21 October, 2016
Laughter filled the master bedroom of a corner house in the suburbs of Storybrooke as the first shades of dawn lightened the room. Emma straddled her lover, grinding herself against his groin while running her fingers through Killian's thick chest hair. A deep chuckle resonated in his chest as he thrust up to match her moves before pulling her down so their bodies were flush. Killian's fingers massaged the base of her spine as Emma wriggled against him.
'You are a true siren, love,' he whispered while threading his fingers into her blonde hair as she gasped. He sucked at the pulse point under her jaw while her eyes drifted shut.
They moved together. Emma taking the lead atop of him as they continued their exploration of each other. Killian's fingers grazed over her sensitive skin as her core clenched around him. Her release exploded from her lips in a soft sigh of completion. Killian stroked her heated skin. In a swift move, flipped them so she was beneath him. His lips devoured her as he continued to move within her. Emma's cries intensified but were swallowed by his kisses as her toes curled into the soft cotton sheets. Her fingers struggled to find purchase on his back, now slick with sweat, but she clung to his toned shoulders.
Somewhere in the distance, Emma's phone chirped in a shrill tone.
'Ignore it,' muttered Killian, reaching down, sliding his hand over her thigh until he reached her knee. He pulled her leg up over his hip, changing the angle so she cried out.
His movements grew erratic as he reached his own climax. He groaned out her name, burying his head in the crook of her neck as she came down from another orgasm. Her fingers slid over his slick back as he came back to his senses, kissing her languidly. She'd give anything to stay put, twisted in the sheets of her bed with this man but she could hear the house coming to life. In an attic room above them, she could hear the plodding feet of her fifteen-year-old son as he began to stir for the morning.
'I should get up,' she whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.
Killian groaned, making no effort to move bar to look at her. Their noses nudged each other. 'Who says?'
'The little birdy on my phone that is kindly reminding me I have an eight thirty start,' she said between kisses. 'Not to mention Henry is getting up.' Again, Killian only responded with a growl while grinding his hips into her. She giggled. 'Come on, Jones,' she chided him. 'He's going to his grandmother's tonight. We'll get all evening and tomorrow together.' Her voice lowered to a seductive sotto as she arched beneath him in a teasing manner.
'I know,' he replied, nipping her behind the ear. 'But can you blame a man for wanting to stay put when he as the most beautiful woman in the universe in his bed?'
She chuckled as he nibbled a row of kisses down her throat, over her neck towards her breasts. 'Ours,' she reminded him as he nipped at her nipple while threading her fingers through his hair. 'Killian,' she moaned under his ministrations. 'Come on!'
He chuckled, an obscene laugh but rolled off her, landing on his back beside her. His blue gaze swept over her, an intense look which sent a pleasant shiver down her back.
She smiled back before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed while tugging him with come-hither eyes.
Enticing Killian into the shower with her had not taken much in the way of persuasion when she sauntered out to the en suite. Before they had met she had not been one for giggling, but she laughed in his arms as hot water sluiced over their bodies. Even now, a good twenty minutes after he had left her to start on breakfast, the smile on her face was perfectly obscene. Down below she could hear the faint melody of music from the radio below the chuckles of her boyfriend and son as they fell into their early morning ritual. Any reservations she once had about Killian moving in had been quickly put to rest. The last three months had been the sort of domestic bliss she thought she'd never find.
Her eyes flicked over the dresser searching for her badge. It was wedged in Killian's underwear drawer. She pulled it open to free the leather wallet, but her attention was quickly diverted when she saw a suede covered box. The black material shone in the pale October light. A shaking hand moved forward to pick it up. It opened with a click to reveal an antique square cut diamond ring. She gasped. It wasn't the sort of thing you just gave as a birthday present. It usually came with a man on one knee with promises of forever.
Emma gasped, barely keeping in a squeal at the thought Killian Jones wanted to keep her forever. She closed it softly and nestled it back amongst the underwear that had barely covered it. Emma sank onto the bed, rubbing her hands together at the thought of the ring, and others, adorning her finger.
Downstairs, the phone rang. She heard Henry answer it.
'Mom,' he yelled, 'its the station.'
'Be there in a sec,' she called back forcing her to no longer think about the little box, nor to envision how she would feel in his arms promising her forever to him.
