Hi! Fortunately, I was able to go around the problem with the upload of the docs - you can do it by editing an old fide in the doc manager - and here I am!
I honestly don't know how this happened, I didn't know what I was writing until I just said "to hell with it" and just went on with fluff, fluff, fluff and fluff. And I'm not even ashamed. There's a tiny bit of angst, but it's 97% fluff.
I hope you enjoy this OS and don't be afraid to leave a review, they feed my muse ;) I apologize for any mistake, since this is unbeta'd.
Rated T - or G? I actually don't know how to rate fics, mostly because I go straight from G/T to M/E and can't understand the difference. Eh, that's a nasty business. Anyway, enjoy, and thanks for reading!
Chapter 2 – See you just can't just take the effect and make it the cause
Prompt: "cause/effect".
Okay, maybe staying in her dorm for the holidays hadn't been a wise choice. From New York to Storybrooke it was only a four-hours drive, after all. But no, Emma Swan wanted to be the adult that didn't spend the holidays in her friends' guest room or at Granny's bed and breakfast.
It wasn't the first time she declined one of the Nolans' invitations, nor the first time she regretted that decision, but if she heard another ballad about broken hearts she would go in the communal kitchen and smash his precious Jolly, the expensive acoustic guitar he kept strumming on at every hour of the day, on Killian Jones' head.
Shouldn't he had already gotten cramps on his fingers? On his fingers? Half a heart attack, maybe? No, nothing.
She huffed, covering her face with the book she was reading, a light read – «Who could ever define "The Count of Montecristo" a light read, Swan?» – as Killian's rough voice reached her ears. She rolled her eyes, another ballad about broken hearts, something she'd never heard.
It had been going on like this since Christmas, day they hadn't spent together if not for a moment when they'd met in the kitchen and wished "Merry Christmas" to one another, then going their own way.
A part of her felt bad for not having thanked him for the gift he'd given her and that she hadn't reciprocated. Of course, the scared part of her kept repeating her that it hadn't been him, as if there were other students beside them. Yeah, sure, Emma.
The gift itself was beautiful, and she'd actually spent a few tears seeing the portrait he'd made for her, her face blending into the form of a swan. She'd traced the lines of her own face and the swan's with trembling fingers, noticing how much attention he'd put in every detail, as if he'd spent every moment of his time observing her without her noticing. And he probably did, since he'd rather lay down on the couch in the common room, sipping rum at every hour of the day.
It was really a pity that a guy like him was wasting himself away like that – not that she minded a bit of tequila, from time to time. Killian Jones, after all, was a legend in the Science Department, a genius like Sheldon Cooper, basically, but with the same attitude as Howard Wolowitz, an innuendo always on the tip of his tongue, but at least he didn't dress as obscene as Howard did – and no, Emma had never lost herself looking at the hollow of his throat that peeked out from his shirts, hollow on which she'd gladly pass her tongue.
Since Christmas, though, Killian had never been the same, in fact he seemed even more gloomy and more inclined to down a whole bottle of rum alone and in less than a day.
With a sigh, she stood, marking the page with the bookmark and grabbed the still unopened box of muffins. Every year at Christmas, Mary Margaret baked her chocolate and cinnamon muffins, whether she was with them or wherever she'd decided to spend the holidays. Share them with Jones had certainly not been her first thought, but still, maybe, he'd be so occupied with keeping his hands busy and wouldn't play the whole time – and no, Emma wasn't thinking about another way for him to keep his magic hands busy, not at all.
She closed the door of her room behind her and went towards the common room, noticing how is accent had grown thicker and his voice lower while he hummed a song she'd never heard.
«You keep blaming me for what you did, and that ain't all, the way you clean up the wreck is enough to give one pause, you seem to forget just how this song started, I'm reacting to you because you left me broken hearted.»
Oh.
Emma stopped dead in her tracks, biting her lower lip. Although sometimes music was just background noise, sometimes you just had to pay attention to the lyrics to understand what a person was feeling. And, maybe, Emma Swan didn't have monopoly on broken hearts.
