Co-written by em_foundmyhome!
Based off the British TV series Fresh Meat. This fic is endgame Captain Swan. Hope you enjoy it!
Episode 1
Emma Swan wasn't sure what she expected to see when she first walked into the university appointed housing, but a boy spinning in a cape in front of a crime board wasn't it.
"Um, hey." Emma dropped her bags on the floor, raising an eyebrow when the boy held up a finger and scribbled on a piece of paper. He tacked it to the board before turning to her and grinning.
"I'm Henry," he introduced.
"Emma. You in law, too?" She gestured to the crime board.
Henry flushed. "No, that's my storyboard."
"Hah!" Emma jumped at the loud guffaw coming from the couch and for the first time, she noticed the third person in the room.
"That's Jefferson," Henry said. Jefferson grinned at Emma, wiggling his fingers in a half hearted wave before jerking his thumb towards Henry's storyboard.
"It's about Robin," he told her, clearly amused.
Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Like, Batman and Robin?"
"Just Robin," Henry said and Jefferson started laughing again. "He's a much better character!"
"Of course he is," Jefferson nods, emphatically, before winking at Emma.
"He is!"
"I thought I was the one on drugs."
"How about we take a look around?" She interrupted. Henry perked up, slipping the cape over his head and draping it over the chair.
"I will be your tour guide," Henry announced, as though it could have been someone else. "We start in the living room slash dining room slash kitchen, or as it's better known, the Hub."
"I don't think anyone's ever called it that," Jefferson interrupted. "Maybe the lounge or Nerd HQ, but not that. Nothing with a crimeboard that stupid can be called the Hub."
"Storyboard."
With a dramatic sweep of his arm, Henry gestured to the door to the hall. Emma followed his directions, Henry trailing after her, and she was soon in the sparse corridor. From the look on Henry's face, she had strange feeling she was supposed to be impressed, but she'd already walked through the hallway and there was nothing there to be interested in.
"That door there's for the toilet," Henry told her after a few minutes without a response. "And the 'cupboard under the stairs', well, that goes down to my Batcave."
"Your Batcave?"
"You could also call it my bedroom."
"Right."
"You know, if Batman had a stereo system, it would be just like mine," Henry informed her. "No Batcave is complete without a Batspeaker system that can be heard throughout the world. Or house."
The first floor was just as uninteresting. The single lightbulb lighting the landing had no lampshade and the walls were painted a dull grey. Emma grimaced at the sight, but again, Henry seemed oblivious to the drabness.
"The rest of the house is basically bedrooms," Henry said before pointing at the door in the centre of the landing. "Not that room though. That's a bathroom. The shower requires some pretty decent physical strength to get it going, but you look like you have the arms for it. Also, the water never really gets any hotter than tepid."
"So, is one of these going to be my bedroom?" Emma asked, gesturing at the doors on either side of her. "Or are they all taken?"
"You can have that one," Henry told her, gesturing to the one furthest from the stairs, on the left. "Or the one opposite. The other two are full."
They continued onto the top floor, where there were another three doors. Emma was expecting some more information on the bathroom, but instead Henry crept over to the door furthest from the landing and pushed it.
"It doesn't open," he said quietly. "Not since Ruby moved in a few days ago."
"Ruby?"
"The other tenant," he whispered, emphasising his words with jazz hands. "The only time she's left her room since getting here was last night. On the full moon." Emma didn't really know what to say to that, so she just nodded and smiled. "Anyway, the other room is Jefferson's and then there's another bathroom. And that's the house."
"It's…" Great wasn't the right word, but Henry looked too proud of the house for Emma to pretend to be anything other than enthusiastic. "Really nice."
"It is, isn't it?" Henry agreed. "Now, I guess you can pick your room."
The two of them had only just stepped onto the first floor when Emma heard the creak of a door opening, and when she looked towards the noise, she saw a young woman resting against the doorframe and watching her and Henry.
"Um, hi?" Emma said awkwardly, raising her hand in a small wave. "I'm guessing you live here, too."
"Yeah," the girl answered. "It's nice to see that I won't be entirely surrounded by guys here."
"Well, there's Ruby."
"Apparently. I haven't actually seen her."
"I'm Emma, by the way," she announced. "And you are?"
"Lacey," The three of them stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to say. Emma tugged on the hem of her jumper and Lacey twirled her hair around her finger as each of them waited for the other to speak. "So…"
"So."
"What A levels did you do?"
"History, Maths, and Politics," Emma answered easily. "And Critical Thinking, but I don't think that really counts. You?"
"Philosophy, English Lit, and English Language."
"I did English, too," Henry piped up. "Along with Psychology and Dance."
There was another awkward silence, and then Emma couldn't take it anymore. "Well, it's nice to meet you but I really should get my stuff out of the car." She told them. "I don't want to leave my laptop out there any longer than I have to."
"Need any help?" Lacey asked.
"No, it's fine," Emma reassured her, already starting towards the stairs. "I don't exactly own much. It'll be two trips max."
Emma had intended to unpack, but after she'd haphazardly placed her photo of her and Ingrid on the slightly lopsided bedside table, she couldn't be bothered to do anything more. Instead, she'd just flopped back onto her sheetless mattress and stared at the ceiling.
It looked like someone had somehow spilt tea on the there, and if Emma squinted, it looked a little bit like a dragon.
"Hello?"
The last thing Emma had expected to hear after finally managing to relax was someone else's voice, and the fact that she had no idea where it had come from was hardly comforting. Maybe she was just exhausted after her drive up, several hours of which had been spent in a traffic jam, but even then, she figured that hearing voices probably wasn't the best sign.
