Captain Swan is My Favorite Rom Com: "While You Were Sleeping"
By: snowbellewells
Okay, so I love searchingwardrobes Summer Fandom Event idea of putting our beloved couple into different romantic comedies, and I just couldn't resist giving it a try when I saw one of my old favorites on her prompt list. I apologize in advance as Killian doesn't appear right away (though if you've seen the movie you probably expected that). I also probably ought to mention that I have switched around some OuaT familial relationships just a bit – but I'll get into that in future parts when it applies more.
Last note: Since the Sandra Bullock "While You Were Sleeping" movie takes place in the 1990s, I'm sure cell phones, subway fare, and other such things have made all kinds of advances. I don't live in a big city where I ride subways often, but I'm going to guess they don't even use tokens anymore. Still, I'm leaving technology and such as I remember it being in the movie.
I still don't own them, but I do hope you enjoy! This first part's a bit shorter, just getting the story going, but the next should be up within a couple of days and be longer. (I wish I knew how to give you an adorable manip or photo set for this, but I definitely don't have those skills. Hopefully I've been descriptive enough – and you have seen this awesome movie! – so you can see it in your imagination.)
Part One: Prologue
"Next."
The clink of the subway token in the steel drop slot made its familiar sound as Emma Swan almost robotically gestured the traveler through to make room for the next and fished the coin out to add to the growing pile on the counter at her elbow. At this point, the main part of her job at the Riverside subway terminal on Boston's Green Line was so routine she barely paid attention or even looked at the equally harried and distracted commuters, but simply gathered their fares, waved them on, and kept the line moving. It certainly wasn't exciting or life-changing, but it paid the bills, kept her and her cat fed, and if she daydreamed meanwhile about someday traveling beyond the bounds of the city's subway network, and having someone to travel with – well, no one had to know that but her.
The jangle of another coin in the till jarred her from her morosely-veering thoughts and reminded Emma of her duty, "Ne-" she began to say, even looking up at this person as if to prove she wasn't lazing on the job, but the words froze on her tongue at the sight before her.
It was him – the mystery man who traveled through her station every week. Like clockwork, he appeared each Saturday at nine, then reappeared on his return journey in the early evening. Only on Saturdays, but without fail; once a week some pilgrimage brought him to her like a shimmering mirage, leaving Emma shaken and breathless, thinking throughout the rest of her work week that she must have conjured him from her own imagination. Though she wanted to shake her head at the preposterous reaction, roll her eyes at the dramatic way her heart raced whenever this guy came into view, and write herself off as pathetic for behaving with such girlish enthusiasm, it never failed to strike her again on Mr. Handsome's next arrival.
It wasn't just the perfectly tailored slate gray suit and handsome overcoat the man wore, the fancy watch on his wrist, or the confident, decisive way he moved and carried himself; it was more in the twinkle of playful mischief she saw in his breathtaking blue eyes behind the proper veneer of his business-like appearance (even on a Saturday), the subtle quirk of his mouth as he never failed to thank her, in a heart-stopping British accent no less, before moving on to his destination, and the way that, though he without doubt had the best products and stylists at his fingertips, there was still an unruly, disheveled mess of curls atop his thick, sandy head of hair. The man was clearly a mover and shaker, powerful, well-to-do, and yet he carried himself as if it were an easy mantle, with the grace not to give his power too much credence or act better than anyone else.
As if to prove her point, the guy smiled at her kindly, even as she did little more than nod dumbly and reach out to take his subway token. His voice was warm, almost melodious with the lilt of that accent as he added, "Thank you, Lass. Have a lovely day." Then, with a dip of his head and a wink, he was gone, moving off on his way again, leaving Emma looking after him and trying to shake herself back into coherence.
She watched his tall, broad-shouldered frame, now with his back to her, stop on the platform to check the time, and she sighed, dejectedly berating herself for being too dumbstruck to even answer the seeming man of her dreams. "You have a nice day too." "That's a great tie you're wearing," she snarked to herself quietly, reminding her stunted brain of the sensible replies she could have given Mr. Dreamy instead of merely gawping at him like a fish out of water. "'You're beautiful", "Take me with you…" Letting out a growl of frustration at her own lunacy, Emma buried her head in her hand a moment before knocking her brow against the glass a couple times for good measure. "Stupid, stupid," was really all she could find to mutter to herself.
However, though she admitted that she might be many things, a wallower was not one of them. After her short personal pity party, Emma drew a deep breath, squared her shoulders and looked up, intending to get back to work – monotony and all. Unfortunately, that still wasn't in the cards.
She looked up just in time to see her daydreams' focus be joined on the platform by three other men, looking much less clean-cut and a lot shiftier in their bearings. Whatever the first one said to her suited regular, it clearly wasn't friendly, as he stiffened rigidly, and Emma did too merely from watching at a distance. The first newcomer gave her commuter's scarf a flip back over his shoulder, making the muffler fall from his shoulders to the ground, and she could almost read the words on those well-formed lips, imaginary or perhaps even distantly hearing his, "Watch it, you lot. Just back off. I'm not looking for any trouble." He had turned partially to take in all three of the men who'd accosted him, clearly not wanting to put his back to any one of them, and she could see the storm cloud that had settled on his strong brow, that handsome face dark and warning where before she had only ever seen it show either mild happiness or amused curiosity.
One of the newcomers jeered loud enough for Emma to hear as she cracked open the door of her vestibule, ready to call out and intervene, asking loiters to move on before the next train's arrival. "Well, you may not want any trouble, guv'nuh," mocking his English speech obviously as he moved right into her guy's space, "but what if we do?" And before Emma could call out or make any sort of sound at all, he shoved at her regular passenger, hard enough to send him stumbling back despite his height and the casual poise with which Emma normally saw him move. Though he might well have caught his balance just fine in usual circumstances, they were standing too near the edge of the platform. The next foot he put back to brace himself found only empty space.
One of the hoods reached out quickly to swipe the man's wallet while he was off balance and couldn't stop himself, while another bent to grab up the dropped briefcase he had been carrying; the third gave her handsome stranger one last shove in the chest before the three attackers bolted, disappearing up the subway steps, even as Emma finally jolted from her wide-eyed shock, leapt from her stool, and ran toward the fray.
Unfortunately, even as she hurried, she knew it was too late. In nightmarish slow motion, her guy's arms pin wheeled, still seeking balance. The desperate attempt failed, and Emma skidded to a stop where he had been, grasping for nothing but air as he fell and vanished over the side, plummeting to the tracks below.