Disclaimer: None of this characters are mine. No Killian Jones, no braid, no chocolate dessert. 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.
The places mentioned here are actually real.
"I told you not to call me that."
He was about to call her out on her damaged pride again so he could piss her off royally when his smirk was swiped off his face as her lips stumbled upon his.
Holy fuck. She was kissing him. She was actually kissing him. How had that even happened? He hadn't been expecting that - not by a long shot. He had wanted to test her, yes, and - well, it wouldn't be fair not to admit that, in a secluded corner of his mind, he had wanted her to accept his proposition to give the camera some action - but he had believed she'd only go as far as some nuzzling, flirting and maybe even some silly hand-holding. Nothing more.
And here he was, lips on lips with the infuriating woman he had met none less than two weeks ago and whose life was now so incoherently interwoven with his. How had they come to this point?
All thoughts left his brain as he could only focus at the moment on her soft, wet mouth attacking his. Even in such an act as pure and intimate as a kiss, she kept fighting: he could feel it in the tightness and the set of her skin grazing his, her fists grabbing forcefully his shirt, teeth clenched behind her lips. He wasn't sure he should laugh at her choice of proving her point in such an enthusiastic manner or answer her ferocity the only way he knew how: giving her as good as he got. He opened his mouth to not-so-lightly nip on her bottom lip, so she'd take the hint. He wasn't the kind who backed down.
It wasn't until the bitter aftertaste of chocolate swept over his lips lazily that he realized she was raising the stakes.
What was it he had read about tongues in kissing...? "No tongue, it's too personal" or something like that...? Or was it another ridiculous chick rule he had heard like the ones he had told her about earlier?
A quiet murmur by his side broke the spell, bringing him back to where they were and what they were doing: faking a date. Faking they were a man and a woman, enjoying each other's company, getting to know each other, sharing a drink, maybe a bite of their plates. Exchanging lingering glances. Light touches.
Not trying to tear each other's mouths off in a battle they didn't even remember how it had started.
It wouldn't do them any good if this got out of hand, and that kiss would have to be more than enough for Gold and Regina to play with - it was more than he had even thought first of giving them, to be honest. So, with a last brief assault of her sweet mouth, he pulled back, keeping his eyes fixed on her now reddened and slightly swollen lips, not ready to look at her yet. He noted how her breathing came out uneven and in little gasps, and he marveled at the effect it had had on her.
Well, he couldn't deny his heartbeat wasn't going a little bit too fast, now that he thought of it...
It had been just one kiss, right?
He didn't want to get started on what would she look like if things went further than that...
Nope. Jones, no. NO. Stop it right there.
Closing his eyes tightly, his hand came up to scratch the hair at the nape of his neck, sighing and praying for her to finally say something. Wasn't she the one always willing to fill their awkward silences with some scathing retort and ready to jump at his throat whenever she felt like it? Why wasn't she saying anything?
Tired of waiting, he mustered all his courage to meet her eyes - those emerald eyes, full of vibrance and raw emotion and life - and his hands took hers, still gripping his shirt like her life depended on it; he softly pried them apart from it and dropped them slowly to his lap. That seemed to shake her out from her ice-like demeanor and, staring at their hands, finally let go of his. He could see her shoulders drop and lift in sync with her breathing, growing slower as she calmed herself after their kiss.
Their kiss.
He still hadn't processed what had happened, he feared.
Catching the waiter's eye, he cleared his throat and asked her, "you ready to go?"
She nodded, not meeting his eyes again, opting to stare at her hands, playing with the napkin she had been fiddling with the whole night - he had noticed, but hadn't wanted to bait her knowing she was nervous enough. He waved a hand in the poor lad's direction, catching his eye and making a motion indicating for him to bring them their bill. Waiting until it was time to go after he paid, he struggled with himself for a couple of silent minutes in which all he wanted to do was ask her, just ask her. Would she push him off? Yell at him? Give him a sour look? Flip him off and tell him to leave her alone? She was so unpredictable, he was better off not knowing...
"Why did you do that?"
Or not. Apparently his brain and his mouth weren't exactly coordinated.
Oh hell, it was out now. Let's see what she had to say about that. Resting his arm on the table and leaning his head on his hand, he looked expectantly at her, knowing full well she would know what he was asking about. She wouldn't dare playing dumb with him, not at this point. He saw her flinch a bit, and not a few seconds later a cocky look had stolen her features, turning playful eyes towards him, leaving him a little bewildered. What was she doing?