The smile was too wide on her face to even contemplate it being a no.
With that in mind, Emma dashed out the room and galloped down the stairs to where Henry stood with the receiver.
'Swan,' she said as she put it to her ear, smiling as the smell of pancakes and bacon assaulted her nose intermingled with a hint of the Columbian coffee Killian favoured for the mornings. 'Ah, you're kidding me,' she said to the man on the other end of the land. 'I'll head straight out there in twenty.'
She dumped the receiver down and headed out to the kitchen where the two men of her life were still flipping pancakes. Killian had adored a flowery apron her mother had given them as a moving in present while Henry was streaked in flour. She chuckled. They both looked up.
'Happy Birthday,' they chorused with Killian pushing a coffee over the breakfast bar.
She ignored it in favour of making a beeline for him and kissing him regardless of her son's slightly disgusted sound in the back of his throat. Emma couldn't help it, but she grinned into the kiss, inhaling the fresh mint scent of the shower gel she had rubbed into his chest.
'Thank you,' she whispered before stepping away to give her son a one armed hug. 'Thanks, kid,' she said as Killian began to plate up the breakfast.
/*\*/*\
'You don't live here anymore.'
Emma's dumbstruck voice at the sight of her mother in the living room brought to her a halt. Snow looked at her daughter with a smile before walking over to give her a hug.
She wrapped Emma in a huge hug pressing a kiss to her cheek.
'I know, but can't a mom drop in on her birthday girl?' she asked, as she pulled away but kept holding on to her upper arms.
'Of course,' Emma replied, a smile crinkling on her lips until she caught the wafted of lasagne hit her name. 'But you aren't supposed to cook.'
Snow waved off her daughters attempted at a rebuke. 'Why can't a Mom cook her girl a dinner on her birthday?'
'Because she's been crawled over by third graders all day,' quipped Emma without missing a beat as she peered down into the oven to see the white sauce bubbling over the layers of pasta. 'Where's Killian?'
Snow chuckled as Emma straightened and threw her badge on the breakfast bar. 'I sent him, Henry and August to get beer from the garage an hour ago. I've not seen them since.'
'Bromance,' the two women chuckled together.
The Snow's lined face became serious as Emma went to the fridge to pull out a half full bottle of white wine. 'So you going to tell me why you've been burning out my phone all day?'
Emma poured the wine into stemless glasses and handed one to Snow. She shrugged. 'Okay, don't go mental,' she said taking a sip of her cool beverage.
'You're pregnant,' Snow blurted out.
Emma raised an eyebrow as she tilted her head while tilting her wine glass in a sardonic manner.
'Okay, not pregnant,' Snow conceded but mirrored Emma's expression.
'I found a ring,' said Emma, lowering her voice, glancing out the window in the direction of the garage. 'In his underwear drawer.'
Snow pulled her arms free, clapping her hands on her cheek as a soft cry of delight escaped her lips before cupping her daughter's cheeks. Snow's eyes were bright as she searched her daughter's face for her reaction.
Snow's face lit up. 'Oh, Emma.'
Emma's face relaxed into a smile, a small tear forming in her right eye. 'I know, right?'
Snow enveloped her in a hug, pulling her tightly so Emma's chin rested on her shoulder. 'You're going to say yes, right?'
Emma pulled back, arching her eyebrow. Killian had been the first person she had ever allowed to inhabit her living space… 'Mom,' she said, drawing out the word as she disengaged, but the lilt in her tone made Snow smile.
Emma tapped her mom's shoulder before turning her attention to the outside when she saw August emerge on the roof of the garage. 'What the…' she muttered as she pushed open the door.
'August!'
Emma's voice echoed through the back yard as she jogged down the steps, her glass of wine still in hand. A small amount of it splashed over her hand. 'What are you doing?'
He paused. Then spun as carefully as he could on the slippery slate of the roof with the sort of look on his face that Emma would usually warrant as good enough cause to refer to the DA's office. He held up his bottle of Coors Light in cautious greeting as Killian's voice echoed up through the hatch.
'You nearly had it there, mate!'
'She's pissed,' August yelled back, his head tilting in the direction of the hatch.
'Who's pissed?'
