Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no Emma Swan, no Graham, no Ruby. Not even little Henry. Not even Grace. 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.
Looking at her son's face intently, sometimes Emma wondered what people meant when they said he was 'a spitting image' of her. She guessed they both shared some traits - the piercing green eyes he liked to use against her so much whenever he wanted, the straight nose, fair skin, naughty smile, dry sense of humor and easy outbursts here and there - but, as any other mother, she couldn't help but think he was the most beautiful creature in the world, way more perfect than anything or anyone around him.
Including her.
Snapping out of her study on his face, she put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shove towards the kitchen. "You hungry? We can either haul something from these losers' fridge and run home - or", she said, throwing a smirk at her brother and Mary Margaret over her shoulder, ignoring their not-so-amused glare, "we can get something on the way. Whatever you like."
Henry approached the refrigerator, taking a peek inside, a frown marring his forehead. "Nah, I've done all the hauling for today - there is nothing left."
"Nothing?" She didn't believe that. David and Mary Margaret stoked that thing every two days - it was like a restaurant's cuisine in this house.
He gave her a challenging smile. "Nope."
Her turn to rise a brow, giving him her super special I-am-a-lying-detector face. Which he hated. Because it worked every time, of course. "Really?"
He sighed, resigned. Ha. She won. "...okay, there may be something left but - I want takeaway!"
"Oh." Emma made a face at that - she had had takeaway at the studio, after all.
"What is it?" He had seemed to read her face . No surprise there - he was quite the perceptive kid. He was her kid, after all.
"I just - we already had that today, but whatever, we'll get you some and I'll eat whatever we have at home, 'kay?," she fumbled with her answer.
"Cool. Wait - where did you get takeaway? Regina hates it. She doesn't like it when I ask her whenever I stay with her!"
Damn this kid. He was too perceptive for his own good. Sighing and rubbing her forehead, and trying to ignore David's amused smile, she turned to her son again. "I left after Regina's meeting with Ruby to meet some clients - we got talking and then they invited us for lunch." She made a waving noise with her hand, like a magician would show some sort of trick. "And that's the fascinating story of how I got takeaway today. Now - can you please get your things so we can get going?"
He shrugged and smiled while turning towards the room he slept in whenever he stayed at David and Mary Margaret's. "Sure - no need to get defensive. It was just a question!"
She sagged her shoulders and turned pleading eyes to her brother and his fiancé, voice barely a whisper. "I cannot tell him."
David's mouth parted, flabbergasted. "What? Why not? He's your son. He has a right to know."
She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "He's too young - as much as I'd love to tell him, it'd be too risky to let him know about this. We were with one of the bandmate's kid earlier too - Gold insisted she didn't know either. He has to believe this is something real - something I'd want."
This only earned her an amused snort from Mary Margaret, who turned a pitiful glance in her direction. "Yeah, well, good luck with that, sister."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She rolled her eyes at her again, as if the answer were more than obvious. "Emma - you haven't dated anybody in ages. And by ages I mean since - you know." She felt her body tense up at the name implied. "And you haven't shown any interest at all in any male whatsoever since then, for all I know."
David seemed to ponder that, cocking his head to the side. "Well, there's Graham..."
Her head snapped up in alarm at that and she threw her arms in the air, desperation edged on her face. "For the love of God, why does everybody think I have the hots for Graham?"
They both stared at her for a minute until Mary Margaret rose a brow. "Well, you do spend a lot of time together since you met, and he even joins us on saturdays... But wait, we haven't said a word about it until now - who else has said anything about it?"
Damn.
Cursing herself mentally, she tried to act nonchalant. "He called me earlier to tell me about promo next week," she answered, fidgeting with the keychain on her hand, just to not have to look at them, "and the guys wondered how close we actually are."
David's nose flared like a dragon's. "You mean this asshole is already dictating who you can see and who you can't, when you haven't even..."
"David!" She called him, giving him a panicked look signaling to Henry's room behind her. "Shut up! It was not like that okay? They were just curious. They are friends, after all."
That seemed to get their attention. "They are? How do they know each other?" Mary Margaret asked, curious.