Oh, right. They were still playing for an audience, he realized.
"Had to shut you up one way or another, didn't I?"
He had to suppress a real laugh at that. She was brilliant. Not only was she staying in character: she was also throwing the ball to his field, still fighting him. He smirked back at her, eyebrow raising at her tone.
"And not having champagne around tonight, you thought the best way to do it was kissing me?" He chuckled, shaking his head amusedly. This girl was too much. "If you had done that the night of the Gala this would all have gone so much smoother, Swan..."
"Oh I'm sure it'd have been epic enough. And fair: you ruining my dress, and me kissing you in return." Her gaze turned steely, fixed on his face intently. "I am not one of your groupies, as you may have found out already."
Oh, he knew that. He could have pointed out how she seemed to have been playing their albums though, but decided to follow a different route.
"Well, at least I have found out something else from tonight:" he paused for effect, knowing she would be intrigued about it. When she finally looked over at him to hear what he was about to say, he inclined his head, his lips forming a real grin, adding, "you taste like cocoa."
He saw her trying to fight a smile, and he kept grinning until she responded, eyes going up to the sky as if she were tired of having to up with him. "And you taste like wine."
They walked back to the parking lot where his ride was, and once again he opened the passenger's door for her, commenting on her more than questionable balance on those heels she wore. He knew she wanted to agree - how could she not? He could see her wincing a couple of times when she stepped foot on the ground and he couldn't blame her, those things looked positively deadly - but that pride of hers she had admitted earlier wouldn't let her, resorting to rolling her eyes at him.
He was starting to realize how she tried not to show how he made her laugh. Whenever he said something she found ever so little funny, he noticed how she tried to school her features, closing off, as if it'd give him some kind of power over her the fact that she thought he could in some way or another make her smile. It bothered him more than he cared to admit, but he could at least go home with the knowledge that tonight she had laughed, openly, with him. And at him. And because of him.
The reality that he was irked about it in the first place kept creeping at him at times, acting as a ringing alarm in the back of his head reminding him that this was all a ruse for the band to speed off. He shouldn't be holding any candles for this girl. She had her life, he had his. This was a job they both had been given and they were supposed to carry out as smoothly as they could.
But of course, there was always that little voice calling him out on his bullshit and adding that it wouldn't kill anyone if they did get along. And to make that possible, it'd be better if the Swan girl actually enjoyed his company on some extent and stopped trying to bite his head off whenever he was around her. And fuck him if he wasn't funny. He had been called many things in his life - manwhore, asshole, douche, bossypants, stubborn, sex on legs; you call it, but damn him if he wouldn't let anyone deny he was a charming one.
He told himself it was one of the reasons why it annoyed him to no end that this impossibly obstinate woman insisted on not acknowledging something so trivial and inherent to his persona.
And that she didn't trust him entirely yet.
As he turned on the radio, one of their songs came on, and he set to ask her something he had been wondering since the previous night. "So, what did you think of our album?"
She had been looking at the window distractedly, so she stopped for a bit until she responded to him. "Hmmm? Oh, yeah, it was... pretty great actually. I just played the last one though - will have to check out the other two."
He fought a little smile at her answer. She even knew how many albums they had out. Huh. A teasing tilt in his voice, he commented, "look at you, and you said you weren't a groupie."
"I am not - but apparently I am surrounded by yours who insist on me checking your stuff. They overpower me."
"Will have to thank Ruby for that," he acknowledged. Red Lips was starting to grow on him.
Silence fell over them again, the song filling the inside of the car and the unanswered questions and consequences of everything that had happened that evening hanging in the air, threatening to consume both of them. Killian wasn't sure why he wanted to reassure her at all, but it was all he could think about at the moment. He didn't want her to feel trapped or miserable, even though no one could blame him if she did - she had signed the blasted thing, after all. Carefully watching over her, he asked, "so - you feel any less nervous about this?"
"What?" She had no idea what he was talking about, did she?
"Come on Swan. You were trembling like a leaf when we started this. I know you weren't 100% about it. Feel any better now that we have, 'cleared the air' a bit? Now you know more about me, as I do know more about you. It's a start," he shrugged, as if trying to make it look easier than it really was. Despite he knew how not-simple-at-all this was. At all. Especially for the both of them.