'Emma,' replied August not taking his eyes off her.
She stood with her arms crossed, staring up at him with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning just want to the three men were up to. She's yet to hear Henry's voice, but she knows he's in there with Killian. The young teen might never admit it, but he worshipped the ground Killian walks on and never misses the opportunity for mischief-making
August inevitably brought with him.
The door to the garage flew open, with Killian eyeing her warily. Behind her, Emma became vaguely aware of her mother opening the door to stand on the back porch. Killian's blue eyes flick from her to her mother and back again. 'Did you know there is an old ham radio in here?'
She scoffed but tightened her arms over her chest while her lips crease into a frown. 'Of course,' she replied tightly, with a glance over her shoulder. If Emma felt tense, it was nothing compared to her mother who stood as still as a statue behind her with a glass of wine halfway to her mouth. 'I'd rather you leave it be,' she said.
'Oh come on, Swan!' Killian half moaned. 'It'll be fun.'
She shook her head as she stepped closer to him. Her hand reached out for his. His fingers twisted with hers. 'It was my father's.'
He blinked, his face turning to one of understanding as he squeezed her fingers. 'Okay, love,' he said. He twists to look at August who has been watching the whole exchange.
'Get down from there mate, before we have to call the EMT's.'
'Right, Captain!' he calls back before picking his way back along the roof.
Killian's attention is back on her. 'I didn't realise,' he said softly, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek.
She nods her head, then glances over to her mother, watching as she takes a large mouthful of wine. Her heart sinks at the reminder that sometimes the pain never goes away. It rarely comes up now, but something about her father occasionally blindsides her and Emma is thirteen years old, hearing the news for the first time.
The pain must show on her face because within seconds Killian has wrapped his arms around her as Henry appears. He glances at him mother but makes a beeline from his grandmother. Snow smiles at the sight of Henry as he takes the steps two at the time. Emma hears her mother make some reference to his height and how he just seems to keep growing.
August appeared a moment later, holding out a beer for her with an apologetic smile. 'Happy birthday, Ems,' he says as she takes it. 'Shall we get this party started?' he called up to Snow as he strode back to the house.
Getting the party started involved soft music, her mother's lasagne and wine. August's wife and daughter joined the party once she was home, filling the garden with laughter as a game of soccer began in earnest leaving Emma, Snow and Tink chuckling at their endeavors as the sun went down and the night cooled. Snow hauled Henry off half an hour after August left leaving Emma and Killian on the back porch under the fairy lights she had decorated it with a few weeks after he moved in with her. Instead of sitting at the table, they move to the love seat wrapped in scarves and covered in a blanket. Emma finds contentment in his arms, head against his firm chest as her mind wonders back to the morning.
He drops a kiss on her head. 'You didn't mention how your day went?'
She shrugged. 'Don't want to talk about it,' she said. 'We've got to open a cold case.'
He winces beneath her, so she covers his hand. Being a detective in the Police Department of a busy city like Storybrooke is not an easy job. Sometimes it's even hard to be the partner of said detective, but the ring she found indicated Killian is more than ready to commit. He lifts her hand to his lips and adorns her knuckle with a soft kiss. She nuzzles him in response.
Silence falls between them. It's the comfortable sort shared by two people who are happy to be at one. She sips her wine as anticipation settles in her belly.
'Emma?' his voice is low, and she more feels her name than hear it.
She turns to look at him. Killian's dark blue eyes sparkle in the twinkling fairy light. It occurs to her, this close, just how handsome he is. Even the small scar under his eye enhances his otherwise symmetrical face. Beneath her, he shifts, hand plunging into his pocket and pulling out the ring she had found earlier. Despite expecting it, she says his name softly, her eyes fixed on the twinkling diamond. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees this perfectly kissable lips curve into a smile.
'Emma, will you marry me?'
Silence falls between them as Emma reaches out for the ring pinched between this finger and thumb. A giddy laugh escapes her lips. She turns back to him, their eyes meeting with matching smiles on their faces.
'Yes,' she whispers before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. 'Yes.'