She sighed, going with long strides towards the couch on which Killian was laying down, the guitar on his lap and a half empty bottle of rum on the coffee table.
Mustering up her courage, Emma sat on his bare feet, covered only by a pair of red and green striped socks which she couldn't help but smile at.
Saying that he jumped would've been a euphemism: he'd almost hit his head against the roof. «Swan!» he exclaimed, panting, bringing a hand to his chest. «I thought I could've been a nuisance, but not enough for you to want to kill me.»
She rolled her eyes. Drama queen, Emma thought shaking her head and lending him the muffins. «So, what happened to you?»
Reluctantly, Killian settled with his back against the armrest of the couch, crossing his legs to give her a little bit of space. He grabbed the muffins and his stomach began to howl. Clearly, drinking rum on an empty stomach was Killian's way to get drunk faster and not having to deal with his pain sober.
Emma understood him, really, even though at the time she was seventeen and the only thing she was allowed to drink was hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon: Ruth wouldn't have allowed her to drink something alcoholic because the guy she'd thought she loved had betrayed her. She huffed at the memory, wondering how she could've been that stupid.
«Do you really want to know or are only trying to make me stop playing?» Killian grumbled, opening the container and grabbing a muffin. He devoured it in three big mouthfuls, and Emma widened her eyes. What, his stomach has been empty since Christmas? She furrowed her brows, wondering if he had actually gone by with rum for days.
«Both,» Emma conceded, folding her legs under herself, grabbing the guitar and placing it on her lap, copying the pose some musicians had in their videos and plucking at the chords, emitting a few notes that weren't in tune at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grimace, probably because of her absolutely non-existent talent.
«Let's see, where to begin?» he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair, «I could begin saying that I spent three years of my life chasing after my bioengineering teacher's assistant, a beautiful woman almost twice my age, or maybe I could begin saying that, around Christmastime, Liam's absence is even more unbearable. Or, maybe, I could tell you how, five years ago, they came at my doorstep to tell me that my brother had been killed by a stray bullet and how I had to run away from the foster system for months before I was eighteen, or I could tell you how I found out, after a secret relationship so to not get me in trouble with my studies, that the woman I've just mentioned didn't want to have anything to do with me publicly because she was married and even had a son. And, as a cherry on top, she blamed me for everything.»
Emma pressed her lips in a thin line, her fingers still on the guitar's strings, her gaze focused on Killian's figure, hair long and days-old beard, different from his signature short and gingerish one he usually showed off. She noticed he'd already devoured the two other muffins, but she couldn't find it within herself to blame him. Jesus, she too had drowned her own sorrows in Ruth's baked goods she baked for her every day after Neal – and in the tequila Ruby secretly brought her for their sleepovers.
«My ex betrayed me,» she said suddenly, shocking even herself. It wasn't like her to talk about Neal, he counted as boyfriend because he'd been the first and only one she'd fallen in love with. There had been dates, but nothing more, she couldn't trust anyone anymore, and she didn't want one-night stands either, actually, too focused on her studies to even think about boys. That was her way to honour Ruth after all she'd done for her. After, maybe, in the much distant future, she would think about boyfriends, but she couldn't allow herself that when, even after five years, the fact that Neal had blamed her for his betrayal still stung.
To someone it might seem stupid, but to a girl that had spent her entire life being blamed for the fact that her parents didn't want her and no one else had ever wanted to adopt her, hearing those words were worse than a stab. «The funny thing is that he cheated on me saying, and I quote, "it's your fault, Ems, if I had to find someone else to fuck because you still want to wait". Sure, because at seventeen, after three months of dates at Granny's, my only thought was sleeping with him.»
Killian grunted from the other side of the couch. «Bloody wanker,» she heard him mumble between his teeth. She looked at him, curious, wondering why he took it so much to heart. He met her gaze, his blue eyes suddenly too sober. He shrugged, as if he wanted to respond to one silent question of hers. «Every person with a functioning brain would know that it'd be worth it waiting for you,» he said, biting down on another muffin to conceal his expression.
