"Our floor took a group trip to that creepy, supposedly-haunted cemetery just outside of town and we're the only two people brave enough to get out of the car and explore" AU –
"Emma, love, you're going to injure yourself. Would you please get down?" Killian pleaded, his eyes following the figure that was ascending higher into an oak tree and further away from his watchful gaze.
"Not a chance." Emma grunted out, her focus solely on twisted branches and rough bark. The wind howled and, in its wake, caused several dried and shriveled leaves to be torn away with the burst of frigid air. She shivered, her teeth starting to chatter, the air around her shifted from typical brisk December weather to artic in a blink of an eye. She felt stabs of frozen needles delve into her hands and arms, every exhale clogged her field of view with white mist.
"This is ridiculous," Killian shouted incredulously into the night, his voice starting to shake with the cold, "you're willing to catch your death so you can win a bet?" He had lost sight of her and started to frantically shine the flashlight into every branch he could see. When he found her safe he immediately exhaled a sigh of relief, one that quickly turned to annoyance when he saw her still climbing upwards.
"It's not just a bet, it's my entire reputation." Emma said undisturbed, as if she standing across from him and not dangling precariously in a cemetery tree.
"Since when have you cared about your reputation, Swan?" Killian arched an eyebrow in the darkness, mind at a loss.
"Since Ruby bet on it."
An hour beforehand they – Killian, Emma, Ruby, Mary-Margaret and David – were peacefully scattered around Ruby's apartment, happy to be out of the frozen air and in the warm comfort and familiarity of friends (who at this point were more like family, really). David and Mary-Margaret were watching TV, Ruby was trying to cook lasagna (though her memory was failing her as to what her Grandmothers recipe was exactly), and Emma and Killian were having a foosball tournament. A typical Friday night.
"Yes!" Emma's victory cry rang throughout the apartment, Killian's light chuckle following it (he denies it but Mary-Margaret insists he throws the game on purpose sometimes, there's just something mysterious about how the reigning foosball champion can lose so easily when it involves Emma Swan). "I told you, tonight's my night!" Emma declared proudly, a giggle of happiness breaking forward from her lips.
"Is that so?" Killian teased lips twisting upwards into a mischievous smirk, eyes locking onto hers as if to incite a challenge.
Emma felt a surge of bravery (which was half due to winning the game and half due to the couple of lagers coursing her veins) and opened her mouth with the full intent of destroying Killian at his own flirtatious game. It was high-time he lost anyhow, the back and forth with them has carried on for two years now and Emma was always the one to break, to search for a new activity and ignore the heat in her belly and yearning in her heart. But she had barely uttered a "mhm" before Ruby burst through into the living room and, after scaring Mary-Margaret half to death, scoffed at her choice of words.
"What gave you the idea that tonight was your night?" Ruby squinted at the blonde, obviously perplexed by the thought.
"Well, the fact that I won against Killian is a good sign." Emma joked half-heartedly and a little self-deprecating, she had known that it wasn't her day but perhaps the setting of the sun would of changed her luck. Usually Emma is stellar at her job, truly, but somedays when her nights before were too long and the men not enough of a distraction from the darkness in her mind, she performs less than adequately. This was one of those days.
Emma had met Ruby when she moved to Storybrooke and had joined the force as a detective. Ruby worked as an officer but, being the only two females of any title, they had grown close. Within a month Emma was a well-established member of her friend group and the rest was history. Small town life rarely cried out for the need of police and so when duty called one the other could usually follow along and assist. Thus when her paperwork gave Emma a headache and a call rang in for Ruby, they were able to leave the small precinct together and try to catch the mail thief Ruby had been hunting.
One thing lead to another and Ruby was able to find the man, corner him, and Emma was able to let him escape, much to Ruby's anger. Ruby found him, and caught him this time, a half hour after their shift had ended. (Emma insisted she could catch him on her own to make it up to her. Ruby had insisted that Emma should not come near him again but she should come along regardless, as a punishment).
When David and Mary-Margaret arrived at Ruby's apartment a half hour before Emma (who stayed behind to finish Ruby's paperwork, in an attempt to mend her guilt) and fifteen minutes before Killian, the women talked about what they usually did when they were together: how to get Emma and Killian to admit their feelings. So when Ruby smirked and Mary-Margaret caught her eye a plan was hatched in the silence.
"You know what Emma?" Mary Margaret asked cheerfully. A wondering hum from Emma and a smile from Ruby pushed her on, "If tonight is really your night, I think you should do something with it."
