine in the center of town—because it was the last one they'd do together.
But it went through faster than she thought, and here they were, celebrating their victory with a little shindig at David's house. And there he was, with that pixie-like blonde journalist at his side.
"Oh, so just because I can't go out with him, someone else can?" she complained to Mary Margaret, David's wife and her best friend.
"Yes," was the matter-of-fact response. "That's actually the first time I've seen him smile in a while."
No, that—that was the worst of all.
"Really?" Emma asked voice small.
"Really," she answered in a knowing voice. And Mary Margaret would know—Killian had been renting their spare bedroom ever since he decided to stay in town.
If Killian had been just as torn up over their break as her, and it took this new woman for him to move on, then no wonder he was pulling away.
She hated that the most.
She couldn't stay there any longer. Quickly, she made sure Henry was okay to stay there for a bit and headed out, walking around their small town to clear her head, or her heart, or something.
It shouldn't have been any surprise that she ended up at their tiny park. It was just a lamppost and a bench with a few flower pots, but it was their brainchild and it was perfect. She took a seat on the bench and stared into the night.
"Thought I might find you here." She jumped at Killian's voice, turning toward it as he stepped into the light.
"Shouldn't you be with Tink?" she threw back, more bitter than she'd intended.
"Maybe." His tone was non-committal but he sat down next to her.
They sat in silence for a few minutes—not an awkward one, but they both seemed to want to say something. So she did.
"Why are you here?" His only reaction was to turn to look at her, so she continued. "If you don't want to talk to me anymore, I understand."
"Believe me, Swan—I don't want that," he was quick to reply, to her relief. "I just…" he trailed off, scratching nervously behind his ear. "I think it's for the best," he concluded sadly.
She sighed; he was probably right. "Okay." His face fell a bit, but he nodded and stood, and started to walk away.
And in that moment, she was reminded of everyone else who had walked away: foster parents, Henry's father, a string of exes who never seemed to want her for her. But Killian—he never had done that. Even dumping her was putting her first. She couldn't let that go.
"Or we just say 'screw it'," she called after him. "And do this for real."
He stopped and turned back to look at her. "What?"
"Everyone I've been with has left me, except you. I can't lose you, too, Killian. And I miss you like crazy, so let's do this."
His head was down as he stepped back toward her, making it hard to read his expression. "We'd have to tell Robin."
"Yeah."
"It could cause a scandal."
"I know."
"It could hurt your campaign."
"I know, but I know how I feel, and I want to be with you." She swallowed; she couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd been more nervous or when so much had hung on one question. "That's how I feel. How do you feel?"
He looked up and a smile was teasing at the corner of his mouth and eyes; the weight that had been sitting within her since they'd first broken up started to lift.
And then he was in front of her in two strides, hands cupping her face and his mouth on hers. Their first kiss had been one of pent-up passion, but this? This was like coming home. And she kind of never wanted to leave.
They were making out for what felt like ages, but let Granny, or Tink, or this town's crazy raccoons watch. When they finally broke apart, she only had one thought.
"I love you and I like you."
"I love you and I like you, too, Swan."