Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or Once Upon a Time, Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis do.
A/N: Sorry for such a long wait! It's been a little bit crazy around here with work and such, I've barely had any time to myself. I have a few days off coming up, so I'll be able to get the next chapter to you within a week or so. As a matter of fact, it's already been started. As always, your thoughts/criticisms are always welcome. Anything you can give me will help. Thanks to all of you bloody brilliant people who've faved/followed/reviewed so far. It truly means the world to me, you guys keep me going. There's not a whole lot of CS this chapter, it's mainly Killian's inner musings. But, we finally get to meet Graham and Jeff. So, here's to hoping I did them justice. Enjoy!
This was a bad idea. He knew it from the moment the thought crossed his mind. But he wouldn't let it go, couldn't let it go. Somewhere deep down, he wanted this – couldn't think of an option better than this. Emma was right there, concern written in her eyes the minute he laid his own on them. She came to see him, to find out what had him hiding away. It was written all over her face. So when he heard that Milah was back, he took his shot hoping it would work. And all he could do was hope it served its purpose. That Milah would catch on and leave, hopefully never to return. She had no reason to be there. He made that clear.
The closer he got to the bar – it seemed – the more he had decided it was okay to think. And interpret, and investigate. Killian saw the desperation in her eyes the night before, the way she pleaded and begged – even without actually doing so. It was startling, completely out of character, and he loved it. For once he wasn't the one begging. He wasn't the one asking for a chance. Killian Jones had done his fair share of pleading – especially at the hands of that woman. And now, with Emma there to help him sell his happiness – well, never again.
Thoughts of this particular blonde invaded his mind all too suddenly. And as he stood near the edge of the mahogany with his eyes set on Emma – and only Emma – he couldn't help but smile. There was something so genuine about it; he almost felt the need to punch himself a few times. Just to see if it was all a figment of his exhausted imagination. Emma Swan, this beautiful firecracker, helping him – agreeing to do this for him, asking for nothing in return. Her attempt to evade the payment of her dress wasn't lost on him.
She'd spent more than enough time pacing behind the counter, fidgeting with a calculator in hand. It was unnerving, and although he had known her for a good while now, Killian knew that sort of behavior wasn't normal. Not for her. She's strong and independent, more than capable of taking care of herself – had a situation with that need ever come to play. He'd lost count of all the bloody filthy old men who'd come in after their shifts – spilling their rough day and marriage troubles to her over a shot of whiskey.
One would think her company to be enough, but they always had other tricks up their sleeve. What was surprising was the way she let it go on. Let them make quip after quip about how good she would look in their bed – screaming and moaning their name. It set things off in him that he couldn't quite put a finger on. (Jealousy, he thought plenty a time, and then he'd have to think about why he was jealous, and that never ended well). But he'd never once had to step in, he knew better. So he'd standby and watch as she'd draw them in with a lip bite or vixen-like smile. And when she'd lean forward and whisper something in their ear, the fear and intimidation he'd see in the poor souls eyes when she pulled away was always enough to make him feel proud. She's bloody brilliant.
His train of thought was interrupted by a glass shattering and a string of curses coming from his mate. Killian tried masking his amusement but there really was no point. Victor had broken more bottles and goblets than anyone else he worked with. It was expensive to say the least – and Gods be damned if the man could go a week without breaking something – but a mate is a mate, and at least the man always had the decency to clean up his own mess.
He took that moment to look around. (Realizing there was a reason he was brought out of the peaceful environment he called his office). Emma was still standing beside him; an amused smirk on her lips as she watched Victor scrambling to clean up his mess. There were a few people leaning against the other side of the bar, drinks in hand – completely oblivious to anyone around them. And then his eyes landed on her, and the smile he held in place fell.
Killian drew in a deep breath, letting it slowly evade through his nose. He needed a plan, and fast. He couldn't just go up to her, tell her he was with someone, and walk away. It wouldn't be that easy, and he refused to give himself that hope. Milah was no fool, and if he wanted things to work properly, he'd have to stall. At least until she brought up the ridiculous notion of him giving her a second chance again. Then he'd let his plan take its course. He caught Emma's gaze with a clearing of his throat, and with a nod that managed to convey a simple it's time, he made his way over to his ex. The satisfactory grin plastered on her face gave him pause, but he continued as if he didn't falter. Still too bloody proud to give her any pull over him.
