Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Nope. If they did, we'd all hang out and I'd probably spend my days staring at their prettiness and perfection. Sadly, they all are owned by Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis, along with OUAT. Bastards.


He was still holding her hand.

Dammit.

Why hadn't he let go of it yet, again?

Well, it wasn't as if it was gross or uncomfortable to hold it. In fact, it was warm, and soft - how could they be so soft? - and it fit perfectly in his. But that didn't mean he had to hold it for the sake of it, had he?

But how did he let go of it without making it awkward as hell?

They had just left the studio and were trudging along the hall to the little cabin they used as junk room slash kitchenette slash whatever they wanted. As soon as they got to the door, he had to prop himself against it and push while twisting the knob in order to open it, finally giving him the elusive excuse he had begged for. Dropping her hand softly and setting immediately to shove against the wood with his side, it opened with a loud groan, giving them a proper view of its contents: a mountain of boxes, a petite fridge in the further corner - that no one used as they had another one in the proper kitchen on the other side of the building, - some micros laid here and there on top of a dusty desk and a couple of broken speakers piled up beside his destination - an upper shelf were the first-aid kit items were stacked randomly.

He signaled Emma to follow him there - no more hand-holding, nope - while he opened the glass door and took out a couple of gauzes and some kind of antiseptic there was in the back. He looked for bandaids, with no luck; they'd all been probably wasted on Grace's scraped knees and elbows whenever she'd fall while playing around in the studio.

Somehow he wasn't sure Emma would have been all too thrilled about wearing Disney princesses themed bandaids, anyway, so gauzes would have to do.

He turned around and found her sitting in one of the speakers by the table, observing everything around her curiously. He couldn't blame her, considering there was a pretty amount of crap laying around. He could even peek from his place a broken ukelele on one of the shelves - one of the first ones he had owned when they started recording their first album, years ago. Needless to say, its days had been over long ago, seeing where it rested now.

He turned his gaze on the girl beside him, noting how her hair was spilling from her ponytail and falling on her shoulders, not on such a lovely display as they'd been the Gala night. He noticed she was wearing the same necklace she had worn that evening, a golden tie with two hanging rings - now that he thought about it, she had worn it every time he had seen her. Maybe it was some kind of lucky charm or something? Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, trying to get her attention so he wouldn't have to grab her hand again without her consent. She looked up at him, surprised, and he gave a pointed look at her hand, carefully laid on her lap so as not to stain her outfit with blood. Or so he guessed.

"Open up and hold still." He opened one of the bandages, trying to measure how long he'd need for it to wrap around the wound, and the antiseptic followed. He then poured some of the liquid onto the cloth, wetting it. He raised his gaze to her, and was startled to realize she was staring at him quite unabashedly, green piercing eyes locked onto his face. Not breaking contact, he caught her cut hand, and finally had to drop his eyes in order to clean the wound. She made a soft sound right after the gauze touched it, so he tried to be gentle, sweeping carefully the blood from her pale skin.

He wondered if she was still looking at him.

When he was done, he suddenly realized he didn't have anything to cut the gauze with. As much junk as there could be in this room, he wasn't sure he was in the mood to look for a pair of scissors in this mess.

He made a sudden decision on the spot: he lowered his face to her hand, ignoring her surprised - and breathless, dared he say - "What are you doing?!", and with his teeth, he cut off the rest of the useless cloth. He couldn't stop himself from peeking at her from under his lashes while he did it, trying really hard not to smirk at her wide eyes and open mouth at his action. He then proceeded to tie the ends of the remaining piece on her hand, securing it around her palm over the now disinfected cut.

He blowed a bit on it and, with a flourish, finally addressed her. "There. A professional's work, wouldn't you say?"

Her eyes had lost that awed expression they wore, though her stance seemed ready to snap, she looked so tense - did he really affect her so much? "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you busted your medical career by choosing the good life in Hollywood."

He rose an eyebrow at that, amused. "Who are we talking about? I thought the Hollywoodish one was you, not me. I'm a musician, not an actor, love, remember?"

She cast her eyes down, the fingers on her right hand gently caressing the bandage he had just tied. "Well, most of both of us move in pretty much the same circles, don't we?"

"And yet we had never run into each other until now," he added, smiling slightly. She chuckled under her breath, face turning to her side and blond strands of hair bouncing, and he suddenly became aware of how close they were to each other: he was standing right between her thighs, while she sat in that broken speaker.

Fuck.

