So this has been brewing for a while, but it's finally done! I had so much fun writing this one :) If you haven't heard 'Shut Up and Dance' by Walk the Moon, I would strongly suggest giving it a go!
Written for my darling Sydney's birthday (which was a couple of weeks ago, but who's counting?)
…
Don't You Dare Look Back (Just Keep Your Eyes on Me)
…
Shit, he thinks. His life has just become one of those American college movie clichés. And he'd somehow allowed it to happen. Trying not to let his revelation show too much on his face, he leans back against the wall and takes another mouthful from the red cup in his hand. All the signs are there. He's the slightly geeky guy who is currently avoiding all human contact at a party he's been dragged to by his jock of a roommate. Not that David isn't his mate as well… it's just that he's fairly enamoured with that girl with a pixie cut from their chem class.
It's supposed to be one of those farewell type parties. The one at the end of exams that everyone you've ever known in your college life just appears at to put all differences aside and unite as the "best senior class that was ever to graduate!"
Except Killian is still waiting on one more exam result and, while historically he's always done quite well in his academic life, he still feels as though he can't quite let his hair down, so to speak.
He gulps down the rest of his drink, hoping David's just going to make his own way home tonight and begins to make a beeline for the exit. A hand on his shoulder pulls him back though. "No you don't," the voice attached to the hand mutters, spinning him to face her, "You don't get off that easy."
He frowns, trying to piece together how in god's name he'd missed that Emma Swan was at this party. And what the hell was she doing pulling him back into the whole ordeal, "Excuse me?"
She rolls her eyes. "Your mate,"he almost chuckles at the way she tries to wrap her mouth around his accent, "is apparently sleeping over tonight."
This only deepens his frown, "So?"
She raises her eyebrows at that, taking the empty cup from his hand and replacing it with a full one, "How long have you known me Killian Jones?" Without waiting for an answer, she simply shrugs at him, "Do I seem like the type of person who's into voyeurism?"
And it clicks; flashbacks of their childhood come to mind – summer camps where she had snuck into his cabin to avoid having to play spin the bottle, the idea of watching other people kiss not something she was particularly fond of. "Oh…" despite understanding her aversion, he's still confused as to what she wants from him.
"We're a team tonight," she says to his silent question, taking his empty hand and tugging him towards the dance floor, "I found out I passed all my subjects today so I was up for a big night of celebrating with my best friend. But because I'm a great wing woman, I'll settle for my oldest friend." She winks at him, twirling herself under his arm as they make their way into the crowd of dancing seniors. "And before you get any funny ideas, I'll be sleeping in David's bed."
He finally lets out a chuckle at the hurricane that is Emma Swan whipping around him, that last pesky test result drifting from his mind for the first time since he'd stepped into this party. "You never stick to that promise."
She grins, stepping in close to him, "But the important thing is that I make it." For a second he thinks she might kiss him, but then she's doing that twirly spinning thing again and calling out for him to hurry up and dance with her.
He hurriedly downs the drink in his hand, scrunching up his face at the sickly sweet taste of it, before shaking his head and following his friend. She smiles when he catches up to her, obviously having not expected him to follow so quickly. Her hips are swaying to the music and she grabs his hand to place on the black leather of her skirt. He happily obliges, pulling her towards him so she can wrap her arms around his neck, the two of them laughing as he moves one hand further up her back and dips her.
She looks at him in shock as he swings her back up. "You've been practicing without me," she accuses him.
He just raises an eyebrow, "I'm merely a natural, love."
As if to demonstrate his point, he takes a step back and spins her underneath his arm, tugging her back to him a moment later, her body turning easily into his arms. She leans back against him, content to stay exactly where she is.
Killian has other ideas though. "Let's get out of here," he murmurs in her ear.
She turns her head up and meets his gaze curiously, trying to gauge the intent in his request. There's always been a tentative thing between them but every time it comes to a crossroads, something within her protests. She's known him too long to lose him if it all goes pear shaped. "I really did want to celebrate…" she says cautiously.
He nods, seeing her hesitation, "I only meant I know a place."
Her interest piques at that – Killian has always been great at finding new and fun places to celebrate any occasion. "You'll be doing well to beat the last place you took us," she says, fondly remembering the old pirate themed bar he had revealed to them on the evening of completing their exams.
