Thanks to everyone who is sticking by this story! Hope you enjoy the chapter.
Killian seems reluctant to go along with her plan which makes Emma fear the worst. It's clear that he finds the whole idea of pretending to be married simply abhorrent and now she wishes that she'd never proposed such a thing in the first place.
It's not like Emma doesn't understand that she's hardly the wife Killian would pick, no doubt he'd opt for someone who understands the intricacies of wood stacking and has a mortal fear of cats. But the way he recoils when she tries to hold his hand - because they should try to actually look married, shouldn't they? - still hurts her feelings.
"You're just going on ahead without me," she complains, while Killian just frowns at the hand she's grabbed. "And I thought that perhaps we should try not to lose each other in this crowd."
Emma wants to add that they're supposed to actually want to hold hands, but honestly, Killian looked less upset when she tried to hand him a baby. So she's going to hold her tongue because if she has to hear him list all the reasons he doesn't want to take her hand then she's possibly going to cry.
It has been a very trying two days, and Emma will be very glad to be home.
"Right. Yes," Killian says, without really sounding like he agrees with her, and they continue on through the crowd of people gathered inside the inn. Emma can't make out what's actually in the space, other than tables, and people. So many of them. It had been nice to be around people for a little while, the Schumachers had been pleasant enough company, but she doesn't think that she really wants to have to squeeze through everyone in this room.
But there is no choice, she assumes, but to press forward. At least, not if they want to sleep in a bed tonight and not in a pile of hay. And Emma's glad that she has Killian here because, as grumpy as he's been about the hand-holding, he seems to have some idea about what they need to do. Emma's never had to arrange a room for the night before, in an inn or elsewhere. She feels over-whelmed and under-prepared and is happy to just sit back and let Killian deal with it all.
But all the same, by the time she's being dragged past the same people she's fairly certain she was dragged past just a few moments earlier, she starts to wonder if he's actually got any idea what's happening. And, quite frankly, she's rather sick of the constant press of people and the resulting mixture of smells, mostly unpleasant, that are invading her nostrils.
She's trying to think of a way to ask Killian if he knows what he's doing in a manner which won't come across as suggesting he doesn't know what he's doing, when she suddenly finds her hand being yanked extra hard as Killian surges forward. Then, almost as suddenly, he just stops completely, and Emma crashes into his arm before she realises what's happening.
"Ow!" she exclaims, but Killian pays her no heed, as he's now entirely focused on a man standing behind a tall desk who is completely ignoring them.
"You could have warned me," she hisses, but he waves his hand at her in a way that is downright dismissive.
"And don't just ignore me!" she adds, at a louder volume this time.
Killian does stop ignoring her, but only to turn and frown at her while making a shushing noise.
If she hadn't just established how incredibly bony his shoulder was, she'd be tempted to hit him.
But Killian's attention is elsewhere now. He's turned back to watch the man behind the desk, who finally lifts his head and looks from Killian to Emma and back again. He's small, with grey hair and pinched features that put Emma in mind of something rodent-like. She knows it isn't charitable to judge someone on their appearance only, but she can't help it. There's something about him that just makes her uncomfortable and she wishes that Killian hadn't dropped her hand quite so quickly when she bumped into him.
"So what can I do for love's young dream, then?" the man asks, without a smile and Emma can't tell if he thinks he's making a joke, or not.
Killian isn't laughing, though, so she decides to take her cues from him and remains silent while he speaks. "We would, ah, like a room for the night. If one is available," Killian says, hesitantly.
The man sucks a breath in between his yellowed teeth. "Ooh, that's a lot you're asking for. When I'm full to the brim with this lot." He inclines his head towards the rest of the room. "Might be room in the women's quarters, but men's is full up."
This time Emma doesn't wait for Killian to speak because she knows the answer to the question the man in charge hasn't asked, and her words tumble out almost too eagerly. "But we're married, so we can have a room together."
She watches the man and hopes that he doesn't say that all their rooms are currently occupied, but all he does is wipe his nose with the back of his hand.
Emma's about to ask if he has an answer for them, but someone jostles her from behind and she turns around to look over her shoulder. It could have been anyone. When she turns back, the man is looking at Killian.
"She want a soft or a hard mattress?" he says, jerking his head in Emma's direction.
Killian looks flummoxed, and Emma's about to say that she doesn't care, but the man gives Killian a sly smile and says "What? You don't know your own wife's preferences? Terrible, that is. Just terrible."