"Milah." He said in distaste, pulling his arms to cross against his chest once he was close enough to be heard.
"Have you not slept, Killian?" She asked in return, lifting a hand to caress the skin beneath his eyes.
He didn't pull back, for reasons unbeknownst to him. And it wasn't until her fingers trembled lower to embrace his cheek that he broke out of his daze – swatting her hand away almost rough enough to knock her off balance.
Control yourself, mate.
"What do you want, Milah? I thought I made my intentions towards you rather clear last night."
He spoke through clenched teeth, canting his head to the side.
"Or would you like a reminder?"
He added on; watching as the bright green in her eyes dimmed to something a little less, well, lively.
"You're still going to go on with that? Killian you've forgotten, darling, I shared more than just a bed with you."
He winced at the reminder, moving his attention to the crowd. They were still going on, unfazed by the world around them. Oh how he wished he could join them in their careless endeavors.
"I haven't forgotten. I've just chosen to dismiss it and move on. Much like you should be doing."
Her gaze turned cold, darker than he'd seen it the night before.
"Are you referring to that Swan girl again?" She all but spat at him.
"And what if I am?" He bit back with equal fervor, placing both palms against the wooden stand between them.
A sinister smile spread across her lips, the eyes he so carefully spent time familiarizing his self with become cold and murky.
"I'd call you a fool, for thinking I'd believe your petty attempts to make me jealous."
"I've nothing to be petty about, but you're more than welcome to ask her yourself."
She scoffed, turning her focus towards said blonde behind him. He chanced a glance at her as well. She was standing in the same spot, held the same stance, but her eyes were zeroed in on him. Most likely trying to hear how the conversation was going so when she comes in for the rescue, she's not bombarded. Knowing Milah, it could still very well come down to that.
A hand covering his own brought his attention back to the woman before him, and with a scowl he pulled back and away. The brunette settled for a long and heavy sigh before clasping her hands and placing them on top of the bar.
"How long have you been together, then?"
Perhaps he should have discussed such details with Emma before deciding to follow through with the plan. But, it was a sham after all. Anything he ended up saying would only stem from that mindset.
"It'll be six weeks come Sunday."
Milah raised a curious brow, leaning forward in her seat. He could see the mischief in her eyes, the question she was going to ask before it ever came to play.
"And do you love her, Killian?"
Nailed it right on the head.
"What does that even matter?" He inquired.
The corners of her lips turned up slightly, and she shrugged so vaguely it could barely even be considered one.
"If she means as much to you as you're trying so hard to make me believe, I don't see how you possibly can't." She tilts her head, and continues. "But then again, all of your efforts with her would mean nothing if you're still in love with me."
Killian narrows his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. The fact that she would even play that card only angering him more. She had no right, none whatsoever. And yet here she was – grasping at straws, no less – throwing worthless words in to the air like they had some sort of meaning to him.
He'd admit he'd probably always love her. After all, she was the first woman he ever felt so strongly for. She brought flair and adventure to his life, gave him means to be bold and daring. That's not to say he was never that way before, she just provoked a darker side of him. Made things more dramatic and unnecessary than they had to be, and when all was said and done she wouldn't apologize; wouldn't even feel guilty or responsible. She was a free spirit, impossible to tame. He should have known the minute he laid his eyes on her that they were never going to last.
The man he was with her is long gone; replaced by someone with stronger reserve, tougher walls and one hell of a sarcastic bite. So when his next words came out he wasn't surprised by her cold change in demeanor.
"I am in love with her. Far more than I ever was with you."
He wanted her to suffer, to repay her for all of his suffering. He wanted her to run and never come back. And Gods, he could tell she was this close. If he just kept going, he knew she would retreat. He could practically taste it and it caused his head to spin with joy. But that was short lived and tainted when a different voice from behind pulled him from his near victory.
"Can I talk to you for a second, Killian?"
It was Emma, placing a hand in the crook of his arm to pull him away from the stony eyed brunette. He went without protest, a smug smirk playing on his lips. When she pulled him far enough away from Milah, she turned to face him. The daggers in her eyes so much more deadly than he would have expected.
"What the hell was that?"
And suddenly any amount of smug was gone, replaced by confusion, before finally settling on realization.
"So you were listening."
He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, his smirk falling back into place as her eyes rolled back.
"How else was I supposed to know what the hell you were planning?"
He shrugged, tilting his head to the side.
"I'm just as much of an open book to you as you are to me, lass. I was just trying to sell the story."
"That wasn't selling the story, Jones. That was shoving it down her throat."
He stepped a little closer, leaving a short distance between them. Not really sure why, other than it seemed to be something he always found himself doing. Her gaze sifted from his eyes, lowering to his lips and back. The hitch in her breath wasn't lost on him, and the temptation to lean forward and capture her lips with his own was eating away at any reluctance he had to do so. God only knows how long he's been wanting to do so. But this wasn't the time or the place and – even if he'd regret it later on – the fact that she looked just as flustered and yearning to do the same was enough. Not to mention this was Emma, and this entire thing was just supposed to be an act, and Victor was standing right behind them, and now he couldn't bloody think straight.
He pulled back slightly, letting out a light puff of air as he did. Trying his hardest not to pay any mind to the way her eyes were fluttering. He'd almost forgotten what he was going to say before he invaded her space. None of that really mattered anymore, because when he turned to catch a glimpse of Milah, he came up empty. The space she occupied moments before was now unfilled, save for a crumbled up napkin. Killian turned back to Emma, noting the way she too saw that Milah was no longer there.
He opened his mouth to say something but came up short. He wouldn't mind making a quip about their previous situation, or the slight discomfort in the air between them. He always had an act for saying the worst things at the worst possible times. The deep green of her eyes were closed off – unreadable even to him – and he took that as a sign to back off and walk away. So he did, but not without a nod of understanding.
Every thought in his mind seemed to be circling around with no cause, leaving him no more in control of his actions than any other day.
A drink, you need a drink. And a nap, a bloody long –
"Jones, my man, you look like hell."
Killian didn't even have time to register the mouth those words came from before he was being pulled in to an awkward hug. It was a familiar one, and damn it all to hell he couldn't stop the smile that soon over took him.
"Graham, you bloody git. I wasn't expecting you this early."
Graham chuckled, pulling his arm back from Killian's side to clasp on to his shoulder instead.
"And here I thought you'd be excited to see me…" He trailed off, pulling his focus away from Killian to something – or someone – behind him. "Emma Swan, you look as beautiful as ever."
Of course.
He didn't have to look at her to know she rolled her eyes. She was never an easy one to compliment. Graham had learned that directly the first week she started working at the club. It's a pity his mate hadn't learned that yet, but no less entertaining.
"I wish I could say the same."
Her words didn't sound nearly as rude as they would to anyone else, and when he turned his head to look at her, Graham was stalking forward to give her a warm embrace.
"Why the hell does she get a hug, and all I get is a pat on the back?"
It's about bloody time, Killian thought, turning his head towards the second familiar voice just as he came around the bar. Of course of all days to come around, Jeff would choose the one he'd not have to work.
"Brought the whole lot in, didn't you, mate?"
"Actually," Jeff cut in, "I was already here. I pulled up just before Humbert's cab."
"And what a welcome home gift that was." Graham joked, his arm hanging off of Emma's shoulders. Which was odd?
"Speaking of," Killian began, leaning himself against the back wall. "I do believe I promised to get you absolutely wrecked."
He turned his focus to Emma; the blonde had a tight smile on her lips. She really wasn't one for drinking, at least not with him and the rest of his crew. Perhaps with Graham back, she'd make an exception.
"So what do you say, Swan, you in?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised a brow.
She met his question with a raised brow of her own and a slight tilt of her lips. She'd take it as a challenge, of course. She always did enjoy those.
"I am not drinking with you. Someone has to run the place while you idiots get wasted."
Groans were heard for miles, and the surprising thing was not a single one came from him.
"It's one night, lass. You don't even have to pay for them." He then said, adding a wink along with his last words – earning him a glare from the curly haired blonde. Graham pulled her from that with a tighter grip around her shoulders, in turn drawing her in closer to him.
"I haven't seen you in weeks and this is how you want to celebrate my first night home?"
And queue those puppy dog eyes; he was really laying it on thick tonight. Which should have brought up a lot of questions – maybe even some worry – but for the sake of his own sanity, he chose to ignore it. Graham was his best mate, his oldest mate. They grew up together. Graham's parents took him in at a young age, raised him as their own until Liam came back around. Gave him a life he'd never been ungrateful for. He couldn't remember an incident wretched enough to tear them apart, and he sure as hell wouldn't let anything do that now. Even the thought of it had his stomach turning in knots.
He'd been so lost in his musings that he missed Jeff's climb on the bar top. And it wasn't until Victor pulled out five glasses – instead of four – that he realized Emma caved in. He couldn't fight the sly smirk that formed across his lips.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Jeff bellowed, shouting just loud enough to echo throughout the uproar of the room. "In honor of Graham's homecoming –"
"A round to all of you, on the house." Victor chimed in, lifting one of the glasses he poured moments ago up to Jeff. Handing the rest to their respective owners then brought his own to his lips.
"Cheers." Jeff roared again, emptying his glass with as much grace as he could muster.
The rest followed suit, along with the majority of the bar crowd. Killian noticed Emma's hesitance, and when her eyes caught his again, he gave her a slight nod – one of simple reassurance and promise of fun.
She drank it down with a new found confidence – her own promise of a good time.
When Killian planned for the night, it didn't involve a pissed drunk Victor, nor did it involve Jeff and Graham getting in to a very heated debate over their members. Something about their pride and who could give the red-haired woman buying their shots throughout the night, her best release. It ended with surrender on Graham's part – surprisingly – and a victorious grin on Jeff's – not surprising.
As expected, Emma stopped after her second drink. She never did just sit back and relax – really enjoy herself. It was shameful, how hard she tried to not get attached to people. He knew it stemmed from personal experience, events from her past that molded her in to the woman she is today. So bloody stubborn, just like him.
Look out for yourself and you'll never get hurt, right? She'd said to him once.
He never really took time before to ponder how true those words were. The meaning they held, even though they didn't really apply to him until after Milah ran back to her coward of a husband. Not even Liam's death caused such a blackening of his heart – after all, it wasn't his fault. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise. He kept everyone on a short leash, pushed people away, didn't call after a one-night stand – no matter the significance of a one-night stand – that is, until he met Emma. Then all of a sudden pushing people away and keeping a safe distance, didn't seem like a good idea. In fact he tried working for the exact opposite with her. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted to be someone she could trust and rely on.
It had been one hell of a ride so far, but every smile or laugh was worth it. And it wasn't as if he didn't know her know her. He could read her well, better than anyone else, he had gathered. He could see the shock in her eyes every time he said something that hit home, that was true. She'd try and cover it up with a scoff or wave of her hand, but he knew. He always knew – but he didn't want to have to read her. He wanted her to want to open up to him, to trust him, to reveal herself.
Someday.
He promised himself as he snapped back to reality. The bar was closed now, completely trashed, and smelt of sweat and if possible, too much alcohol. He had his back against the worn wood, elbows propped on the top of it. Looking around he spotted Graham and Jeff, sitting around a table in the middle of the room. Clearing it off to start a game of cards, it looked like. Then there was Emma, cleaning up some sort of liquid off the floor – he'd only hope it was alcohol. Victor was nowhere in sight, which was a normal thing when he wound up drinking too much. He'd hide away in the bathroom or supply closet and wait until sleep finally over took him.
That was always one hell of a story to tell the blonde when he was sober enough to comprehend it all. He chuckled to himself as he made his way over to the table with the rest of them. Jeff set him a place without even having to ask, a round of cards was always a tradition of sorts when Graham came back around. It'd last well in to the next morning, or until they passed out from utter exhaustion. It was normally the former, but he wouldn't deny the latter happened a time or two. Emma had yet to experience such events though, considering this being the first time Graham had returned since he'd met her. So when he looked her way with a smirk and pleading eyes, he was utterly amused with the confused and somewhat annoyed look she gave him in return.
"Care to play a hand with us, love?"
She didn't stop her movements as he asked, nor did she remove her eyes from him once. Not that she needed to, she'd cleaned up the mess well enough to turn the wooden floor a completely different shade. A habit, he supposed.
"It's late, I think I'm just gonna head home."
A muffled groan came from behind him; he turned instantly even though he knew it could only be one other person.
"So, are we playing or what?"
Victor said in a bit of a slur, walking with a slight wobble over to their table. If he thought he felt bad, he could only imagine the war raging on in the other man's head. His shirt was unbuttoned to a certain extent, unevenly at that. His normal slicked back blonde hair was sticking up in whichever way it pleased. He looked positively wrecked, and it drew a hearty laugh from him and the rest of the table. He could have sworn he heard one from Emma as well, but he wouldn't think too much of it.
"Are you sure you're up for that, mate? You don't look too well." Killian said, swiping his hand from the table to rearrange them.
"Yeah sure – I already made that toilet in there my bitch for the night."
He grimaced at the images his words brought to mind, and shook his head. Emma stopped what she was doing and walked towards Victor, handing off the mop to him once she got there.
"Great, then you can clean her up. I'm going home."
He watched the interaction go down, and was brought back to the table before him when the sound of a chair scooting back broke that attention. It was Graham, nearly running to Emma's side.
"Are you sure you want to leave, Ems? The party has just begun." His arm was extended out beside him, gesturing to the empty room.
Emma's only reaction to his attempts was yet another eye roll. Perhaps she found the sandy haired man's trying to be as desperate as he did.
"You won't even notice I'm gone."
Killian's eyes roamed over to Jeff's when a slight chuckle emerged from him. Killian's brow furrowed, wondering why that had drawn such a reaction from the mad man.
"You say that now." Graham retorted, a cheesy grin on his face, but Emma wasn't buying in to it. She had her coat and keys in hand in a matter of seconds, and turned back towards them once she reached the door. A muttered Goodnight falling from her lips before she walked outside. Graham trailed out behind her, leaving the remaining three to their thoughts.
Killian set his cards face down on the table and leaned back in his chair, lifting both hands to cradle the back of his head. Jeff took the same stance, with a less than thrilling smirk on his face. And well, Victor finally made it in to a chair after spooning with the mop. His head was laying on top of the table now, hands hanging down to the ground.
"So what was that all about, mate?" Killian inquired, looking towards the only man in the room who would be able to give him a coherent answer.
"That my friend," He began, pulling his hands back in front of himself as he leaned on the table. "Was Graham finally becoming a man."
"What the bloody hell does that mean?" He asked in return, copying Jeff's previous movements to lean his weight on the table in front of him.
"You really don't see it, do you?"
"Jeff" Killian nearly growled, losing his patience.
"Alright," Jeff said, lifting his hands in a mock surrender. "He's sort of, had eyes for Emma since she got here. He's been saying he's wanted to ask her out for a while now. I guess he's finally found the balls to do it."
He raised two brows at that, opening and shutting his mouth in an attempt to reply but coming up with no words to do so. Why of all people, would Jeff know said information? Had he really been that blind? Graham was always around when Emma first showed up. He'd trained her a bit, and then let Graham have a run at it. She responded better to his teachings, but she never commented badly about her time with Humbert. He in no way thought his mate disliked Emma, but he'd never mentioned his intentions towards her. Certainly not wishing to court her, or make a move on her.
"Wait, how do you know this?"
"Oh come on," It was Victor this time, not even lifting his head from the table. "Humby has been following her around with puppy dog eyes since he met her."
"Yeah I mean, I knew you were a little worse-for-wear but Killian, bro, this is a first. You're normally pretty good with this sort of thing."