...huh. She had forgotten to ask that. Oops.
"I don't know - maybe because him and Jones are both Irish? I'm not sure. I'll have to ask him."
"Graham... or Jones?"
She groaned a bit, but was saved to answer when the approaching sound of footsteps could be heard from Henry's room. She gave her brother a last apologetic look - which he answered to with a warning one of his own, big-brother-style-mask still in place - and span around to greet Henry, now wearing a light red jacket over his shirt and his backpack in place. "You ready to go?"
"Yep."
"'Kay" She walked towards the couch and briefly hugged her friend while Henry went to say bye to David, whispering in her ear a hushed "I'll call you or text tomorrow and as soon as I know the date for the signing." Mary Margaret nodded discreetly and gave her a small smile, approaching Henry next. She stood waiting for David's arm to drape over her shoulder, sighing contently when he did. She knew he was worried about her - he always was, not even after all these years he'd stopped being fiercely protective about her little sister, not after all they'd been through - but she also knew he'd finally give in and accept her decision.
As many crass decisions she had made in her life, the truth was, she wasn't a little girl anymore.
She stepped away from his arms, kissing briefly his cheek and putting a hand over Henry's shoulder, waving over her shoulder and promising to call and let them know when she'd drop her son over during the next week while she worked in the movie's promo. As they closed the door behind them, Emma clicked on the car keys' to unlock the vehicle. Henry ran to the backseat to leave his things and, before she had gotten there, he had opened the pilot's door for her. Giving him an amused look, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "What is it you're doing, mister?"
He shrugged, an impish smile stealing his features. "I'm being a gentleman. Duh."
And, for the second time that day, Emma dropped what she was holding in her hands in surprise at something that a ten-year-old had said.
Well, fuck my life.
They had finally stopped at a Thai place Henry adored to pick something up for him and proceeded to go back home so they could both eat together. As Emma fixed something for herself in the kitchen, he chattered happily about what he'd done during the day at school and at Mary Margaret and David's. She had been supposed to take him to school that morning, but as Regina had called and told her about the 'special meeting', she had had to ask for help to her friend - that'd been the reason for her running late to Gold's. It bothered her when these things came up from nowhere because it made her lose precious time with her son, but he was used to it by now and he never complained - he never got mad at her, as much as he wanted to be with her too. He knew how hard she had fought for her place in the industry and how far she could get, how her entire being brightened up whenever she talked about a new role or a possibility of joining a project or working with someone she admired - and how crushed she'd be when she wouldn't be able to achieve something she had dreamt of. He had consoled her, helped her and been one of her biggest supporters, despite his young age.
He also knew how hard she had fought for him.
As he licked sauce from his fingers, Emma recalled a darker time in her life, when she had felt lost and petrified of the prospect of becoming a mother. When she had held that little plastic contraption in her hand, trembling like a leaf, mind spinning and sobs escaping from her lips at the panic that threatened to consume her. It had been Mary Margaret who had finally found her in the bathroom floor, absolutely paralyzed and hugging her sides so fiercely she had left marks in the pale skin of her hips. She hadn't even had to ask - did friends have some kind of superpower to know what was wrong with best friends? She would never know, though her bet was a mix between that and the pregnancy test lying on the floor beside her, - she had just sat on the floor with her, hushing and rocking her back and forth in her arms until her breathing finally calmed down and exhaustion consumed her.
They had discussed endlessly - along with Ruby, who had later found them both in the floor and had been filled in the situation at hand - about the options she had, though Emma, as much as she could struggle with herself and the outcome of her decision, had always known inside of her she could never 'get rid of the problem', as some douche in the clinic the three friends had visited the next day so she could get some tests run had called it. Nor was it giving him up.
She couldn't abandon him. She just - couldn't. Not after what she'd been through as a child.
If she hadn't found David, who knew what she'd had become. Who she may have encountered in her life. What would have been of her if no one had cared enough about her when thrown into the world after she abandoned foster care - she may have been broken by the time. Even having the most loving family she could ask for, she had committed as many mistakes as the next one - hello, she had gotten pregnant at 18, for fuck's sake - but just trying to imagine the possibility made her cringe.