"And what should I do?" Emma questioned, one eyebrow arching upwards (an expression she picked up from Killian, deny it as she may).
"I have an idea," Ruby chirped, an impish gleam in her eyes, "how about you go to that creepy ass cemetery, you know the one, and climb the tree on the hill."
"Why in God's name should she do that?" Killian voiced, disturbed at the idea of the blonde climbing a dying tree in a cemetery in the December chill. His eyes flickered around the room to find someone who matched his horror; Ruby was bursting with anticipation, Mary-Margaret was smiling (though it was faltering, likely due to that not being the idea she would have chosen), and David sat with a slight chuckle. No one seemed concerned, not even Emma. In fact, she seemed almost resigned to her fate.
"When she first moved here we got drunk and I bet her that she wouldn't do it, that she wouldn't climb the tree. And she didn't! She claimed it was bad luck and that when she started to a branch broke and she lost her footing." Ruby smiled wickedly, "So now that it's your night and you have such good luck, what not try it again?"
Killian scoffed, "I hardly think winning a foosball game means she's suddenly capable of scaling a tree. Especially one that she has tried, and failed, at climbing before." His thumbs were itching at the lining of his jeans pockets, his unease with the idea showing through.
"Maybe, maybe not. But I'm now convinced the only reason she wasn't able to before was because she didn't know you." Ruby replied simply.
The group let out a magnitude of confused sounds which had only added to Ruby's grin, "Don't you guys get it? Killian is obviously Emma's good luck charm! She should have no problem climbing the tree now, I'll even bet on it!"
(David had stopped laughing and now teetered on the edge of amusement and worry. While she was able to take care of herself incredibly well, he had felt a tinge of doubt at her ability to not harm herself. He had come to see her as family and the idea of her becoming hurt was hurting him. Mary-Margaret had to give him a quick kiss to have him lose the tension in his shoulders.)
"Alright, I'll do it." Emma sighed. She didn't believe Killian was her good luck charm, the amount of good luck she has never changed. It has always stayed low. From foster parents, to jobs, to relationships, she hasn't achieved anything worthy of being claimed by luck. Her life has been hard work and bad luck if anything. But Ruby was smiling like the sun at the idea and the guilt of the day was still weighing on her and, well, did she really have a choice?
Emma turned to Killian who was still upset at the idea (a part of her wondered why Killian was more concerned than David but she hadn't the heart to dwell on the issue), "You don't have to go, but I have to prove her right or else she'll never shut up."
"Like hell I'm not going. I'd rather you didn't die." Killian grunted as he trotted to the closet to retrieve his and Emma's coat and a flashlight. He knew there was no way to talk her out of something once she had it set in her mind and so he had wanted it over as soon as possible, not exactly excited to be out in the cold facing the threat of her demise due to a damn tree.
"At least not so close to Christmas, I do wonder what you got me this year." He gathered himself just enough to appear lighthearted again, figuring it best not to share his anxiety with Emma, as he walked towards her and helped her into her coat. Emma snickered at his joke, thinking of the model pirate ship in a bottle she had bought in March that was hiding in her closet. It was collecting dust in the back of Mr. Golds shop and, picturing the smile he would give when he saw it, she had bought it immediately.
"Look, you're already half up the tree. Can't we just say you did it and go home? It's bloody freezing out here." Killian shouted into the night, his voice almost lost to the wind by the time it reached Emma's ears. She contemplated his request and the rational part of her brain decided it was the smart route to take but with her mind foggy from alcohol and her thoughts ridden with guilt she thought it best to continue to climb, she was halfway up after all.
"No," Emma called back with indignation, "Listen, I'll climb another couple of feet and tie my scarf so she knows I climbed the damn thing and then I'll get down."
Killian sighed and dug his spare hand into his pocket, fingers trailing up and down on the seam. He watched, anxiety ridden, as Emma slowly traversed through the dead and dying branches. He only seemed to breathe once more when she awkwardly shrugged off her scarf and tied it around the main section of tree, making sure to knot in a bow.
Emma looked down at him, smiling triumphantly. He smiled back, an easy, loving, smile and she had felt her heart jump in her chest. The moonlight and shadows were dancing across his face and a small voice in the back of her mind was telling her that she had never seen a work of art so breathtaking. When she had first meet him she had sworn he was the prettiest face she had ever seen, that Lieutenant Jones, with the most striking of blue eyes and the most sinful of smiles. But now, as she stood twenty feet up in a tree during the dead of a freezing night, she had realized that Killian, with his flirtation and pirate trivia and tender heart, wore the prettiest face of all.
