Chapter 8: The Earth is Not a Cold, Dead Place
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Days blur into weeks and the snow never really lets up for more than a day or two at most. It's starting to look like Narnia in South Minneapolis. Every tree branch is gracefully lined in white and the streets are growing more and more narrow each day as the plows make mountains along every sidewalk. Each time the snow falls fresh, it seems to wash away the dirt and grime of city life and cover everything with a blanket of glittering possibility instead.
The feeling isn't entirely foreign to Killian or Emma. Not these days.
It's an easy rhythm they fall into.
Lazy mornings- he brings her coffee in bed.
Band practice- he's yet to find a pace she can't keep up with.
Work- when the clock seems to crawl instead of fly.
Long nights- her place or his, but always together.
Their schedules don't always sync. Emma's nights at the bar keep her out so late. Some nights, he works late at the shop too or spends time practicing for the Christmas Eve Eve show at home, saying she's far too distracting when he has actual work to accomplish.
He may have a point, she thinks, smiling as she loads dirty glasses into the tiny dishwasher built into the back bar.
Some nights, he joins her there, keeping her company from the lone seat at the far corner of the bar, working on drawings for his clients. Sometimes, he takes up residence at a booth in the back with his laptop, fingers fisting in his hair as he takes care of the actual business side of his business. She finds it utterly charming how worked up he gets on those nights and makes it her mission to lighten his mood by regularly refilling his drink, giving him a quick shoulder rub to release the tension she finds there, or distracting him with playful kisses and teasing touches that tell him in no uncertain terms it's time to close the books for the night.
He lives for those distractions, if he's honest.
The Christmas Eve Eve show is a tremendous success. Emma grows in confidence as the evening progresses and they make their way through the set list. It's only a thirty minute time slot, but the crowd is very responsive. Killian's in his element and she always loves having a front row seat for that. The energy she gets from playing the drums again makes her wonder why she ever gave it up in the first place.
She doesn't give much ground to the ghosts of her past. She never has. But this, drumming, well- it's haunted ground she's glad to conquer again. She adds it to the list of gifts he's given her without even knowing it.
They haven't talked about Christmas. It's all been focused on the show. And now it's over, and they're tucked into a corner on the venue's main floor, sharing a celebratory drink with Robin and Regina as they wait for the next set to begin.
Emma's standing in front of him and he has his arms wrapped around her and it makes her smile because she's overflowing with the warmth of knowing this is where she belongs. It's a sensation she hasn't always been familiar with, but the more time she spends with Killian, the more used to it she becomes.
Emma laughs out loud at a dry, cutting remark Regina makes in response to her husband's outspoken bravado about the "sheer magnitude of their performance."
Killian smiles, kissing her hair, thinking the sound of her open, unguarded laughter is the best music of the night. She tucks herself closer, leaning back in his arms, and he gives her a little squeeze in reply. She turns her head to look up at him and he smiles down at her. She cranes her neck for an awkward kiss he happily grants her.
The next band begins and they're one of Emma's favorites. It's entirely instrumental, somewhat progressive post-rock and she loses herself in the layered melodic sounds. Robin and Regina have turned their attention to the stage, so Killian takes full advantage of the moment of semi-privacy. He brushes her hair out of his way, leans down, and places a trail of kisses along her neck and throat. He can't hear her humming in reply to his ministrations, but he can feel the vibrations of it through her skin. She leans back into his broad chest, linking her fingers with his where they rest on her belly. Her eyes slide shut and a ghost of a smile plays about her lips as the music builds.
"Gods, Emma, I love you like this," He whispers against the column of her throat.
"Like what?" She asks, tilting her head slightly to one side to grant him better access.
"Warm and open and light," He says, smiling as he nuzzles her cheek with his nose, "Completely at the mercy of me… and the music."
She knows he's not wrong. She feels positively incandescent right now, with Killian's arms and the music surrounding her. She laughs a little when he blows in her ear.
