Plot: CS. AU. She was a live wire and she was about to turn his world upside down. Just trying to get by his last year of high school, Killian Jones is paired with socialite Emma Swan, the girl with a dark secret and a flair for theatrics. Rated T for now. Rating may go up.
AN: I don't state a lot of details in location because I don't know about the location its set. I don't feel like I can add it in here and have it make sense. There's just a lot of first-hand knowledge and research I just don't have. It's set in a New York City like place. Also Killian doesn't have a brother in this story. He's an only child. Sorry Liam fans. Sometimes you just have to make sacrifices for art and story lines. Some of the characters may be a little OOC for the sake of storytelling purposes. Hopefully it's not too off the wall. There will be some similarities. I don't know if it's plainly obvious that I don't know a thing about liquor or living in a huge city. I want to give a shout out to Haleigh, onceuponajollyroger on tumblr, who was kind enough to beta this fic for me. Couldn't have done it without you! I am supper excited about this fic. It may be some of the best I've ever written. Enjoy reading!
Live Wire
Chapter One
Killian Jones jogged up to the little, hole-in-the-wall loft he shared with his father. He was already winded from the hour jog around his neighborhood. Routine. It's what sets us apart from the animals. Every morning around five he would get up and go for a jog. He told himself it was to clear his mind, but mostly it was just to get some fresh air. Unlike the other kids he went to school with, he lived in a cramped, five-hundred square foot apartment with his drunk of a father. Killian tried to spend as little time as possible in his so called home. He didn't have many options on places to go to escape. A morning jog and a couple of shifts at the local garage would have to be enough to get him by until he was able to move out on his own. One more year, he would remind himself. The optimism all but drained from his mind as he walked into his abode, the stench hit him instantly. The source was slumped over the small, two chair table shoved in the corner by the outdated fridge. Killian treaded carefully across the small expanse of the room being mindful of the trash and dirty laundry that made its home on the floor. Two empty bottles, one with a quarter of its contents left, littered the table.
"What do we have this time?" he asked himself picking up the taller of the empty bottles.
"Jameson Irish Whiskey," he read off the bottle before slamming it back down on the table startling his father.
"What the hell boy?!" he hollered sloshing his words around.
"How much money did you spend on whiskey last night?!" Killian demanded leaning against the small kitchenette and crossing his arms over his chest in a threatening manner. Killian rolled his eyes at his father's drunken, pathetic attempt to do math in his head. At that moment the only thing Killian was grateful for was the fact that his father would never need to know simple addition to be a dockhand. His father began to count on his fingers mumbling unintelligible numbers under his breath.
"60… 80…," he guessed slumping his shoulders. He could hardly support his own weight he was so drunk. This behavior was nothing new to Killian. After his mother died in childbirth it was just him and his dad. Nine and a half years later, his father remarried a woman named Susan, an American born photographer on assignment in Ireland. Despite never knowing his mother, Susan, was a nice mother figure for him. They relocated to the United States when Killian was ten. Over the years, Killian and Susan became very close. That was until she died halfway into his freshman year of high school. Her death devastated him, but it took a much larger toll on his father. That was when the drinking started. The drinking cost him his cozy desk job and later his relationship with his son. Killian's father, Flynn, now works eight to ten hour shifts at the local shipping yard for eight bucks an hour. Killian narrowed his blue eyes meeting his father's black ones in a veiled attempt to get him to remember.
"One-fifty," he winced out.
"One-fifty?!" Killian repeated slamming his fist against the counter behind him.
"One-fifty?! Are you daft?!" Killian insulted pointing a finger of blame in his father's direction.
"I needed it…" his father offered up as a lame excuse.
"You needed it?!" Killian mocked, his accent getting thicker with rage.
"The landlord is threatening to kick us out and you go on a bloody bender?! We barely had enough money for rent last month!" he growled covering his eyes with his forearm to keep from crying out in frustration.
"Unbelievable," Killian choked out shaking his head back and forth looking for some justification for his father's idiotic actions.
"I don't have time for this right now. I have school in less than two and a half hours," Killian reminded him. Living on a completely different side of town, nowhere near the fancy private school he attended meant that it took him an hour and twenty minutes of travel time to make it to school every morning. He usually made it to class with 5 minutes to spare on a good day, a day where everything worked in his favor. A rare day indeed. This was Killian's last year of high school, one year until he was free. Killian pushed off from the counter and made his way across the apartment to where the bathroom that consisted of a toilet and a moldy bathtub was concealed by a sheet giving the illusion of privacy. One more year, his mind chanted. Killian stopped mid-step to face his father who was once again face down on the table.
"And for God's sake, take a bath!" he grunted before pushing the curtain back and preparing for the day.
Getting to school took him a forty-five minute train ride into the city followed by a thirty minute bus ride which required him to change busses three times. As usual he was pushing his time limit. When he arrived to the gated courtyard, of the private school campus, which was normally crowded with various cliques in the same uniform as him, he found it empty. For the boys, the uniform consisted of kakis; a white, button up, collared shirt with a fitted, striped necktie in the school's colors; and a navy blue blazer with the school crest on it. Girls were required to wear a pleated, plaid skirt in the school's colors, either a white or blue collared shirt, and a black sweater vest that could also be paired with a similar navy blue blazer adorned with the school crest. Securing his messenger bag over his shoulder, Killian prepared to make the mad dash to the first class of his senior year.
He made it to 12th grade Geography just as the bell rang. His usual back right corner seat was empty. He breathed a jagged sigh of relief and made his way to the back of the classroom. He settled into his seat with his book bag draped across his desk and waited for the teacher to start the lesson. He paid no attention to his fellow classmates. He had little respect for them. His goal in life was to go completely unnoticed by them. So far, he had been doing a pretty decent job. He had more pride in himself than to associate with any of the people in this school that leech off their family's money. Thinking about it made him sick to his stomach. The only reason he was even able to attend this school was because of his mother's trust fund. Although he never knew his biological mother, she had set a small fortune aside for his schooling before he was even born. A fortune that was to only be used for his schooling to his father's dismay. The money and education he was getting gave him hope for the future. College was actually a possibility. This opportunity hadn't been taken away from him like everything else in his life. His education was the one thing his father couldn't take away from him. He would guard it with his life.
"My name is Greg Mendell, but you can just call me Mr. Mendell. Welcome to 12th grade Geography. This year we will be going in depth into the subject. Be prepared for a lot of projects," he announced cheerfully earning him groans from the entirety of the class. Just then, the door opened with a loud squeak and shut abruptly causing everyone to direct their attention to the source of the noise with the exception of Killian.
"Sorry I'm late," a soft feminine voice apologized to their instructor. The only sound that could be heard in the classroom was her footsteps. That still wasn't enough to make Killian glance up. The footsteps came to a halt near him and he heard the sound of someone shuffling into their seat.
"Don't make being late to my class a habit Miss-?" the teacher paused searching for the name of the late student.
"Swan. Emma Swan," she offered with a tight-lipped, unamused smile. That was enough to get Killian's attention. Emma Swan was infamous. There wasn't a person in this school who didn't know who she was. Killian was no exception. Emma Swan was the heiress to her father's Fortune 500 Company and was possibly the richest student in school. Not that that mattered to Killian. She attended the school up until the end of her sophomore year. She didn't return for her junior year. There were many rumors surrounding her disappearance. No doubt there would be an equal amount for her reappearance. None of this mattered to Killian. All that mattered was that the person he had been pinning and yearning for since his 9th grade year had just seemingly walked back into his life. The only problem was, she didn't have a clue who he was.
"As I was saying to the class Miss Swan, there will be a lot of projects given in this class. What I failed to mention was that these projects will be assigned in a group. Congratulations, the person sitting to the left of you is now your partner for the rest of the year." That earned him another chorus of groans from the students in the class. Killian glanced in the direction of the seat next to him. His eyes began at a pair of feet crossed at the ankles in what looked like some very expensive heels and rose to meet the face of Emma Swan who turned her head to face him and flashed him a seductive smile. Killian swallowed and rearranged himself in his seat, so he was facing away from her. He was fucked.
AN: Thanks for reading! As always review, don't review makes no difference to me. Also check me out on tumblr: holdingoutforapiratehero.