"This is a bad idea."
"Swan, you can't keep saying that, you're going to make me think it's a bad idea."
Emma rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on her face and maybe Killian was winning. Something. He had no idea what he could be winning in the backseat of an Uber he'd called himself because Regina refused to actually use Mills Media resources for his, as she put it, ethical transgressions, but he hadn't told Emma that.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
The car skid to a stop at a red light and they still had, approximately, eight-thousand blocks to go and, at latest count, Emma had tried to crack her knuckles seventeen times. It only worked twice. There was probably something scientific about that, but there was also probably something scientific about the way he wanted to kiss her as soon as he saw her and Killian would rather consider those things than any of the absolutely legitimate reasons that this was an absolutely terrible idea.
"It's going to be fine," Killian lied, and Emma actually scoffed, leaning back to rest her head on the top of the seat and there were, somehow, still several pieces of snow in her hair.
Maybe he could ask Mary Margaret about the science of that. He wasn't even sure if Mary Margaret taught science.
And she'd been far too busy making them pose for photos in the living room, like they were going to prom instead of the Mills Media annual holiday party, to worry about anything even remotely scientific.
"C'mon, this is major," Mary Margaret shouted, and it felt a bit like getting disciplined. Although Killian wasn't sure if he was getting grounded or getting detention or just made to pose with his girlfriend for far longer than should be required.
Emma groaned, rolling her whole head with frustration and leaning back against his chest and he'd actually taken the tuxedo jacket off because they'd been standing in that apartment for so long he was in danger of overheating.
"M's, we have to go," Emma whined. She shifted her shoulders which, by extension shifted her whole body, pressed up entirely against Killian's front and he bit his lip until he could taste blood so he didn't make some kind of absolutely inappropriate sound in front of Mary Margaret.
That might have gotten them out of the apartment earlier.
Mary Margaret was not deterred, pushing back on Emma's shoulder until they were actually posing and she must have done thumb exercises to take that many pictures at once. "David wanted to see you guys," she said.
"David knows what I look like. David knows what Killian looks like."
"He's never seen me in a tux, Swan," Killian argued, earning a growl or a groan for his effort and he'd done it for the reaction. He flashed her a grin, twisting her around until she was facing him and he couldn't come up with a reason not to kiss her – Mary Margaret kept taking pictures.
And Emma looked...incredible.
He'd made sure to point that out when Emma kept mumbling what an absolutely, God awful idea this is and, well, maybe she was right.
But that dress was incredible and red and perfect and Killian cared about the pros and cons of this idea as much as he cared about Mary Margaret seeing him kiss his girlfriend.
So he acted on both and let Mary Margaret take more photos – even agreeing to put his tuxedo jacket back on because it looked more official – and nearly an hour and a half after he'd knocked on the door in Turtle Bay, he and Emma were in the backseat of an Uber and trying to convince each other that this was all going to be fine.
He'd bought her flowers.
Things couldn't go wrong after he bought flowers.
There were rules.
"Did I apologize for Mary Margaret yet?" Emma asked suddenly, and that wasn't the question he expected.
Killian shook his head slowly, his self-inflicted lip wound still stinging just a bit. "You don't have to do that, Swan."
"I wasn't expecting her to go so full-on mom there. I think it was because David had to work and they honestly do consider me their kid and I've been totally freaking out about, well, I mean, everything I guess and…"
"Emma," Killian interrupted, and her eyes widened and she lost her grip on her phone when it started to vibrate loudly in her hand. "You don't have to explain any of that. It was nice. The whole thing was nice."
"That is one way to put it."
"What's the other way?"
She sighed softly, grabbing her still-vibrating phone and the sigh turned into a groan with maybe just a hint of exasperation. "I should have figured," Emma mumbled, nodding towards the phone when Killian lifted his eyebrows. "Mary Margaret sent it to everyone."
There were, at least, twenty text messages in her inbox – Ruby had started messaging one capslock'ed letter a time, while Belle and Elsa both seemed more included towards emojis and Tink just sent a string of exclamation points.
"No Anna?" Killian asked, a bit surprised at that lack of text-based excitement. His phone vibrated in his pocket. "Ah, of course."
He tugged the offending piece of technology out, balancing it flat in his palm and Will was on some kind of messaging spree. Emma made a noise in the back of her throat – the exasperation morphing into amusement rather quickly – and Killian's phone was going to self combust.
8:12 pm: Hook, seriously, where are you?
8:13 pm: Hook, you guys are very late. Gina is pissed that you're late. You're going to miss out on all the appetizers.
8:13 pm: Ohhhhh I see why you're late.
8:14 pm: God, Mary Margaret is a big fan of group texts isn't she? Anna's phone is going to snap in half.
8:14 pm: Oh, yeah, I brought Anna. Get on our level of showing up to major media events on time, Hook. And make sure to point out to Emma that Elsa didn't make us pose for photos like we're sixteen.
8:15 pm: photo
"Oh my God," Killian mumbled, and Emma had moved at some point, sidled up next to him until her shoulder brushed against his arm. "Look at this."
Will's jacket was definitely velvet, a tie clip that he'd probably spent far too much money on, practically reflecting the lights in whatever ridiculously expensive loft this event was being held at. He had his arm wrapped tightly around Anna's shoulders, her arms out straight as she pointed the camera and her own wide smile, hair twisted up into some kind of elaborate pattern and a bright blue dress.