She couldn't let that happen to him.
So, right from the moment she saw that plus sign in the test, she had known the daunting truth.
She was going to be a mum.
Of course, it hadn't been easy. Not at all. Not by a long shot. But surrounded by people who supported her every step of the way - her family, her new friends, people who she had let in and had not left her high and dry in the journey - she had made it. And holding her son in her arms for the first time, something so perfect, so fragile, so unique and full of wonder - she had known, no matter the pain suffered, the uncertainty of their futures, her studies, her dreamed career - it had all paid in the end.
Because she had him. And he had her. They had each other, that was all that mattered.
She was snapped out of her reverie when Henry waved a hand in front of her face. She rapidly shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips at the bittersweet memories of her younger, naive years as a freshman in college, where this motherhood adventure had started in the first place. "What? What is it?"
"You were so out of it! You didn't hear a thing I said, did you?"
"I did, I promise!"
He pointed his index finger at her threateningly. "You're a horrible liar!"
That only made her laugh. This kid, really.
"Look who's talking, Mr. There's-nothing-in-David's-fridge."
"...fine. But you were not listening!"
She deflated, knowing it'd be impossible to make him change his mind. And what for, really? She had not been paying attention, after all. She owed him the truth, at least. For now. She sat in front of the counter, letting her face lay on her arms. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit out of it. I had a busy day."
"Oh, I heard."
...He did?
"You did?"
For a ten-year-old kid, he looked like he had been practicing his smirking for years. "When were you going to tell me about your new boyfriend?"
"...what?" Well, at least this time she hadn't dropped anything. She had just hit her chin with the counter in her haste to lift her head to look at him.
The smirk had morphed now into a full on amused smile at her expense. "Some girls from school told me something about you and that singer from the Lost Boys at that party the other night."
She groaned, letting her head fall repeatedly over her arms laid in front of her in the kitchen counter. For the love of God, even ten year old kids read that crap? How the hell had they find out?
"How the hell did they find out about that?"
He gave her a chastising look, as if she were the ten-year-old and him her parent. "You know, even if you won't let me have a phone, it doesn't mean other kids my age don't."
She snorted, momentarily amused by his comment. "Yeah well, why would a ten-year-old girl want an iPhone for is beyond me, let me tell you." It was beyond ridiculous. She really doubted they wanted it for calls, anyway. What would they even tweet or post on their Facebook statuses? Would it work as the diaries they'd all written in her youth - in actual paper and ink, mind you, not over a tactile screen? 'Dear diary: today we had lasagna. Matt pulled at my braid in gym and I kicked him in the shin in return. He's a jerk.'
Ridiculous. She was better not knowing, really.
He shrugged. "I don't really care, you know."
"About not having a 'proper phone'?" She asked him, eyeing him from her place in the counter.
He scrunched up his nose. Ah, the nose. How she loved it. "Well, about that and about that singer guy." Before she could interrupt him, he continued. "I know most of the stuff they write in those magazines and on the internet has to be taken with a pinch of salt, but you can tell me if something's going on." She stared at him, frozen on the spot, looking completely stunned at his statement. How could he be so - so cool about this? They usually laughed at the rumors thrown around her whenever they had arisen (though there hadn't been so many of them, considering her lower profile in the industry), but him actually acknowledging this was something she wasn't used to. At all.
She clasped a hand over his, holding it tightly. "Henry, you know those are crap."
He squeezed back reassuringly, smiling, but continued the questioning. "So didn't you meet them? The Lost Boys?"
Emma let out a breath, ready for the onslaught. "Well, yeah, I did. They were there."
"Cool! What did you talk about with them?" He was practically bouncing on his chair.
"Wait - why are you suddenly so interested in them?"
He paused a bit and then shrugged. "I'm curious - I have heard some of their songs and they are pretty good..."
"You have?" Huh. Even her kid knew them. Did she really live under a rock?
She did, didn't she? Shouldn't surprise her at all.