Emma was surprised at his words to say the least, because she didn't know since when Jillian Jones had a crush on her. Because that sentence had to mean something, right? Or was it just her suddenly resurrected romantic self that gave her false hopes?
Hopes?! She widened her eyes, shaking vehemently her head and keeping strumming, her cheeks now aflame.
She heard a huff above her off-key notes, and suddenly Killian hand was on her, forcing it into the correct position with his chocolate-covered fingers. «You can't just dishonour the Jolly like that,» he mumbled almost to himself, his hair falling down onto his eyes as he sat back with his legs crossed, but now closer to her.
«You named your guitar after Captain Hook's ship?» she couldn't stop herself from asking, amused, dissipating that last note of awkwardness that lingered in the air. In response, he arched a brow, challenging her to say anything more about his precious Jolly.
She bit her lip to conceal a smile, lowering once again her gaze onto the guitar. She plucked at the strings, emitting far better notes than the ones she had before, but still not good. It was then that she saw it.
The breath caught in her throat and she reached her trembling fingers out to trace the name carved onto the lacquered wood. Liam Jones.
«It's the only thing left of him aside from his medals and the compass he gave me before he left for Afghanistan. I took those three things, the money I needed, a change of clothes, and then I ran, guitar slung over my shoulder and empty inside, just like her.»
Emma felt tears stinging her eyes. She'd ran away too after Ruth's death, maybe not to escape the system, but she'd isolated herself from everyone. For Killian it was different, though, he didn't have anyone to come back to, she at least had a few friends.
«I've seen the way you watch the world, Swan.» Those words made her lifting her gaze, and fear started to rush through her veins, telling her to run. «I've seen the way you watch the others when they parents come to visit, and I've seen the way you've watched them when they left for the holidays to go home.»
«To a home I don't have,» she completed for him in a whisper. She heard him sigh and take a long swig of rum before passing her the bottle. «Is rum your solution to everything?» she asked skeptical, mostly to mask the pain than to make fun of him.
«It certainly doesn't hurt,» Killian replied. With a nod, Emma drank from the bottle, tasting chocolate where his lips had been, a clear contrast from the fire the rum lit in her throat.
Emma handed the bottle back to him, stealing one of the last muffins he had in his lap. «Storybrooke has been my home for a few years,» she whispered bringing the muffin to her nose and breathing in its chocolate and cinnamon scent that reminded her of Ruth's kitchen. «I miss it,» she admitted after the first bite, «it's the first time I say it aloud, but I miss it like crazy.»
Killian looked at her carefully. «You'd still be in time for that phone call,» he said, a trace of sadness in his voice. She looked at him, knowing that if she left him there alone he would probably drink himself into a stupor and no one would notice until it was too late.
She was astounded by her own selflessness. Not that she wasn't selfless, but she had never been so with a stranger or people whom she didn't trust and she, with all the trust issues she had, never had too many friends.
«Nah, I'd have to endure David's lectures and Mary Margaret would surely try to set me up with someone she thinks might be my True Love. At least you have rum,» she said with a smirk.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed how he didn't seem totally convinced by her excuse, but he kept his mouth shut, just eating the last muffin left in the box. «Since you've been so nice with me that you even shared what probably would've been your dinner with me, what do you say, will you give me an hour to put something clean on so I can take you somewhere for dinner?»
Emma widened her eyes, her lips slightly parted. «As in a date?» she asked, unconsciously tightening her grip on the guitar.
Biting his lower lip – highly sensual gesture that Emma surely didn't want to mimic on that same lip – Killian shook his head. «Not at all, Swan, just a mere cause-effect relationship: you deprived yourself of your dinner for me, I want to do a good action and repay you for such kindness.»