They looked happy.
And if Will got to bring his girlfriend to a Mills Media holiday extravaganza, then Killian got to bring his girlfriend.
If they were using qualifiers.
"They look good," Emma said, tapping her finger on the screen. "He is right though, we are crazy late. We can absolutely blame it on Mary Margaret."
"It's still fine, Swan."
"Yeah, but…"
"No, none of that," Killian objected, twisting slightly and he'd never actually put a seat belt on, dropping his phone on the leather in between them and resting his hand on Emma's thigh. "This is...ok, it's probably a bad idea," he admitted, and Emma's laugh seemed to bubble out of her, short and shaky, but a laugh all the same and that felt like a step in the right direction.
She nodded. "It is absolutely a bad idea. Seems to be throwing things in people's faces, doesn't it? Ariel said Regina was mad."
"When are you talking to Ariel?"
"Is it bad that I'm talking to Ariel?"
"That's not what I asked."
Emma rolled her eyes, lips tilted up slightly and both of their phones made noise. "She gave everyone her card when she was at Thanksgiving and she's been helping David with computer stuff and maybe you guys should get her new cards that say she's almost working for the NYPD too now."
"Gina would have an actual fit."
"That might make tonight even more interesting," Emma pointed out, and Killian couldn't hold in his laugh or stop himself from leaning across the minimal amount of space between them and kissing her. Again. They'd have to work on that when they got out of the car.
Emma scrunched her nose, a tell he'd picked up in the last few weeks as she kept staying uptown more and more and tapped lightly on his jaw. "I think we need to lay some ground rules."
"For?"
"Killian."
"Emma."
They'd stopped at another red light and maybe he should have considered the possibility of traffic on Sixth Ave the Saturday before Christmas, but he'd mostly just been worried about the muscles in his face cramping when Mary Margaret kept taking pictures and how incredible Emma looked in her dress.
"Did you buy a new dress, Swan?" Killian asked suddenly, and Emma jerked back slightly, blinking quickly. He grinned at her. "That seems like a yes."
"That seems like I didn't say any words."
"So say some words."
She actually stuck her tongue out at him and it was probably meant to be a joke, but it was decidedly distracting and both of their phones were still buzzing. "Of course I bought a dress," Emma grumbled. "You think I just had black tie appropriate clothing in the corner of Mary Margaret and David's apartment? That doesn't even make sense."
Killian's pulse picked up and his hand was still resting on her thigh, the fabric of that very new, incredibly red dress twisting under his fingers when he traced up towards her waist and Emma's breath hitched. "Did I mention that you look incredible, love?" he asked softly, ducking his head and she froze when his lips moved along her neck and back behind her ear.
"Maybe once or twice, in between pictures, and then again when you likely scandalized Mary Margaret with all that kissing. And, you know, the flowers. Those were a pretty solid signal."
He laughed softly and maybe they'd scandalize the Uber drive too. "Ah, well, let's try that one more time then. You look absolutely incredible, Swan. And I'm glad you're here. Even if this is an absolutely terrible idea."
"That's why we need ground rules," Emma mumbled, rolling her shoulders back against the seat, but her hand found his wrist and the driver did not look pleased. He kept glancing at them in the rearview mirror.
"I am all ears, love."
"All hands, more like."
Killian's whole body shook with the force of his laugh and the driver almost crashed into the car in front of him when he took his eyes away from the traffic to glare at both of them. Killian stopped laughing.
"Hey," Emma said softly, picking up his tension immediately and maybe he could keep a list of all the reasons he loved her and then promptly put that at the very top. "We're fine. It's fine."
"I feel like we've both collectively forgotten the definition of that word." He took a deep breath, resting his forehead against hers and trying to let everything he loved about her seep into every single inch of him until he wasn't freaked out by an Uber driver's inability to pay attention to holiday traffic.
"We should probably stop making out. Tempting fate."
"Ok," Killian agreed. "Rule number one, we get out of this car and no more making out in front of the journalism bigwigs. Even though Gina said she wasn't sure who was going to be there."
Emma shook her head, amusement flashing in her eyes and they were only a few blocks away. "You are trying to add caveats to my rules, counselor," she accused, pushing her hand on the front of his chest.
"Absolutely not. I'm just trying to seize the moment, as it were."
She kissed him. And he hadn't been expecting that either.
Emma's fingers dove into his hair, twisting and tugging and he might have actually sighed against her, tracing his tongue over her lower lip and trying to remember all the reasons he probably shouldn't mess up her lipstick.
The driver coughed after what felt like a small eternity and Killian had forgotten about both him and the phone that was, now, twisted up under his left thigh. His shoulder pushed into the seat, not entirely comfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to move and Emma's fingers wrapped around his prosthetic like it wasn't actually a bit of plastic strapped to the end of his arm, staring at him with something that made him fairly certain they could start using qualifiers.
Even in front of journalism bigwigs.
Well, maybe not that. Regina would probably kill him if he did that. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
"What's the second rule, Swan?" Killian asked, fingers brushing against the curve of her waist and he couldn't really work his hand underneath her coat, but he was going to keep trying.
She was still breathing just a bit quicker than normal when she answered. "Focus on the story. And how many hits Ruby's feature got."
"How do you know that?"