"Is someone there?"
She'd definitely heard something, so unless university had already managed to drive her crazy, someone was talking to her.
"Um, are you talking to me?" Emma asked awkwardly, still not sure who she was speaking and hoping she wasn't as mad as she looked.
"Yeah," the voice replied. "Although for a few minutes, I was starting to think I was talking to myself."
"Where are you?"
"The other room," they told her. "I think this used to be one big room and then they built a really shit wall to make it into two. From the look of the hole, I wouldn't be surprised if the wall was literally cardboard."
As the man spoke, Emma glanced at the wall behind her bed. It looked like cardboard was probably an exaggeration, but whatever it was made out of was very thin. "What do you mean, the hole?"
She shouldn't have asked. As soon as she looked to the right, she could see what he was talking about. Right there, right next to her bed, there was a hole about two inches wide.
"Don't ask me why it's there," he said quickly. "Who knew a student house would come with its own Glory Hole?"
Emma had been considering peering through it to see who she was talking to but his words made her freeze in horror. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Not that I…" Whoever was talking sounded startled. "I don't mean that I would… I'm sure not every Glory Hole has to be used like that."
"I don't think that Glory Hole has to be used at all," Emma pointed out. "Just because it's there doesn't mean you need to stick something in it."
"God, no!" He yelped. "I meant… here."
She watched as the man's finger poked through the hole, and although she couldn't suppress a snigger, she still reached out and took hold of it, shaking it as though everything was totally normal and she was just shaking the hand of someone she'd just met.
Not someone's finger stuck through what she was always going to think of as a Glory Hole.
"So, what A Levels did you do?" the voice asked, just at the same moment as Emma realised that she'd been holding onto his finger for far too long to be normal. "I did Geography and Biology. And my dad kind of forced me into taking English Lit."
"A Levels?" Emma repeated, thrown by the question. She'd been prepared to hear it many times, but not from someone sounding as American as she did. "You did those? Aren't you from America?"
There was a long pause, and then he wriggled his finger out of her grip and back through the hole. "Of course I am," he answered. "Obviously. That is where I'm from. But you have to do them to go to a British university and I wanted to get away from all the… eagles, stripes and, you know, freedom."
"I didn't know that!" Emma said in surprise. "Not that I've thought about it. My mom and I came over here a few years ago, so I just did them at school and then applied. I do kind of miss it back there though."
"Yeah, me too," he agreed. "I really miss… the President."
"I was thinking more about the lack of rain, but sure," Emma muttered with a frown. "Whatever floats your boat."
The room was silent after that, but Emma was suddenly all too aware of the guy on the other side of the wall. She'd been prepared for less privacy after arriving at uni, but not to this extent. He would probably be able to hear everything, even her movements, and she didn't even know his name.
"Dudes, we're going drinking!" Emma breathed out a loud sigh of relief at the sound of Jefferson's shouting. "Grab some cash and let's go."
She didn't even think about it. She just grabbed her purse and jacket, slid on her leather boots, and headed straight for the door. The mysterious man had clearly had the same idea, as when Emma stepped onto the landing, the first thing she saw was a guy coming out the room next to hers.
He sent her a sheepish smile the moment he noticed her. Emma did the same, her gaze running quickly over the disheveled hair, slouched shoulders and kind, brown eyes. "I guess you're who I was talking to," she stated, her smile widening at his nod. "I'm Emma."
"Neal."
"Nice to meet you," Emma told him. "And then see you."
Neal offered her his hand, but before she could shake it, she heard someone rushing up the stairs, and then Jefferson burst onto the landing. He raised an eyebrow, looking first at Emma and Neal and then over to Henry and Lacey.
"Are you guys coming or am I going to be drinking enough booze for five by myself?"
The music pounded in her ears before they'd even slipped through the doors, the loud vibrations matched with boisterous laughter from the crowd. Emma squared her shoulders and trailed behind Jefferson.
"Over there!" Lacey elbowed her way past them to rush towards a recently emptied table. She threw her jacket on it, glaring when a guy attempted to set his beer down. He slunk away and Emma slid in the booth next to Lacey.
Jefferson slung his coat on the back of a chair and opened his arms wide. "The smell of pints and desperation. I love uni."
"Yeah," Lacey agreed quickly. "It's only our first day but I love it."
Jefferson patted her on top of the head. "Drinks, ladies?"
"Yes," Emma started to stand but Jefferson waved her off.
"Yeah, a pint sounds brilliant," Lacey handed him her wallet and he extracted a few bills.
"On Lacey, then, yeah?" He winked at her before shooting through the crowd to get to the bar.
Though Lacey seemed perfectly nice, if a little preoccupied with impressing Jefferson, Emma struggled to think of a conversation starter once they were alone.
They looked at one another. Emma smiled and Lacey offered one back before they both glanced away.
The music filled the space between them and Emma tapped her foot to it, although she wasn't fond of the song. She looked for Jefferson, laughing when she saw he was leaning across the bar, batting his eyelashes at the bartenders. She nudged Lacey, rolling her eyes towards him.
"He works fast," Emma muttered.
"I wonder if we'll get our drinks, after all." She grinned.
"Probably not." They watched as he threw his hands to his heart, his groan audible even across the room, before the girl moved away and he shrugged, turning to the boy next to her to restart his flirting. "Bounces back fast, doesn't he?"
"Jefferson is so cool," Lacey said. Emma raised an eyebrow and Lacey's eyes widened. "Not, like, that I don't know a ton of cool people. Because I do."
"Of course you do," Emma replied dryly.