"Oh I don't know, Swan," he says, starting to head towards the edge of the dancefloor, "I don't think I have to set the bar too high when the alternative is listening to our respective roommates in bed."
As though to illustrate his point, David and Mary Margaret come into view, not so subtly sneaking into a cozy corner of the room. Emma raises her eyebrows and nods, taking Killian's hand as he leads her outside. "Okay," she says, "Lead on, Captain."
…
The thing about college is that you reach the age of 21 while you're in the midst of study and exams and stress induced insomnia so, really, the chance to go out and have a good time is rare. So when Killian leads her to a shots bar – unoriginally named "Shots" – she feels a slight giddiness in her belly at being allowed to indulge in a night out.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk," she says cheekily as she hands over her ID to the bouncer before following her friend into the dimly lit bar.
He smirks. "Good thing you know better then," he says before turning to the bartender and ordering two tequila shots.
She rolls her eyes, "Uh huh, and tequila is going to convince me otherwise?"
He shrugs, handing over a salt shaker and a wedge of lemon, "I'm starting tame, you can pick next." He glances pointedly over her shoulder at an entire wall filled with options for their next shots.
Her eyes widen. "What the hell is a Harry Potter shot?" she asks, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
He nudges a shot glass into her hand and simply says, "I guess we'll find out."
…
A Harry Potter shot, as it turns out, is a delicious combination of orange and cinnamon and fire that has the both of them laughing and picking out several more drinks to sample before Emma decides that she wants to take the lead. "We need to dance again," she says as they toast marshmallows over the lit alcohol on the bar.
He nods in agreement, popping his marshmallow in his mouth and following it with the sweet shot. Emma follows suit and they thank their bartender as they step away from the bar, quite a bit more inebriated than when they'd arrived. "I know a place," he says cryptically.
He's done pretty well so far so she decides to trust his judgement again and nods her agreement, "Let's go."
The fresh air helps clear her mind a little as they step outside, but Killian's arm soon comes around her waist and that just fogs it right back up again.
She remembers when he first arrived at her school. They were nine and he had a funny accent. He'd told her that his dad was from England and his mum from America and she'd known, before he'd said it, that his father was no longer in the picture – she could see the same look in his eyes that greeted her every time she looked in the mirror. They'd been friends ever since.
But friends don't feel their entire body light up at a simple touch like an arm around a waist, which is why she gently pulls ahead of him with the pretence of being excited to get to their next destination. She tries to ignore the way his face has dropped when she turns back to ask him where they're going.
He recovers well though and she appreciates the reprieve, no matter how brief it might be.
"Just up ahead, lass," he says, pointing to a host of marquees and lights up the road from them.
She grins, following his line of sight. The smell of spices and meat greets them as they step into the line of tents, barbeques and stovetops contributing to the warmth around them as Killian guides Emma past the food markets and to the makeshift wooden dancefloor under the canopy of fairylights.
"It's the beginning of summer," he says as his way of explanation. "Festivals for months."
She spins, taking it all in before noticing that they are the only ones on the dancefloor. "Killian…" she warns.
But he's already settled that damn hand against her waist again and taken her hand in his other. She feels that thrill run through her again but tries to ignore it as she reluctantly reaches her free hand up to rest on his shoulder. "Trust me," he whispers.
She doesn't know how to tell him that it's the fact that she already does that is making her so hesitant.
Instead, she nods and follows his lead as he starts swaying them to the music.
The band seems to take its cue from the only pair moving on the dancefloor and slows things down to the familiar tune of an Ed Sheeran ballad which has Emma panicking on the inside. But if Killian can feel her palms sweating, he certainly doesn't let it show.
He really is a natural at this.
It's an eventual thing, but gradually people from the crowd around them join the dance and Emma doesn't feel so self-conscious any more, smiling as Killian spins her out and brings her back to him, allowing the light and free feeling from the alcohol spread all the way to her fingers and toes.
He brings her in closer to him as the song comes to a close, his breath tickling her neck and sending shockwaves through her as her eyes flutter closed at the feel. The hand on her waist travels down to her hip and then up her back, leaving a trail of fire through the light chiffon top she's wearing. She can't seem to hear anything past the sound of her rapid heartbeat, but then his lips graze the shell of her ear and she can't contain the whimper that escapes her, the sound seeming to bring her back to reality as she pulls back from her friend's hold. "Killian," she says, the one word filled with so much. They've known each other too long, know everything about one another and it's too much to risk it all when neither of them really knows where they're going to be at the end of the summer.
