CS Genre: Rival bakers/enemies to lovers/online dating au
Note: This story was first published as part of my Fluffy Fridays series
Killian took the pan from the stove and slowly drizzled the warm, sticky caramel sauce over his apple harvest cake. He took his time, being sure to hit every "hill and valley" as his mother used to do.
Killian felt a slight pang in his chest at the thought of his mother. It was twenty-five years since she'd passed from a quick and aggressive form of cancer, but he still missed her. Sometimes he still feels like that terrified little seven year old who'd had to say goodbye to his mama far sooner than anyone should ever have to.
Blowing out a deep breath, Killian stepped back and surveyed his creation, pleased with the look and sweet, spicy aroma. The apple harvest cake was an autumn tradition. He had distressingly few memories of his mother, but the one that never failed to put a smile on his face was his memory of his brother, Liam, and him helping his mama make her apple cake.
Like clockwork, every year, as soon as the leaves began to turn, as soon as the first crisp gray day of autumn hit, his mother would invite her boys into the kitchen with her warm, loving smile.
Killian remembered the last time the little family had participated in the yearly ritual. It was a few months before his seventh birthday, only weeks before his mama had gotten sick.
"Autumn has arrived, my lads," she'd said, barely concealed excitement in her voice; she'd dearly loved the season, "and you know what that means!"
"It's time to make the cake!" Killian said, jumping up and down. "Can I lick the spoon?"
Mama had laughed, giving her younger son an affectionate one-armed hug and ruffling his thick, black hair. "What do you think, Liam? Should I accede to this little scallywag's demands?"
Liam had rolled his eyes. He was fourteen years old, and had reached the age when it was no longer cool to hang out with his mama and his baby brother. "I guess you'd better or he's going to drive us nuts with his pestering."
"Yay!" Killian had shouted, jumping up and pumping his little fist in the air. In his opinion, Mama was the best cook in the world, and her apple harvest cake was the best dessert of them all.
The following year had been one of the most difficult of Killian's life following his mother's death. As their father had long since run off and left the family, Liam and Killian moved in with Mr. Nemo, their kindly next door neighbor. He was a good man, kind and patient to a fault, and the boys were lucky to have him.
But he wasn't Mama.
The first day of fall that year Killian had been quite the handful for his new guardian, yelling, acting out, fighting with his older brother, but Nemo hasn't lost his patience, hadn't punished. He was wiser than anyone Killian had ever known, understanding instinctively that his young charge's behavior was a result of the grief he felt for his mother.
Without a word, Nemo, who well knew the Jones family tradition, had gathered up the ingredients needed to make the apple cake and helped the boys bake their favorite dessert.
And so the autumn tradition had survived and thrived.
That is until ten years back when Liam had died in a naval training exercise. The grief Killian had felt at losing his big brother, his hero, his rock through the rough childhood years as an orphan, knew no bounds. For the first time in his twenty-two years of life, he failed to make the harvest apple cake, the pain of doing so, knowing not only his mother but his brother were gone, was too sharp, too deep and too new.
But life goes on, even after tragedy. It took several years, but finally four years ago, he'd tried his hand at baking again. His apple harvest cake had been an instant success among his friends and acquaintances, everyone raving about it.
And so the tradition went on, changed from its original meaning, but no less impactful.
When Mayor Regina Mills decided this year's Fall Festival would involve an apple baking contest, it was a no brainer what Killian would enter.
"Mama, Liam, this is for you," Killian murmured, as he set the cake aside and sat on the sofa in his living room as he waited for the icing to harden.
He fished his phone out of his pocket then swiped and tapped at it until he'd opened the Happily Ever After app. His stomach swooped as he saw the blinking envelope at the top of the page, indicating he had a new message.
Wasting no time, he clicked on the icon, opening the message.
Hey captain! Hope you're having a great morning. Is it weird that I'm both really excited and really nervous about meeting you tonight? The Swan.
Killian grinned, tapping out his reply.
Not weird at all love. I feel quite the same. I look forward to finally making your acquaintance. Until tonight, I remain your faithful servant, The Captain.
The moment of truth was only a matter of hours away, the moment when he would officially meet the mysterious woman he'd been communicating with for months.
The thing was…she was not nearly as much of a mystery to him as she believed. Someone named The Swan who lived in a small town in Maine? It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who that profile belonged to.
Killian chuckled to himself as he thought about his first meeting with Emma.
He'd stormed into Mr. Robert Gold's pawn shop on that fateful day, after his coworker at the Storybrooke marina, William Smee, mentioned in passing that he'd seen a certain, very distinctive tan colored shawl in the pawn shop.
"Strangest thing," Smee had said, dipping a sponge into a bucket of soapy water and then applying it to the side of one of the boats currently moored at the dock. "It had to be one of the ugliest shawl's I've ever seen, full of snags and missed stitches."
Killian felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. He knew that shawl; knew it well. His love, his Milah had knitted it long, long ago. It had been the first—and the last—knitting project she'd ever tried. She found knitting to be dull and boring. No wonder. A woman as vibrant and full of life as his Milah needed active pursuits.
The anger had come then, swift and white hot. Full of life. Milah should be full of life, and she would be if that bastard Robert Gold hadn't as good as murdered her.
"No idea why it would be on display. If that was my shop, I'd take it out back and burn it," Smee had continued, completely unaware of his coworker's rapidly souring mood.
"I'll thank you to keep your ignorant opinions to yourself, Mr. Smee," Killian had bit out, hands balled up into fists.
Smee gave him a quick, startled look, before dropping his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. "No offense meant, Cap'n."
