Chapter Eleven: Reserved Materials
If Emma thought her summer had been hectic before finding her son, squeezing in road trips to visit Henry amid all her other commitments redefined the term. To make it worse, Tink set the big date barely four months after the engagement, and, between pushing Killian to finish the manuscript before the big day and forcibly recruiting him as wedding errand boy, Emma had barely caught a glimpse of the best man in weeks. Bridezilla Tink wouldn't even let her into the apartment building during "work hours" (which seemed to range anywhere from 7am to the crack of midnight).
So, really, she had no choice but to kidnap him.
Liam, more than happy to cut Killian loose for a night, made some scene in front of Tink just after the rehearsal part of the rehearsal dinner, asking Killian to run into the city to deal with some vague emergency with his tailor. The ruse worked just long enough for Liam to shove an unsuspecting Killian out a back door and into Emma's waiting bug. Killian barely had the chance to buckle up before Tink came running out the door and Emma tore off. She might have felt just the slightest bit guilty if Killian hadn't chosen precisely that moment to plant a kiss just beneath her ear.
That and Liam texted about twenty minutes later to inform her that Tink had actually laughed off the whole thing, which either meant the Bridezilla curse had lifted, or the woman had finally snapped completely and they were all as good as dead.
She hoped for the former.
-0-
Back at her apartment, Emma nestled back into the futon, lifting a spoon to her mouth and letting cold vanilla creaminess slide down her throat while she watched Buttercup and Westley embrace.
"Hear this now—I will always come for you," said Westley.
"You know," Killian groaned, his head nestled in her lap, "when you said 'wedding pre-game', I had far different expectations."
He was still dressed in the pressed shirt and dark pants Tink had made him wear for the rehearsal dinner. (He'd shed the suit jacket and shoes before he even cleared the welcome mat outside, not that Emma was complaining about his disheveled state.)
Emma paused the movie and set her bowl down on the coffee table. "Okay, rule number one of the Lucas-Swan abode: you absolutely do not talk over the Princess Bride. Rule number two, you always watch a sappy romantic movie before a wedding to get in the right frame of mind. Lastly, how can you of all people not like the Princess Bride?"
"I like the Princess Bride," Killian replied. "I also like alcohol. They go together wonderfully."
"Oh no. Tink explicitly named you on the no-booze-before-the-wedding list. Apparently drunk you has a habit of goading Liam into 'death defying stunts.'"
"It was one time and caused barely five stitches between the two of us."
Emma only stared at him.
"Fine," he relented, rolling his eyes. "I'll just have to take what I can get."
Before she could react, he snatched her bowl of ice cream from the trunk table and rolled himself forward.
"Hey!" she shouted, and tried to grab it, but he put his broad back between them. He may have only had the one hand, but it was attached to a long arm and her attempts to wrestle the bowl back only ended up with her arms curled around his.
"Mmm, I like this too," he hummed, then settled the bowl in his lap. Emma tried to snake her arms under his to retrieve the prize, but Killian gently pinned hers to his sides, leaving him free to stick a spoon of ice cream into his mouth. As soon as it hit his tongue, his eyes widened. "What is this?"
"Vanilla ice cream—and Bailey's."
Killian gave a horrified frown. "And do you eat steak in front of starving dogs as well?"
Emma watched as he pointedly shoveled several more spoonfuls into his mouth, the bowl holding little more than the soupy remnants of milk and whiskey.
"Alright, I'll make you a deal," she said, leaning her chin on his shoulder. "You get me another bowl of ice cream, you get the rest of the Bailey's. But if Tink finds out, you are on your own."
Killian leaned back into her (forced) embrace. "I don't know, I'm rather content with our current arrangement."
Emma sighed. "And you can have the rest of the Triple Fudge Brownie Swirl."
"Such a diplomat," he leaned his head back, pressed a kiss to her hairline, and let her arms loose. "I accept!"
"Such a pirate," she huffed under her breath.
Killian beamed as he stood. "You stole me, darling. Seems we're two of a kind now."
Emma curled into the warm space he vacated, watching him shuffle back to the kitchen and open the freezer to root around for the promised ice cream.
"Emma, love, stop me if this is a rude question," he called, his arm in the open freezer. "But why is there a picture of us in your freezer?"
She stuffed her face in a pillow to hide her embarrassment.
-0-
To get everything back to the futon in one trip, Killian had to hold the bottle of Irish cream between his hip and his hooked arm, a glass shoved in his pocket, while he carried their bowls, stacked, in his hand. He presented the bowls with a deep bow and she took them with a light giggle, putting his on the table for him. He settled back into his spot next to her, pouring out a healthy helping of the drink.
"So how is the lad doing?" he asked.
"Pretty well, all things considered," she replied, testing the consistency of the ice cream with her spoon. She liked it best when it was soft and just starting to melt. "He's on a guys-only camping weekend with Robin, Roland and Neal."
Killian hummed into his drink, swallowing a bit in surprise. "Regina let him out of her sight?"
"It might be the last Henry gets to see of him for a while—Neal still has a life in Florida—I think Regina was feeling generous."
"And how do you feel about it?" asked Killian, tracing patterns against his glass with his thumb.
"Confident that if Neal breaks Henry's heart, Regina will rip Neal's out bodily."
"And is there any chance I get to meet Henry any time soon?" Killian kept his eyes on the still screen, a sure sign that he was more than a little nervous to ask the question. While he had gone with her on that first trip, he had yet to actually meet him.
"Regina," Emma said slowly, unsure how Killian would take the news, "doesn't want Henry to meet any 'significant others' until it's a 'permanent' thing."
Killian shrugged with his chin and took another mouthful from his glass. "Understandable. Regina barely knows me from Adam. I'm sure she'll warm up to me eventually."
She smiled because it was like he escaped from a rom-com movie set, but it was short lived and fell quickly from her lips. He noticed immediately, because there was also that thing where he was part mind-reader, too.
"It's not Regina I should worry about, is it?" he asked, sitting forward to top off his glass.
It wasn't that Emma had any qualm with Killian meeting Henry—heck, she may not have found Henry without Killian—but she agreed that Henry didn't need to get attached to someone who might not be permanent and Emma wasn't a big fan of "permanent" right now. She had spent ten years fighting for "permanent", fighting for "forever", fighting for "Tallahassee".
And, truth be told, Emma liked this—whatever "this" was with Killian— because it was easy, it was fun. But, when the shine of it wore off of it—when money spats brewed or shoes cluttered the doorway or football took over date night—she wasn't sure she had anything left in that tank.
Emma wasn't sure she wanted "permanent" anymore.
"It's just…" she sighed. "So much has happened in the last year, I'm not sure I'm mentally capable of thinking long term right now."
She hurt him. She saw it, a quick flash of his eye, but the dart was gone as quick as it hit, swallowed by a knowing glimmer as his eyes flicked back to the movie.
"No rush, love. You'll work it out." Killian flashed his toothy, confident smile and took another swig. He snatched up the remote from the pile of blankets around them. "And when you do, Liam and I would love to take Henry sailing."
"Killian-" she began, because this was serious; she didn't want him hanging false hopes on her for a decade like she'd hung hers on Neal, didn't want him planning a future she couldn't promise, but he put a finger to his lips as he pressed play and the hugging forms on screen moved again.
"How can you be so sure?" Buttercup asked, holding back a sob.
"This is true love," replied Westley. "Do you think this happens every day?"