"Were you totally ignoring me when I mentioned Ariel and I were talking? That was part of the talk. And if you don't think Rubes demanded a daily update on hit totals then you are absolutely insane. Although, at least, two thirds of those hits were just Granny clicking over and over again. Does that change anything?"
"I don't think so. You'd have to ask A."
"Remind me to do that when we see her. You know she's bringing a guy."
"So I heard." Emma quirked an eyebrow and Killian tried not to roll his eyes – details of Ariel's upcoming date and the dress and the ridiculous number of heel options he'd been required to look at in the last few days flashing in front of his eyes. "Don't look so surprised, love. She's almost my assistant."
"That should be rule three. Don't call Ariel your assistant."
"Maybe that should be rule one," Killian muttered, finally pulling his phone out from underneath him to find a string of texts from his definitely-not-assistant. She'd sent a photo too. "God, why does everyone think we want to see what they look like with appetizers in their hand?"
Emma smacked at the front of his jacket, a loud oh jeez floating through the entire car. "We're the parents," she sighed.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"God, make that rule number four or sub-rule A or whatever. Try to embarrass all our quasi video game children equally."
"Swan, I have no idea what you're saying to me."
"You think this is how Mary Margaret just feels all the time?" Emma asked, clearly not listening to any of his questions. Killian tried to shrug like he knew what was going on. "Oh, God, you've got to tell David that you've usurped him as metaphorical dad because watching his face when he realizes he's been overthrown and lost control of a potentially even bigger kingdom is just going to be really entertaining. You don't even have to get me anything for Christmas then."
Emma's eyes widened when she realized what she'd said and Killian chuckled lightly. "I just," she stammered. "If...we haven't actually used qualifiers or definitions yet."
"Emma, there's a pile of your clothes sitting in the corner of my apartment."
"There are several piles of clothes and an air mattress sitting in the corner of David and Mary Margaret's apartment. That doesn't mean I'm dating them or considering buying them vaguely romantic Christmas presents."
"Considering?"
"Bought. Past tense. Whatever, journalist."
Killian laughed loudly, kissing her again and he could feel some of the tension melt off of her. He tried not to let it inflate his ego too wildly – that should be a rule too. "Ok," he said, determined to keep his voice light and he couldn't combine this conversation with a much different and even more emotional conversation. Even if he wanted to. "What rule are we on? Rule five? Make that one being able to use antiquated, high school qualifiers because I've been thinking of you as my girlfriend for months, at least."
"Months?" Emma repeated sharply, and Killian nodded.
"At least. And hoping far far longer."
"What a sap."
"Romantic, Swan. It's romantic."
She tugged on her lip – the color there a lost cause to the romance – and her cheeks were tinged just a bit more red than usual. "I'll take a little romanticism. Although maybe rule six should be to temper on that in front of people who are maybe trying to ruin anything."
"We've circled back around to tempting fate. You know I'm not much of a fan of this whole fate thing. Seems a little old fashioned."
"We just decided to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend," Emma argued, grinning at him and one of her hands was still firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. "In the grand scheme of old fashioned, I think that wins. So, that's, what? Six rules? Seems like enough for one night, don't you think?"
"I've got a follow up."
"Of course you do."
"You like it, Swan," Killian teased, brushing his thumb across her chin. They were going to break rule one again. "And I'm still confused about whatever crown I'm usurping David for."
Emma rolled her eyes, trying to twist back towards him without actually draping her legs over his. "Oh, well, David and Mary Margaret have always been my kind of parents. Tonight is a very good example of that. And they adopted Ruby while we were at school and then that extended to Wail when we started playing the game.
But, uh, now, I think we might be kind of in control of Wail and the journalism side. In some kind of Yours, Mine and Our sort of way? Except without the divorce or marriage or...I think Dennis Quaid was in the army in that movie?"
"Coast Guard," Killian corrected softly, heart hammering at the idea that they were the de facto leaders and, possibly, parents of some kind of ragtag group of video game players and journalism wigs, big or small. "He was definitely in the Coast Guard."
"I can't believe you know that," Emma breathed. Rule one was, like, three quarters of the way to just being thrown out some kind of metaphorical window. "And that's almost Navy, right?"
"There is water involved."
"Huh."
"I'll make sure to tell David I've stolen his kingdom and expanded upon it, at least, twenty-six times in the next week."
"Yeah, that seems reasonable."
"You want to work on rule four now, Swan, or are we just going to talk about early 2000's movie remakes that didn't have to happen?"
Killian held up his phone, shaking his wrist slightly and this was the greatest idea in the entire goddamn world if it meant Emma smiled at him like that or let him keep thinking girlfriend or, maybe, loved him. While wearing that red dress. And taking ridiculous photos in the backseat of a car that was, somehow, still stuck in traffic.
"Make sure you send it to Will so he knows how much better you look in a tux than he does."
He grinned at her, breathing as easily as he could remember in the last decade, or possibly his entire life, and tugged her flush against his left side, close enough that their heads almost touched when he tried to make sure they both fit in the frame.
"The compliments, love," Killian muttered. "You're going to make me think you're vaguely attracted to me."
"Vaguely."