22 October 2016
The storm woke her. Emma had never been able to sleep through the crackle of electricity that filled the air. It didn't help she was somewhat restless by the coursing adrenaline in the aftermath of Killian's proposal. She could have cuddled into his warm body, maybe coaxed him out of sleep with the promise of more celebrations to commemorate their new status. Her eyes flicked down to the ring on her finger. Its weight was unusual but comfortable. Emma flickered the kettle on and pulled out the hot chocolate and cinnamon from the cupboard.
The stormed thundered over her head, the sky around her house lighting up as streaks of light hit the ground. She jumped a little as the house shook a little and the kitchen light flickered. She turned just in time to see a bolt smash into the antenna August had been hooking up. Emma yelped.
'Jesus fucking christ,' she muttered as she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on over the camisole she wore.
Emma ran out into the night, her feet getting wet in the flip flops she wore. She barely noticed as she ran to inspect any possible damage. Emma burst through the door to the sound of static crackling on the old ham she had previously admonished Killian over with the hint of a voice over calling out over it. Emma paused at the sight, it's dial lit up. She hadn't turned the damn thing on since her vain efforts to reach out to her deceased father in the ether twenty years ago.
Before she had found out just want kind of a man he really was.
'CQ. Calling CQ. This is WQ2YV. Is this frequency clear? This is WQ.'
The voice continued calling out as Emma walked towards it. Her face pinched in a frown as she got closer. She pressed down on the microphone. 'Hello?'
'Hello, hey! Hey, so what's your call?'
Emma blinked as she sat in the chair. 'I'm sorry. I didn't even know this thing was working.'
'That's okay,' said the voice. 'So where you from?'
'Misthaven, Storybrooke,' a grin caught on her face.
The mystery caller chuckled graciously. 'Get out of here! Dockside, born and bred! You a Pirates fan?'
'I was,' Emma replied. 'I don't really follow baseball anymore.'
'Ah, but you still gotta love watching the Yanks getting slapped around, huh?' continued the good-natured caller.
Emma chuckled. 'Okay, who doesn't?'
'Yeah, I mean, Maddux was just incredible tonight.'
Radio static filled the garage as Emma sat back. She clenched her fist for a moment. 'Greg Maddux?' she said in a questioning voice. 'As in Atlanta Braves?'
'As in game two,' he replied in a dour voice as if she were somehow taking the mickey. 'Come on Misty, you're breaking my heart here.'
'No,' Emma called back. 'I get it, Yankee's - Braves World Series. In 1996.'
'There you go,' chuckled the caller, the conversation back on track but Emma's brow furrow.
She leant forward, resting her arms on the table the radio sat upon. 'As in the third game, Bernie Williams jacks a two-run shot in the bottom of the eights. Yanks take the Series in six.'
The incredulous laugh from the caller filled the room. 'Right, and you don't follow ball. Okay, yeah, lets do this, I'm good for twenty on that.'
Emma pressed the microphone. 'It's not a prediction,' she replied as something started to settle in her belly.
'Look, Misty, you seem nice, you do but my thirteen-year-old kid has more chance of taking to shuttle astronauts than than Yankee's do of taking the series.'
Emma froze, much like her mother did earlier in the day at the mention of her father. A memory filled her of trying to call Columbia, or Endeavour, or Discovery with her dad as her mother watched on with a bemused expression. But there were no Shuttles in the sky anymore, and the Yankees ended up dominating the rest of the decade in the World Series. If her memory was right, the Cubs were about to go toe to toe with Cleveland. At least, she was sure that's what August had told her fiancé who was indifferent about the news. Killian simply didn't enjoy the America variety of sports when there was British Rugby to sate his appetite.
'Your daughter?' she questioned, unable to help herself. 'What was that about your daughter?'
'Oh, she turned thirteen today,' his mirth dying away. 'So I guess she's on my mind, you know?'
Emma paused, the fingers she had been drumming on the table pausing in mid-air. Above her, the thunder rumbled shocking her out of her train of thought. She looked up, wondering if the storm had been going on the whole time. It would explain the static…
'What's your name?'
'David.'
'David from Misthaven,' she deadpanned.
'Yup,' he agreed, but the warmth from his voice had completely gone. 'Finally something we can agree on.'
'Who the hell is this?'
But static flooded the line. Emma adjusted dial multiple times over but each frequency was filled with the same noise.
David from Misthaven was gone.