Emma watches Killian's jaw set and she's afraid that he's about to protest, and perhaps ruin their chances of getting to sleep in a bed, and so she blurts out "We're only just married, so it's fine that he doesn't know."
The man flicks his eyes in her direction, briefly, and then turns his attention back to Killian, who seems a little stunned by Emma's words. "Is that right?" the man asks, slowly.
"Uh…yes."
Emma has the flash of an idea, something that she thinks might make the story more plausible. Which will be a good thing, because this man just seems dubious about everything they say. "We went to Helensville," she says. "And we only got married today. So we're just making our way home again. My parents, they will want me…back on the farm."
The man utterly ignores her. "Wife with a farm," he says to Killian. "Good choice there, you'll be set for life. Soon as you can sort out the bed situation that is." And then he winks.
Emma waits for Killian to deny everything, but instead he looks thoughtful, and then he says "She comes with her own flock of sheep."
They both laugh.
Emma fumes silently. She's been married – well, pretend-married – for about ten minutes and she hates it utterly. In fact she'd like to get it annulled on the spot if it weren't for the fact that they'd be sent away and have to sleep somewhere where there definitely won't be mattresses, soft or otherwise.
Still, when she is jostled again by someone walking past and loses her footing Emma takes the moment as an opportunity to bring her foot down on Killian's, quite hard. She feels him wince, but to his credit, he doesn't yelp.
More's the pity.
"So," the man says. "Bed-testing's tonight. Best take one of the good rooms, which, I'm sorry to say, is about all we've got left, anyhows. But they're at the top, so you'll get a little more privacy. Might be a good idea. She looks a bit feisty. I'm a little worried about the bed."
Emma wants to tell this person that she has no intention of doing anything to his bed because she's only annoyed with Killian, but she's worried that the man controlling who gets a bed might think she's also annoyed with him. And she is, but it wouldn't do to let him know.
Killian just looks a little flushed and isn't saying anything, which is not at all helpful because she doesn't know what to say to this man who wants to keep discussing beds, but doesn't want to give them one. Emma tries to give Killian an encouraging look, but he ducks his head and avoids her gaze.
Emma supposes that's what she gets for stamping on his foot.
Eventually Killian manages to recover enough to carry on the conversation. "Just a room, really, is all we need."
"With a bed," Emma adds, because she's a little worried that Killian will sign them up for sleeping in a broom cupboard or something equally unpleasant.
"Of course," the man says, still sounding as though the whole thing is some private joke and he's the only one who can understand it.
"How much?" Killian asks, taking Emma a little by surprise because she'd forgotten that there was more to this transaction than just persuading the man that they should be allowed anywhere near one of his beds. This is all so new to her, this asking for a place to sleep and paying for the privilege. Normally people are falling over themselves to offer up accommodation whenever she travels with her parents.
Emma tells herself this will all one day be a wonderful story she can tell her brothers and sisters about what life is like if you're not royalty, and she just hopes that they actually get a bed so that it's a story with a happy ending, and not a story with a moral about…well, she's not certain. Perhaps not doing what Eva wants, is the main one.
The man gives them a hard stare, arms folded and eyes narrowed. "Tell you what," he says. "Seeing as it's your wedding night, I'll let you have the best room here for just a couple'a silver. What d'you reckon? Seems like she's worth the investment." He nods at Emma who isn't sure at all how to take that remark.
It's not really her fault that she has sheep and everyone else seems to be a little jealous. Really, if they'd seen her sheep, who, although their wool is a marvel, tend towards the dumb and uncooperative end of the scale, they probably wouldn't be.
Killian meanwhile is looking thoughtful, and has turned to Emma as though to ask if the price is acceptable. Emma wonders if it's the done thing to bargain over beds like it is over trinkets, but has no way to ask Killian without the man over-hearing, so, instead, she nods.
"Yes," Killian says. "We'll take the room."
"Excellent. Now, payment up front and I just need a name for the register."
Emma takes the money they have left over from the sale of the pearls out of the pocket of her hand-me-down skirt and holds it out to Killian, who takes a couple of the bigger coins from her. She puts the rest back and hopes they aren't being swindled.
"Alright, then. See the missus has got you where she wants you. Name?"
"Uh…Edward," Killian says, slowly, making it painfully obvious that he had to dredge the name up from his memory.
The man writes something in the book on the desk in front of him, but stops and looks up. "And last name?"
This time Killian's hesitation is blatantly obvious and the silence seems to drag on and Emma wonders what odd comment the man will come up with next, and so she decides to take matters into her own hands.