"Yeah! You've never heard them? Then how did you get to meet them? Mum, did you embarrass yourself?"
She tried not to look too offended at his last comment, but decided to humor him nevertheless."I hadn't heard of them - well, apparently Ruby had made me listen to them sometime but I don't really remember it, you know how she likes to play anything she wants whenever we go together somewhere in the car."
Her son laughed at that, obviously familiar with her friend's eccentric ways. They had spent too many fun evenings together whenever his favorite aunt stayed with him: movie nights, chocolate filled meals and days spent outdoors enjoying the sunny weather - something she had been doing since he had been born. No wonder he adored her.
"...but I actually got talking to them because they were there with Graham."
Henry's eyes widened and he banged his fist in the counter, something he did when his level of excitement reached a higher level. As in, over-sugary high. What had there been in that Thai meal? She should have checked the recipe. "Of course! Graham was in their clip!"
"...what?" Jesus, that seemed everything she could say today. What. Was. Going. On?
"Yes! You know, when music bands release music videos for the singles in their albums? They usually record stuff the singers themselves, or they use animations, or both - but sometimes they hire actors to play parts in them. You know, like in that one Eminem's song you didn't let me watch with the little guy from Lost and Megan Fox?" He shot her an annoyed look, as if he were still mad at her for not giving him permission to watch it.
She put a hand in the air. "I'm not going to apologize for that. You're ten, it was PG13."
"Whatever. Anyway, Graham was in The Lost Boys' last single - it was a really big hit, it had some kind of record or something. It was huge."
"Well, no surprise there - Graham tends to have that kind of effect on anything he touches." She knew that from experience: when they had been shooting, there were always groups of people - mostly female, of course - waiting around, even bracing the most awful weather she had ever suffered, expecting a chance to spot him and hopefully snatch a pic with him or an autograph to bring back home with them. As the kind soul that he was, as soon as they ended filming he'd try to greet them and stay for a while, giving them conversation and signing whatever they wanted.
He was that charming, really.
"Yeah well, him and the band together definitely worked then. And the song was awesome." He stared dreamily in front of him, probably recalling the memory of the song in his head, she guessed. She was curious now.
She finished munching an abandoned fry on his plate, looking at him under her lashes. "So you really like them, huh?"
"They look pretty cool. And if Graham likes them I'm sure they are," he answered, nodding with his head. "Now - what did you think? Did you meet the five of them, or just Killian Jones?"
Emma wasn't sure she had been ready to hear her son calling her future-for-all-purposes-fake-boyfriend's name. She let out a shaky breath, trying in vain not to look too panicked at the idea of debating anything related to the rockstar with Henry. Though, truth be told, she'd have to get used to the idea, wouldn't she? After all, the signing of the contract wasn't that far on the horizon, only a couple of days tops - and she'd have to tell Henry then she was in fact dating the infamous Killian Jones.
She debated a bit with herself until she decided to start low. It wouldn't do her any good to suddenly tell him in a week's time after the press were informed or something of the sorts that her and Jones 'had' something - in fact, it'd only make him suspicious. He knew how to read her, so what better moment to start her acting than right now?
Though the thought of using her own child as a puppet for her acting was perfectly nauseous. She hated lying to him.
Trying to calm her nerves, she tried to act a bit embarrassed at her next confession. "I actually first met the keyboardist - August? I'm not sure if you're such a groupie like Ruby that you know all of their names," she added, giving him a sideways teasing smile, to which he responded making a face at her, "and then I met the famous Killian Jones, whom everybody seems to know so much about."
He looked transfixed with this new piece information, staring at her captivated. "Woah. Were they cool?"
"Sure, they were nice enough."
"What about the other ones? Did you see them too?" Oh look, sugary excitement levels again.
She braced herself. "In fact, I met them today."
Henry stared at her, dumbfounded. "What?" Yay, it wasn't just her being a clueless bunny today!
Oh, but was she a terrible mother for being glad of her son's confusion.