She scoffed at him. "Oh yeah, I'm sure soon we'll be doing trust falls and singing Kumbaya together."
This lass was something. Try to soothe her, she'll punch you in return. That's how she rolled.
"Oh for fuck's sake blondie, give me a break. I'm trying here okay?" He smiled broadly picturing her falling into his arms doing a trust fall. He and the guys had had to practice those once in a group-convention-therapy thing Gold had suggested they attended some months ago to solve some stress issues they were having with the tour and the album.
Let's leave it in he wouldn't be putting his life in any of his mates' hands after those. Jerks.
Still grinning at the memory, he added, "though I won't deny that was funny."
She scoffed again, offended. "Of course I did. I'm hilarious, I'll have you know."
"Oh, you are, and I am not?" This gal had some nerve.
"If you weren't so intent in being a dirty innuendo-spouting pig, it'd be easier for me to actually laugh at your brilliance and inventive jokes, sir."
He had never been called so many names in one sole conversation in his entire life. That must have been a record. Not letting it get him down, he set his jaw and looked purposefully at her, one hand gripping the wheel and the other lowering the music so she would listen to him with no chance of mishearing anything. "I swear I'm going to start a list of every fucking time I make you smile."
Eyes wide and lingering on his, she blinked, surprised. "What?"
He nodded and went on. "Yep. And it'll double count if you grin and triple if you laugh."
"You're so full of yourself it's not even funny," she retorted, tearing her gaze from his.
"It's the only way to make you see you actually like me," he explained. It was pretty obvious in his head.
"Why would you want me to like you?"
"I like you."
Her head jerked towards him, and she stood staring open-mouthed at him. "You do?"
He shrugged, stating the facts he had come to terms with since he had met this enigma of a woman. "Well, as far as company goes, you're not that bad; apparently you're a fantastic drunk, you nearly orgasm when you eat chocolate, and you dared to kiss me in front of a camera just because you were pissed off at me." He met her eyes again, his lip quirking upwards. "You're kind of a mystery, Miss Swan."
"That doesn't mean..." she was rudely cut off by her phone beeping. Sending him an apologetic look, she fished it out from the depths of her purse and he heard the sound of her unlocking it. He spied her from the corner of his eye as she read whatever she had been sent. She was frowning at the screen, and read aloud "Check your twitter mentions."
What.
"What?"
"It's a text from Mary Margaret." She let out a long, staggering breath, one hand gripping the armrest and the other still holding the device in an iron grip. "Okay, here goes nothing I guess."
He frowned, not really sure he was ready to face the music yet. It was easier to lose himself here, in his car, with her by his side, keeping their battle of wits alive and burning, and ignoring that the rest of the world was probably aware of the fact that they were right now leaving the place where they had shared a romantic evening involving deliciously expensive food, flavored desserts and a kiss. He heard her puff under her breath, murmuring and grumbling incoherently and when not a minute later they were waiting for another stop light, she turned to him with expectant green eyes.
"Well, Ruby will be thrilled." She held up the screen of her phone, and he squinted his eyes to see a tiny picture. "We're Twitter official."
He snatched the phone from her, bringing it closer to his face, already dreading whatever they had written. He recognized the Twitter app, and came to the conclusion it should have been one of the people creeping with their phones in Il Cielo who had already sent the picture to the infinite users on the web to judge what they had immortalized with their cameras. In this case, it was some random princess_consuela who apparently was "DYING. OMG. WHAT IS GOING ON. DEAD. I CAN'T EVEN. WHAT IS AIR." over the picture attached. He tapped on it so it'd turn bigger, allowing him to inspect it closer.
...wow.
He didn't expect it to look so - real?
He wasn't sure by whom or where it had been taken exactly, but they'd had a great angle at the bit they were snatching it, he had to admit. Emma's braided strands of hair fell lazily over her shoulder, her hands smooth and fair against the dark material of his shirt bringing him closer to her, both of their eyes closed. Damn, new generation phones and their cameras could make the most random candid look like a freaking photo-shoot.
Studying it closely, he suddenly groaned. "Oh God."
"What?" she was quickly leaning over the dashboard, alarmed.
He put a hand over his face, not daring to look at her and talking through his fingers. "I should have moved, that's not my good profile - it's the left one."
He could practically feel her staring holes at him. When he left his hand fall and he turned to her once again, he was surprised to see her suppressing a smile.
"Look at you, all worried about your pretty face," she teased.