"Swan," she says, wondering where on earth the idea came from. The bear family didn't have last names, or, at least Emma doesn't think they did. Maybe it was Bear. But that wouldn't have worked and Swan seems to have just appeared in her mind.
"Like the name of this place?" the man asks her, sharply, and she suddenly realises why the word was just there. The sign outside had quite clearly given the name as The White Swan.
There's nothing for it, but to brazen it out. "Two n's at the end, though," she adds and crosses her fingers.
"Alright then," the man says, scribbling something in the book again.
Just then, an exceedingly plump woman, with grey wisps of hair escaping the cap on her head, approaches the man at the desk.
"Where you putting these two, Jack?" she asks, her voice loud, even with all the noise in the room.
"These two is just married, today apparently. So I'm putting them at the top on the left, if you must know, woman."
His words are less than kind but his tone has more exasperation than malice in it, plus a hint of that joke that he doesn't seem to want to share.
What does it matter when they got married, anyway? Or pretend-married, Emma corrects, even though it's only her own thoughts.
"Did you offer them anything to eat?" the woman asks. "Can't forget to feed the guests, you know."
The man…Jack, Emma supposes his name is, huffs in response. "Not everyone's as fond of their grub as you are."
"Don't mean you have to be rude," the woman snaps back.
Emma's worried that the argument may escalate to the point where everyone forgets about the fact she's getting a bed. She decides that it would be better to just jump into the conversation rather than be forgotten completely. "It's fine, because I'm not…we're not hungry. We just want to get to bed."
There's silence for a moment, and Emma wonders if she's been unacceptably rude. Killian has turned to look at her and he looks more than a little uncomfortable which makes her feel worse because not only has she unwittingly insulted the people who own this place, she's made Killian ashamed of being pretend-married to the rudest girl in the realm.
It's probably just lucky her mother isn't here to see this.
And then, seemingly all of a sudden, the man called Jack and the woman standing next to him burst out laughing. Jack elbows the woman and says "That told you. She's dead keen to get upstairs."
The woman continues laughing while Jack reaches over and hits Killian, hard, on the upper arm. Emma may have wanted to thump him earlier, but she's not sure about this turn of events or why Killian's chuckling, albeit weakly, in response.
The whole thing seems to be taking an odd turn. And a long time. And Emma wasn't lying when she said she wanted to get to bed.
In the end the laughter dies down. The woman wipes her eyes with a finger and says "Come on then, you two. Let's get you up to that bed."
Emma's relieved enough by the woman's words to manage a smile herself, now. She knows that she's being a little single minded but it feels like forever since she slept in a real bed and the last two days have been exhausting in the extreme.
"Off you go with Mistress Spratt, then," Jack, or perhaps Mr Spratt, tells them. "And mind you behave yourselves." Jack giggles to himself but Emma ignores him and starts to follow Mistress Spratt, grabbing Killian's hand and pulling him along with her. He still seems a bit stunned and she's not prepared to lose their chance at getting a room because they were too slow.
The push through the crowd of people, most of them stepping aside to make way for Mistress Spratt and, if they don't, the sheer width of her body forces a path through which Emma follows as closely as possible.
Turning a corner, they follow the woman up a set of stairs so narrow that Emma's afraid Mistress Spratt will end up stuck at any moment. But she appears used to navigating the confined space and barely brushes the walls as the stairs twist and turn.
Stepping onto a landing Mistress Spratt leads them to a small door and ushers them inside, where she proceeds to quickly light the fire that's already been laid in the room. "There's your bed," she says, pointing to what is, indeed, a bed, albeit an exceedingly small one.
Emma realises, belatedly, that Killian may have had a point about the furniture in the bears' cottage.
Meanwhile Mistress Spratt seems to think the whole thing is a joke. "Now you be kind to it," she says, and then, wagging a finger at Killian she adds "And to each other. Don't want no damage in the morning. Good night!"
With an exaggerated wink followed by a shrieking laugh, she exits the room. Emma stands there awkwardly, not sure what to do next and painfully aware that Killian is looking annoyed and somewhat embarrassed, red colouring his cheeks and his neck.
"I don't know why everyone keeps going on about the bed!" Emma exclaims, after the silence threatens to stretch on. She hopes that Killian will join her in being flabbergasted at the behaviour of their hosts and forget whatever she did that has upset him.
Only instead of commiserating with her, Killian is giving her an incredulous look, as though she's completely missed what happened.