"After my appointment with Regina, I met with their rep - a really funny" she made a weird face as she said it, not really knowing how to describe the man, "guy, who was at the party too and, seeing as I was friends with Graham and had met part of the band already, asked me if I'd like a visit to their studio."
The poor boy looked like he'd have a stroke in any moment. "You were in their studio?!"
"Yes."
"That's so cool! Can I come with you next time?"
"What, aren't movie sets and promo shoots and premieres not enough for you, mister?," she challenged her son, seeing how the prospect of being around the musicians seemed to amaze him. As much as she loved - and dreaded - seeing him excited over the possibility of visiting the studio and possibly - not possibly, surely, Emma - meeting the band, she couldn't help but feel a bit put out. Wasn't she offering him awesome chances and places to visit too?
"Are you kidding, of course I love it - but this is different. This is music we're talking about! I'd love to see how they record there - and all the instruments there must be in there! Did you see many guitars? I would love to learn how to play. Do you think they'd teach me if you or Graham asked them? Philip's solos are superb, but Killian is really good too, though he's the lead singer so he's more focused in that, of course."
This was too much information to handle. Her son was asking for guitar lessons with the guy who'd have to pose as her boyfriend in the nearby future. And they hand't even signed anything yet.
Where was the hidden camera.
"You know what - I'll ask them, don't worry. But I don't think I'll get to hear from them until maybe next week." Under his questioning look, she answered. "We have promo all next week, Graham called to tell me."
He nodded with his head, accepting her words. "That's fine though. As long as I get to play the guitar with them in the end..." He paused mid speech and sent an accusing finger in her direction, again. What was with him today? "But first things first - you have to at least hear something of them!"
Oh, no.
She tried to plead with him, unleashing her fair of puppy eyes - who said he was the only one allowed to use them? "Really Henry? I am not that eager to become some crazy obsessed groupie as you all are - I am tired, I have had one hell of a day..."
"Yeah, you were really busy in The Lost Boys' studio and you didn't even know any of their songs - I bet you didn't even know all of their names!"
She blushed crimson red, remembering how she had fumbled at first with poor Philip, Victor and Jefferson's names, as transfixed she had been by the Killian and Grace show. "Well, no, but..."
"But nothing!" She snapped her head up, noticing that his voice was coming from down the hall leading to her room. He came back in record time, bouncing, carrying her laptop in his arms. He set it on the counter and opened it, running it and patting the seat beside him for her to sit. Knowing how stubborn he could be and how there'd be no way to change his mind once the idea was set in that head of his, she rounded the counter and sat, staring at the loading screen of her background - a picture of her, Henry, Mary Margaret, David and Ruby in Disney Land. They had spent the day not long ago at Ruby's insistence on how they all 'needed the day off' after some stressful weeks at work for everybody. They had ridden everything they could - Henry cheating his way into some of the rides standing on the tips of his feet so he'd be the permitted size - and even stayed for some kind of pirate spectacle they were given before the night fireworks display that Ruby had also insisted they stayed for, even though they all were exhausted by that point.
And of course she had bought and made them all wear Mickey Mouse ears for the pictures.
Henry clicked on several links here and there while she tapped her fingers on the wooden counter, willing herself to remember to reapply some polish to her nails. Hearing a victorious "Aha!" from her son, she turned her gaze towards the screen to find a Youtube window open, the title 'The Lost Boys - Sinking or Swimming' visible and clear in bold black letters. Just as Henry was reaching his hand to click on the play button, she recognized the figures in the frozen image of the video - was that Killian...?
"Wait - I thought you were going to play the song?" Was that a tint of panic in her voice? Why would the possibility of seeing him actually singing one of his songs affect her that much?
He looked at her like she was out of her mind. He couldn't blame him. At all. "It's the music video I was telling you about - that way you'll hear their music and you'll see Graham's acting!"
Click.
Emma wasn't sure what she had expected, but definitely that hadn't been the case. In her mind, she had conjured Jone's band as the boy-band stereotype, despite Gold's warnings about how far from that they were. Now, watching them playing in the back of most of the scenes running along the four-minute clip, she couldn't deny how wrong she had been.
And their frontman, of course.