Lacey glared, straightening up and tossing her hair over one side of her shoulder. "I do. A lot. I met the coolest people during my gap year. Jefferson just is also cool, which I recognized, because I'm around so many cool people."
Emma leaned closer to the girl, trying to soften her expression. "Do you like him?"
"Like him! Like him as in fancy him?" Lacey scoffed. "Please. He's just-"
"Cool, yeah, got that." Emma sat back, relieved to find that Lacey hadn't developed any crushes on their housemate. He was nice but Emma had always been good at reading people and knew, with a fair amount of certainty, that he and Lacey would never work in that way.
"Where's Neal and Henry at, anyway?" They had all walked into the pub together but both boys had disappeared from the moment they walked in.
Lacey frowned, craning her neck to look around the room. "I don't- Oh, there!" She pointed and, clear across the room, she could see Neal leaning against the wall chatting up a blonde. She was tall and leggy and way out of Neal's league. Emma exchanged a grin with Lacey, who was snickering quietly at the sight, as well.
Henry was sat at the table nearest to Neal, scribbling in his notebook. Emma wondered why he even came if he was still writing, but he looked happy enough so she didn't pay him much attention.
Three sloshing pints shot onto the table and Emma raised her eyes to a grinning Jefferson. "Pints for my peeps!" He declared and Emma realized that she really, really didn't understand what the hell Lacey was talking about.
"You're a fucking dork," she told him, honestly, before grabbing a beer. "Thanks, though."
"Am not," Jefferson pouted, tossing himself into the chair his coat was draped over. He took a huge gulp of his drink, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.
"How much was that each?" Lacey asked and Jefferson frowned. Emma raised her mug to hide her laugh when Lacey immediately began to backtrack. "I mean, first round's on me, of course."
"Right, cheers." Jefferson lifted his glass towards them and took another huge gulp.
He looked over his shoulder and sighed before turning back to them and wiggling his eyebrows. "Isn't that bartender so hot?"
Emma glanced over to see the two hapless victims Jefferson had been flirting with in conversation behind the bar. "Which one?"
"Both," he cried. "They're both so hot."
He blew a kiss towards them; the girl rolled her eyes and the boy shook his head, but both were smiling.
"I'm going to sleep with one of them. Or both." he declared and Emma couldn't help but be amused by the blatant determination on his face. Lacey coughed before taking a long pull of her drink.
"Tonight?" She asked.
"Of course," Jefferson laughed. Emma and Lacey exchanged a glance.
"That's fast."
"That's uni," He argued. "Come on, it's the first night! You don't want to have a shit year so you can't have a shit first night!"
Emma didn't really follow his logic but Lacey seemed to agree, nodding emphatically.
"Right, yeah." Lacey finished her drink.
Jefferson jumped out of his chair and slid next to them on the bench, nudging Emma over until she was pressed tightly between her two new flatmates. He threw his arm around her shoulders, his fingertips grazing Lacey's arm. "I've made my selection, ladies. Now let us choose yours."
Emma rolled her eyes, wrapping her hands around the pint. "No, thanks."
"Come on, Emma!" Jefferson's voice was tinged with a whine that reminded Emma of why she never wanted kids.
"Yeah, Emma," Lacey jumped in. "We're at uni now! We need to, I don't know, get the full experience. Live our lives, you know."
"Exactly," Jefferson patted the side of her head and Emma felt briefly like a child, though instead of being reminded to do chores she was being encouraged to shag a stranger in the name of college memories. "You find a hottie, you sleep with said hottie, you're ready for lessons tomorrow!"
Lacey put her elbow on the table, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand as she scanned the room. "That one's pretty," she said, jutting her head towards the bar. Emma was a bit surprised that she agreed.
"Go get him," she encouraged. Lacey laughed, recoiling and shaking her head.
"No, no way." Emma exchanged a glance with Jefferson and Lacey shrugged. "I'm not into pretty boys."
Jefferson leaned in, conspiratorially, and Lacey followed suit until Emma could see both of their eager faces in her peripheral vision. With more enthusiasm than Emma found necessary for the situation, Jefferson whispered out, "You should do him!"
"I should not," she replied automatically.
"He's hot," Jefferson frowned, cocking his head to look more closely at the guy. "You have to sleep with him, not even I can bag him and my bartenders all tonight."
Emma glanced back at Pretty Boy and admitted that with his dark hair and bright eyes, he wasn't a bad choice for a first night fuck.
"What do you have to lose? It's practically a rite of passage!"
"You're right."
The pair looked as surprised as Emma felt when she agreed with them. But they were right- at least, she thought they were. Sleeping with a stranger the first night of uni practically was tradition and they'd all been staring at Pretty Boy for so long that he had seemed to notice, practically preening as he stretched to give them a better view.
She grabbed her glass and chugged the last few swallows of her beer before standing up and pulling her leather jacket tight around her frame. "Now or never," she said and Jefferson wolf whistled while Lacey cheered.
The crowd was a bit thinner than it was when they first arrived, but the music seemed to pound louder. Or it was her pulse, thrumming aggressively inside her ears by the time she reached the bar.
He was already watching her, his gaze appreciatively dancing up and down her frame. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your beautiful presence?"
Emma scoffed and grabbed the drink out of his hand. She downed it, feeling the warm liquid loosen the muscles on her shoulders. She always did like rum. "You sound posh."
He grinned, his tongue slipping from between his lips to run suggestively over the bottom swell of his lip. "You say that like it's a bad thing, love."
"It is," she looked longingly at the empty tumbler in her hand and he snapped loudly. The bartender came over to refill it, looking annoyed. It was a prickish way to get someone's attention, but Emma swallowed the alcohol quickly regardless. "I'm Emma."