He studied her for a minute, and when a loud klaxon behind them made him return his eyes ahead of him to the road, he called her again.
"Swan?"
"Yes?"
"You're smiling." Grinning from ear to ear, he lifted a finger in his hand, counting loudly. "One."
Ugh. That damn alarm clock. That damn song. Was there any way to kill a song? If so, he'd love to learn how to do that.
Why hadn't he changed it yet?
Repeating that mantra over and over again, palming around the sheet and under the pillow, he tapped the screen forcefully to stop the obnoxious ringing without looking at it.
...wait a second. That wasn't the song he had set as the alarm, was it...? Then what was it? He held the phone closer to his still heavy-lidded eyes, attempting to read the name or text or whatever the hell it was the bloody thing was torturing him with. He finally managed to grasp it was August calling. Of-fucking-course. He picked up and didn't even bother to greet his friend - he just groaned. Loudly.
"Hey, lover boy. How are you?", his friend's cheerful voice did nothing to lighten his customary sour morning mood.
"What do you want?", he rasped, voice clogged with sleep and fatigue. Ugh. How he wished he was still dreaming and sleeping and... not... this.
August made a 'tut-tut' sound, as if reprimanding a child. What was it with him? "You should know by now I'm the one bearing news and forced to tell you everything that's going on, Killian."
He put a hand over his face, so the light coming through the window only peeked between his fingers. "What did you do in another life to be burdened with such a tedious job, you poor sod?"
"Woah - those were some big words for someone who has just woken up. I'm impressed." Oh, look at that. He was in a joking mood today. Oh happy day.
Sighing, he rubbed tiredly his hand over his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I'm awesome, I know. What is it now?"
"Well, first and foremost - aren't you going to tell me how things went with Emma last night?"
Oh. Right. The date. Now everybody with internet connection or a TV or the least concern about media gossip knew him and Swan were a supposed item.
Make that happy day squared, please.
"As if you hadn't heard enough, you liar - it was out and about not ten minutes after we left the building, for Christ's sake. I'm sure Gold has told you about that too." He wondered what Gold must have said when he saw those tweets - and surely articles written minutes later. Maybe he had been in the lookout with Belle, faces pressed to the screen, waiting for the two main puppets in his show to do as he said - or wanted to, at least.
"Yeah, the pics were quite amusing to be honest."
As much as he knew it'd come to this, it still made him squirm a little to know everybody would see those and wonder what could have gone down between him and Swan to get to that point. "Are there a lot?", he asked, not really sure he was ready for the answer.
"Not so many. The paps got some of you guys entering the restaurant and getting out, you helping her into the car and all."
Huh. Wait - he had seen one of the kiss, right? Had he dreamt about it? Hadn't he been assaulted by Swan's mouth at all? No, that couldn't be right - he wouldn't forget that - his mind could conjure pretty interesting scenarios in his dreams, mind you, but the cocoa smell still haunting him could not be a product of his imagination.
He hadn't realized his finger was tracing absentmindedly his lips, maybe trying to awake the memory of her own against his, in their attempt to pry them open so their tongues would entangle in another of their battles they liked to fight so much...
August's voice brought his really wrong thoughts to a halt. "...But as much as paps aren't allowed inside the place itself, phones are, and other customers seemed to find the scene you and Emma were displaying worthy enough for keeping it in their mobile memories. And every media web available too, of course," he added in a cheerful voice. God, how he wanted to hit him.
"Yeah, I bet it was all fun for you to see those, huh?" He could just imagine all of them fist bumping and laughing together among 'that's our boy!'s if they had found out while they were hanging out together. Typical Lost Boy behavior. Assholes.
Ah, who was he kidding, he would have done the same if it had been one of the others - it was a guy thing.
"You don't even wanna know. Check your texts now - I'm sure you'll have a couple of them you'll find amusing enough," August commented with a laugh. Oh God. He wasn't looking forward for the texts... Sighing yet again, he propped himself on his elbows and a sudden thought occurred to him. "Did you talk to Gold? Is he okay with it?"
His friend seemed surprised by his concern. "You kidding? He's ecstatic."
"Of course he is," he grumbled between clenched teeth. That bastard, he was sure he had bet he would fuck it up.
August kept talking, none the wiser of his bitter thoughts towards their manager. "Anyway, this wasn't just a we-know-what-you-did-last-night call. There's job to do, mate."