"Just like this?" She asks. She's teasing because she knows. Of course she does. Something in his tone shifts and he gives her hands a squeeze.
"Not just like this..." He clarifies, but trails off.
He loves every part and parcel of Emma Swan. But he knows her. He doesn't want to scare her. Doesn't want to take the chance he's wrong and risk losing her because he couldn't be patient and just wait until she finds a way to show him she's ready to hear it.
"I love you too, Killian."
And there it is. Her words cut through the stormy soliloquy in his head. She turns her head inward, eyes closed, smiling softly. There's that tightness in his chest again and he swallows thickly, knowing the center of his whole world has shifted and she knows and she likes it.
He raises his hand, bringing hers along with it, and brushes his lips across her fingers. She looks up at him then, smiling softly.
"How long have you known?" He asks, incredulous. She shrugs in reply.
"Since the night you opened for Rob's other band."
"That long, Swan, and you never said?" His voice is soft, his tone dumbfounded. She raises an eyebrow at him and he flushes a little, realizing she could say the same thing to him.
"Well I didn't want to scare you off. You being so fragile and all." His eyes blow wide at that, wondering what on earth he could have done to make her think- and then he notices she's trying very hard not to laugh at him.
She's kidding. You bloody idiot.
The concerned expression on his face melts into something else entirely and she can't help the smile that spreads wide across her face, even though she feels a little guilty for teasing him at such an emotionally vulnerable moment.
"Sorry. It was right there. I couldn't just-"
He cuts her off with a searing kiss, spinning her in his arms and crushing her against his chest. It's a heady feeling, his assault on her lips and the knowledge that she loves him and he loves her and the music building and there's no going back now.
Not that she wants to.
They're both a little breathless when he finally breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against hers.
"In case it was in any way unclear, Emma Swan, I am completely and irrevocably in love with you. You have my heart entirely in your hands." His eyes meet hers in the dark and he lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing it once more before releasing it. He moves his own hand to cradle the back of her neck. She takes a shaky breath and smiles, a pleasant warmth flooding her entire body.
Concern flickers across his face and she wonders at it until she feels him brush his thumb across her cheek, brushing away tears she hadn't realized were falling. She rises up on her toes and kisses him then, wrapping her arms around his neck.
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It's late… or early… Emma's not entirely sure which when Killian rouses her from sleep and it's still dark outside. She groans her displeasure when he climbs out of bed and she pulls the covers around her tighter. The temporary insulation Killian expertly installed on the windows has done wonders for the drafty old house she rents, but the hardwood floors are cold and she can't think of a single reason to drag herself out of bed to brave them.
The only truly compelling one is already here. And while he's not currently in bed with her, disappeared God knows where, she knows just how to coax him back again and it doesn't require her to leave the coziness of the blankets she's currently buried in.
"Emma, love, wake up." Her brain dimly registers that low, gravelly voice she loves and the bed sinks a little beneath the weight of him as he kneels on the floor beside it, resting his folded arms on the edge of the mattress. There's more light in the room than she expects as her eyes blink open, but it's not entirely unpleasant- he's lit a few candles and the Christmas lights she borrowed from Mary Margaret twinkle around the window frames. "It's Christmas, darling."
"Come back to bed," She pleads, shutting her eyes and nuzzling her face against his tattooed arm where it rests just beside her. "It'll still be Christmas when the sun comes up." He chuckles at that, kissing her cheek and reaching to brush back a long tendril of hair that's straggled its way out of the huge, messy bun on top of her head.
"I promise I will, but I need you to sit up for me, lass. I want to give you something." She glares at him, but it's softened by a little smirk playing about her lips.
"Sounds a bit dirty, Jones. Christmas is supposed to be a wholesome family occasion." He laughs.
"Now, Swan, get your mind out of the gutter." It strikes her then that there's so much affection in his tone and it really isn't like him to wake her up like this without a very good reason. Curiosity gets the better of her and she opens her eyes to see his bright blue gaze fixed on hers. He's radiating joy in that way that he does. His chin is resting on his forearms and there's something almost child-like about his smile just now in the half light of her bedroom.