It wasn't difficult to guess why any director would have wanted to make him the leader in the video - opposite to Graham, of course. And both of them fighting for a gorgeous girl, for that matter.
As much as Emma would have liked to label it as a cliché - very Mr. Brightside-ish - she couldn't help but admire the heartfelt lyrics, the passion radiating from each word and how the harmonies coming from his voice and their instruments laced in a perfectly choreographed number that left her reeling and speechless. Not only that, but the story the video told was appealing and easy to relate in an emotional level: the dilemma she encounters, the possibility she is offered, the sense of responsibility of staying with her partner, the faithfulness she is breaking with her lover.
The choice.
You'd think, Emma mused to herself, that Jones would have put himself as the good guy in there - the white knight in armor and sword at the ready, while Graham could be the second one, trying to get the girl for himself and leaving the other. That was not the case, as both roles were complete opposites: Jones had taken the 'bad guy' character - and he owned it, to be honest. Though she guessed it wasn't that weird of him to make the decision, - did they even get to decide in the videos, or was it some director's call? - taking into account how douchey his own personality seemed to be on a daily basis. Especially towards women, or so had commented Jefferson in the meeting that day about his past trysts.
As the credits rolled, Henry turned to her, eyes expectant at her verdict. "So?"
She waited a bit, still staring at the minimized screen in front of her, now showing the band's logo - the same one that had been on the hoodie she had borrowed that day. "You were right, they're good. Though I'm not sure how they got away with that ending - I'm sure Jones threw a fit at not getting the girl in the end."
A couple of days later, Emma found herself laying on the bed, finally having a couple of hours for herself until she had to pick up Henry from Ruby's. He usually spend his days either at her place or at David's - and even at Regina's, who loved to take care of him every week or whenever she had to go away on shooting or something like that. But today it had been aunt Red's, so they both had happily marched to whatever crazy plan she had concocted for their day, leaving her some really needed free time.
Who would guess that what Emma Swan really enjoyed doing in her alone time was lie on her bed, read a book, watch a movie and eat junk food, right? It sounded so glamorous!
The truth was - she didn't care at all about being glam or chic or whatever some ass may think actresses should act or be. She just wanted to relax and try to forget for a little while about everything that was approaching her way: the upcoming promo - which had her a bit on edge, as for her last project it hadn't been so crazy, being this on a whole new level and all with Glass and Graham in it, - the dreaded fashion war with Mary Margaret about the different outfits for the interviews and the premiere, and, of course, the dreaded S day.
Signing day.
As far as she was concerned, she had been doing pretty well ignoring all of those: she had already watched a couple of episodes of her favorite TV show - including uncontrollable sobbing at one of the character's death, why, why did they have to kill off people?, - she had read a bit from the latest book she had bought - tears free, thankfully, for now, - and emptied a cup of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream.
Henry would not be amused at all when he found out.
After having a relaxing shower - and the always routine pretended Beyoncé concert in the bathtub - she made her way back to the bed, rubbing her head furiously with a towel, drying wet tresses of hair as to not to ruin her mattress. She opened her laptop, pressing play on some random playlist - in which Henry had added some of The Lost Boys' songs, she had amusedly found out the previous day - and then set out to answer some e-mails she had forgotten to check out lately: for Ruth, for some friends she had heard of not long ago, and even one from Mr. Gold she hadn't gotten to read yet.
Just as she was finishing telling Ruth about her schedule for the next weeks with promo-hell coming, her phone beeped on her bedside table. Not even bothering to stop typing with one hand, she reached with her left hand, feeling the wooden surface until she found the device. Sending her love to her mother, she clicked 'send' and proceeded to touch the screen on her phone to find a text from an unknown number.
Forgotten so soon about me?
Huh?
Huh?
Well, that was random.
And here I thought our love was true...
...oh God. Had some kind of freak found out her number and was accosting her? Fuck, fuck fuck. Today of all days, when she was alone at home? Wait, no, thank God she was, if Henry were here he'd be in danger if someone showed up trying to hurt her. So worried she was trying to remember kick ass moves from the movie she had learned in training and chasing glances at both her window and door, she barely missed the buzzing of her phone.