"Killian Jones, at your service." He sidled closer and if he wasn't somehow prettier up close, Emma would have punched him for being such a prat.
As it was, she groaned. "Are you always this obnoxious?"
He shrugged, grinning wolfishly. "Are you always this prickly?"
"I'm not prickly," she denied quickly. He smirked and tugged at the bottom of his sweater, pulling it so it was tight against his chest, the start of a light smattering of chest hair peeking out from the lowered collar. It was obvious, but effective. Emma decided to hell with it and she slipped her hand into his before tugging him out of the bar. She could hear Jefferson hooting after them all the way through the door.
The floorboards creaked when they walked up the stairs and Emma winced, hoping no one was home to question her. She stopped, peeking her head over the railing, but it seemed like everyone was still at the bar and the mysterious Ruby wasn't around, so she waved Killian on up the stairs.
She hesitated at the door, fists clenching on either side of her body as she considered. This was quite possibly a huge mistake. The guy was hot, yeah, but he was also a bit of a prat. She felt light from the pint and rum she'd had and when she peaked at him from the corner of her eye, he was smiling at her with a raised eyebrow.
Pushing thoughts of what the people back home would think, Emma grabbed his hand and led him through her bedroom door.
Her room was still fairly empty, her two boxes still unpacked and stacked in the corner. Killian walked to the bed, running his finger across the frame on her nightstand.
"Pretty family," he commented. She just nodded, not wanting to talk about her family with her posh one night stand. Killian seemed to pick up on her reluctance to talk, turning abruptly and sauntering back towards her.
Hooking his thumbs in the loops on his jeans, he licked his lips and smirked. "Look here. You, me, a mattress."
Emma laughed, but it was too sharp to sound natural and her face flushed. "Yep. All the essentials."
He dipped his head, hands raising to rest on her hips. "Precisely."
Tightening his hold on her, Killian leaned to close the gap between them. Emma jumped out of his arms.
"Sheets!" She exclaimed, stepping back until there were a good few feet between them.
He blinked at her, his mouth still open in what she assumed to be a pre-kiss expression.
"You don't, um, mind if we put some sheets on the bed?" She tore open the box closest to her and started throwing jeans and jumpers out until she found the light blue sheets Ingrid had helped her pick out.
Killian cleared his throat. "Right, sure, sheets."
She handed him one end and went to the other side of the bed. "It won't take long, they're the elastic kind. You know, what are they called?"
"Fitted, I think." His side snapped off and he quickly lunged to grab it. "Pulled too hard."
"S'okay," she tucked the last bit of her side underneath the mattress and Killian finished his, too.
"Promise not to yank too hard later tonight," he joked, shifting from one foot to the other. "On, you know, your breasts."
Emma's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. He shook his head repeatedly. The silence filled the room and Emma thought that if she hadn't been the one to approach him, she would certainly be on a game show of the most awkward hook ups possible.
"We should," her voice cracked and she cleared her voice. "We should get on with it?"
The phrase came out more like a question than a statement but Killian seemed to perk up, grinning at her again. She met him halfway, slipping her arms around his neck while his wrapped around her waist. His expression was darker, though his embarrassment had left two bright patches of pink on either of his cheeks. It contrasted nicely with the tufts of dark hair that curled around his ears and the red of his lips.
He opened his mouth, like he was about to speak, so Emma surged up until her lips captured his, unwilling to let his stupid words ruin what was very quickly turning into a nice moment.
And once he got over his initial surprise at her sudden attack, it really was a nice moment. He kissed her like maybe all those obnoxious comments were born from experience rather than bravado. Emma slid her fingers into his hair, tugging on it and when he groaned at the sensation, lips spreading to let the sound out of his throat, she pressed herself tighter against him to deepen the kiss.
Whatever stupor he might have been in was broken the second their tongues met. Killian tightened his grip, lifting her into the air and spinning, walking towards the freshly sheet-clad bed.
Emma wrapped her legs around him, her head falling back when her hips rotated against his. He ignored her gasp in favor of attaching his lips to her neck, sucking at the skin hard enough that she slapped against his hand to stop him.
"You'll leave a mark," she said. He dropped her on the bed, quite unceremoniously, and she bounced a little before he joined her.
"Sorry," he replied, making quick work to rid himself of his jacket and sweater. The moment it hit the floor, Emma tugged him down to her, kissing him.
She dropped her hands to his jeans, flicking the button open with enough ease that he raised an eyebrow and she blushed. Rolling her eyes, she tore her top off and threw it out of the way. His expression immediately slacked before sharpening, his tongue peeking out from between his lips again, though for the first time Emma didn't think it was a calculated move.
The rest of their clothes practically melted off, considering how quickly they shed them. His mouth worked down her neck, a hot trail that dipped beneath her collarbone until she was squirming and rolling her hips up into him.
"Condom," she gasped out and he nodded, bits of his hair falling forward onto his face, curling up on his sweaty forehead. He lunged for his jeans, the blanket twisting around his legs as he dug around in the pockets.
"Aha!" He pushed himself back onto the mattress, sitting up on his knees. He ripped the wrapper with his teeth, throwing the foil behind his shoulder. Emma watched as it landed on the edge of her bed and made a mental note to throw it away properly later.
They both moaned loudly when he slipped inside her, her thighs falling apart to let him move closer to her. His body shivered, teeth coming down to sink into his bottom lip as he stilled. She rotated beneath him, adjusting, before wrapping one leg around his waist and spreading her fingers across the hard plains on his back, urging him to move.