He sent the photo to the whole lot of them, telling them to save them appetizers. Ruby responded with half a dozen curse words. Mary Margaret possibly dislocated her thumb slamming it against the heart eyes emoji. Will sent twelve thumbs down and Robin responded with a photo of his not-quite-impressed face and a caption that Killian didn't actually read.
David didn't answer. He was too busy working.
Killian made it his lock screen and he kissed Emma when they, finally, stepped out of the car.
He could hear Will groaning before he'd even actually taken a step away from Emma and the groan only made him want to take a step closer to Emma, call another Uber or hail a different cab and go back uptown because this was, absolutely, a very bad a idea.
That dress was far too distracting.
"Shut up Scarlet," Killian grumbled, Emma's fingers tracing lightly over the back of his neck. She pulled back slightly – and thatworked a groan out of him and a chuckle out of Will.
"Scarlet, why are you just lurking on the sidewalk?" Emma asked. "Aren't you cold?"
Will shrugged. "Warm blooded. And I got sent out here because Locksley has to do fancy editor type things and hob nob and he couldn't be used as a spy to see when Hook actually decided to grace us with his presence."
"Merry Christmas. How was that thing with The Post ?"
"Festive."
"You know that sounds kind of bitter."
"Yeah, it was supposed to be."
Killian shook his head – blinking when it started to snow again and it really was freezing out. He hoped that wasn't a sign. He didn't need the weather conspiring against him. "I can't believe you just used the phrase hob nob in actual conversation. Did you leave Anna in there with Gina?"
"No, she's right here under her invisibility cloak."
Emma tried to turn her laugh into a convincing cough, but it didn't work. Will was far too busy glaring at Killian to even notice. "What's your deal?" Killian sighed. "Honestly?"
"I have no deal, Hook," Will muttered, but that was some kind of flashing neon sign that he, absolutely, had several deals and they were never going to go inside. Killian lifted his eyebrows, wrapping his arm around Emma when she actually shivered.
"Now, Scarlet," he demanded.
Will made a face, flexing both of his hands and, maybe, even jumping up and down a few times. "Cora is here."
Killian's heart fell into his feet and then worked its way out of his feet and landed on the sidewalk where it was promptly covered by snow and froze. To death. Emma looked a little stunned.
"This was a bad idea," Emma said softly, and Will made a noise that sounded a bit like agreement and a lot like gloating. Killian tried not to punch him.
"She probably won't say anything, Hook," Will promised. It didn't matter. He just had.
Killian closed his eyes lightly, well aware of Emma's gaze on the side of his head, and tried to take slow, steady breaths and, maybe, put his heart back in his chest. Or hand it to her. In a metaphorical kind of way. Anything else was weird. And gross. And he should tell her he loved her. Enough to bring her to an event that was a, decidedly, bad idea.
"What am I missing here?" Emma asked.
"Nothing," Killian and Will said at the same time and neither one of them even tried to mask their groans at that.
"Wow, you guys practice that?"
"No," Will chuckled. "But go ahead and tell me how impressed you are."
"I can give you that. You're wearing velvet."
"This is a look."
"Yuh huh."
"Whatever, not all of us are as classically attractive as Hook is. We've got to work with what fashion dictates. Plus, Cora doesn't hate me, so I'm already winning this quasi-battle."
"It's not a battle," Killian argued, but he might have pulled Emma closer to him out of instinct. "And Cora hates everyone equally, don't pretend like you're not included in that."
"Ehh...she might have you most."
"Cora?" Emma asked. "Like Cora Mills? Is she actually going to commit murder during a holiday party in this absurdly fancy building?
"No," Killian answered at the same time Will mumbled "maybe" under his breath. "God, seriously, Scarlet you are the least supportive human being on the planet."
"Does he need to be supportive?"
"No."
"You are a God awful liar."
Will made some kind of ridiculous noise, startling the person at the door whose job, it seemed, it was just to check invitations like they were in some kind of ridiculous romantic comedy and this really was an absurdly fancy building. "Jeez, the banter is so frustrating," he whined. "I mean, it's cute in, like, a you guys are totally in love type of way, but in this situation it is the most frustrating thing in the world."
Killian's whole body felt too heavy – Will's words drifting through the air and reflecting off snowflakes and he was going to kill him. That was the only possible response. He was going to kill Will Scarlet right there in front of that absurdly fancy building.
"Go away, Scarlet," Killian hissed, twisting to look at Emma. She didn't appear to be breathing. And she flinched when his fingers brushed over her cheek. "Swan?" he asked. She nodded. "It's totally fine, Emma."
Her head snapped up at that, green eyes flashing slightly and Will looked as out of place as he should. "Cora was talking to Gina," he said quickly. "That's why Gina couldn't make any obnoxious Gina-like comments to Anna. You know, in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't," Killian answered, not looking away from Emma.
"You should avoid Cora."
"Yes."
"And maybe Gina. At least for, like, a fifteen minutes after she finishes talking to Gina."
"Yes."
"And maybe don't...you know, do that whole staring longingly at each other thing."
"And we shouldn't swim for at least an hour after eating," Killian growled, twisting to glare at Will over his shoulder. "Yes, Scarlet, we've got it. You've done your job."
Will mumbled something that sounded like several different, rather creative curse words under his breath and Emma's lips twitched slightly, eyes falling back to her heels and the snow was starting to stick to the sidewalk.
"So," she said lightly, and there were no belt loops on his pants, but she made do with the front of his jacket, tugging lightly on buttons. It felt like his heart had worked its way back into his chest. "Cora Mills. Not your biggest fan, huh? You've got kind of a habit of that, don't you?"
"No," Killian shook his head. "And yeah, maybe, in order of question. Gina told me she wasn't going to be here. She doesn't even live in New York. She usually spends most of her winters at the estate."
Emma laughed. He didn't expect that. "The estate? God, is she a person or a movie villain?"
"Definitely the second. She's a piece of work. Shit, Gina is going to be pissed that she just showed up. I bet she's got eighty-two opinions on appetizers and another seventy-six on web traffic."
And his hit count. He didn't mention that part. He should have.
"She's going to be more upset about appetizers than web traffic?" Emma asked, but some of the nerves had left her voice. "That's insane."
"Yeah, well, that's journalism or something."
"I am kind of hungry."
Killian let go of the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, wrapping his hand up in Emma's and it wasn't nearly as cold as he expected it to be. "And it'd be a shame to waste that dress, don't you think?"
"I did buy it."
"Exactly. Come on, love. Let's go avoid Cora Mills."
It turned out that avoiding Cora Mills was not as difficult as Killian assumed it was going to be. She was, after all, very busy and very important and there was a whole website full of editors who were, suddenly, required to report on the success of their work as soon as Cora glanced their direction and none of them cared much about Killian or his feature stories or his date.
Who just so happened to feature rather prominently in those feature stories.
And Will was very determined to get all of them drunk.
"It's an open bar," he said, not for the first time, an hour after they'd gotten off the sidewalk and out of the snow. "They expect us to do this."
"I don't know if they expect you to drink the entire stock," Killian argued. Anna laughed softly, nursing her own glass of very expensive liquor and balancing rather precariously on her heels. "How many is that now?"
"It is not your job to watch out for me, Hook," Will grumbled. "Where's Locksley? How come he's not here taste testing this scotch? Isn't scotch his thing?"
"See, the fact that you can't remember that kind of screams that you've had way too much to drink."
"Ass."
"Try harder."
Will scowled, half a second away from sticking his tongue out. Killian rolled his eyes, glancing back at a clearly amused Emma and the glass of wine in her hand and they'd both been taking advantage of the open bar as well, enough that there were tiny spots of pink on her cheek and everything, suddenly, felt delightfully warm and just a bit languid.
He wanted to kiss her a lot.
So he did.
There went rule number one.
Emma didn't seem to realize at first, fingers carding through the bottom of his hair and scraping lightly against his head and the warmth was now bordering closer to a burn. Her heels made it easier to meet her straight on, but that also meant he could feel her everywhere and the combination of alcohol, that dress and Cora Mills lurking in the background of the night left Killian wanting and certain that walking into that building was the worst idea he'd ever had.
Will coughed pointedly, kicking at his ankle and Killian winced when he actually landed his shot. "Holy shit, Scarlet, God, relax," he mumbled.
"Does that still hurt?" Will asked.
"Obviously."
Emma blinked, eyes darting between Killian and Will and back down to his ankle. "Still?" she repeated. "As in that's been hurt before?"
"Yeah," Killian answered, ignoring Anna's quiet oohhhh and she'd had way too much tequila. Scarlet had had way too much whiskey. Killian had not had enough rum for this story.
"How do you think Locksley ended up becoming Killian's pseudo-father?" Will asked, clearly not reading the situation at all. "Hook broke his foot junior year and he couldn't really get around and it was...it was honestly almost depressing."
"Almost," Killian mumbled, pressing the word against Emma's hair. She leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder and maybe he could just have this and that would almost be like rum. Maybe he was drunk if he was thinking things like that.
"I am telling the story, Hook," Will said, and Killian held up his right hand in conversational defeat. "Anyway, Hook breaks his foot junior year, he's got crutches and the entire power of the US Navy's friends and family health care plan behind him, but Liam's still somewhere in the ocean and he can't actually make sure that Hook isn't the idiot he is by default and takes care of himself. So who do you think he enlists?"
"Was that supposed to be a military pun?" Emma asked, laughter just on the edge of her voice. Will was not amused. "Fine, fine, ok, he gets Robin to do it?"
Will winks – like he hadn't made this all blatantly obvious from the get-go. "Exactly that. He gets Robin to check on his incredibly stubborn little brother, bring him to doctor's appointments, make sure he gets his prescriptions filled and, suddenly, Locksley is mentoring Hook or something ridiculous and here we are, more than a decade later and not much has changed."
He nodded towards an approaching Robin, hand laced together with Regina's and matching looks of general disgruntled'ness on their faces. "Have you guys finished all the alcohol over here?" Robin asked sharply.
"It's an open bar," Killian pointed out.
"Yeah, but Scarlet's been standing here for nearly an hour and, you know, that's basic math."
"Rude," Will mumbled, tapping the edge of his glass and then pointing back at Regina and Robin. "And you guys have done a pretty good job of stocking. Give Aurora a raise, Gina."
"Aurora did not plan all of this," Regina hissed. "Are you drunk?"
"Yes, why aren't you?"
"She had to talk to Cora," Killian said, like it was obvious. "Hey, you guys seen A? She's supposed to be here. With her date."
"She's talking to Cora," Robin muttered, and the whole group seemed to collectively gasp.