Tick tock, lass.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Jones?
The one and only.
How the hell did you get a hold of my number?
The lovely Belle got it from Red Lips.
Red Lips? Seriously?
What's wrong with Red Lips?
I don't know - not original enough? Aren't you supposed to be some sort of lyric writer's god?
Well, she does wear red lips. Swan, you're making me blush, but please do tell me more - a god? What else?
She does, but that's no excuse to call her that. Um, let me think of it - god of innuendos? god of grating on my nerves? Am I close?
Oh, not close enough, love.
There you are. Innuendo god.
Bet you love it.
Keep dreaming, buddy. What do you want, anyway?
What? Can't I wish my lovely 'girlfriend' a good night via XXI st century fashion?
...
Swan, stop typing in morse, please, it's rude. English.
You're insufferable.
Pick it up.
Just before she could type a confused 'What?' in answer, the not-so-unknown number popped up on her screen, asking her imperiously to pick it up. Trying not to sigh, she pressed 'Answer'. "What do you want?"
An unmistakable Irish brogue answered. "Hello to you too, sunshine."
Groan. Would this always be like this with this guy? "Do you really need to piss me off every damn time we talk?"
"But it's so easy." The amused tone gave him away.
"Whatever. What is it?"
He sighed, appearing resigned to finally tell her why he had contacted her. "Fine, fine - Belle asked me to inform you that the contract is ready, they already sent it via e-mail but you didn't answer so they guessed you had no problem with it...?"
Damn it, that was what Gold's e-mail was about.
"Oh, yeah I got it, but I haven't read it yet - I was just now checking my inbox so I'll get to it now as soon as I hang up."
"Aw, so eager to get rid of me, Swan?"
"Shut up."
"Whatever. She also asked me to tell you that the signing is tomorrow."
What?
"Tomorrow?"
He seemed unfazed by her surprised tone. Wanker. "Yeah, well, it's been nearly a week."
Had it? So soon? "Huh. Didn't feel like one."
"What do you..." Sudden silence fell over the line, as if he were listening intently to something going on on his side. Or hers. She wasn't sure. Tired of waiting, she interrupted him. "Okay, Jones, I have things to do - for starters, read the damn contract and make sure everything is covered or so help me, I'll end you."
"Sure, sure. Let me tell you something, Swan: you can add your own stipulations to it, remember? So..." She could practically hear the smirk through the line. "...make sure you include how in you are for PDA and kinky stuff, huh?"
She rolled her eyes even knowing he couldn't see her, just for the sake of that comment. Jesus. "Sure thing, Jones. See you tomorrow then."
"3PM at Gold's office. Wear another skirt, would you love? Don't hide those legs of yours."
"Ugh." She didn't even bother to say goodbye as she hung up. Looking fearfully at the laptop sitting in front of her, she braced herself for the dreaded truth: the contract she'd have to agree to in less than a day's time - and who knows for how long after that.
Just as she was positioning the computer on her legs, ready to click on the attachment Gold had sent in his message, she felt a buzz beside her thigh. Reaching out for her phone again, she was ready to send a piece of her more colorful mind to Jones if he dared to continue with his dirty mind when he read the text. From him, of course.
Hope you like our song, Swan. Good night.
And for once, the Irish bastard was right: his song was playing, and she, in fact, liked it.
Hi guys! Long time no see! Sorry if this chapter was a bit late - last week we had a kind of vacation and I decided to visit my friends and family in Madrid; and then on Sunday we got all Paleyfest + episode feels and scarf and gah! You know what I mean. Fangirl stuff. Mixed with real life stuff. Ugh.
Anyway, here's the next chapter - some of you guys were really surprised at Henry showing up, though there had been little hints through earlier chapters about him. Not everything is revealed yet, of course - but here's some first info about it.
Hope you like it and you all are welcome to yell at me in the reviews section. Or send cookies. Whatever you prefer :)
P.D.: songs in replay during this chapter's writing - The Sounds' "Something to Die For" and The Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony".