"You're going to choke him."
"No, I am not!"
"I think he's kind of turning blue."
"Then he's going to match the color scheme."
Elsa laughed – loud and surprised and Killian tried to glare at Anna, but she did have a tie around his neck and it was, actually, pretty tight and this was not the first time she'd tried to do this. "You know, I can do this, Banana," he said, but that wasn't the first time he'd said that either and it all kind of felt like a trend.
Anna didn't answer, just leveled him with a stare that felt a bit like a warning and he had to jump back to make sure her foot didn't collide with his shin. "Now, you're really going to kill him," Elsa muttered. "You better stop moving, KJ. It's going to be difficult to get to Casino Night if your trachea is bent in half."
"A lovely image," he mumbled, taking a step back into Anna's space and it couldn't have been comfortable for her to stand there that long. She kept dropping back on her heels, huffing slightly and leaning back like she was examining him and how he'd look with the color scheme of Casino Night.
Elsa shrugged, or he assumed she did, he couldn't keep turning his head towards the phone propped up on the vaguely ancient dresser in the corner of the room. She'd moved at some point, sinking into the corner of the couch in Colorado with her chin resting on her knees and her own very specific type of look on her face.
To their credit, neither Anna nor Elsa had actually expressed much of an opinion about anything since he'd walked into the room. There was no talk of the press conference or whatever word they were actually going to use for whatever Killian was actually going to do for the Rangers for the rest of the season and he had no doubt they both knew, but there hadn't really been any time for any of that.
He and Emma had walked into brownstone that afternoon – dress bags and tux bags and incredibly excited kids in hand – and it had taken, exactly, three seconds for Anna to declare she was going to help and Killian barely had a chance to process those words in that specific order before he was being marched upstairs and the door was closing behind him.
Elsa had already been on the phone.
He would have been impressed by the efficiency of it, if it also wasn't slightly overwhelming.
"I'm just saying," Elsa mumbled, a not-so-quiet scoff in the background. Her eyes flitted away from the phone, smile tugging at the ends of her lips and she shook her head once.
"El."
"KJ."
"Why are you communicating silently with Liam?"
"Because I'm capable of doing that with Liam."
"You got an opinion you want to share, El?"
"I've got several thousand opinions I want to share, KJ, but it's Casino Night and Anna's trying to strangle you, so I'm biting my tongue."
"Metaphorically," Anna added, still on tiptoes and maybe he should have sat down for this. That probably would have just made it easier for her to choke him.
"Eh, not really," Liam corrected. He dropped next to Elsa, team-branded t-shirt on and thoughts practically radiating off him. Through the phone lines. Or the cloud. Or something. Killian tried to pull the tie out of Anna's hands. It didn't work.
"KJ, I swear to God, if you don't stop yanking on this, I'm going to actually do damage to your shin," she hissed.
He narrowed his eyes, but that was almost as pointless as arguing any of this and Elsa was definitely biting her tongue. Literally.
"I can see your jaw moving, El," Killian said, waving a hand towards the phone. She groaned. Or possibly growled. Anna chuckled. "You're incredibly bad at all of this, you know that?"
"That is not true at all," she argued. Liam was the one biting his tongue now. And the instructional tie video Anna had pulled up on her laptop had stopped playing. They'd made no progress at all.
"I mean, it's a little true," Anna muttered. "KJ, do you have another tie?"
"No, Banana, I do not."
"You didn't want to bring options? I think there's something wrong with this one."
"There is nothing wrong with this tie. You are just incredibly bad at this." He pulled her hands away, widening his eyes when she opened her mouth to argue and Liam snickered when she fell back on the ground again. "You've given it a valiant effort, Banana."
"Just a little wide of the net," Liam laughed, and Elsa had moved again, legs draped over his and a slightly different look on her face and Killian wasn't sure how he knew, but it probably had something to do with childhood and secret languages and sneaking onto the uptown one together so many times.
"That wasn't even clever," Anna sighed. She collapsed back onto Killian's bed, an inexplicable amount of blankets and pillows still on it and that did something particular to his pulse too, but it might have also had something to do with the laughter he could hear coming from downstairs and he was, at least, ninety-three percent certain Mr. Vankald was playing hockey with Matt.
Liam shook his head. "Definitely clever. I'll give you not making much sense in context, but clever. And appropriate humor for Casino Night."
"Can you be clever while you're still wrong?"
"I don't know. Ask Scarlet when you see him later."
Anna didn't lift her head up, but her lips quirked and her shoulders shook slightly and Liam looked triumphant. "I think that means you just called Scarlet clever, Liam," she pointed out, working a slightly despondent groan out of him.
"Ah, shit, you're right. Don't tell him I said that. I'll never hear the end of it."
And really, that shouldn't have been what did it. Killian wasn't even sure what it was, but Anna had been adamant about the tie thing and Elsa kept chewing on her tongue and looking like that and he really needed to finish getting ready.
"Your face is going to get stuck like that, KJ," Elsa warned quietly. She smiled when he looked at her, hair twisted around her fingers and Liam slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his side like that would make whatever it was they were trying to do easier.