She gives him an indulgent smile and a sigh of mock exasperation and sits up. The smile that spreads across his face at this is sparkling and she couldn't possibly be more intrigued by the sight of it.
"Alright, I'm up," She says with a tone of more indignation than she actually feels, "Now what?"
He sits up then, pulling a black silk blindfold out of his pocket and raising a comically suggestive eyebrow at her. She sputters in reply.
"You said it wasn't dirty."
"You cut me to the quick, love," He says, feigning offense. "I assure you my intentions are entirely honorable." She snickers in reply, shooting him a doubtful look. He draws the covers away from her and she groans at the cold on her bare legs, wearing only one of Killian's long sleeved layering henleys she'd retrieved from the floor for warmth before sleep claimed her. He takes her hands in his. "Try something new, darling. It's called trust."
She lets out a dramatic sigh and allows him to pull her out of bed. She gasps when her bare toes touch the cold floor.
"I hope this master plan of wholesome, honorable intentions involves socks. My feet are freezing."
"Alas, it does not," He says, gently turning her and beginning the work of tying the black silk blindfold around her head. "But your discomfort is a cross I'm willing to bear." She snorts at that and he grins. He goes to her dresser and fetches her a pair of her favorite socks anyway, as well as those ridiculous fuzzy Grinch pajama pants he finds completely adorable on her.
Once she's sufficiently cozy, he leads her carefully down the stairs, which proves a tricky thing as his blindfold is actually terribly effective. By the time they reach her living room, her heart is racing. Her curiosity is piqued and she's more than a little flustered by the thought of what decidedly less wholesome activities Killian might have planned for later with this silky black blindfold of his.
He kisses her cheek and she shivers at the feel of soft lips and coarse facial hair brushing against her skin. He grins and whispers in her ear.
"Now, stay right there, love. And absolutely no peeking til I say so."
She bites her lip and practically purrs at him.
"You keep telling me what to do, pirate, I might spoil your wholesome plans."
He chuckles and it sounds a bit nervous, somehow. She hears him walk away from her, the wooden floorboards creak noisily as he goes.
Every one of her other senses feels heightened. She can hear other noises, but can't quite place them.
Then there's the sound of thirteen very familiar single notes being plucked on a guitar and the sound of Killian drawing a shaky breath before he croons a familiar tune, much more slowly than she's ever heard it before.
"I don't want a lot for Christmas…"
"Oh my God..."
"There is just one thing I need…"
"Killian, no…"
"I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree…"
"Stop it, stop it now…" She begs, reaching for the blindfold.
"Don't touch the bloody blindfold, Swan!" He yells quickly between lines, not missing a beat as she shoves her hands down to her side and bites her lip, shaking her head as he continues.
"I just want you for my own. More than you could EEEEEVERRR KNOOOOWWWWWW!" He pushes his voice till it breaks on that line and she's smiling and blushing and shaking her head and she just knows he's grinning in that stupid way he does when he's terribly pleased with himself. Her fingers twitch toward the blindfold again and he scolds her, "Don't you dare, Swan."
She stomps her feet impatiently and she hears him laugh as he starts the next line,
"Make my wish come true. Baby, all I want for Christmas… is yooooouuuuuu."
He plucks those thirteen notes again and she's shaking her head at how utterly ridiculous this is.
It's quiet for exactly two seconds and she's about to ask permission to remove the blindfold and then she hears the unmistakable sound of drum sticks on a hi-hat and Killian's voice calling out:
"1-2-3-4!"
It's an eruption of noise, two electric guitars with distortion on full blast, Killian using his most ridiculous scream-o voice as he sings the verse, background vocals crooning in an almost discordant way, drums and cymbals crashing to a familiar punk rock beat.
