Look After You

by snarkysweetness

The courtship of Emma Swan and August W. Booth from 'True North' onward. This is a behind-the-series story on how I see their relationship developing throughout the first season and then into my own version of what happened after the finale. There's a lot of character development and backstory that we don't really see in the show, but is hinted at. More inside.

38. The Writer

Title: Look After You
Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Writer
Author: snarkysweetness
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: August/Emma
Summary: August works on a new story.
Warnings: Lots of fluff.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: I love everyone who reads this, so much.

August leaned back in his chair, stretching until a small 'pop' in his back sent a wave of relief to his stiff muscles. He'd been at the typewriter for hours and needed a break. Rubbing at his eyes, he reached for his phone to check the time finding he still had another hour before he was due to meet Emma.

Gathering the pages he'd already written, August decided to read through his new story.

He stood and flicked on the overhead light, the small desk lamp not sufficient for his task. Pacing the room to stretch his legs, he began skimming through his tale of a spirited, independent princess and the son of a woodcarver that she fell in love with.

Five pages in, August already hated every word he'd written. Throwing the stack down on the desk, he instinctively reached for his phone, just as it began to ring. He flipped it open without needing to see the caller I.D.; Emma's siren call to him extended even to phone calls it seemed.

"Storybrooke brothel, how may I please you this evening?"

August could hear Emma rolling her eyes and smiled.

"What's going on, beautiful? Miss me already?"

Emma scoffed.

"No."

"Liar."

"Shut up."

August sat in his chair and twirled it around, reaching for his hat. Whenever he found himself needing to toy with something, he always went for the one thing he had left of his childhood.

"What do I owe the pleasure of this call? Or rather, what is so important that you couldn't wait an hour to tell me?"

"About that…"

"You're not coming?"

He could picture her grimacing and frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I got a break in the case and I don't know how long this is going to take me."

"Don't worry about it; I told you, I knew what I was getting into with you."

"Rain check?"

August traced the rim of his hat for a moment before speaking.

"Why don't you call me when you're done? I'll be up for hours working and bars stay open until two."

"And if it's later than that?"

"Are you inviting yourself up to my room?"

"No."

August could sense her blush.

"Liar."

"Shut up."

"Thought so. So…I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, fine. Later."

"Later, sunshine."