Her sixth sense knew that wasn't the truth, not completely, at least, but what Killian had highlighted was real: that would've been her dinner, had it been for her. Unfortunately, even if she'd tried, Emma had never been able to figure out Ruth's culinary secrets, opting for take-aways and pizza, even the cafeteria's food, or just frozen and canned food.
It was with that absurd excuse that Emma found herself doing her make-up – something light, but she hadn't done her make-up that carefully in years – while singing Jingle Bells Rock.
Although she didn't want to see much in this not-date, she ended up wearing a pair of jeans and her best boots – as Ruby usually said, a little bit of heels never hurt, even if she actually meant 5 inches heels or higher – and a red and white sweater that hugged her in all the right places. It wasn't anything special, but she was feeling special. It was… a nice effect, even though the cause was still uncertain. Or, maybe, it wasn't uncertain at all.
She found herself receiving Killian's flattery in the form of a single red rose. She couldn't find a reason behind that gesture, and even if she did, she tried not to see much into it, just like she tried not to see much in the way he placed his hand at the base of her spine or in the way he opened every door they came across, including the door of his black pick-up truck.
«Where do you want to go?» Killian asked.
Emma frowned. When she was in Storybrooke, Neal usually took her to Granny's, because the little Italian restaurant would be too expensive for daddy's boy with limitless capital. «I'm craving for ice cream.»
That made him laugh, but Killian didn't stop until he turned off the engine in front of an ice cream parlour, Any Given Sundae. Emma widened her eyes. In all her years there, she'd never set foot in there.
The woman who owned the place always waved at her every time Emma stopped to look at the windows, now decorated with snowflakes, one different from the other, accurately designed, as if whoever made them had studied real snowflakes under a microscope and then reproduced them on adhesive film.
«Really?» she asked with eyes bright just like a little girl's before a Christmas present. She remembered well what it felt like waking up with no present under the tree, and what it felt like having one, or more than one, and that all thanks to Ruth.
«Consider it a late Christmas present,» he confirmed when he opened the car door for her with a shy smile, scratching behind his ear.
Emma widened her eyes even more. Was he able to read her mind? She blushed furiously, entering the parlour. Some clients were sitting at tables with glass cups of ice cream in front of them, not too full probably because of the season – it was January 2nd, after all – and it looked like they'd entered a winter Wonderland with a giant white Christmas tree in one corner, silver garlands everywhere and more snowflakes hanging from the ceiling.
Behind the enormous counter, Ingrid Frost widened her eyes finally seeing her inside her shop for the first time. She'd never understood why she'd never entered and, shifting her gaze on the guy next to her, she knew whom she had to thank for that.
«Pick whatever your heart desires,» Killian bent down to whisper in her ear. Emma shivered, his proximity source of the heat pooling in her belly. She looked at him, even if she didn't need to, she knew he was serious. Before she could even think, she lifted on her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with her lips, blushing even more as she brought her gaze back on the flavours.
«Caramel cup craze, cotton candy, brownie, toffee coffee, double fireball, cocoa-nut bliss, fool's gold and death by chocolate. And whipped cream and melted chocolate, of course.»
Ingrid smirked, starting to put together the cup. Emma lifted her gaze on Killian, who was looking at her with a smile on his lips and adoring eyes. In that moment, she felt the desire to kiss him, but she didn't, settling for hearing him repeat her same order although with fewer flavours.
He sneaked an arm around her waist, drawing her closer om a way that wasn't usual to a simple acquaintance, but she didn't feel the need to make him keep his distance. It was a very… intimate gesture, not even Neal had ever hold her like that, unless he wanted to kiss her or put his hand under her shirt. She shook her head, she didn't want to think about that idiot right now.
So she relaxed next to Killian, grabbing her – definitely heavy – cup and letting him pay – «Gentleman, Swan.»
They sat in a corner, he with his back to the window, hers to the Christmas tree. She saw him looking at her, so she dug the spoon into the ice cream and brought it to her mouth, embarrassed. «Eat, or else it'll melt.»