Perhaps she should have leaned into his kiss when they had first meet, perhaps she shouldn't have excused herself and run off to the bathroom the first chance she got. Perhaps she should have swallowed her fear and followed her gut instinct of trust, for she knew now Killian would always follow her. And, after all, wasn't that was she the most afraid of? Being abandoned? Being left? Killian had been by her side when others didn't even know that they should be, been by her side when leaving her would have been smarter, simpler, easier. He had followed her out into a cemetery in the witching hour of a bitter cold December night. He had immediately lent her his gloves when her hands shook briefly. What if, for once, Emma Swan decided to swallow her fear and take a chance?
She descended from the tree slowly, every step calculated, her mind in a haze of victory, alcohol, and Killian, and when she was finally (after some agonizing minutes) within reach Killian surged towards her, hands finding her waist and gently assisting her down. When she was standing on solid ground once more his hands didn't leave, instead insisting on straightening her jacket and brushing off bark and dirt. She sucked in a breath when he turned to face her, his eyes alight with wonder and beauty.
"You'll forgive me for whining, I was a tad nervous you'd fall and break your neck." His smile was shy, the hand that tucked some hair behind her ear delicate. Emma tried her best to swallow her fear, to ignore the erratic thumping of her heart, and caught his hand as it pulled away. His eyes darted to where their hands connected and where fire seemed to catch amidst the cold. He waited, one moment, before he caught her eye. In between the specks of gold and emerald was the dull, never-ending torment of doubt.
"Emma?" He asked softly, eyes wide and earnest, "What's wrong, love?"
She waited, one moment, before lifting her other hand to tangle in his hair. His breath caught, a yearning for her lips replaced all of his senses. But he stood still, never the one to frighten her, to ask for more than he knew she could give.
"I'm afraid." She supplied, voice wavering. She couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from the anxiety that was weaving its way through her body. Her fingers moved in his hair, gently pulling and smoothing, an effort to fend off from the overwhelming terror gripping her.
"What of?" His voice cracked and he threaded their fingers together.
"You." He cocked an eyebrow at her response, "I want you. And I'm afraid." She repressed a sigh, instead opting to hold his stare and squeeze her fingers that resided in his hand. She will fight against her fear, she told herself. It became her mantra as she waited in agony for his reply.
She had feared her body was to be consumed by despair before he reached his verdict, but just before she took what was left of her pride and honor and turned away he smiled. A real, vibrant, ear-splitting smile. It was gone within but a second for his lips had found hers in a kiss that felt like home and adventure and of certainty. She smiled into it, heart leaping with joy, and he bit tenderly on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to deepen their kiss and he took control, pushing her back against the tree, his knee finding residence in between her thighs. His hand let go of hers and made its way to her waist, her back, her hair. It trailed over her body, raising goosebumps that the chill of the air would envy.
They remained that way for a minute, mouths and tongues and bodies and hearts in perfect synchronization, working like well-oiled machine before the snow started to fall. For a second it was lazy, drifting down as though time was irrelevant at all, but then pounded at them, and the cold broke through the warmth of a first, long awaited kiss. They pulled back, smiled at each other slightly, nervously, happily, before taking one another's hand and hurriedly walking away from the tree and towards the car that was parked outside the gate. The scarf flapped in the wind, begging to be free, and Emma's heart soared as she turned back to glance at it. She sent a silent thank you, for what exactly she did not know, but she had felt that perhaps without it she would not be one to ever know that Killian Jones tastes like peppermint and kisses like sin.
He held her hand the entire drive back, his smile never faltering. The snow began to pile when the re-entered town and when they had reached Ruby's apartment once more it had grown to a couple of inches. They trudged through it slowly, every step was hindered by their desire to throw loosely packed snowballs at one another. When they had finally made it inside of the lobby Killian insisted he kiss the warmth back into Emma for her lips looked startlingly blue. In the elevator Emma decided that a particular spot on his neck looked frozen and that she needed to mend it, so she lowered her head and kissed and sucked until Killian let out a moan and the elevator dinged and opened its doors.
Mary-Margaret and Ruby shared knowing glances and vibrant smiles when they bounded through the doors, both so enamored with each other it was as if each one was the center of the others galaxy. David nearly choked when they left together later that night, hand in hand, smiles larger than he could have imagined possible.
Perhaps she should have leaned into his kiss when they had first meet, but perhaps what was needed was for her to kiss him. For her to decide that he was worth more than the fear, that Killian was worth it all and more. Perhaps, she whispered to Ruby late one night many years later, perhaps Killian was really her lucky charm after all.