Prompt/Request: Killian goes to the gym. This was one of the earlier requests I got and I apologize a bazillion times over for this taking so goddamn long to get out! Enjoy!
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After losing control of her magic during the Snow Queen incident and with the alarming frequency of villains showing up in Storybrooke, Emma had decided to amp up not only her magical training with Regina, but her physical training as well.
"I've been getting lazy," She had told Killian that morning. "And sloppy. I need to get back into the swing of things, start running again, hitting the punching bag, using the weights."
"If you're so desirous of exercise darling I'd be happy to uh, help, in any way I can," Killian had replied, eyes locking obviously onto her lips and blazing a trail down her body.
"Any way at all?" She smirked knowingly.
"Aye, love." Killian stepped into her space ready to kiss her senseless if she tipped her head up just so. "Any way at all," He breathed.
A wicked smile graced her lips and just as Killian thought she was going to meet his kiss she took a decisive step back, walking away from him and out of the room. "Well I could use a running buddy tomorrow morning if you're interested?"
He had been left standing there, a little startled at her abrupt departure, but smiled and chuckled. "As you wish love!" He called out to her, smiling wider when he heard her laughter ring through the walls of their apartment.
The next morning was a rainy one, and Emma had suggested they go to the gym instead of trying to run outside. He eagerly agreed, still unsure just how going to a 'gym' would allow them to go for a run together, but so long as they were doing it together he didn't honestly care.
"So a 'gym' is a sort of indoor training yard then?" Killian asked as they left the apartment, him wearing the odd but stretchy garments Emma had found for him for this latest adventure, and her wearing an oddly loose shirt and unbearably small pants she called 'shorts' underneath her rain jacket.
Emma shrugged. "I guess? I mean, that's probably the best comparison, but it's not like we're gonna be using swords or anything like that. It's not exactly a place to learn to duel like knights."
"A training yard in a castle is meant for all combat instruction, love."
"Yeah, but most people in this realm don't go to the gym to get ready for a fight."
"Last night you mentioned wanting to hit a punching bag. Does that not apply as combat preparation?" Killian reasoned.
Emma turned to consider him briefly. "Ok, so this is kinda fight prep, even if we're really just gonna be running today. Most people nowadays use the gym to get in shape. They lift weights, work up a sweat, and maybe earn an extra cookie, that sort of thing."
"A place where people 'work up a sweat'?" Something about the way that sounded didn't sit right with Killian, and now, entering the non-descript gym building, he was beginning to question his initial readiness.
"You said you wanted to come with me," She said noticing his expression, his nose twisted uncomfortably.
"Aye, that I did Swan. And I still do. I only didn't expect it to be in such an uh…" Killian waved his hand in the air vaguely, searching for a polite word to describe the abhorrent stench wafting into his nose. "An odoriferous establishment."
Emma raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that you trying to say 'smelly, sweat-stained, pig-sty' in a nice way?"
Killian shrugged, smiling in defeat. "I'm fairly certain long months at sea never left the crew in such a ripened state as this."
"You'll get used to it."
"That's what I'm afraid of, love. Over-exposure to such a place could leave a man nose-blind."
The interior of the building was a large expanse filled with the scent of over-heated, sweating bodies, and what looked to be a handful of rooms tucked into the side. Various odd-looking pieces of equipment littered the floor and Killian couldn't make heads or tails of any of them. If the sounds coming from several people using the equipment were any indication though, then it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think they were all elaborate forms of torture.
Thankfully, Emma did not subject him to the curious contraptions. Instead, she walked them both over to a set of mats by the wall that sat in front of several full-length mirrors, saying she wanted to stretch before running. As they reached the mats, Killian caught sight of a nearby door to one of the few closed rooms in the building, noticing through the door's window that there was another expansive space inside where people seemed to be stretching and twisting their bodies into what should have been painful contortions.
"Swan, if you wanted to stretch why not use that room there? There are others inside stretching and they look to be rather… flexible," He suggested.
Emma glanced to where he pointed and shook her head. "No, that's a yoga class. You might wanna get more warmed up before you try that. We can stretch and warm up out here though."
"Yoga? That thing you do with Mary Margaret some weekends? That's yoga?" Killian's mind raced; supplanting a thousand and one decidedly less than innocent images of Emma posed much like the people inside the room, only with far less clothing and in the privacy of their apartment.
Emma caught his smirk before he even realized it adorned his face. "Oh no, I know that look."
"Why Swan, whatever do you mean? I'm simply curious as to the alternative uses of such an exercise as yoga." Killian feigned innocence. "I'm also curious when you'll be going for another session. Will you be wanting another massage afterward?" He let his voice drop and watched, delighted, when he caught Emma bite her lip nervously.
"Depends if you're good or not," She teased, unable to stop her own lips from curling upwards as she turned back to the mats. "Let's stretch and do some abs before we run."
Killian followed Emma's lead, mimicking the bends and turns of legs and arms that she insisted would keep him injury free. He felt a little like one of those pretzels Henry had shown him. He still maintained that preparing for a fight was a tad ridiculous because you were either ready for a fight or you weren't, but he had to admit he certainly felt looser after the stretching, even if it did take far longer than he would have thought necessary.