Killian chuckled, an awkward and extremely sweet sound. «Sorry, it's just that with the tree's lights you seem to sparkle,» he said, closing his eyes immediately after and running a hand on his face, the tips of his ears on fire. «I could've spared that.»
For her part, Emma blushed, but reached out a hand to place it on his. «I've never received such a compliment, Killian,» she said softly, then lowering her gaze on the ice cream. «You know, well, you know… I've never had a happy childhood, and when someone tried to be nice with me they always wanted to get me into their beds and no one of them has ever been so genuine and sweet and honest and…»
«Swan,» he stopped her, squeezing her hand, «I may not have a degree in English, but even I do know that you can't use that many "and" in the same sentence.» Even if he was joking, he was clearly nervous. He placed his lips on her hand, slightly tickling her skin with his ginger stubble.
«Hey, I'm nervous, can't I babble a little?» she mumbled, defensive, resuming eating her ice cream.
«You can babble all you want, Swan, and I'd stay here listening to you all day,» he vowed, smiling and kissing once again the back of her hand, keeping it in his own as he too began to eat.
«I still can't believe you let me buy everything.»
«I told you, Swan, you'll have everything your heart desires.»
Emma blinked and she couldn't stop herself from smiling shyly as she clutched his fingers. It was strange that someone beside Ruth and her family put her needs before their own, she wasn't used to a similar affection, and everyone in Storybrooke could see how much she'd always been reserved and skeptical every time someone offered her something.
Killian had never been that way, despite his innuendos he'd always been nice with her, treating her with respect and infuriate her at the same time. She'd been grateful for that, actually, because it'd taken the stress of the many exams off her. He'd always had words of encouragement for her, saying that she would make it even if she was swamped by study and she hadn't eaten in days, even saying that she was beautiful. She'd never believed it, but she knew that for him it wasn't a lie.
They finished their ice cream talking about their studies; Killian was about to graduate and she had a few exams left to take and was waiting for a reply about a job in a law firm. Killian had a safe job as researcher at the university, something that made him excited and anxious at the same time. Emma, though, trusted him.
«I'm sure you're going to give a hard time to your own professors, especially to Gold,» she joked. Everybody knew about the antipathy that professor had for the genius that was Killian.
He huffed, his cheeks slightly red. «If he doesn't kill me first,» he mumbled opening the truck door for her.
«Hey, you don't have to worry about him, you just have to do your best and not think about what that crocodile will say,» she tried to reassure him, squeezing his hand over the gearshift.
As he'd done before, Killian thanked her bringing her hand to his lips and then rubbing his nose on the back. «Since when did you turn into me?»
With her free hand, she punched his arm jokingly. «Come on, we still have that bottle of rum to finish.»
«So my company makes you want to get drunk?» he joked.
«Nah, it's just a simple excuse to drink some of the good stuff. I mean, at least you have good taste when it comes to rum.»
«Oh, so it's just the rum that you like, isn't it? Nothing to do with my handsome self?»
«Mhm, maybe with a good amount of rum inside my body I could find you handsome.»
Killian brought his hand to his chest. «You wound me, Swan!»
«Yeah, yeah, you'll die because I don't flatter you enough.»
«I could try and convince you to do so at dinner,» he threw casually with a shrug.
Emma bit her lip. «You could,» she conceded slowly, «but first you have to make me digest all the ice cream I just ate.»
«What about next Friday?»
She huffed, but it was in amusement, not annoyed. «Okay, if you insist.»
«Oh, Swan, I would never force you to do something you aren't comfortable with.»
«I know,» she said, knowing that, even though unintentionally, he was referring to what had happened with Neal. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.
«Cause: I'd really like to kiss you. Effect: I think I'll do it.»
Emma giggled, looking at Killian with a raised eyebrow. «I don't think that's an actual cause-effect relationship.»
«Hey, I'm the bioengineer here, Swan. Just play along.»
She huffed, looking at him as the snowflakes fell upon them, evident on Killian's raven-black hair, who hadn't bothered with a beanie.