Each thrust of his hips were met with the lifting of hers, movements that were timed so perfectly that Emma could feel any sort of hesitation from inviting him home burn away. He attached his lips to the curve of her breast, tongue flattening and swirling around her chest as one hand gripped at his bicep while the other shot to his head, her fingers threaded between his locks to hold him tight against her.
And then, quite without warning, the front door slammed shut and they both stilled at the loud, heavy footsteps from downstairs.
Killian raised his head, a questioning gaze beneath thick eyelashes. She wanted to murder whoever had come home and disrupted the easy feeling between them.
There was quite for a moment and Killian tentatively began to thrust again. Emma wrapped her other leg around his waist and rolled her hips. He let out a quiet, guttural bloody hell and then the TV flickered on and the unmistakable sound of the Batman theme song began to play loudly throughout the house.
"Goddamn fucking surround sound," she threw her head back in frustration, the movement making her headboard hit against the potentially-made-of-cardboard wall.
There was nothing for a moment, just ragged breathing and the god forsaken Batman theme song filling the room. Killian shifted a little and while it felt good, the music had stopped and "Previously In Gotham City" rang out loud enough that she groaned in frustration.
"Maybe you could try talking?" Killian asked, shifting so he was leaning on his forearm. He wrapped a few strands of her hair around his fingers, smiling down at her.
He pushed forwards a few times, softly, and Emma struggled to think of something sexy to say. She was never a big talker in bed and the few times she tried, it was always in the heat of the moment. Panic flared when he stilled his movements again and the TV downstairs seemed to be getting louder.
"Hump me with your mega cock?" She said, regret immediately pooling in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth.
Killian stared at her, his mouth parted in a soft 'o' shape, before he shrugged. Emma waited, her face paused mid wince to see if he laughed at her, but instead his mouth curved into a smile and he began his movements, this time with more purpose.
Though he had taken her terrible dirty talk in stride, he didn't ask her to try again. Instead, he began to speak himself, phrases and curses tumbling from his lips, punctuating the whimpers and moans she couldn't keep from spilling from her mouth.
Killian rotated his hips, pushing into her at a faster and faster rate until she was more nerve endings than thoughts.
He dropped his hand to the front of her, fingers splaying as he ran them down her chest and gripped at her waist before dipping lower, slipping his thumb to where their bodies were met to rub over her.
She gasped, back arching, and the movement forced him a little deeper. His head dropped to her shoulder, teeth biting into the juncture next to her neck, and she fell apart around him, only barely managing to stifle the sounds with her hand clasped over her mouth. He followed shortly after, thrusting into her slower and slower as he groaned, loud and low, into her skin.
She nudged him and he complied, rolling off her until they lay shoulder to shoulder. The sounds of the Batman TV show started to bleed back into her consciousness and when she noticed Killian sneaking a glance at her while taking off the spent condom, she glared at him.
"Use the actual trashcan this time, you barbarian."
"Barbarian?" He scoffed, affronted. She opened her mouth to retaliate but he rolled his eyes, sitting up. Emma dodged out of his hand's way to make sure he didn't hit her with the latex. "Whatever. Where's the bin?"
She pointed to the side of her desk and he stood, picked up the foil wrapper he'd thrown earlier, and deposited both into the trashcan. Emma pulled the blankets tighter around her, satisfied, and Killian rolled his eyes again before climbing back into bed.
"Mind if I stay?" He asked, but he'd already rolled on his side and yanked more than his share of the blanket from her.
Emma would have complained, but it felt rude and she couldn't pretend like his warmth wasn't nice in the drafty, new room.
"Fine," she muttered, tugging at the blankets. His arms tightened and she tugged harder. "Share the blanket, you knob!"
Killian released it. "Fine," he parroted.
Emma snuggled into the material, pretending like she wasn't also a bit closer to his back. "Fine."
He reached out and flickered off her nightside lamp. She could feel the vibrations of his heartbeat and hear the steadiness of his breathing. It wasn't an entirely unwelcome sensation.
When he spoke, it was softer than usual and she found the posh accent wasn't quite as off putting as it was when he was louder. "Goodnight, Emma."
"Goodnight, Killian." And even with Henry marathoning the Batman TV show on surround sound and it being her first night in a new house, Emma was asleep in moments.
Emma had thought about her first day of university many times throughout her childhood. Especially after Ingrid adopted her and Emma actually started trying at school, the possibility of higher education became less of a maybe and more of a someday to her. She imagined the class she'd take, the people she'd meet, hell, even the breakfast she'd have before.
But despite thinking about that day for years, Emma never imagined it would start with a naked posh idiot sneaking out of her bed.
"Good morning, love," he said, much too cheerful for the pounding that was beneath her eyes.
"Ugh," she groaned, clenching her eyes closed. She stretched, curling her toes and reaching behind her to the headboard to crack the bones in her body. He made a disgusted sound and Emma tried harder to get the bones she'd missed.
"No need to run me out," Killian said. Emma flickered open her eyes and noticed he'd put on his boxers and jeans. She handed him his shirt, which had somehow been draped over the knob of her closet door. "If you'd be so kind as to give me directions out of this place, I'll happily get out of your hair."
Emma wrapped the blanket around her like a towel, sitting up on her knees to grab her phone. She'd google map him a route to Mars if it'd get him out of here before the others saw.
"What's the address?" She asked, already typing hers in as the starting location.
"28 Storybrooke Road," he grunted her address from beneath his sweater. Emma watched him with disdain as he struggled to get dressed.
"No," she sighed, raising her forefinger and thumb to rub at her temples. A headache she wasn't sure she could blame on alcohol was starting to form. "What address are you going to?"