He saw Emma lie down on her back, knees bent up, and start to lift herself to a seated position before lowering herself back down to the floor and repeating the movement. He wasn't entirely sure how applicable such a movement would be as an exercise to prepare anyone for a fight, but he trusted she knew what she was doing and followed her lead, lying down on the mat only to fold himself upward and in half, over and over again.
"They're crunches," She explained. "Or sit ups, I think. I never get those names right."
"This all seems rather repetitive love," He commented, losing count of how many of these crunch exercises they had completed. "And these are meant to strengthen the muscles of the stomach, yes?"
"Basically yeah. It's mostly just to warm up, get the blood going. We'll be done here soon," She told him between breaths.
Emma's definition of 'done' apparently did not coincide with Killian's, and more than once he was left wondering just how much longer they would be curling themselves into upright balls. Not that he would ever admit it, but his stomach was starting to ache just a little.
She did stop them eventually; his stomach silently thankful, and he followed her to a row of nearly identical machines arranged in a line across the gym floor that each had flat platforms and a series of buttons lining a podium at the front. They looked simpler than the other machines he had seen several gym patrons grunting on earlier and he let out a grateful sigh.
"These are treadmills. We're gonna run on them. You just press these buttons here and you can control the speed and go as fast or slow as you want," She explained, pushing several buttons on the machine she stood on.
Killian watched, fascinated, as the flat bottom of the machine moved under her feet and Emma started to walk and then run on top of it, all at once moving without actually moving forward.
"So you run in place then?" He asked.
"Pretty much."
"I think I understand the meaning of the name now; Tread-mill, a circle for ceaseless walking. This reminds me of that gerbil wheel your mother showed me at Henry's school, constantly moving but never going anywhere."
Emma chuckled at that. "Yeah, it is kinda like that. I'd rather run outside but when it's raining the treadmill is actually pretty good. You can go as far as you want and if you want to run faster or slower than someone next to you then you can do it and still be together next to them."
Killian smiled, and started pushing at the buttons on the treadmill machine he stood on next to Emma's. He pressed the buttons, watching the little numbers next to the buttons jump higher and higher. He had no idea how high he was supposed to push these numbers. He gathered they correlated to the speed of the ground now moving under his feet but there was no descriptor as to what the 5.4 or 6.6 meant, so he pressed on, the numbers rising faster. Soon Killian was running on the moving ground without moving forward. It was perhaps one of his more disorienting experiences in this realm so far, and took a moment to grow accustomed to.
Unfortunately for Killian, he didn't pull his finger away from the button fast enough and he was soon sprinting on the strange machine, his eyes frantically searching for a way to slow down before he lost control entirely.
Emma noticed his distress before he had a chance to say anything, quickly reaching over and smashing her finger onto another button, slowing the rotating ground beneath Killian's feet to a more comfortable jog.
She tossed him a relieved look. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, we're gonna be here for a bit. Ok? Don't need to sprint the whole time."
He shot her a sheepish, if grateful, smile. "As you say, love. Err, how long is 'a bit' exactly?"
"About five miles?"
He shot her a disbelieving look. Killian couldn't recall a single time he had ever needed to run for five bloody miles all at once, not in all his years of piracy or on Neverland. He would be the first to admit that a ship was not exactly a long distance to travel and that while Neverland was expansive and vast at times it wasn't necessary to run it's length ever. The Lost Boys certainly never lasted longer than a mile or two, let alone five.
So while Emma held a steady pace for her five mile run, Killian took his run in intervals, with a few minutes of running and sprinting, a short distance of walking, then repeating for the entire time. It was an odd feeling, to be running with no threat of danger, no one chasing after him, and no immediate threat to his life or Emma's. There was something oddly cathartic about just moving without fear, and Killian thought that maybe this whole running thing wasn't so bad, especially if he got to do it with Emma.
By the time Emma declared her five-mile run over, Killian realized he had sweat a great deal during his own run, and managed to stop his treadmill on his own. He was sorry to say he was probably now contributing to the overwhelming stench of the building. He lifted the bottom of his shirt, exposing his stomach and using the cloth as a makeshift towel to wipe a line of sweat from his brow. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Emma watching him, her eyes wide and gaze hungry.
He smirked. "See something you like darling?"
Emma tried and failed to fight the upward curl of her lips and the further reddening of her cheeks while Killian chuckled.
"Well love, now that I'm a right mess, what would you have of me?"
"I did say we were just gonna run today, and I could definitely use a shower," She said, a contemplative expression on her face.
"A shower does sound rather tempting, especially if you're involved, Swan."
"But you know, they say it's important to stretch before and after exercise, even get a massage…" She told him with a smirk, letting her gaze wander down his body heatedly before rising back to meet his stormy blue eyes.
He answered with a smirk of his own. "If the lady wishes for a private massage I'm sure that could be arranged."
"Who said anything about me getting the massage? Maybe I want to be on the giving end this time?"
Killian groaned at the mental image of her on top of him, running her hands deliciously all over his body, finding every sensitive spot on him. "Gods, lead on Swan."