"Wait, what?"
Robin shrugged. "It didn't look particularly good. That's why we were finally allowed to leave the verbal beat down."
"What about?"
He widened his eyes meaningfully, pulling his lips back behind his teeth and Killian's stomach churned at the look on his face, like he was practically begging him to stop talking and this all felt painfully familiar. Like junior year and doctors appointments and reading over bylines.
Oh, well, damn.
"I need more to drink," Killian announced, and he didn't know if Emma or Will looked more surprised. Will actually looked a bit overjoyed.
"That's what I'm talking about," he shouted, waving his arms like he was landing a 747 and trying to flag down one of the half a dozen bartenders Aurora had probably required to provide headshots in their applications. "Hey, can we just get...a whole bottle of rum over here?"
"Oh my God," Regina mumbled, pressing her face against the front of Robin's dress shirt. He'd taken his jacket off. "At least get glasses."
"That's the spirit! God bless us, everyone!"
"Yeah, I'm not sure that's exactly what Tiny Tim was going for," Emma pointed out, head still on Killian's shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist and he wished his friends would leave so he could just start spouting romantic nonsense.
Maybe once they get a bit more drunk.
That might make it less romantic.
It didn't really matter because by shots two and three, the whole room had started to spin just a bit and Regina actually made a noise that might have been an actual giggle and Anna looked like she'd just seen a small miracle. Will kept talking – telling stories and detailing Killian's penchant for doing the dishes twice, just to make sure they were clean – and Robin kept tugging his phone out, showing pictures of Henry and Roland to Emma like she actually cared, but she looked genuinely interested and Killian's heart kept doing that weird thing where it was trying to beat its way out of his body again.
Or maybe he was just drunk.
He was absolutely drunk because, at the time, the next few words out of his mouth seemed like the greatest idea he'd ever had.
"C'mon Swan," he said, slamming down his once-again-empty shot glass. She lifted her eyebrows at him, one side of her mouth tugged up in amusement.
"Come on where, exactly?"
"The floor."
"We are standing on the floor."
"The dance one. Where the people are dancing." Killian nodded towards the tiled section of the room a few feet away and the couples, none of whom had probably spent the last hour and a half drinking as much free alcohol as they could without drowning themselves. "Gina probably made Aurora cry for several hours in order to find the best band or string section. Whatever. There's actual music. Time to take advantage of it."
Emma gaped at him and Regina flicked her fingers against his arm. He didn't feel it. The alcohol was working. "Seriously?" she asked.
"Yeah," Killian nodded, taking a steady step away from the bar. "For Aurora's sake. And I'm ridiculously good at this."
"You might be a little drunk."
"Ah, well, that seems to be catching in this corner of the room. All the more reason to move, don't you think, love?"
Her mouth shifted again, like she was trying to fight back the smile and to hell with any of those rules. To hell with Cora. To hell with all of goddamn Mills Media.
Killian loved his girlfriend. She bought a new dress. He was going to dance with her.
"Yeah, ok," Emma muttered, wrapping her fingers around his left hand and letting him weave her through the crowd. He dimly heard Anna's camera shutter snap.
"I have never actually done this, you know," she warned him when they finally found a spot on the tiled floor, feet nearly touching and even the ridiculous amount of alcohol they'd both consumed couldn't quite dull the feeling of her pulled flush against him.
"I'm not going to test you, Swan. You ready for rule number...whatever we left off on?"
"I think we've broken every single one of those rules."
They were moving already, swaying slightly and he hoped Aurora hadn't actually been reduced to tears while finding that band because they were ok and this was ok and, for half a moment, Killian forgot that Cora was somewhere and possibly still yelling at Ariel about something.
"Ah, well, this is different," Killian argued, voice low and he could feel Emma breathing against him. She kept brushing her thumb against the back of his palm and she didn't say anything when his left hand rested on the small of her back.
"How do you figure?"
"You bought a new dress. I couldn't be expected to follow those rules after that."
She laughed softly, barely audible over the music and there was actually a string section and maybe she leaned into his hand just a bit. "What's the new rule, then?"
"Pick a partner who knows what he's doing."
Emma smiled at him – and it felt like everything settled and the music seemed to echo through him and then maybe into his hand and he could almost feel her pressing against it. He was happy.
World-altering happy.
He loved her an absolutely ridiculous amount.
"What a line," Emma chuckled, and they'd fallen into some kind of rhythm. "Why do you even know how to do this?"
Killian shook his head, ducking down to press a kiss against her temple and maybe the rules were more like guidelines. "No line, Swan," he promised. "And my sophomore year, I wrote a story about this whole new dance initiative on campus. Classes and rhythm and something about history. It was a series. It won some kind of college publishing award."
"Always about the story, huh?"
"No," Killian said, the word tumbling out of him from some deep, dark place that he'd been fairly certain didn't actually exist anymore. Emma pulled her head up slowly, blinking and her eyes were almost on the wrong side of glossy. "Emma," he continued softly, moving his hand up her back and she just kept breathing, neither one of them falling out of rhythm and that might have been a sign too.
He appreciated that sign better than the snow.
"Still here," she muttered, pulling their hands down until they were resting on his shoulder.
"I'm glad."
"Maybe not the worst idea ever. You do actually look better in that tux than Will does. Although you might be able to do velvet."