"I know," he sighs.
The beginnings of a new, more upbeat, song start to play and the moment is broken, Killian nodding with conviction and then stepping off the dancefloor, "Come on, let's eat."
She swallows the apology that sits at the back of her throat, knowing he doesn't want to hear it, and takes the hand that he offers.
…
"Where to next?" she asks as she knocks back the last of her Moroccan lamb, chewing thoughtfully as she looks at him expectantly.
That's the beauty of their friendship, they seem to be able to pick up where they left off – even despite the growing obviousness of their mutual attraction for one another.
He steals a fry from her and narrows his eyes, "I think it's your turn to play tour guide."
She accepts his challenge without hesitation, mind already racing with ideas of where to go before settling on one in seconds, "Okay."
She's up before he can steal another fry and already racing off down the road. He catches up to her after disposing of their rubbish, bumping her shoulder with his, "That was bad form, Swan!"
She merely raises her eyebrows at him, choosing not to pick a fight over the many times he has left her in the lurch. "We're on a deadline," she says insistently, pointing up at a sign displaying opening hours.
He realises where they are a second later, recognising the sound of games beyond the doors, "The arcade? Really?"
She grins, pointing at the laser tag poster by the counter, "Really."
...
She catches a glimpse of them all suited up in their vests, with their guns, in one of the mirrored walls leading into the laser tag arena. Pulling out her phone, she quickly snaps a photo of them and grins at the way it looks as though they're marching into battle.
"I'm going to need a copy of that," he informs her before pushing ahead into the darkened room.
The attendant briefly rattles off the rules before looking longingly at the clock, "There will be a buzzer when your time is up. We close in an hour, so please make your way out as soon as you hear it."
Without another word, the attendant turns and leaves, closing the doors behind him and leaving Emma and Killian illuminated in UV lights.
"See you on the other side, Swan," Killian says, raising his eyebrows at her as he stalks off into the dark.
Emma makes her way over to a small alcove she can see, hidden in shadows and awaits the beginning of their tournament.
The PA system screeches to life, a voice counting down as loud music begins to play and they're off.
She knows he's light on his feet, so Emma waits a couple of minutes before stepping out of her hiding spot to make sure the coast is clear and Killian hasn't snuck up on her. She turns on the spot, gun raised as the chorus for 'Eye of the Tiger' starts playing and she gets a rush of energy pushing her forward.
The first hit gets her squarely on the chest and she sighs in frustration that he's got her so early on. But, in doing so, he's revealed his position and, while her vest and gun reset themselves, she makes her way towards his hiding spot, cursing the restrictiveness of her tight skirt every step of the way. He's already on the move by the time she can make out the lights of his vest but, now that she has eyes on him, she's not letting him go.
Moving quickly, she ducks behind a pillar as he turns around to scope out where she is. She counts to five before stepping out again, breathing a sigh of relief that his back is turned to her and that a new song is playing. She matches his steps, smiling when she can hear that he's calling out for her. "Swa-an," he sing-songs, "It's hunting season."
She steps out from her hiding spot and presses the trigger down on her gun, relishing in the power-down sounds coming from her opponent's vest. "Ha!" she calls out in triumph, poking out her tongue at the shocked look on his face.
"Where the bloody devil did you come from?" he exclaims, trying to pump the trigger on his gun before realising he won't be able to for another 30 seconds.
She winks at him before taking off again.
They each get a few good hits in after that but it's when the 10 minute warning siren blares that things really start to get interesting. Emma's back in her alcove, eyes trained on where she thinks she can see Killian in the opposite corner of the room. He hasn't moved in a while and she wonders if he's got eyes on her as well.
Deciding to take a risk, she quickly darts out of her hiding spot, keeping an eye on the flashing lights in the distance but, instead of getting to run towards them, she runs straight into the man himself. Not questioning it and reacting swiftly, she pushes her gun between them and pulls the trigger, laughing in victory when she hears the now familiar sound of the vest switching to standby.
"No!" he calls, leaning back against the wall, "I thought I had you on that one for sure."
He looks utterly defeated and she can't help but feel a little sorry for him. It's nearing 3am and they're both exhausted. In an act of truce, she reaches out to pat his shoulder, still laughing lightly. But she's given him just enough time to power back up and with a final shout, he pulls his trigger once more.