Killian had walked away without looking back. He'd be damned if he let Gold display Milah's work like that, like some unimportant piece of merchandise.
Even now, years later, Killian still felt a pang when he thought of Milah, his beautiful, wild, unpredictable first love.
Their romance had begun under inauspicious circumstances, of course. She'd been married to Gold when they'd met. Despite some qualms of conscience, Killian had agreed to their passionate affair after Milah told him how very unhappy she was with her manipulative husband. Their love had caught quickly, like a struck match, but like a match, it had been extinguished far too quickly.
Six months after their affair had begun, Milah decided to leave her husband officially. It had been a disastrous decision. When she'd told Gold she was leaving him, he'd flown into a fury such that Milah'd never seen. It had frightened her, and she'd fled their home, emotions running rampant. Her over-wroght emotional state had led to a horrific car accident that snuffed out her life far too soon.
Gold may not have physically murdered Milah, but Killian blamed him for her death all the same.
And so, when Smee told him of Gold selling Milah's shawl, he'd flown into a blind rage, confronting the perfidious shop keeper with all the pent up anger and pain he felt over his love's death. Things had quickly gotten out of hand, and before he knew it, he was holding a hook to the man's throat.
And that's when he'd met the lovely Emma Swan for the first time. When she'd finally pierced through his haze of murderous anger, the connection had been immediate. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before.
She was beautiful, aye, as gorgeous as any woman he'd ever seen, with her flowing golden hair, her flashing green eyes, her lithe, trim figure, but it was so much more than that. Something about her called out to him. She was his kindred spirit, and he knew right away his life after meeting her would never be the same.
He'd flirted with her outrageously, scandalously, all the way to the sheriff's station, and she'd shot him a look that could have curdled milk.
They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, to be sure, but the lass wasn't entirely immune to him. That much was more than clear. Some of the looks she'd covertly sent him when she thought he wasn't looking spoke of her attraction better than any words ever could.
But Killian saw something else in the lovely Swan's eyes as well—the suspicion of one who'd been hurt far too many times and had since built a wall around her heart. He wanted to scale that wall, take it down brick by brick, show her that there was at least one man in this world whose heart was true, one man who loved with every fiber of his being, one man who would go to the end of the world or time for her.
As he laid on the jail bunk, glancing up at the dirty ceiling, he'd vowed then and there that he would win her heart.
If only he could finagle a way to see her again.
Fate may be a fickle mistress, but for once in his life, her caprices worked to his advantage.
He'd been mulling over ways to meet Emma again as he climbed the steps to his mate Dave's flat for a party he was throwing, when who should answer his knock but the woman of his dreams herself.
His heart stuttered and then began racing as he looked into her eyes. She, for her part, had frozen, eyes blown wide, mouth hanging open.
But her shock had lasted for no more than a moment before she slammed her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she'd asked, arms crossing in an unmistakably unwelcoming stance.
"Why Swan," he'd swaggered, "fancy meeting you here! As it happens, I've been invited to Dave's dinner party."
The man himself stepped up behind Emma, and she turned on him. "This is the friend you told me about? This…this…"
"Dashing rapscallion?" Killian offered with a smirk. "Scoundrel?"
If anything her glare deepened as she turned back to him. "I was going to go with something closer to 'criminal son of a bitch' myself."
From behind her, David rolled his eyes, opening the door wider and gesturing for Killian to enter. Killian did so, making a point to brush against Emma as he walked past.
"I see you two have already met," David said, deadpan.
Things with Emma had only gone downhill from there. They say first impressions are hard to overcome, and never was the saying truer than when it came to Emma. She wouldn't give him the time of day—no matter how much he tried to apologize for his earlier indiscretions.
It would have been beyond disappointing if it hadn't been for one unexpected event: the new match Killian had received on the dating app Happily Ever After.
He'd been on the app for nearly a year after Mary Margaret, David's wife, had encouraged him to try to move on, be happy. He'd created a profile to appease his mate's insistent wife, but his heart hadn't been in it. He figured one great love was all any man could reasonably hope for. He'd had his with Milah, and now his heart was irrevocably broken.
But when he'd been sent the profile of a woman simply calling herself "The Swan", well, there were only so many things that could reasonably be considered a coincidence.
By the time he'd finished reading her profile, there was no doubt in his mind. The Swan was none other than the beautiful but prickly Emma. He'd grinned, considering shooting her a flirtatious email, letting her know that even the Happily Ever After powers that be knew they were meant for each other, but then a new idea occurred to him.
Perhaps this silly dating app was an opportunity to show Swan the REAL him, to get to know her without the barrier of her suspicions.
And so Killian had sent her a simple, friendly email, careful to keep any reference to his true identity under wraps. She'd written back the very next day, and so a correspondence straight out of a cheesy Hallmark movie had been born.
They'd corresponded for months, talking about anything and everything—save for anything that would identify them. Upon that, she'd been totally implacable. And as the months went on, Killian had fallen ever deeper in love with Emma. It was a love stronger than he'd even known was possible.
And in due course, Killian came to decide that their current situation, pleasant as it was, wasn't enough for him. It wasn't nearly enough for him.
He'd been mulling over the best way to take their relationship to the next level—actually meeting face to face—when Swan had solved the conundrum for him. She'd asked him to meet her at the Storybrooke Fall Festival masquerade ball. He couldn't have asked for a better solution!
Killian looked down at his watch, noting that it was time to make his way over to David and Mary Margaret's house, his nervous anticipation at finally being able to reveal the truth buzzing just below his skin.
Tonight was shaping up to be one of the most consequential of his life, but one question still remained: how would Swan react when she discovered he was The Captain?