"What?" Emma demands, feeling on the back foot.
"You kept telling them you wanted to get to bed," Killian says, slowly, like she's an idiot. Which she definitely isn't.
"Exactly. I am tired, and you would think that they would be used to weary travellers stopping here and I simply don't understand why it was such a thing."
Killian's eyes go very wide in response. "You kept pointing out that it was our wedding night."
"I…oh, well. Oh." Suddenly things make a little more sense to Emma and she feels embarrassed by her complete and utter obliviousness. She can hear her mother's voice in her head telling her to pay more attention to what other people are saying and not just her own wants and Emma realises that she would have been right. The desire to sleep in a real bed had just blocked her mind to any other possibilities.
Emma's face feels as hot as Killian's now looks. The right thing to do would be to admit that she was foolish and move on. But Emma's not prepared for that at all. Instead, she decides that the best way to conquer her embarrassment is to simply pretend nonchalance about the whole situation.
"Anyway, it's ridiculous. I'd hardly be looking forward to that. Some people are just silly."
Emma's words don't seem to make the situation any better. In fact, Killian looks even more miserable now, and refused to make eye contact with her. And she didn't mean to insult him…or, at least, she thinks she didn't, but wedding nights…they're not supposed to be anything you look forward to, are they?
The truth is that she doesn't really know. The information she has to go on, gleaned mainly from a very old book given to her by her mother, paints a less than appetising picture of the duties of the high-born wife. There are other glimpses though, tantalisingly fleeting ones, which she's gathered from the few frivolous novels she's read, and the over-heard whispers of the serving-girls in the castle. They suggest that there are….things that you could look forward to. If only you knew where to look.
But Emma doesn't want to try to explain all of this to Killian. Mainly for fear that he will laugh at her naivety. Or, worse, consider her unspeakably brazen for even wishing to know about such things before she is married or betrothed.
There are simply too many ways in which she could end up even more humiliated than she already is, so Emma decides to simply drop the subject.
"I suppose we should decide who gets to sleep in the bed," she says, feeling that this might be an olive branch. Not that she seriously expects to have to give up the bed, but she wants Killian to think that she might do it, and therefore stop looking like he blames her for every ill that's befallen them to date.
But he doesn't seem to have the energy to play her game of 'who can make the most polite demurrals before finally relenting'. "I'll just sleep there," he says, pointing to the rug on the floor, wearily. He catches Emma's eye and looks like he might say something else, but thinks better of it.
"Are you certain?" she asks, slowly and with the full realisation that, should she travel too far down this path, she may accidentally give up her rights to the bed.
"I've already been warned not to injure you," Killian all but splutters. "I hardly think they'll be impressed if you are sporting a bruised back in the morning."
"Oh," Emma says. She hadn't realised quite how miserable Killian felt about the whole wedding night thing. "Well, at least the fire is nice."
Killian doesn't say anything, just shrugs and puts the basket containing their meagre belongings down beside the bed.
"I might just get ready for bed then," Emma announces, to her sullen audience of one. She steps towards the little door in the corner of the room marked with a sign that says Privy.
"Do you need, uh…?" Killian asks suddenly, and when she turns around he's pointing to the basket.
"Oh. No. That's…that's finished." She steps inside the small room and shuts the door behind her.
It was an odd feeling, that thrill she got from Killian's rather awkward question. The knowledge that he may have been embarrassed by her incompetence in dealing with the day to day rigours of life, but he still cared enough to remind her to take a rag into the privy with her.
Well, cared might be stretching things a little too far. But he is aware of her all the same and it's nice that he is and it makes Emma wonder whether it might be nice to actually be married to someone like that.
And then she wonders what on earth she's even doing thinking such a thing and a panicked thudding starts up in her chest.
Marriage is another subject that is nothing but fraught for Emma. Certainly, she has the example of her own parent's marriage, but there are times when Snow and Charming seem to exist in their own special world, one where they argue fondly with each other and can have whole conversations in the space of three words, and where they often embarrass their children by kissing each other enthusiastically in front of them.
But her parents are a special case; true love. Emma won't get that, and so she'd thought she wanted a husband who was dashing and brave and who didn't put frogs in her bed. Surely that wasn't too much to ask?
Now she is realising, belatedly again and she curses herself for always being so late, that maybe she's missed an important part of her parent's marriage. It's the care they take in one another. It was something she'd believed unobtainable, something that only came with True Love. But maybe she'd been wrong.