Emma rips off the blindfold. Standing there in her living room is a full band of vaguely familiar people with electric guitars, huge halfstack amps, and a drum kit. Robin's head banging as he wails on his bass. Killian is wearing a Santa hat and kicking over a mic stand and she's shocked it doesn't break anything.
It is LOUD and it sounds TERRIBLE and it is FIVE in the morning and my neighbors are going to call the cops and who the hell are these people and why are they here so fucking early on Christmas Day?!
But then her eyes fall on Killian and she sees the huge grin on his face as he's singing (if you can call it that) and watching her take it all in.
And then she bursts out laughing.
Because it is by far the most ridiculous thing she's ever seen and the best gift anyone's ever given her and it's perfect, because of course it is.
"Baby make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is yooooouuuu!"
It's over too soon. Which is shocking, because it was a truly horrid cacophony of sound. And she crosses the room to him as he takes off his guitar. Emma takes his face in her hands and smashes the biggest kiss on his lips. He smiles and slants his mouth over hers, Rob obligingly and wordlessly grabs the neck of the guitar from Killian's outstretched arm. Killian grabs the back of her thighs and lifts her easily. Emma grins and wraps her legs around him, kissing him even harder.
The guy who played backup guitar whistles theatrically, she's pretty sure his name is Will and she's pretty sure it doesn't matter in the slightest. After a minute, Rob clears his throat.
"Right, gents, let's step into the kitchen for a minute then, shall we?" They do and maybe it's awkward, but she doesn't really care. Not when he's made a ridiculously sweet and horribly embarrassing holiday gesture. She's never had one of those before and she's not wasting it.
Emma reluctantly breaks the kiss, brushing her nose against his affectionately.
"Did you like the song, Swan?" Killian asks, a contented lazy smile on his face.
"It was the most wonderfully awful thing I've ever heard in my entire life." He laughs out loud at that, giving her backside a squeeze. "I loved it."
Later, she gives him his gift- it's a pair of plane tickets to Tallahassee. He thanks her, but there's an adorably confused look on his face as he sits beside her on the couch.
"It's where I grew up," She explains, moving to settle herself in his lap, "Near Wakulla Beach? I thought we could get away from the cold and go sailing."
He smiles at her with that thousand watt smile she loves- the one that crinkles his eyes and melts her heart. She wraps her arms around his neck and he kisses her thoroughly. She hums pleasantly and he shifts her in his lap, trying and failing to hide his obvious arousal.
"Did you have a nice Christmas, Swan?"
"Best Christmas ever," She admits and she knows it's true. He has that smug smile on his face again and she feels an irresistible urge rising up in her. She lets out a wistful sigh. "Almost perfect."
"Almost?" He asks, blinking in surprise. She nods in reply. He wasn't shooting for perfect, but to hear her say it like that makes him wonder. That's when he notices the slightly mischievous look in her eye, the way she avoids his gaze, and he knows she's toying with him. He slides his hands beneath the back of her shirt and she shivers at the contrast of his rough, cool skin on her soft, heated flesh. "That's a terrible shame. Tell me, darling, what can I do to remedy it?"
She sits up tall on her knees, running her fingers through his thick dark hair. He tips his head back, luxuriating in the feel of it. She tugs his hair gently, drawing his head to one side, and blazes a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses along the exposed skin of his neck. His breath hitches and he palms her backside and grinds his hips into hers, smiling sinfully at the little sigh that escapes her lips before she whispers softly in his ear.
"I don't suppose you still have that blindfold…"
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A/N: And that's it, folks! A little smuffy CS holiday fun for your quarantine life. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Also if you want to assault your ears and love every second of it, go look up My Chemical Romance's cover of "All I Want For Christmas Is You" because that was the inspo for Killian's Christmas gift for Emma. If you're extra curious about the band Emma loves and the title of this chapter, it's loosely based on the Explosions in the Sky album by the same name. They're not from MN, so there's no reason they'd be at a local showcase concert on Christmas Eve Eve, but there you have it. Happy Holidays everybody!