When he kept staring at her without moving a muscle, Emma arched a brow. «So?» she asked, slightly impatient. Was he having second thoughts? Had he played with her? Had she become maybe worse than his ex? Had…
Killian's lips were suddenly on hers, his arms around her waist as he drew her closer to him, sensually moving his mouth upon hers. Emma didn't take long to kiss him back, a kiss way better than Neal's.
When they pulled apart without letting go of one another, with her fingers in his hair, they didn't notice that their breaths formed a single cloud of condensation in the short space between their lips.
«Cause: you're a good kisser,» Emma murmured panting, looking at him with eyes shining with malice, «effect: I think I'll kiss you again.»
«Cause: you are extremely intelligent, and I am, too. Effect: we've graduated, Swan!»
Emma couldn't stop herself from laughing as Killian lifted her into his arms and spun her around without a struggle.
They were dating for months, now, but it seemed like they'd been together from always: she knew everything about him, even his darkest demons from when he'd ran away from the foster home and what he'd done to survive; he respected her as a person, letting her to set the pace of their relationship.
Emma had stayed up all night with him on the anniversary of Liam's death, rum in one hand Killian's clutched in the other while they stayed silent and did nothing. Killian hadn't gone into a sulk when she'd gone to David and Mary Margaret's alone during spring break, only to find her standing on his doorstep with a big carton of Ingrid's ice cream and a bottle of rum two days before her estimated return – «They said I looked miserable, and in fact… I missed you.»
They'd declared their love for each other in front of a cup of ice cream two months before, he'd been the first to say it when he'd seen her laugh at one of his jokes, she immediately after, risking for Killian to flip table, ice creams and chair over in the need of kissing her in front of everyone. At least they hadn't applauded them.
However, and that didn't bother either one of them, they still hadn't slept together. And they had many a chance to do so, but either someone interrupted them or something catastrophic would happen, Killian was only waiting for a bloody dwarf to come running towards them yelling: «we are all going to die!»
Emma smacked a kiss onto his mouth, smirking when she saw his gobsmacked expression. But Killian Jones was a man of quick comprehension, and he tilted his head to kiss her again, clutching her robe between his fingers.
«Cause: the prices of the flats are really high. Effect: what do you say, want to share one with me?»
Emma stopped dead in her tracks, lifting her head to look at him, searching for a joke in his expression not finding any in his proposal.
They were about to go eat an ice cream, now the weather much milder than on the day of their first date – day she kept considering so while he didn't because: «Swan, that was a mere act of nourishment, not of courting. Or, at least, not completely.»
They had not discussed their intensions about their future living arrangements, and they both had looked for apartments separately, without necessarily looking for who needed a roommate, instead focusing on a good apartment for two people of the same age, even better if it was fitting for a couple.
The problem wasn't the insecurity, that hadn't been a problem in a long time, in fact it was the opposite: Emma wanted to go live with him, she wanted it with her entire being, and that scared her. So she did what she'd learnt to do since the moment she'd started to open up with him: she took a leap of faith, trusting the fact that he would catch her.
«Only if we'll buy that apartment near here, so you can easily come here for your researches and I won't have to take the subway to go to work.»
Killian brought his hand to his heart, pretending to be hurt. «You mean the one you've circled so many times in red that the ad is ready to fall off the newspaper so you can frame it? How could I ever chose another one?»
Too stunned – even if she shouldn't have been, Killian had always been attentive to her every thought without her never needing to say them out loud – she could only smile and didn't kick him in the shin. Besides, that would've only made the one he already had even worse.
«Cause: Emma Swan, when we met I was too busy pretending to be superior, a mixture of insolence and arrogance you'd rather throw from the roof instead of dating. However, you were able to see behind the façade and saw the orphan in me, orphan you've learned to love when no one else had been able to, and this is something I didn't think could ever happen to me. You saved me from starvation and abuse of rum two years ago today, offering your chocolate muffins and making me eat more ice cream in a day than I ever did in twenty-two years of my life. You've been my light, the start that made me feel what it meant to have a home again, and nobody else could ever do that. Only you, Swan, only you are my home.»