Maybe that was what she really wanted after all. Someone who was nice enough to give her the bigger of the cherry tarts because they'd traded her pearls for the coin to buy them. Maybe that - well, that and handsome, was enough.
It takes Emma a moment, during which time she finishes using the privy, to realise that she's just labelled Killian as handsome. The thought makes her flush again, even though no one can see her and no one even knows her thoughts and there's a moment where she wonders if she might be better spending the night where she is rather than face Killian again knowing that her mind is running away with her.
It's just the tiredness, she tells herself. And perhaps it is. She has enough younger siblings to have had first-hand knowledge of exactly how irrational one person can be when they are over-tired.
So that's probably all that's happened to Emma's brain now. It's all just a manifestation of her tiredness.
She takes a deep breath and pushes open the door to the little bedroom. Killian has laid out Teddy's baby blanket on the rug on the floor and looks at her warily. Or wearily. She can see the shadows around his eyes in this light.
So they are both tired. And they'll both be in a better mood come morning, when all this nonsense about wedding nights can be forgotten.
"Your turn!" she says, brightly, and Killian walks past her, leaving Emma to inspect the bed a little more closely. She turns back the sheets which appear clean enough and then something, something awful, occurs to her.
As soon as Killian steps back into the room she blurts out the question she's been stewing about for the past few minutes. "Will they want to check the sheets in the morning?"
"Check them for what?" Killian asks, looking perplexed, and Emma's taken aback because she thought he'd know and she wouldn't have to explain and suddenly this line of conversation doesn't seem like a good idea at all.
It's all far too hard when she's this tired. "You know, because I said it was our wedding night…" Emma says, waiting for realisation to dawn in Killian's face.
It doesn't. Instead he looks downright perplexed. "But what will they be checking?"
Emma looks very purposefully at the fire. "Me. To see if I was…if I hadn't been touched."
There's silence, apart from the crackling of the logs in the hearth and Emma is simply too embarrassed to look at Killian now. Maybe he thinks that she isn't pure? Or, and Emma can't decide if this is worse, perhaps he thinks she's just a naïve little fool because who'd want her anyway? No one but a stupid boy-prince with a liking for frogs, anyway.
"They do that?" Killian asks, and for a moment Emma wonders if his question is genuine, but she glances at his face and the way his brows are knitted together suggests that it is.
"Well. Yes. I don't know if they do it for everyone. Do you?"
Killian shakes his head for no. It's clear that, unlike Emma, this is not part of the future he's had to contemplate. It must be nice to be a man, Emma thinks, and be free from so much judgement. Or perhaps it's that he won't get married because he's in the navy. Either way he's probably never had to think about the humiliation inherent in the whole wedding night scenario.
"But…," Killian says, hesitantly. "We wouldn't let them. I mean, if we were really married…then it would be up to us, wouldn't it? And if you don't…want that. Then I don't want that."
"You think it's as simple as that?" Emma asks, genuinely curious.
"I think it should be," Killian says softly, and they stand awkwardly in front of the fireplace.
Everything Emma's read suggests it isn't as straightforward as Killian makes it seem, but it is a lovely thought all the same. She likes the idea of it being the two of them against…well, she isn't certain. Old bridal traditions, she supposes. It's nice, thinking you have someone who would take your side no matter what.
But it's all just pretend, and he's probably ready to declare they're not really married the next time she does something embarrassing.
"I suppose we should get to bed," Emma says, after the silence just seems to be stretching on and on.
"That seems like a good idea," Killian agrees.
Emma turns her back to him to face the bed and quickly unties the corset that came from Mistress Dabb's daughter. She hesitates for a moment, and then steps out of the skirt and throws off the shirt as well, leaving her in just her shift, scrambling under the covers hurriedly before she gets embarrassed.
When she's settled herself in the cold and slightly damp, sheets she dares to look across at Killian who is now lying on the floor, under the blanket, with his back to her. Emma wonders how many layers of clothing he's removed, if any at all, even though she knows it's a little rude to be curious about such things.
"Goodnight, Killian," Emma says.
"Goodnight," she hears him mumble in response, before she closes her eyes.
Sleep comes quickly and Emma doesn't remember anything else, until she comes awake again, suddenly, some time later. She has no idea how long she's been asleep for; the fire has died away almost to embers, but it's still the only light in the room.
There's a deep sigh from somewhere on the floor, and she hears the sound of Killian rolling over and shuffling around. She wonders if this is what woke her, and if it was on purpose.