Abruptly torn between closing up the space between them and getting the fuck out of there pronto, he did the best thing he could think of: he stayed put right where he was, waiting for her to decide. As intent as she was on inspecting her now wrapped cut, he saw the exact moment when she became aware of their more-than-friendly position - her sudden intake of breath, how her spine straightened and her hands clenched on the sides of her choice of seat. Time stood still, both of them not really knowing how to escape whatever that moment had trapped them into.

He could even count each one of the tiny freckles on her nose.

Unaware of what he was doing, his hand had started moving on its own accord, coming dangerously close to that damn curl that always seemed to be dancing around her face. He knew she was looking its advances, and yet she wasn't doing anything to stop him.

Again, why wasn't she stopping him? He had hoped she'd have at least some of her marbles on her - apparently he didn't whenever she was concerned.

Just as he was almost touching the soft golden lock, a loud cracking noise was heard and Emma barely lost her balance as the speaker under the one she was sitting on decided to collapse without warning, breaking whatever moment they were having. Letting out a high-pitched squeal, her arms went out to grasp the first thing they could while she hurriedly set her feet on the ground, holding on for dear life. It wasn't until she whipped her head back after she stared with wide eyes to the mess left behind her she seemed to realize it was Killian's arms she was grabbing like there was no tomorrow, his arms holding her hips in return.

Well, this was going great.

Circled by his arms, she resembled a lost animal at that moment - out of clue of what to do. If he were honest with himself, he'd admit he was feeling pretty much the same. She didn't even dare to look at him; in fact, he was quite sure that she wasn't even moving - apart from her hands clutching fiercely his upper arms - fearing if she did, she'd probably break this fragile balance they were holding at the moment.

And, more importantly, if she even dared to move her head a bit, she'd sure brush her fucking soft skin against him, and he wasn't sure he could manage that. It had been a long time, after all, and even if he didn't like to admit it - Swan was one fine piece of woman. A real spitfire in his hands, literally.

The in his hands part. Not the spitfire part. That, he wouldn't know.

Not yet, at least.

Oh God.

Jones, cut it.

Cut it OUT.

Opening his mouth to try to dispel the tension of the moment - and his not-so-welcome-thoughts at the prospects of staying in that same position - with some shitty joke, he was interrupted by a concerned voice coming from the hallway. "Emma? Killian? Are you two okay?"

Of course August had to be the knight in armor. He couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. He felt her hands falling from his arms and saw how she carefully stepped behind her, staying out of the way of the broken pieces of the speaker laying around on the floor. She breathed heavily, without looking at him, and finally addressed his friend in an even voice.

"Yes! Yes, just - I tripped over something and it fell to the floor." She tugged at her bandage and eyed at him while she rounded him and walked to the door, where August had just shown up. She faked an embarrassed laugh, motioning to the jumble of wood and metal pieces littering the floor. "I'm such a klutz, I'm so sorry."

He smiled at her, clearly amused. "How you survived that movie handling a sword, I'll never know."

She laughed for real at that. Killian had to smile - she didn't laugh enough. "Ask Graham that - he was terrified the first days. Well, he was pretty much every time we had to use them, really." She scrunched up her nose. "I thought I had gotten better after some weeks, but apparently he didn't trust me enough on that. Bastard."

While gathering the first aid supplies in the shelf again before leaving to the studio once more, Killian tried to conjure the image of Emma and Graham in a sword fight of any kind. It sounded pretty fun, now that he thought of that. If he had been in Graham's shoes, he sure as hell would have been making ongoing references to his more than fine 'sword', he mused with a sly grin. And even if the image of Emma holding a sword may inspire a bit of fear in him - she was quite temperamental and he didn't want to find out if she had any kind of violent strikes in her, especially against him, if their rocky relationship in the last two days were any proof - he couldn't suppress himself from finding it appealing as well.

Empowered, bold women were his undoing, apparently.

"Are you coming?"

He turned to find her in the doorway, bandaged hand propped against the wall and an expectant expression. He noticed she had zipped down the hoodie, a white singlet underneath. He nodded, not bothering to answer in case he said something he'd regret. He mentally praised himself - maybe that was what maturing felt like? Shaking his head, he made his way out of the room and finally caught up with her in the hallway, feeling a sense of déjà vu of how they first had come to this room in the first place.

Only, this time, he wasn't holding her hand.


EPOV

Emma had to admit she was having fun.

After the bleeding hand incident - and the intense-bandage-wrapping, broken-speaker-cockblock incident, they had come back to the studio and joined the rest there to have the take out Belle had ordered. Belle and Ruby had seemed to click right away - they wouldn't stop talking animatedly, all waving hands and squeals, to Emma's non-surprise. Ruby got along with everybody and everything; it seemed like she possessed some sort of pixie dust that'd have you wrapped around her little finger in no time. Of course, not only Belle was victim of her charm: the boys were transfixed with her easy laugh and funny stories - especially Victor, as she had earlier suspected.

They had sat around the table, some of them lounging on the couch, with Grace coming and going from one place to another, joining every conversation she could and sharing her meal to whoever dared to pick it up from her fork until Jefferson sat her on his lap so she'd finally end at least a plate under his watchful eye. Emma had sat beside Philip, laughing at some of the stories he told her about nights in the studio, concerts they'd performed - and the most amusing ones, she had found out, from the tours they'd done the year before. August had added his insight on most of them while Jones groaned and whined about how most of them weren't "exactly as they were telling" or "I don't remember that in that way", until she had had to tell him to shut up or she'd throw another glass at him. She was having too much fun hearing about his run-ins with psychotic groupies, pranks in the vans by his bandmates and other shenanigans they'd pulled off.

He was such a baby.

She was so absorbed by the cozy atmosphere they'd somehow created, she nearly missed her phone buzzing until Jones pointed it out to her. He rose a brow at her "Are you going to take that, or you're just getting off on how it feels in your pocket?"

Groans and "Jesus, you're disgusting Jones" following, she rolled her eyes and grimaced at him while she fished it out from the pocket oh his hoodie (she really needed to give it back to him - no matter how good it smelt or how attached she seemed to have gotten to it. Nope. Give it back. Now. Or maybe after I get this call.) Looking at the screen, she internally shuddered and screamed for help.

David.

Uh-oh.

Visibly wincing at the amused stares of the boys sitting around her, she picked up, hand rubbing her forehead. "Hey, David."

"Emma - where are you? You were supposed to be here two hours ago!" He sounded visibly relieved after she had answered. God, he was an anxious one.

She sighed. She should have seen this coming. "I know, I'm sorry - I got caught up after the meeting with Regina."

He seemed to pick up something from her words, and stayed silent for a bit. "...Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine."

"You don't sound so sure."

Ugh. Why did brothers have to be so freaking perceptive about everything? Damn him for knowing her so well. Not wanting to rant about all of this on the phone - especially in front of the guys she had just basically sold her public life for the next who-knew-how-long. Especially not in front of him, smirk in place as if sensing her utmost discomfort.

"Look, I'll get there in about..." she propelled the rotating chair she was sitting on to properly read the clock on the wall behind her "half an hour, I just need to finish something here and I'll be on my way. I'm with Ruby anyway, I have to drop her by your place."

He sounded disconcerted. "Wait - where is here? Aren't you still downtown where Regina told you to meet her?"

She internally groaned. "No, I'm not there - I'll explain later."

"Yeah, I bet you do. See you later, we'll be all waiting." The only thing left was a 'young lady' and he could be her mum. Not even Ruth acted this way with her.

Though she wouldn't have him any other way.

She gulped, not even wanting to imagine the scenario that would wait for her when she got there. Spanish Inquisition, anyone? "'Kay. See ya."

She hung up, and silently prayed for the headache that had haunted her for the last two days - since Killian fucking Jones had so rudely run into her life like a drunken bastard in a party - not to come back. She heard snickering in front of her and saw Jones' glinting eyes. "Something funny, Jones?"

"Nothing - lover's quarrel, pet?" He rose an eyebrow at her, looking poised in his seat, twirling a fork in his hand as if he didn't really care at all about her answer.

Oh. OH. It was her time to smirk at him now.

"Oh, look who's jealous now."

He outright laughed in her face, though she could see something pass over his face. "Sure I am - just waiting for the poor sod, if he does in fact exist, to hear about all of this," he said, waving a finger between the two of them. Tired of the discussion already, she picked up her purse from beside her on the floor, making sure she wasn't leaving anything.

"No need to worry, honey," she said, putting as much sarcasm as she could into the word, "that was my brother. One of the poor souls I'll have to tell about this." She sighed heavily, plopping the purse in front of her and tacking things out of it, looking for her keys frantically. "Where the hell did I put them..."

She must have looked a bit out of it, as August even offered to assist her. "You want any help, Emma? Whatever it is you're doing?"

"No, no, I'm alright - just trying to find...," she said as she put on the table half of the items she had carried with herself: a couple of colored pens, the infamous mascara Ruby had given her, her wallet, a pendant she surprisingly thought she had lost, free passes for some party she hadn't bothered to attend (that Jones picked and read, adding in a bored tone 'been there, it wasn't that great, though I bet it'd have been much more interesting if you had gone, Swan; loads of drinks around to throw at people'), a candy bar she had forgotten to eat that morning, a handmade drawing she carried around with her everywhere, and why was there everything she could possibly think of in here but she couldn't find her motherfucking keys...

Her phone beeped again, and she was already answering, not amused at all at David's impatience. "I said I'll be there in half an hour, Jesus, David, calm down."

"And here I thought you had learned how to properly read. I'm disappointed, Swan."

"Oh, you." She couldn't help to smile. "I'm sorry - I thought it was my ninny of a brother - can't live without me."

Graham's laugh echoed through the line, and she let the sound of it rush through her. "I'm sure he's not the only one, here I am, calling for you, too."

"Aw. Missing me already?," she teased him.

He seemed to ponder her question. "Well, the other night you did ditch me. Worst date I've ever had, if you ask me."

She cringed. Oh God, she had forgotten Graham had seen all of that too. "I'm so sorry about that." She tried to add some cheer to her voice. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

She could see from the corner of her eye how Jones was staring intently at her. Oh, God, if he dared to ask again if it was some boyfriend of hers she'd stab him in the eye with his fork. On of those piercing, sea blue eyes; and she'd keep it as a souvenir.

Not because she found them hauntingly beautiful or anything.

Not at all.

Focus, Emma, stop thinking about his stupid, gorgeous eyes.

Graham's teasing voice brought her back to reality. "Oh, yeah? How are you going to repay me?"

"I don't know. What do you want?" Two could play this game alright. He laughed at her answer, she could imagine him rolling his eyes at her. "Don't worry that blonde pretty head of yours, Swan. It's okay."

"Fantastic. So if you're not calling to make me feel like crap for the other day, what is it you want?"

"Sydney asked me to pass the message: the pics of the shoot are already done, but we have press conference next week. You up to it, right?"

She mentally counted in her mind the days and her following compromises. "Next week? Yeah, no problem."

"Cool. Oh, and the premiere is in three weeks time - I seem to recall you asked about how difficult it could be to find passes for someone?"

She locked eyes with August, who had been the one interested in her role in the movie itself when they had discussed it during the gala. She then turned to Jones, who was still staring at her with that inquisitive look, as if he wanted nothing more than to snatch her phone away. She rubbed her temple with her free hand. "Yeah, more like a bunch of people, actually."

"Woah. Bringing all your tribe?" He sounded surprised, and she didn't blame him: she didn't have that many friends, she always hung out with the same bunch of people. Her people.

She groaned. "Something like that. You don't even wanna know."

He laughed again - damn Graham. "'Kay. See you in the press conference - wait, is movie night still on this Saturday?"

Oh, right. After the shooting of the movie was done, they had established these weekend routines when they were all free and in town - they picked up a movie, stored the fridge with junk food, and joined by Ruby, Mary Margaret, David and occasionally Ella they'd watch it. Or more like rambled and gossiped for a couple of hours with the movie playing in the back. Or made fun of everything they could possibly find in it. It was a nice excuse to spend time together.

She wondered if this new deal of hers involving the musician sitting in front of her would change all of these rituals, routines and moments she cherished so much. She would not be able to make plans ahead without consulting with him now, could she? Heart dropping in her chest at the thought, she noticed Ruby standing next to her, ready to go, shrugging as if asking what was wrong. She shook her head. "I don't know yet, Graham. I'll text you when I know, okay?"

"Sure thing. Bye, Ems."

"Bye." She hung up, feeling a bit lightheaded. She sat there for a minute, looking at the screen of her phone, her previous thoughts threatening to consume her in a panic. She had been fine an hour ago, why was the sudden realization of having to change a familiar group date tormenting her in such fashion?

The background picture on her phone - the same handmade picture she carried around in her purse - seemed to mock at her at that very moment.

"Was that Humbert?"

Lifting her head, she saw Jones looking expectantly at her, eyebrow raised in question. She suddenly recalled they knew each other. "Yeah. Right, you guys are friends," she stated while she stood up to join Ruby, still roaming every pocket of her purse in search of her damn keys.

He kept questioning her. "We are. I thought you had finished shooting?"

Not giving him much attention, she answered him. "We have, but the fun starts now - the promo for the movie and the premiere are approaching." She turned exasperated to Ruby. "Do you know where the hell I put my keys? Please don't tell me I lost them again. I'm so not in the mood today."

"That'd be the first time someone tells you that, huh, Ruby?"

"JONES." August and Philip warned from their seats, earning a scoff from their frontman.

"My wit is wasted on you, lads."

Ruby surprised her by dangling her keys in front of her face with a mocking expression. "Emma - you gave them to me earlier, remember?"

"Thank God." Grabbing them from her friend and rolling the tiny metal flower charm that David had given her for her birthday years ago that she used as a keychain, she turned to the bandmates again, ready to go. "Well, I'd say it's been a pleasure - for the most part," she said, with a pointed glare at Jones, who only grinned in response and lifted his arms as in surrender at her words, "but I'm sure we'll top it next time if Irish dickhead here could control his tongue for more than ten minutes straight."

"You seem awfully interested in my tongue, Swan..."

Throwing her head back in a silent scream, she cried exasperatedly, "See? This is what I mean."

That only made his grin broaden, eyes locked in hers. "And yet you're signing that contract. How contradictory of you." Before she could come up with an answer to his blow, Ruby gripped her forearm and started dragging her from her spot. "And - we're going, or we'll be dealing with WWIII in your studio. Bye, guys - see you soon!" She waved at them, grinning and winking at Victor on her way to the door. Emma, feeling like a puppet, couldn't do anything apart from follow her, nearly tripping in her way at her friend's forceful grip. She nodded at all of them and smiled at Belle until she felt a tug on her shirt.

"Wait! You'll come back, right?"

She stopped in her tracks to see Grace, gazing up at her and giving her enormous, brilliant puppy eyes. She grinned in response. Oh, kids. How sneaky they were - no doubt this girl got whatever she wanted from these losers - they surely wouldn't deny her anything if she gave them these eyes. She kneeled in front of the small girl and hugged her warmly. "I will, don't worry. We'll see each other soon, I promise." She stood up again, giving her one last smile over her shoulder and followed Ruby out of the building to her car.

Just as she was taking out her car keys to open it, Ruby called out to her. "Emma - aren't you cold in that shirt?"

Shaking her head, her hand trembled a bit at her statement. "Not at all."

Little did she know, Killian was at that moment picking up her hoodie - his hoodie - from the chair she had been sitting earlier, a smile grazing his lips.


"I'm here!" Emma called as she opened the door to David's apartment, leaving her purse hanging on the hook beside the door and making her way to the living room, where the TV noises and the voices from her brother and his fiancé could be heard from. She peeked from the corner and saw them sitting on the couch, David tickling Mary Margaret in order to try to get the remote from her. They were both in stitches, cushions falling to the floor and the bag of popcorn sitting on the table dangerously close to them threatening to follow the same path. Emma stood there, watching them, a sudden nostalgia filling her. This was what true love, actual soulmates looked like. What it was meant to be. She had always known it, since she introduced Mary Margaret to her brother back when they met in college years ago. One look, that was what it took - and when he called her later, he told her exactly that. That he knew.

Just like magic.

Even though she had just snorted at his brother's sappy ways - in her book at least, she was sure 90% of the female population would have her panties dropping at some of his lines - sometimes she wondered if by being a hopeless cynic she was losing her chance at finding her own happy ending.

But later, she remembered why she had become such a 'true love' denier, and she felt her walls come up again.

She cleared her throat, making a fuss of putting her hands over her eyes as if she didn't want to intrude any naughty times between them - which, of course, she would never in her life dare to even try. Ew. "You guys visible?"

"Emma! Finally!" Mary Margaret sprang from the couch and ran to hug her. Smiling fondly at her, she laced her arm through hers and walked them back to where David was sitting. As she took place at his right, he put his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. "Where were you?"

She chuckled. Oh, boy. "Not around the bushes, huh?" He shrugged and stared at her, waiting patiently for her to talk. She dropped her head on his shoulder, a huge sigh escaping her lips as she braced herself for the explaining she had to do. "Where do I start..."

After a ten minute speech, the three of them seated in silence, waiting for the unavoidable outcome that was to occur.

"Wait - you're actually considering this? But I thought those papers were talking rubbish." David looked more confused than anything. Oh, dear. Sometimes he was so clueless - hadn't he heard anything she had said? "You told me that this morning on the phone!" He accused, pointing his finger at her.

"Yes, David. The articles were assuming things, as always, as they do everyday - but this is another thing entirely. After those came out, apparently everybody believes Jones and I are the new thing - and it could help both of us, so that's why we're being offered this deal." She turned to Mary Margaret, knowing full well that her input would be one of the most decisive ones. If Ruby brought out her spontaneity and fun side, Mary Margaret was her moral compass - and helped her maintain her head on her shoulders.

Her friend was staring at her curiously, eyes crossed on her lap. "Well, you seem pretty convinced as it is - are you asking us for permission?"

She was mostly shocked at her friend's nonchalance. "What? No! Of course not! But I wanted to know what you guys thought - I mean, this is a huge deal we're talking about!"

David jumped at this. "You want to know what I think? I think if this Jones kid needs help to get back to his good graces with the paps, he'd better find another girl to frolic around - he's not going to be swapping spit with my sister just so he can be number one!"

Emma repressed the urge to moan in desperation. "David - it's not like that. Forget about him, okay? Think about what this could mean for me. How it could affect my career."

"Emma - you've been doing amazing on your own, no need of any asshole on your arm to get where you are now. Why would you change that?" He turned troubled eyes on her. She knew where he was coming from - he was worried about her, about her choices. Especially relationship ones.

She hadn't taken the best ones about those in her life, that was sure. Even though some of them had given her more than she had expected.

"I know I don't need it. But can you blame me for daring to hope this will be a good thing for me?"

Mary Margaret rose a brow. "For you? Or for your career?"

Damn her. Emma bit her tongue, eyes blazing at her friend for picking on the smallest details. "Guys - I know this is going to be difficult. Hell, I am terrified to do this! But, will you trust me? I really think this could work. It will help me get my feet inside the biggest circles - no more need to go chasing around directors, producers, screenwriters. No need to put on a front whenever someone questions my talent. At least, not how I have to deal with all that crap now. It may not be the most honest of ways," her voice caught here; she knew how much they valued truth and honesty, and she was terribly worried about them chastising her about this for the outright lie they'd be throwing at everybody, "but - sometimes I'm so tired of having to fight everything on my way."

She hadn't meant to sound so weak, so fragile - even in front of her most trusted ones, she didn't like breaking down. Afraid of what they'd say next, she picked at her shirt's hem, nervously tugging with her fingers.

It was David's sigh that made her stop her fidgeting. "Emma - even if I don't like this at all, you know I've always trusted your instinct. I'm by no means okay with this fucker using you as a means to an end of his, though."

She choked back a laugh, and she felt tearing up at her brother's words. Voice catching, she hugged him. "You're so silly. If he's using me, then I am using him as much, you idiot."

"Maybe, but he's not my little sister. You are." He held her by his side, his arms wrapped around her shoulder firmly, warming her. Mary Margaret grabbed her hand, nodding with her head. "I am really curious about this Killian Jones guy. You think this will end good? Doesn't he have a reputation?"

Laughing at that, she recalled that morning's meeting, how he had teased her about the skirt, him lending her his hoodie, how the smoke of the cigar had left his lips in ringlets around his face. His hands playing with Grace's hair, him wrapping the wet bandage on her hand - oh. She was still wearing that. Shocked at the realization, she stared at it for a bit, transfixed, ghost feelings of his breath on her skin making her shudder. "Oh, believe me: he has a reputation. But," she let out a small smile, "he's not that bad. Or so I think."

She missed the little look her brother and his to-be-bride exchanged at her words. Suddenly, David frowned, as if realizing something. "Wait - you said you couldn't tell a lot of people about this, right? What about...?"

"Mom?"

Throwing her brother a warning look, she stood up and walked over to her son, hugging him and kissing his head. She ruffled his hair, making him laugh. "Hey kid. Missed me?"


After a love-filled day in tumblr, I had to repay you with the same coin - and as my only 'talent' - apart from coming up with silly names for Colin O'mynameissofuckingeasytomaken ameswith - is bickering between these two, tada!

Any thoughts, angry mobs, rage cries and pumping fists thrown to the sky, and even tear-stained letters are more than welcome in the reviews section, dearies. I am most pleased to answer all of them - they make my days, nights, and they mostly make me smile and laugh. You're all amazing and I adore each and one of you.

Also - did you guys see? Cliffe! MWAHAHAHA *goes and hides behind Killian's hoodie, I know you wouldn't dare hurting that*

On another note: MS MR's "Bones", "Hurricane" and "Dark Doo Woop" were playing while writing this chapter. Obsessed after 'Bones' played on the S3 GOT's trailer, tbh!