He plopped on the bed, finally dressed, to start tying his boots. Emma huffed at him, placing a tight grip on the blanket so nothing uncovered.
"28 Storybrooke Road," he repeated.
Emma glared at him. "No, you dipshit, 28 Storybrooke is where you're at."
Killian returned her glare with equal vigour and Emma studiously pretended like the shadow growing around his jaw didn't add a nice shot of hotness to his Pretty Boy status. Maintaining eye contact to glare at her, he stood up and grabbed his phone. He tapped at it, only tearing his gaze from her when he was done.
He scoffed, thrusting his phone in her line of sight. "See? 28 Storybrooke Road. It's my new house because I didn't get into halls and-"
Emma's glare softened into something much more horrified. His twisted into a smirk.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, crossing his arms and running his tongue over his bottom lip suggestively. "Looks like we're roomies."
"Fucking goddamn shit," Emma threw herself backwards onto the bed. His chuckle erupted until it was boisterous laughter and Emma shot up, throwing her hand over his mouth.
"Shut the fuck up," she hissed. She could feel his grin underneath her palm and his eyes, stupidly blue even in the dim bar, seemed to glow with amusement now. "Don't fucking laugh, you bastard."
"I wouldn't dare," he grinned, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. Emma dropped away from his mouth to bury her head in her hands. She groaned and he started laughing again when the sound continued.
"Don't say a thing," she warned him.
"What?" Killian raised his eyebrows. "This is a great thing. A little roommates with benefits situation, hm?"
Emma shot up, hands on her hips to level him with her harshest look. "No fucking way."
He laughed again. "Alright, sure-"
"I'm serious. This," she waved a hand between them, "this was a one time thing."
Killian stopped laughing, though a smile was still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Of course," he agreed.
"Don't mention it to anyone, either." She added, quickly. He raised an eyebrow and she jutted her chin out. He sighed and nodded.
"Alright," he said. "Now, I need to go get ready. Can I go get my stuff?"
"No!" She could already hear the others moving and if they saw him come out of her bedroom, they'd never get away with this. "Well, yeah. But be quiet."
He raised a finger to his lips. "Like a fox."
"I'm going to go downstairs. Hand me those pajamas." She dressed underneath the covers and grabbed her robe, throwing it on with a bit too much aggression. "Be fucking quiet and come back in the house like you've never been here!"
Killian's lips twitched and he saluted. "Aye, aye, Captain."
Emma pushed past him, closing the door quietly behind her and shaking her head all the way down the stairs. What the hell did she get herself into?
Burnt toast and jam was not a good enough breakfast to stop Emma panicking. She was trying to keep a straight face, not wanting to clue either of the others eating with her that she was in the midst of freaking out. She'd never had a one-night stand before, and as eager as she was to pretend it had never happened, any moment now, Killian was going to walk in the front door and they were going to have to live together.
It definitely didn't help that as soon as she saw Jefferson and Lacey at the dining table, she'd realised that her night of stupidity wouldn't be a secret. They'd know. Everyone would know.
There was no way they wouldn't. Jefferson and Lacey had admired him almost as long as she had, although she supposed they hadn't managed to see him naked.
Would it be asking too much to hope that they'd forgotten all about him after their own nights of debauchery?
It was only when she heard Jefferson let out a loud cheer that Emma stopped angsting, looking up from her meal to see Neal trudging into the room. He looked completely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair askew.
"Are you just getting in?" she asked. She hoped he was because she hadn't even considered that he might have been in the room next to hers, just one thin wall away from her and Killian as they had sex. "You look terrible."
"I feel terrible," Neal grumbled, wandering past the entire group to start making a mug of instant coffee. "I'm knackered."
"You say knackered. I say congratulations," Jefferson said dramatically, standing from the table and sidling over to Neal. Once there, he plucked his cigarette out of his own mouth and exhaled a puff of smoke into Neal's face, smirking when Neal coughed and glared at him. "There. That woke you up. Now, I just want to say how proud I am that two of the team managed to get laid last night."
"Two?" Emma repeated, ignoring Neal's offended scowl. It wasn't that she doubted Neal could have gotten laid, but she had been so certain that she wasn't the only one who didn't return home alone. "Didn't you and Lacey-?"
"We decided it was probably best not to get fucked on the first night," Jefferson explained nonchalantly. "And by fucked, I mean smashed off our faces, not… well, Emma, I know that you know what I mean. At least the two of you had a great night."
"Yeah, well, as great as it would have been, it stopped being fun once the snogging stopped and she started reading me the Bible," Neal mumbled, hiding his expression behind his drink. "That thing just does not end."
Jefferson guffawed, shook his head in disbelief, and then turned to Emma. "I guess that makes you the champion."
He raised his hand for a high five. Emma just stared at it.
"No," she stated. "Sorry. I guess we're a champion-free house."
"What?"
"We got halfway home and I looked at him and I was just like 'What am I doing?'," Emma lied. "Even for a starter lay, I've got standards."
"But I heard sex noises," Jefferson protested. Emma squared her shoulders and met his gaze, desperate to convince him that nothing had happened. It seemed to work, his jaw dropping in disbelief. "I saw that man. What standards are you setting?"
Emma rolled her eyes, stiffening when the buzz of the doorbell rang through the room. This was it. One day at university and she'd already managed to ruin everything, and in only a few seconds, she'd know just how much she'd managed to fuck things up.
The shit-eating grin on Jefferson's face as he led Killian into the main room was a bad sign. She couldn't look at either of them, and as everyone else in the room offered him polite waves or nods, she decided to start looking in the fridge for something.