"Next Christmas."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, if you want," he wavered, and he kind of hated himself for that.
Emma's teeth sank into her lower lip, eyelashes fluttering just a bit. "The stories will be over by then," she whispered.
"I don't care about the stories."
"No?"
They'd stopped moving at some point, dancing around subjects and declarations instead of the string music and Killian felt like his lungs were shrinking or maybe his heart was just expanding and he could actually feel the words sitting in the back of his throat, just begging to be shouted or professed until Emma knew how much she meant and he wasn't there for the angle, he was there for her and this and them.
The rest of it be damned.
"So," Emma started, squeezing his hand lightly. "This is...you'd want to...stay?"
Killian nodded, not entirely sure how his neck was actually supporting his head when it felt like he was sinking into the floor. "I'd like that," he said, and it wasn't enough, wasn't the I'd love that and it's all I've been thinking about for weeks that it probably could have been, but Emma hadn't let go of his hand and that felt like a victory.
"Yeah, me too."
"I was here for the stories, Swan. That's what got me here, but I'm not here for the stories so much anymore."
"That was kind of a convoluted sentence.
"I had a lot of rum."
Emma laughed softly, exhaling and letting her forehead drop against him. He kissed the top of her head before he considered any of the rules. "Yeah that's true," she mumbled. "I think I got the jist of it though."
"You," he said. "I'm here for you."
She didn't respond immediately and for several terrifying seconds, Killian was fairly sure he'd overstepped some line and they'd be back in front of Bethesda fountain and he wasn't sure he could actually cope with a one-time thing 2,0. He'd probably drink his way through the entire open bar.
"Good," Emma muttered, and he'd never heard a better word in his entire life.
He bent his knees slightly, wrapping both his arms around and tugging her up towards him and maybe her laugh was better than good and the words were right there, sitting on tip of his tongue, but someone else started talking and Killian's breath caught in his throat.
"Mr. Jones," Cora said. There was no judgement in her voice and, somehow, that was even worse and he probably just reeked of rum and pheromones at this point, but Cora didn't move her lips or her eyebrows or do anything except stare straight at him. "I wasn't aware you brought a date."
"I wasn't aware I had to update you on that, Cora," he countered.
"Interesting."
Killian hummed, looking for exits or maybe another shot, and Emma's fingers were still wrapped up in his. Cora narrowed her eyes at her, like she was examining her or trying to read her mind and it sent a chill down his spine.
The worst idea in the entire history of ideas.
"You look very familiar," Cora said, but it sounded like an accusation. "Have we run photos of you on our site?"
Emma made a face – a mix between confusion and frustration that Killian felt every time someone even mentioned Cora's name. "Yeah," she said. "Several times."
"Oh, you're the video game girl, aren't you?" Emma nodded, opening her mouth to continue the conversation like a normal human being, but Cora wasn't a normal human being and she didn't give her a chance. "What an interesting date choice, Mr. Jones. Have you given any thought to that other angle we talked about?"
"No," Killian bit out immediately, keeping his eyes focused on Cora so he couldn't see the way Emma stared at him.
"No?" Cora tsked, shaking her head and crossing her arms lightly over the beaded dress that probably cost as much as his yearly rent. "Hm, that's interesting. Considering your hits issue."
Killian wished his various body parts would stop reacting to bad news by just dropping into the floor. It was almost painful. "What?" he breathed, and that wasn't right. The Ruby story had done ok. Ariel told him.
"Oh yes. You barely crested three hundred and the interest is dying down."
"Cora, do you know how numbers work? Barely is more than three hundred. That's, literally, the most basic math."
She glared at him, snapping her head to make sure he sustained the full force of the expression, but Killian dug his heels into the tiled floor. Emma squeezed his hand.
"Of course," Cora agreed, sounding just a bit reptilian when she let the words just sort of eek out of her. "But isn't it interesting that quite a number of those hits were coming from the same IP's? Our people claimed some restaurant in Midtown accounted for nearly a tenth of the total."
"Granny?" Emma laughed, and Cora looked a bit stunned that she'd even dared to participate in the conversation. "That's Ruby's grandmother. Did another tenth come from Electchester? Because everyone in that building probably read the story twenty-seven times each."
Cora blinked and Killian felt something close to pride surge through every single one of his veins. "That wasn't part of the deal, Mr. Jones," she said, an undercurrent of anger that seemed decidedly out of place in a holiday party.
He didn't feel quite as drunk anymore.
"You asked for hits, Cora," Killian said quickly. Emma's grip on his hand went slack. "I am giving you hits and revenue and consistent stories. That was the deal. It doesn't matter where they're coming from. Who knows, maybe that entire building in Queens is now dedicated Daily Caller readers. Seems awfully presumptuous to think otherwise, don't you think?"
"I'm not here to run a site so long lost family members can read up on their kids like they're in third grade and just got a participation trophy," Cora seethed. "This is a business, Mr. Jones. A crumbling one. And my daughter has taken pity on you. I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain."
She nodded once, like she'd just issued some kind of journalism decree, practically sweeping away and they'd drawn a bit of an audience – Robin and Regina and Will all staring cautiously at him like they were waiting for the patented Killian Jones breakdown.
He looked at Emma instead.
"What was she talking about?" she asked quietly and every single one of his organs stopped functioning. "What was that deal?"