"You guys should have flown in for Casino Night," Killian said. "Then you could have done this in person and Emma would have someone to get ready with."
"Is she getting ready by herself?"
"Well, Banana was busy trying to strangle me, so-"
"-Oh my God, KJ, you are the most dramatic person in the world," Anna grumbled. She was still laying down, reaching blindly to her left for a pillow. He dodged it when she threw it at his chest. "And your reflexes are stupid."
"That's an occupational hazard," Liam reasoned, but the words sounded strained and a little forced and Killian knew it didn't have anything to do with the cloud. He wasn't even sure the cloud was part of a FaceTime phone call.
Probably not.
That wouldn't have made sense.
"And you're not entirely right," Elsa added. Killian twisted, wincing when something cracked in the process. "You should talk to Ariel about that. Maybe you're walking too much."
"I'm not walking at all," he said, waving a hand through the air like that explained that and it kind of did because his ribs were still a little bruised and Regina had already made several pointed comments about the state of his eye and how it would look on camera that night.
And then told him to avoid that Husinger ass at all costs.
"When does that change?"
"Probably when my ribs aren't purple."
"Purple?"
"Blue," he corrected. "'Ish. A little green. But that's healthy, right? On the way to healing." Elsa did not look impressed. He grinned at the camera, twisting the tie that was still hanging around his neck. "And just a little sore, but Red's got other stuff to worry about besides me. They're in the middle of a season and-"
"-And a coaching change," Elsa finished.
Killian tilted his head. "Well, that was kind of blunt. I didn't actually tell Arthur I'd do it yet. How'd you find out?"
"Would you like it in alphabetical order or by the order in which I received phone calls and texts?"
"Both? That's quite an attack."
"It wasn't an attack."
"It was an informational overload," Liam amended, shrugging slightly. "And Locksley thinks you should do it. He doesn't want to risk sending you film anymore."
"I'm still on the team," Killian said. "What was the order?"
"Locksley called me, mostly because both Henry and Rol overheard Arthur talking about it to Guinevere and then proceeded to shout about it for, and I'm quoting here, several hours of insanity." Killian scoffed, but he knew it was probably exactly that and it had probably taken even longer for them to stop talking about it. "And," Liam continued, "we both heard from Lucas because you're a good story and she can't help but shout about those things from several metaphorical rooftops."
"You're really dragging this out Liam," Anna mumbled, but it was difficult to hear her when she'd pulled a pillow into her arms, speaking mostly into the fabric.
"I am playing to my audience."
"Yeah, well, it's getting boring and I've got to get ready so if we could pick up the pace and stick to the script."
"I knew it," Killian yelled, catching the pillow Anna threw. "Banana, I swear if you keep throwing things at me, I'm going to carry you out of this room, lock the door and tell Emma not to let you into Casino Night."
She hummed, clearly unaffected by his threat, and it wasn't much of a threat because he'd definitely fuck up his ribs that way. He didn't have time for Ariel to kill him. He had teammates to avoid and kids to explain brownstone rules to and a Casino Night to enjoy while making sure Emma didn't forget to actually eat at some point.
She'd made enough lists about the food, she deserved to get some it.
And he and Merida had a deal.
"I mean, we weren't really trying to be subtle about it," Elsa mumbled. She didn't blink when Killian glared at the phone screen. "Seriously, KJ. Frozen. Bad pictures. An incredibly stressed out wife."
"That's got nothing to do with my face."
"Eh…" He sighed, but her smile just widened – a knowing look that only ever led to opinions and judgments and he hoped they stuck to the schedule for the rest of the conversation. "And she's not getting ready by herself."
"What?"
"KJ, are you serious? You think we'd force Emma to get ready for Casino Night by herself?"
"You are not actually here, El. You're just some slightly critical voice several time zones away."
"That was actually kind of mean. You eat yet? Is that the problem?"
"Oh my God," Killian groaned, running a hand over his face and he couldn't actually threaten Liam from a few thousand miles away, but that was becoming less and less important the more and more his brother kept laughing at him.
"Liam, you've got to stop making that noise," Anna said, propping herself up on her elbows. "KJ looks like he's going to explode or try and check his own dresser."
"Nah, he's not going to do that," Liam objected. "There are several reasons for that. You better be listening little brother because I'm about to do some seriously good analysis." Killian flipped off the phone camera. Liam laughed again.
"Alright," he started. "First of all, he can't check the dresser because he'll hurt himself again and he's far too aware of what that would do his Emma's psyche. Two, he literally can't move that quickly. Three, he doesn't want Gina or Ariel to embarrass him in public if they find out he did that. Three, like, sub-a, he doesn't want that to happen at Emma's event because he knows how hard she's worked on Casino Night. Four-"
"-How could there possibly be more?" Killian yelled, He tugged on his hair, glancing around the room like any of them would provide him an answer. None of them did. He hadn't really expected them to.
He could hear a puck hitting baseboards downstairs.