No way. He had to be fucking kidding him. Letting out another loud groan, he fell on the bed again with a plop, gritting his teeth in order not to whine like a child refusing to get up to go to school. "Jesus fucking Christ, can a guy get a break around here?"
"Sure, going on a date with a pretty lady to an obscenely sumptuous restaurant is the epitome of hard work," August commented sarcastically.
"Yeah well, fending off Swan is not so easy, let me tell you."
Boy, did he know that now.
His mate's words turned wondering. "And yet you managed to get her to kiss you. Your Irish mojo keeps working, I see."
Ah, the Irish mojo. It had been a long time until he had revealed his bandmates his most guarded secret, after they had all first met and started the band. One could only be too cautious with precious information like that. Especially when it involved the possibility of getting him laid.
A professional never disclosed his secrets, after all.
"See? Told you it was real!", he managed to say in between chuckles.
He could practically hear his roll of eyes. "I was kidding, Killian. Whatever: we're rehearsing out last set. This evening. Don't be late."
"Rehearsal? For what?"
"We are performing on this show later on this week."
Were they? Huh. He didn't recall them having any engagements this week - or had this dating Swan thing had started bearing fruits at an incredibly fast pace?
It wasn't possible. It was too soon, Jesus. Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, it hadn't even been 24 hours, for God's sake. Get a grip, Jones. Trying to maintain an indifferent voice, he answered, "oh. Cool then."
"You're not gonna put up a fight?"
"Why would I do that?"
"I don't know. Typically you, I guess." He paused a moment and suddenly words rushed so fast Killian was having trouble getting a hang of what he was actually saying. "Oh, and you'd better get ready - apart from playing, they're interviewing you."
Wait, what.
"WHAT?", he roared, completely livid.
"See you at 4. Later, bro," the slimy coward hang up, the beep of the closed line the only sound mocking him in his haste of getting some kind of answer to this new development.
He was going to kill that motherfucker. Worst news bearer ever.
Killian was extremely tempted to go grab some rope and gag his friends so they would just shut the fuck up. He had known this would come when he learned about the deal, but Jesus, was it getting out of hand. He just wanted this first silly mocking stage to get over with once and for all (boy, was he ready for that) - though he guessed that'd be pretty much impossible, knowing his mates.
The Lost Boys, after all. How many times should he repeat it to himself so it'd get branded in his memory? They were basically kids. And what did kids best at? Make fun of their friends.
Banging the drumstick on the cymbal loudly, Jefferson addressed him again with a smirk. "Come on, Killian - what did you spike her drink with to make her kiss you?"
Rolling his eyes and holding the neck of the guitar forcefully in his left hand after he had been practicing a challenging chord change, he gave his friend a hard look, trying to look stern. "If I had wanted to drug her, I wouldn't have taken her to a very public location, Jeff. That's more your thing."
They all laughed, and Philip shook his head as he sat on one of the chairs arranged along the cabin they were using for the rehearsal. "It's so weird, though - to know you're going to be in there, playing a part, and we are all aware of the truth behind it. You should have seen Aurora last night - she completely freaked out, she couldn't keep it together. She's so excited for you, she nearly cried." Oh God, was she? Poor lass had been trying to set him up with a couple of her friends for years, but he had always driven them off, knowing if it didn't work out - and he was sure it wouldn't, as he hadn't been looking for anything more than fun and a willing body at the time, and he sure as hell didn't need his friend's girlfriend to pick girls for him - she'd be hurt for her girlfriend's sakes. So no, thank you it had been for those birds who asked her to introduce them to the infamous Killian Jones. "It was quite funny to witness, to tell you the truth. She was convinced you were unable to love."
That only earned more laughter from his mates, not aware of how his fists clenched protectively over his guitar in a poor attempt to hide the slight trembling of his limbs.
It was sad to think that the people you felt closer to weren't in on his darkest secrets, his worst regrets.
"Ah, poor Aurora. Still believes in Killian's pure heart," Victor mused, shooting him an amused look.
"Yep. My heart is rotten. Can we please move on?" he said dryly, moving to get some of the notes he had taken on the songs they were performing. He didn't want to admit he was a bit concerned of them playing again for an audience - they hadn't since they finished the tour six months ago, and even if they had kept playing and rehearsing, this felt like a test. Something big, something to prove.
He wondered if this was how Emma felt whenever she had to audition for a role. He'd have to ask her in the future.