"It's nothing, Swan. That's just Cora being Cora."
"No, no, don't do that. You're honestly the worst liar in the world, you know that? Come on, the truth, what was she talking about?"
Killian took a deep breath, the air somehow burning when he pulled it into his lungs and it would have been cool if these signs would all just stop. "Gina got me here," he said. "She got me to come back to New York and agree to the beat, but the only way she did that was by promising Cora that the story would be a success and if it wasn't then she was going to lose a considerable amount of control of her site."
"I don't understand."
"Cora was going to bring in new people. Probably get rid of Robin and Gina would lose almost all of her control. And they'd agreed to that in order to get me back home."
"How do you fit into that though?"
"I found out," Killian sighed, running his fingers through his hair when Emma tugged her hand back to her side. "Right after the first story went live. And I couldn't let them do that. Not for me. So I went and talked to Cora and made my own deal that would get Gina off the line and make sure Locksley and Scarlet didn't lose their job if I fucked up again."
Emma backed up, eyebrows pulled together and she was breathing out of her mouth. "What did you do?"
"I guaranteed two-hundred thousand hits a story. On every story. We hit every time. But the numbers had been going down and we were just barely hitting and then you guys started posting and that whole social media thing and that's, well, you saved that story, Swan."
She huffed, gaping at him like he was speaking Ancient Greek. He took a step towards her, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, cautious and hopeful all that the same time. "But," Killian continued, "then on Thanksgiving Gina mentioned that the board was looking to build on the success and wanted an extra hundred for each story."
"Wait, Thanksgiving? When our live stuff got shut down?" Killian nodded. "Oh, well, shit. That's...do you think that was Gold?"
"I've got some very strong suspicions," he admitted.
"Oh my God." Emma took another deep breath, pulling her free hand up almost unconsciously to rest on his chest and her thumb toyed with the edge of his lapel. "Alright, alright, so...then the Ruby feature did well, right? Hit and everything? Did you plan it that way? Pick Ruby because we didn't have the social media angle?"
"Yeah, it did. A told me we were close to three-hundred a couple days ago."
Emma hummed thoughtfully, the small crowd still staring at them from just in front of the bar and Will had demanded another bottle of something. "And what happens if you don't hit?"
He almost wasn't mad or disappointed or whatever emotion was sitting in the pit of his stomach. He nearly told her he loved her again, if only because she'd figured it out and still looked at him like she wanted to be there.
"I'd walk," Killian said, every single letter managing to hurt as soon as they were out of his mouth. "I'd leave The Caller and Cora could probably laugh about it for the rest of her life and I'd...do something else."
The only sound in the room was the stupid string section and Emma's quiet breathing and Killian tried to move, tried to will his feet to take another step towards her, but he was frozen solid in the middle of some mock dance floor and he still hadn't told her he loved her.
"You'd leave?" Emma asked. Her voice didn't waver at all. "Just like that?"
"No, no, no," Killian shook his head. "Not...not anymore. Swan, I couldn't do that."
"I just don't understand. This whole time we were standing on some kind of journalism ledge? Were you ever going to mention that? What happened if it didn't hit? You'd just disappear and we'd lose the promo?"
"No! No, of course not. We'd...figure something out."
"Sounds like a fantastic plan."
"Emma, nothing is going to happen," he said, voice picking up before he could stop himself and the audience shifted slightly, likely wondering if they should come play defense. Killian waved his hand over his shoulder. "We're hitting the mark. I'm contracted with The Caller through the year. They can't do anything to me."
"Unless you don't hit. Unless Gold shuts down our stream again or keeps up'ing the the marker and Neal keeps trashing our team on the internet."
"None of those things are going to make a difference, love. He can do whatever he wants. It's not going to change the fact that this is a good story. You are a good story."
"Always about the story," she mumbled, and that did it. He took a step forward, tucking his thumb under her chin and she didn't blink when she looked at him.
"No," Killian said. "It's not anymore."
Her shoulders sagged. "What was the other angle? The one Cora was talking about."
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
He didn't feel his phone vibrate in his pocket and Emma didn't hear hers ring, her bag still slung on the back of a chair in front of the bar, but they both heard the heels sprinting towards them from either side of the room. Killian turned to find a frantic looking Anna with her phone pressed against her ear, Ariel running towards Emma with her own phone clutched slightly in her hand and what looked like tear tracks on her cheeks.
"A," Killian said sharply, but she shook her head. Emma gripped his jacket tighter, eyes wide when Anna moved around them to push her phone out in front of her.
Emma took it cautiously, mumbling hello when she pulled it to her ear. It took, exactly, four seconds for knees to buckle and Killian wrapped his arm around her waist out of instinct, somehow catching the phone when Emma dropped it.
"Yeah, yeah, Ruby I found 'em," Ariel said, sniffling slightly when she caught Killian's eye. The crowd from the bar had finally made their way onto the dancefloor.
Someone was still shouting on the phone in his hand. "Hello?" he asked, and Elsa breathed heavily into the speaker.
"You have to get here," she said immediately. "Now."
"What? Where?"
"New York Presbyterian. Emergency room."
Emma's breath hitched against him and he tightened his arm, mind racing and Ariel crying and Anna was talking to Regina about getting a car out front. "Elsa, what is going on?" Killian demanded.
"David's been shot."