"Are you alright?" she whispers.
Killian sighs again. "Yes."
"You don't sound alright."
"It's just…hard to get comfortable." He shifts again and she hears a banging noise. "Ow!"
"Are you hurt?" Emma asks.
"I'll live. Unless whatever keeps scrabbling around in the corner eats me, of course." He sounds morose now and Emma refrains from pointing out that whatever is in the corner might not have been a problem had they rescued some of the kittens from Mistress Dabb's farm.
"I don't think you really need to worry about that," is what she does say and all she gets in response is another loud sigh and more shuffling.
It's clear that Killian is miserable where he is and Emma is worried that if something doesn't change, neither of them will get any sleep. At least, she tells herself that's the reason she asks Killian what she does, and not because she feels guilty at having the better sleeping place. "Uh, do you want to share with me?"
"Share?"
"The bed." Emma, feeling more awake now, lifts her head up and props it on one hand, patting the bed with the other at the same time. "You might be able to sleep then."
She can't really see what Killian is doing, and she definitely can't make out the expression on his face, but she certainly doesn't get the words of gratitude she expected from him. "Oh. No. That wouldn't be right."
"We shared a blanket last night," Emma points out.
"Which you mostly hogged," Killian grumbles.
"Well you're keeping me awake with all the rustling and groaning…"
"I'm not groaning."
"Mumbling then. And banging things. And if I don't get back to sleep soon I'm going to be really grumpy in the morning."
There's silence for a moment, and then some movement. "Well, if it will stop you being grumpy," Killian huffs.
Emma hears his footsteps and then feels the bed dip next to her, which makes her shuffle over towards the wall quickly. She hadn't realised that she'd be boxed in like this but she supposes it's preferable to Kilian climbing over her.
He settles on top of the bedspread and pulls Teddy's blanket over him and then Emma waits, feeling a little tense, but hoping that if Killian can just fall asleep now then she will be able to as well. And she really wants to go to back to sleep.
But Killian is unable to settle. He tosses and turns a few times, meaning Emma is left to ride the resulting wave across the mattress that sends her far too close to the wall for comfort. She holds very still and hopes it will be over soon, but it isn't and now the sighing is back again and she wonders how many real marriages end when the bride murders her new husband on their wedding night.
"You still can't sleep," she says, and it was meant to be an observation, but it sounds far more like an accusation.
"No," Killian replies, sounding sad. Emma would like it if he sounded a little more contrite about the whole thing, but she realises she can't have everything.
"Just try to sleep," Emma hisses. "Please."
"It's just…" Killian begins, and then stops, as though he thought better of it.
"What?"
"It doesn't…move."
"What doesn't?" Emma's quite frankly confused now.
"The…room. It's not like a ship."
"Ohhh." That makes some sense Emma thinks, but there's still not much she can do about it. "But you can still sleep, can't you?"
"I want to," Killian says. "But it's not working."
It's all a little frustrating as far as Emma is concerned. She can't change the inn into a boat and she really just needs Killian to sleep or else she won't just be grumpy in the morning, she'll be murderous because they finally have a bed and it's just not fair that he's spoiling it.
And so she does the only thing she can think of, she rolls from side to side, making the bed shake.
"What are you doing?" Killian asks, sounding confused and Emma thinks it's so funny that he's asking that question when he's barely been able to keep still since he joined her in the bed.
"You wanted it to move," Emma says, as she rolls even harder now, at one point crashing into Killian's shoulder. She's giggling too, in a slightly hysterical fashion, because it's the most ridiculous thing. Completely ridiculous, because who ever heard of someone who can't sleep like a normal person in a stationary bed?
But she can't stop herself now and the tiredness spurs her on, and she's rolling and giggling while Killian splutters next to her.
Emma's silliness proves catching because Killian goes from complaining that she's being ridiculous to joining her, and now it's the two of them twisting about on the bed. She starts pushing herself upwards, and down again, trying to see if she can bounce Killian right off the thing and she's laughing in a breathless, wheezing, way while the bedsprings creak and groan and the headboard thuds against the wall and Killian blurts out a protesting "Emma!" as her hand flies out and hits his chest, to which she only responds with more giggling.
And then she hears something she can't ignore. She hears loud, male voices outside the room. Laughter intersperses whatever it is they're discussing.
Emma feels her own good humour dissipate. "Shhh," she says to Killian, who hasn't quite caught on to what's happening yet.
He stops moving and Emma can now hear what's going on outside a lot better. It sounds like there are two, maybe three, men laughing and then Mistress Spratt says "Leave them poor newlyweds alone!"
Someone bangs on their door, which makes Emma jump and shrink back towards the wall and one of the men shouts "You go on there!", and another says "Give it to her good!", before they all laugh again and, after some more shushing by Mistress Spratt, their footsteps sound heavily down the hall and disappear around a corner.
The room seems very quiet all of a sudden and Killian rolls over so his back is to Emma. The air of embarrassment in the room is such a contrast to the previous, happy mood they shared and Emma is annoyed. "They were very rude," Emma says.
"It was bad form," Killian agrees quietly.
"They must have been drunk," Emma says. "Because why they would think that…I mean, all that bed bouncing was obviously something else altogether. It couldn't be…what they thought it was."
She's reluctant to dwell too much on the whole wedding night subject again, having upset Killian with her earlier words, but she thinks that those men were being ridiculous and clearly don't have a clue what they are talking about.
"No. I'm fairly certain that's why they were shouting at us," Killian says, curtly, making it patently clear he blames Emma for this as well.
But she doesn't have time to worry about being in his bad books because she's too busy turning over what he's said in her mind and it makes her curious enough to ask the next question that comes to her.
"So, have you? You know…been with…someone?" she asks, her voice coming out a little squeaky. It's a risk asking such a question, but it's a risk Emma's willing to take.
Silence stretches out and she thinks Killian won't answer her, but in the end she hears a quiet "Yes."
That opens up a whole new range of possibilities for Emma. She's never been around anyone before who might answer the questions she has regarding the whole mysterious world of what happens between men and women.
The book her mother gave her has provided some details, ones which tend to the clinical and with the emphasis on duty and forbearance, but there are things that she knows her own body capable of, pleasure she's discovered alone in her bed, and Emma simply can't reconcile the two.
If she's ever going to find out, this might be her only chance. And so she blurts out the question that's uppermost in her mind.
"Did she like it? When you did it to her?"
"You make it sound like…I didn't force her, if that's what you're thinking."
Emma hadn't considered that possibility at all, but supposes this is good to know. "No…I mean…I just wondered…did she?"
She holds her breath, waiting to see if Killian will answer. She wishes that she'd used a better turn of phrase, made it harder for Killian to refuse to answer without appearing rude. Her mother is good at that kind of thing, but it's not a skill that Emma has inherited, or managed to learn by careful observation. Instead she relies on blundering through and hoping for the best.
"I don't know," Killian says, hesitantly.
"Well…didn't you ask? I mean, it seems like it might have been bad form not to." Emma's wondering if she isn't the only one capable of making terrible mistakes of etiquette.
"It's complicated," Killian says in a voice which suggests he wants that to be the final word on the matter, but Emma's intrigued now, and all thoughts of sleep have flown out the window.
"I know. I mean…I can imagine," she says, in what she hopes is a reassuring voice. "And I don't know much at all, just what was in the book my mother gave me."
"Book?" Killian sounds a little more interested now that the conversation has drifted away from who he's bedded.
"Yes. It's a…well a marriage manual, I suppose. For girls. It explains…things. Things like that, about wedding nights and the like. That's how I knew about the sheets."
Killian rolls over so he's facing her, and she can just make out his features in the dark, the pale skin of his face standing out against the gloom. "They have books like that? For girls?"
"Of course they do."
"Liam has a book, but I've only seen it once."
"A marriage manual?" Emma's pleased that the conversation seems to be a little less one-sided now, and that she was right in persevering with it. She might be able to learn all sorts of interesting things if she's lucky.
It's nice having someone she can talk with about this.
"It's more…pictures."
"Pictures." Emma considers that. She can't quite imagine what that would be like because why would you need pictures of…oh. "Really?"
"Um…yes. I think it came from Agrabah."
"And it shows…what happens?"
"Well…ways that you could…if you wanted…like different ways," Killian says hesitantly.
"I think there's only one way," Emma says decisively, and then she thinks better of it. "Isn't there?"
"There are some…variations."
"Oh."
This is all incredibly interesting and Emma's managed to learn more in the last few minutes spent lying in the dark with Killian than she has in all her years to date. It's somehow easier to talk, lying here in the dark. It's like they're the only two people in the world and it doesn't matter what they say to each other.
But then Killian wants to go and ruin it. "I don't know if I should really be discussing this with you," he says.
Emma sighs. "But no one else will, that's the problem. My mother gave me the book, and she said I could ask her things, but I don't think she really wanted me to. And then she sent me off to stay with Princess Abigail…and Freddie, and that's the last thing I want to do with him."
Queen Snow had beamed when she'd handed the book to Emma, saying that she'd found it in her mother's things and that Queen Eva had died before she'd ever had the chance to pass it on, and wasn't it lovely that she could do this for Emma so that she didn't have to rely on only the advice of Granny Lucas and some dwarves. And Emma had nodded and agreed that it was lovely to have a mother to share these things with.
But then she'd actually read the book and been horrified by it all and if this is what her mother expected her to do then she really was going to be a failure as a daughter because Freddie the Frog Prince was absolutely, positively never going to see her without her clothes on.
"They won't force you to marry him…will they?" Killian asks.
Emma shrugs, and then realises that in the dark Killian may not have caught the movement. "I don't think so…but they'd like it if I did and I don't want to be a disappointment. I've been that already and it's just awful!" Behind Killian's head the fire suddenly flares, hot and bright, but his face is still in shadow and she can't make out his expression.
The fire dies back down and Emma blinks a couple of times and hopes she doesn't cry, not when Killian's right there with his own face only inches from hers and he'll just think she's being silly about it all. And what would she know anyway? He's the one who's had someone who liked him enough that she didn't think it was just a duty she had to perform.
"I'm sorry," Killian says. "For saying that you had sheep. I just wanted…I just wanted that man to take me…us seriously. And give us a bloody room. I'm sure that you have other things that would make you a good wife…not just…the things you own."
"That's alright," Emma concedes. "I just really wanted to sleep in a bed, that's why I kept mentioning it. I didn't realise how it sounded."
"I don't think they will check the sheets," Killian says after a few moments. "I think that perhaps that's just if you're marrying someone important."
"I hope so," Emma replies. "And if they ask in the morning, then I'll say that I liked it."
"Maybe you shouldn't."
"No. It's alright. I don't mind. I don't want them to think that it was awful."
"Um…thank you. I think." Killian doesn't sound certain about that at all. He sighs a little and shifts around, his knee bumping against hers but in a way that Emma doesn't mind.
There's silence for a moment, even Killian seems relaxed now, but Emma's mind is still whirring. Eventually she musters the courage to ask something else. "Did she want to marry you?"
"I didn't ask," Killian mutters.
"I feel…maybe you should try asking a few more questions," Emma says, fully expecting to be chided for asking too many.
Instead though Killian simply says "I couldn't leave my ship."
"But you did. For me."
"It's not forever though. It's different."
"I suppose it is."
Killian's right though. This is all just an interlude in their lives and as soon as they get back home she'll go back to her old life, to counting down the days until she has to face up to the prospect of getting married and doing her duty, and Killian will go back to the sea.
But she'll always remember the strange night they spent together pretending to be married and this odd, intimate, conversation in the middle of the night.
"Your hair smells like flowers," Killian mumbles, his voice thick and slurred now.
"Mmm-hmm," Emma agrees. She was glad to have the opportunity to wash it at the bathhouse earlier and she's not even that annoyed that Killian seems to be lying across some of it.
Instead she reaches over and runs her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching her nails across his scalp. "Shhh. Go to sleep," she whispers, and she keeps stroking as she listens to the way his breathing changes, getting deeper and more even.
Emma doesn't really feel like sleeping now. She keeps her fingers moving, the soothing motion something she's seen her mother do countless times. Emma doesn't feel maternal, though. She can't stop thinking about the girl Killian has known and what it would be like to be her, to go to bed with a man…with Killian…and finally find out what all the fuss is about.
Their bodies, although separated by the covers, are very close together and Emma feels hot all of a sudden, and a little jittery. Her breathing sounds loud and there's an aching between her legs that's started up all of a sudden and is making her feel restless.
She tells herself that she's being ridiculous, that's she's simply tired and getting carried away and the fact that she wonders what it might be like if she pressed herself up against Killian is simply the result of all this pretending to be married and talking about bedding people.
It's not like she can do anything about it. Ever. Or that Killian would want to. He'd probably be as horrified as he was when she tried to hold his hand earlier.
He has a ship and a girl who's hand he probably likes holding. He doesn't need her.
So Emma drops her hand away from his face, a little reluctantly, and tucks it under her chin. She lies there and listens to Killian breathing and waits for sleep to come again.
Thanks for reading!