Woah. Where had that come from?
"Aw come on Killian, we're only joking around. You know I'm more than jelly with all of this," Victor added, maybe finally acknowledging he was a bit tired of the pushing around. He playfully punched his arm. "And I'd be even more than jelly if you got that Ruby's number for me, now that we're at it."
Rolling his eyes, August suddenly lifted his head and waved a hand at the window pane separating them from the studio room they always lounged in. Whipping his head back, he saw Belle and Gold, with Grace trailing behind them, approaching the door leading to the cabin. He heard Philip mutter under his breath "remember - Grace doesn't know a thing so keep your mouth shut" and then all of them exchanged nods and hugs with the three newcomers. Belle kissed Killian's cheek and whispered playfully in his ear, "well done, sailor. That was quite a fun show to watch."
"Glad you liked it," he grumbled under his breath, though it lacked the bite his mates had received since he had gotten in here - Belle had that vulnerability about her, and he couldn't find it in him to be mad at her.
Eyebrows rising to her forehead, she sent him an innocent look. "You did seem like you were having a good time."
"Shut it, Gold," he laughed, poking her in the ribs and making her laugh and hit him in his arm in return.
Gold lifted a hand, bringing their attention back to him. "Okay, are we all ready for the performance this week?" They all nodded and he turned steely eyes to him. "And Jones - what about the interview? You up for it?"
As if he had any other say in the matter? "What do you mean?"
"It won't be a long interview - the host wasn't counting on one of their other guests to have so limited time, so they had to fill the last minutes of the show - he contacted me to see if you wouldn't mind to join as the last interviewed of the program," the manager explained. Ah. That was why he hadn't known about it until now, it had been a last-resort thing. Waving his hand impatiently, he answered, "yeah, okay, whatever."
"You up for the assault?"
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Don't worry, it's all under control."
"Okay. Oh, and the week after that you should ask Ms. Swan and her companions if they'd kindly like to show up at the concert we had scheduled."
Confusion etched on his face, he nearly sputtered, "I thought she had promo with Glass and the movie cast?"
"Yeah, indeed she does these whole two weeks, but she's free at night, isn't she?", Gold noted, the hidden meaning behind his words clear: "She has to come."
"Oh." He wasn't sure how to feel about Emma and her family showing up at their concert. Despite her being more open around him now and him definitely knowing she had at least listened to their music and had enjoyed it. But watching them play in public - that was another thing entirely.
Performing was one of the best experiences in his life. He couldn't get enough of the feeling, the rush, the adrenaline, the connection with the audience, the exchange of energy between stage and crowd, lyrics mingling between them and notes and sparks floating in the air.
It was the thing most resembling to magic he had ever experienced.
And, as much as he had let Emma see and learn a little more than he usually did about him in their date, this was an entire new whole level for him.
He was brought out of his musings when he felt Grace's hand pulling him to his chair, making him sit down and setting herself on his lap. He liked to call her his own little kitty, as she always went to sit on others and looking for the warmest place in the room. She just was. Kissing her forehead gently and caressing her curls, he asked her, "and how was your day, princess?"
She scrunched up her nose and commented "school was boring." She suddenly turned excited eyes towards him. Oh no. "Until Papa told me about you and the girl with the pretty blonde hair. Can I call her aunt Emma now?"
It was hard not to let her fall from his lap in shock when the rest of the people in the room stifled laughter at the girl's words, while he tried not to choke.
*waves white handkerchief in the air*
Hiiiiii.
After that 'cliffie' - come ooon, it wasn't that bad... was it? - I bring to you new developments for the boys and girls in here. What did you think? Poor bb Killian is in for good...
(if you guys get the references thrown out here I'll love you 5ever btw).
Also, sorry if there's any real princess_consuela out there - I've always wanted that name for an account okay. Don't judge me.
Are you Irish mojo believers? I am.
Before you lot start harassing me with 'update soon!' - this will be a tricky week for me to update, as I'll be going home tomorrow for Easter break and I'll be catching up/being social/under parents' scrutiny (UGH). So... bear with me, please.
Also, you know I love you all, right? Yeah? Okay. And I wanna carry all your reviews/favorites/alerts and comments on tumblr and messages around in my pocket and pet them and caress them softly and hum songs to them. That bad.
*mwah*
PS: There were loads of Marina and The Diamonds involved in the writing of this chapter.