Emma was on the verge of tears. No, it wasn't true, she was already crying, her lower lip slightly trembling as she watched the ring, a simple, beautiful solitaire perched on a cup of chocolate and caramel ice cream.
She cleared her throat, opening her mouth repeatedly trying to find her voice. «You didn't say what the effect is,» she whispered, wiping away her tears with her hand.
The tips of Killian's ears reddened even more. He picked up the ring, he wiped it on his Star Wars t-shirt and kneeled in front of her, sat on the sofa with a heavy blanked wrapped around her shoulders because of that damn cold that had ruined their plans.
«You'll be the one to determine it, Emma. What do you say, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?»
«Well,» she said fighting the smile that threatened to bloom on her face and trying to keep her voice firm at the same time, «since every cause need to have an effect, and since I love you too and you are my home too, I assume I can only say yes.»
«Cause: we've had lots and lots and lots of sex.»
Emma lowered her gaze on the pint of chocolate and pistachio ice cream on which she'd sprayed whipped cream, melted chocolate and roasted hazelnuts, now completely empty save for a few spoonful.
Killian approached her. He still had his leather jacket on, jacked she'd gifted him last Christmas, the other one too ruined and too small to still be comfortable and wearable any longer. Emma was sitting at the kitchen island, her bare feet crossed at the ankles on the crossbeam of the stool dressed in just a long SpongeBob pyjama shirt.
Although he'd helped her begin to understand the fundamentals of chemistry and physics without making it too difficult for her, it was usually him who made those jokes about the cause-effect relationship.
He'd started to suspect something, but hadn't wanted to jump to conclusions, blaming her mood swings and the fact that she didn't seem to be able to keep everything she ate in her stomach to an important case she'd been assigned, something that touched her deeply.
Without daring to hope, he placed his hands on her shoulders, pressing his chest against her back and kissing her cheek. «Mhm, I'd say that falls in the realm of the effect. Am I not a dashing rapscallion, after all?»
She turned on the stool, looking at him with a fake pout. Emma widened her legs enough to let him settle between her knees. She took his hands in hers, toying with the wedding ring he had on his left hand, the same she had on the same finger with her engagement ring. They'd married almost a year after their engagement, with Mary Margaret attempting to stick her nose one way or another in the wedding plans and Killian had almost begged Emma to elope in Las Vegas. Emma had almost even accepted, but then, out of the blue, Mary Margaret had stopped tormenting her. Strangely enough, David had been successful in putting a brake on her, feeling pity for his sister – and even a bit for Killian.
«I think the effect has been something else,» she whispered almost imperceptibly, lowering her eyes on their joined hands, as if she wanted to draw strength from that bond. She well knew that Killian would understand, and a part of her was sure he'd at least suspected it for a while.
Still with his hands in hers, Killian forced her to lift her chin so to look him in the eyes. «Are you sure?»
Emma nodded slowly. «I took five tests at work, and even from the routine analysis Victor did last week… but I knew, Killian, even before the tests, I… I wanted it, too.»
He smiled, knowing that they hadn't talked much about children, but neither one of them had been truly opposed to the idea, even though they wanted to take things slowly, just as they had done since the beginning.
He bent down to kiss her, stopping a few inches from her lips with a smirk. «You didn't finish the sentence, Jones.»
She huffed, a habit she'd never lost when faced with that banter, but this time was different. «Effect: in seven months you're going to be a dad, Killian.»
With a "woohoo" the entire apartment building surely heard, Killian lifted her in his arms, making her spin all around the kitchen, feeling as if he was on the verge of taking flight.
All around the world every cause had an effect, and even though these causes weren't always true, and so weren't the effects they said they caused, whether they were accusations coming from men too stupid to understand the true value of their girlfriend or from women who shamelessly played with a young man's heart, sometimes these causes produced effects that made that girlfriend and that young man happier than anybody else ever could.