"Killian's the name," she heard him say boisterously, and she glanced quickly over her shoulder to see that he was shaking hands with Henry. "Learning, drinking and shagging's the game."
It was lucky the fridge was cool, because Emma's face was already burning.
"Well, fuck me." This was it. Emma braced herself, ready to turn around and face up to the truth, but Killian kept talking and she realised he wasn't speaking to her at all. "It's the Pussyman! 'All women love Astrophysics' Pussyman."
"When the sun's up, I go by Neal and, uh, I actually changed from Astrophysics." Neal replied awkwardly. "They were full. So, Geology. It's going to be all rocks."
"Right."
She couldn't do this. She couldn't wait around to see what Killian was going to do. She had to take control.
With that in mind, she slammed the fridge door shut, satisfied by the way Killian jumped at the sound, and then, once he turned to face her, she immediately offered him her hand. "I'm Emma."
He narrowed his eyes and gave her hand a quick, sharp shake. "Um, hi, Emma," He stammered, suddenly lacking all of the prickishness he'd had the night before. "I'm Killian. Nice to, er, meet you."
And then he leant towards her and tried to kiss her cheek.
Emma hurriedly stepped backwards, his lips missing her by a few inches, and although he hadn't made contact, she still rubbed her cheek furiously as though he had. "Nice to meet you, Killian," she echoed. "I'm Emma."
"You already said that," Jefferson interrupted, his grin impossibly wide. "Now, is this exchange going to go on all day, because I have my English Lit Introductory lecture but I'll skip it if this is still happening?"
"No, we're… well, I'm going to put my items up in my room," Killian announced, stumbling over his words.
The moment he left, Emma sighed, letting her head fall forward so that it banged against the wall. It ached, but she probably needed some sense knocked into her. Maybe she should have done it a day earlier.
"It's him from the pub!" Jefferson whispered gleefully, his eyes alight with amusement. "The Pretty Boy!"
"Yeah, it's him," Emma mumbled. "But I don't think we need to say anything. I mean, nothing happened."
She wasn't sure Jefferson believed her.
Unfortunately, her reprieve from Killian only lasted a few more seconds. He came striding back into the room, bagless, and looking just as self-assured as he had the night before, except it wasn't as appealing when she hadn't had a few drinks.
"Right. I've just had a look at my so-called room and I thought I'd call a house meeting." He declared, clapping his hands together, and Emma exchanged an incredulous look with Neal. "My room. It's terrible. It's small. It's ridiculously small. Is it a joke room? Because if it's not, can I have another one?"
"No, you can't have another one. If you wanted a bigger room, maybe you shouldn't have left until today to get here," Emma told him sharply. "Unless you want the basement. I'm sure Henry wouldn't mind trading up."
"Why would I want the basement?" Killian asked. "I've looked at all the rooms in this house, except the locked one on the top floor. They're all nicer than mine. Except the basement. Which is horrible."
"I wouldn't be trading it anyway," Henry pointed out. "I've got it set up the way I like it and I'm not doing that again."
"The nicest room in the house is the other one at the top, which I believe is yours," Killian continued, pointing at Jefferson. "If I were to give you money, can I have it?"
Jefferson stared at him pensively, taking a long drag from his cigarette, and then he shrugged. "How much?"
"Twenty quid a week under the table," Killian decided, offering his hand to Jefferson. "We swap rooms."
There wasn't even a moment's hesitation. As soon as Killian stopped speaking, Jefferson took his hand and gave it an enthusiastic shake before offering Killian his lit cigarette, a gesture that Emma figured probably meant they were now best friends or something equally as ridiculous.
Killian took a quick puff and then handed it back to Jefferson, ignoring Neal's loud protests. "Look, mate, the deal's done," he told Neal. "There's nothing you can do about it now."
Emma couldn't accept that. If she had to live with him, she wasn't going to to let him swoop in and start demanding everything he wanted like some spoilt rich kid. "Look mate," she spat, striding up to him and poking his chest. "You can't just muscle in here and start throwing your weight around."
"Relax, alright?" Killian replied easily, a mischievous smirk spreading across his lips. "It's not like I'm trying to hump anyone with my mega-cock, is it?"
Emma froze. It was bad enough that she'd even said that, no matter how much the sex had improved afterwards, but it was somehow even more embarrassing now that Killian had said it in front of everyone, his raised eyebrow and taunting smirk crueller than she'd expected.
She pressed her lips together, refusing to respond to his provocation, but he must have seen something because his gaze softened into something apologetic. "Look, we made a deal," he said calmly. "He's happy. I'm happy."
"Yeah, well, I'm not," Neal protested, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief when Killian finally moved his attention away from her. "You can't just come in here and flash some cash and end up getting your way. You came last, you get what's left."
"Or, here's another option," Killian offered. "How about I also agree to pay for Sky Plus HD for the entire house and I get priority boarding for the top floor bathroom? Sports and movies."
Emma looked expectantly at Neal, but after giving her a sheepish smile, he just shrugged. "Well, would you look at that?" he wondered. "All my objections are gone."
Killian winked at her, and after a loud, angry huff, Emma stomped away.
The first thing Emma saw when she entered her room was her bed. The sheets were rumpled, only one corner still tucked under the mattress, the other three curled up and revealing the edges of the mattress. Her blanket lay half on the floor, the duvet only filling one side of the cover after the way Killian had kicked at it throughout the night.
"Shit," Emma muttered, slamming the door shut behind her and hurrying over to start stripping the bed of any evidence that it had been used for anything other than sleeping the night before.
"Hey, Emma?"
She paused at the sound of Neal's voice, sheet bundled in her arms. "What?"
"Nothing," Neal answered. It sounded like he was in the room with her, even though she knew he was on the other side of the wall. "You just left in a bit of hurry. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she responded quickly. She didn't have a laundry basket, so she loudly dumped the contents of one of her cardboard boxes onto the bed and then stuffed the dirty sheets and blanket into it. "It's just that… ugh, Killian is such a dick."
"Definitely," Neal agreed and Emma punctuated his chuckle by kicking the small metal bin next to her desk. She needed to get rid of the condom, and once that was gone and the sheets were washed, she might actually be able to pretend she'd never had a first-night fuck. "I bet you're glad nothing happened."
"God, yes," Emma fibbed. "How much would I have regretted that?"
Neal chuckled. Emma wanted to be sick. How could she have screwed things up so badly in less than twenty-four hours? What would she do if people back home found out?
At least it had been good.
"Look, Neal, do you think we should do something?" she asked carefully, just as she tied a knot in the top of the plastic bag she had used as a makeshift bin bag. "About Killian?"
"Do something?" he repeated. "Like what? Kill him and stuff him with his own pâté?"
"No, I mean, do you want to live with someone like that?"
"Um, no, I don't," Neal stated, as though the answer was obvious. "But what can we do?"
"We tell him," Emma decided. "Isn't it better for him to know now instead after he's settled in and thinks he owns the place? We could just tell him that, I don't know, 'This isn't right for us. Maybe it isn't right for you. Sling your hook, mate.' Something like that."
"Just ask him to leave? I don't know," Emma wished there wasn't as much hesitation in his voice. She needed him on her side, because there was no way she could be the one to ask Killian to leave. Not without looking petty and immature. "I talk a good game but I very rarely tell people what I think of them to their faces."
He didn't say anything more, and when the silence continued, Emma stashed the box of laundry by the door, the plastic bag holding the one used condom and started to sort through the few things she'd brought with her. Clothes and jackets went in the small wardrobe, her laptop placed neatly in the centre of the desk.
She was halfway through re-making the bed, having found a spare set of linens in her other box, when Neal spoke again.
"So what reason are we going to give him?"
Emma grinned. "I don't know. Maybe that we're not his sort of people," she suggested. "We're not going to going sailing or playing croquet or drinking tea with our pinkies sticking out so he's probably going to get bored."
"Can't you talk to him?"
"No!" Emma protested shrilly. "I have a Law Orientation thing to get to so I don't really have the time."
It wasn't actually a lie, but she'd only remembered it when she was searching for an excuse. She really did have something she was meant to be attending, and if fucking Killian wasn't a good enough reason to want him gone, the fact that he was causing enough drama for her to forget her own timetable definitely was.
"Okay," Neal mumbled. "If I'm actually going to do this, then I'm going to need something to eat after."
"I'm pretty sure I saw something about free pizza at the Freshers Fair," Emma remembered. "We could meet there after you've talked to Killian? If you want?"
"Yeah," Neal agreed eagerly. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
With them both determined to send Killian packing, they didn't want to wait. Emma accompanied Neal back downstairs, but when Henry told them Killian had nipped outside for a smoke, Emma stayed inside.
She could see the backyard through the kitchen window, and she opened one of the top panes just an inch so that she could hear the start of the conversation. All she could see of Killian were a few tufts of dark hair peeking out from below the window, where he must have been leaning against the wall, and a thin trail of smoke from the cigarette.
Neal hesitated the second he stepped outside, shooting Emma a panicked glance through the window. Emma scowled at him. He took in a big breath and then lumbered down the few stairs towards Killian.
"Hey, dude," he greeted, raising his hand in a stiff wave.
"Hey," Killian replied cheerfully. "It's the Pussyman."
"Neal," he corrected. "Mind if I hang out with you for a bit?"
"No problem."
As soon as Neal leant against the wall, Emma couldn't see him. He wasn't as tall as Killian, and Killian's hair was barely high enough to be visible through the window.
"Look, there was something I wanted to-"
"So, what do you think of Emma?" Killian interrupted. Even though Emma was pretty sure that neither of them could see her, she still hurried away from the window, staying close enough to hear whatever Neal said in response. "Fit, right?"
"Er, yeah," Neal agreed quickly. "Killian, I need to talk to you about you living here. As it turns out, there are a few complications."
"What?"
"Well, um, the house is actually already full," Neal started and Emma preemptively winced. She'd mentioned telling Killian that he just didn't fit in, but Neal seemed to have jumped straight to lying. "It turns out that I have an identical twin brother and he's actually living here too. The uni just… got confused and thought we were the same person. So, your room? It wasn't actually free."
"It looked free," Killian pointed out. "No one else remembered when I chose my room?"
"It looked empty," Neal stammered. "We share a suitcase and he just hasn't unpacked yet."
"What's his name?"
"Neal," he answered. Emma grimaced, thumping her head against the kitchen counter in disbelief and disappointment. Killian was never going to leave after Neal's disaster of an excuse. "Yeah, we have… we have the same name. That's why there's so much confusion."
"Are you trying to dump me?" Killian asked, and although Emma couldn't see his face, she was sure he looked incredulous. "Are you trying to kick me out?"
"No," Neal objected. "No. Just wouldn't you be happier in a…. Look. We're very Hufflepuff here. Wouldn't you be happier in Slytherin?"
Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing, but at least Neal seemed to have started trying her approach instead of talking nonsense.
"I'm not a fucking witch, Neal."
She couldn't listen anymore. She had somewhere else she needed to be, and given the choice, Emma wanted to be as far away from Killian as possible once he found out that they wanted him gone.
All Emma wanted was to come home that afternoon and not worry about Killian Jones.