Killian turned and glared at Jeff and his implication. Even though he really had no reason to, he wasn't wrong. He'd always been able to tell when someone was in a relationship, normally by their behaviors. He'd known right off the bat when Graham was in one. He'd start slipping out a little earlier and would call in on weekends. Victor never had that problem; he'd always find a girl who wouldn't mind joining him while he worked. Jeff was a different story, seeing as most times he was content with just spending time with his daughter, but he'd too slip out earlier and switch out his shifts for different days. That or, not come in at all. Bloody bastard.
But Graham had only known Emma for a week; he'd left not a day later back to Ireland to visit his folks. If it were indeed true, he could only imagine the thoughts that transpired about in the man's head. He wasn't a stranger to the deep ache left in your chest when separated from the ones you care for. He did find his flirty attempts and eyelash bats earlier a bit out of character. It was new territory, considering he had never actually met Graham's former partner. Perhaps that's why he'd followed her out – to make his intentions clear. He'd decided to not dwell on the raw ache that left in his gut. (Bitterness and jealousy and some form of longing). Instead he chose to rub at his jaw with as much nonchalance as he could wager, and shrug.
"Bloody hell, I guess you're right."
The creak of a door opening caused a break in conversation. All three heads turned to the front of the bar where Graham was walking in – a smile across his lips that promised good news. He clasped his hands together as he joined the rest of the group around the table.
"Alright boys, ready to beg me for mercy?" Graham asked, a sinister little smile now tugging away at his lips.
Victor – albeit a bit groggy – laughed and lifted his head from the table, finally able to keep it up without falling over. "You wish, Humby."
"You're too intoxicated for your own good, Vic. Where are their pet names, hmm?" Graham inquired as he picked up the cards before him, gesturing around the table.
Victor chuckled and patted his chest in a gesture Killian was sure was meant to be heartfelt.
"Only the truly special ones get rewarded with such honors, you know that."
Jeff gasped in shock, placing a hand over his heart as if he were truly wounded.
"And here I thought I was the only one for you."
That earned a laugh from the rest of them. One of many to come, he mused, and picked his hand up from the table. He sat back and watched as his best mate's shoved and fought for the chance to pass around the chips. Victor won by a mile, apparently he was rather vicious when sloshed. They all put in their ante, and traded whatever cards they needed replaced. It had been hours since he'd thought about Milah and what would come the following days. He knew better than to assume she'd give up so easily, so a new plan would have to be devised by that time. If he was lucky, a few hours of sleep would be included in making it a successful one.
He'd be truly fortunate if it included a certain blonde, one with curly locks and eyes as green as the ocean. But that would deter a lot of things, wouldn't it? Graham, for one, now that he knew of his friend's situation. He hadn't planned on letting anyone in on their little arrangement. It was only meant to last the night. So telling him – or them, he corrected after looking around the table – would be out of the question. He couldn't imagine Emma wanting to tell her roommate or that leggy brunette she brought around from time to time, either. Truth be told, Emma never spoke of him or her job when she wasn't actually working. (Something he picked up in random conversation with her not too long ago).
He could feel a headache sprouting over all of the thinking he was doing, and dimly he registered his name being called by Jeff. Asking him to raise or fold because for Christ sakes, we don't have all night.
He suppressed the urge to flip him off, and instead allowed his eyes to sift through his hand. He had nothing to show but a pair of tens and jacks – judging by the eccentric eyebrow waggle from Graham, he could be in way over his head. That was his tell, and luck must have been on only his side, because everyone else at the table groaned in response and opted to fold.
Killian had other plans in mind though, as he slid a good hundred dollars worth of chips to the center of the table, sitting back with his eyes intent on Graham's.
"It's your call, mate."
Because a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.
And he was definitely going to fight.
Well, that's the chapter. I'm really trying not to make Milah so annoying/bitchy, but every time I rewrite one of her scenes, it comes out in relatively the same way. Stupid muse. We'll get more CS next time around, a dash of Gremma (what happened when he followed her outside), and Nealfire will be introduced. I already have something in mind for him, though I'm still deciding if I should give him a good first impression. We shall see. Thanks for reading! Take it easy, loves.
-Melani.