This time it's Emma calling out, "No!" as Killian chuckles and pulls her into his side in a playful hug.
"It's okay, love. You fought a good fight."
She just grumbles and pushes him off her; she's done the mental tally and they're at a draw. She really is starting to feel tired so she decides to accept it but, when she looks up to tell Killian this, she finds herself met with earnest eyes and it hits her all at once just how long she really has been holding back.
"Emma," he starts, but she cuts him off with a kiss.
The future be damned, right now she is here with him and he's always been right beside her and she can't imagine it ever being any other way.
She swallows his surprised gasp, pushing into him and feeling that familiar thrill when his arm wraps around her waist. Their guns drop simultaneously, their vests making angry sounds as the cables all disconnect, but neither of them can bring themselves to care. With the guns out of the way, Killian's hands travel down to the backs of Emma's thighs lifting her onto his hips as he steps them backwards and into the wall. She moans as her skirt rides up, no longer cursing the tight fabric but enjoying the fact that she can feel Killian's arousal so close to her own.
His lips drag down her jawline, to her neck, leaving a wet path in their wake. She breathes into his ear and his hips rock into hers and all she can feel is him. "Oh," she moans, tightening her legs around his waist. His hands are under her skirt, so close to where she needs him. "Please," she whimpers.
He pushes her further up the wall as Emma pulls on the zipper of her vest. Killian uses his nose to nudge down the fabric of her shirt and his teeth to pull at the cup of her bra. "Emma," he sighs into her skin as his mouth closes around a taut nipple.
She's sure she must be on fire and his fingers are so close.
And then an alarm buzzes and she wonders briefly if she really has gone up in flames until he pulls back abruptly and she realises it's the siren to signal the end of their time in the laser arena.
"Fuck," he groans into her chest and she knows the feeling, her head dropping back against the wall as her legs slide down to the floor.
After an eternity, he reaches up to tilt her head to look at him and she wonders if she looks as wrecked as he does. Kiss bruised lips, hair at all angles, the beginnings of hickeys and are those fingernail marks? Fuck indeed.
"Emma," he says again, but she shakes her head and he simply helps her pull her skirt down and her shirt up. He knows that he's not supposed to want her, that their friendship means more to her than some meaningless romp. But it hasn't been meaningless for a while now and he's beginning to forget any of the other reasons she's given for why they're perfect as friends and nothing more.
He's already constructing the speech in his head when she reaches a hand out to rest against his face, thumb brushing the scar on his cheek. He looks up at her in surprise, a softness in her features that gives him all kinds of hope.
"I don't know what to do," she admits with fear in every tone of her voice.
He leans into her touch and it's the first time they've truly acknowledged this thing between them out loud and his breath catches in his throat before he says, "I know a place."
…
"What am I looking at?" she asks as they sit at the docks, facing out over the water.
"The horizon," he answers simply.
She smiles before rolling her head to fix him with her best "no shit Sherlock" glare.
He doesn't wait for her impending question before continuing, "The sun is due to rise soon and this night is going to be over. And I wanted to ask if you'd like to spend the day with me as well."
His words are ambiguous but the way he is looking at her is not, leaving no doubt in her mind that spending the day with him will be the start of something they've been on the cusp of for too many years.
Memories of laser tag assault her. His grip on her skin, the softness in his kisses, the reverence in his touch. There is no doubt in her mind that she wants him or that he wants her. But she wonders how much longer they can keep doing this; this push and pull that makes them feel as amazing as it does horrible.
He doesn't take her silence as off putting but, instead, embraces the fact that she hasn't simply turned him down. The first rays of sunshine begin to peek over the edge of the horizon and he turns to face the day breaking, smiling when he feels a hand reach along the wooden boardwalk to take his. He laces their fingers, squeezing gently.
It takes a moment for him to gather the courage to look at her again, afraid of what he will find. But, when he turns his head, he is greeted by honest green eyes and a tumble of golden hair that looks warm to touch in the sunshine and he knows that, no matter her answer, he's the luckiest man alive just for knowing her.
She smiles, her walls downs, and leans in to gently brush her lips against his, "Where to next?"
…
(For the record, she doesn't sleep in David's bed.)
…
Thoughts?