"Four," Elsa repeated, sitting up a bit straighter and her eyes might have been trying to see through Killian's soul when she stared at him. "You've already decided you're going to do this not-actually-advising thing all season and we'd really like to know if you told Emma yet."
Killian blinked. He glanced around the room again – matching looks on all three of the faces staring at him, a little expectant and a little cautious and he shouldn't have been surprised they knew, but they'd all been pretty damn good at reading each other's minds from the very beginning.
Anna kicked the bedspread.
Mrs. Vankald kept the bedspread in his room.
"Cool trick," Killian mumbled, grabbing the phone and sinking onto the edge and the mattress creaked when Anna moved. She draped over his back, a move that wasn't doing any of his bruises any favors, but he knew he didn't really have a choice and it was almost kind of comforting. Even when her chin dug into his shoulder.
"Years of practice," Elsa whispered. "Sometimes it doesn't always work though."
"I told Emma I'd walk. Maybe. If…"
Killian exhaled, the brush of Anna's cheek against his and he didn't think he imagined the way her arms tightened around his middle. "They don't want to rush anything," he continued, but every single letter felt a bit like a challenge and neither he nor Emma had brought up the idea since they'd been in her office. He tried not to think about it.
"Rush what, exactly?" Liam asked, but he knew the answer to the question already because he'd been the answer to the question already and Killian wasn't sure if that made sense either.
It absolutely did not matter.
And he'd absolutely walk away.
For Emma or because of Emma or something that sounded less melodramatic than either of those things and he really just wanted the silent auction to go well later.
That seemed like an almost reasonable desire. All things considered. He had no idea what color her dress was.
"Me, I guess," Killian shrugged. "I mean...Victor told us before they were mostly being cautious, but the league is-"
"-Aggressive," Liam interrupted.
"Was that the word you were looking for?"
"That made as much sense as wide of the net," Anna accused. "You were trying for proactive because brain trauma is…"
"Traumatic?" Elsa asked.
Killian rolled his eyes. "Do none of us know how to stage a conversation on our own? One of us has got to finish these sentences."
"You just did, KJ."
"A very small miracle."
"Seriously. Did you not eat?" Anna asked, but the question seemed to land in his ear and he was fairly sure Matt didn't learn his lack of bodily-control from her, but she might have been helping to fine-tune his approach. "Is it a low blood sugar thing?"
"It is not a low blood sugar thing."
"You sure?"
Killian opened his mouth to answer, his grip on the phone getting tighter by the less-scheduled second, but Liam interrupted him again and they all needed a refresher in conversational tendencies and basic manners.
"Locksley told me," he said, like that made any sense at all. Killian hummed, feeling the confusion settle on his shoulders as clearly as if it were actually Anna. It might have been at that point. That almost would have made more sense.
"Emma's job, KJ," Elsa explained. He took a deep breath, a sharp inhale that nearly hurt, but felt necessary and Anna tugged on the tie that was probably going to stay knotted around his neck for the rest of his life.
There was a lesson there or something.
He ignored it.
"Locksley's been a very impressive gossip over the last few days, huh?" Killian asked, doing his best to keep the frustration out of his voice, but that went wide of the metaphorical net too. God.
Liam made a noise, an agreement without resorting to the words. "He's worried. And Gina told him, so really you should be angry at Gina."
"I'm not angry," Killian argued. "Although I am almost constantly annoyed with Gina. But that's more just a general state of being now than anything else."
"Oh, I'm going to tell her that later," Anna said, and he could feel her smile behind him.
"Banana, I wasn't kidding about the threat before."
"Yeah, but you can't lift me."
"God, we're so bad at this schedule," Elsa groaned. "Can we get back to that?"
"It's your intervention, El," Killian said. She clicked her tongue, shoulders sagging and he could see every single one of her teeth when he grimaced.
"That's not what it is. It is a conversation because Husinger is going to be there tonight and probably going to talk to you tonight because he really does seem like that kind of asshole and we just wanted-"
"-To know if you meant it," Liam cut in.
"God, Liam, stop interrupting everyone," Killian growled. "You're married to El."
"And you're married to Emma. And told her you'd walk from this game so she could take a job? Am I right?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Killian opened his mouth, only to close it as quickly and Elsa had started biting her lip now. Liam wasn't done. "I don't want you to retire, Killian," he said. "And I think Victor's being overreactive-"
"-Is that a word?" Anna asked sharply, and Killian was almost surprised they hadn't drawn the ire of one of the Vankalds for the amount of groaning they'd all been collectively doing.
"No," Elsa answered. "We don't want you to retire, KJ. And we know you don't really want to either. Emma doesn't want you to retire. That's not the point."
"So what's the point?"
"The point," Liam said seriously. "Is that you thought about it. And said it. Out loud. And, like I said, I think Victor's being overly cautious because he knows his ass is on the line with the league and the entire state of New Jersey is probably worried they're going to get suspended, so when they decide to rush you some more, you'll have another choice to make, but this might be the most mature thing you've ever done."
Killian considered that for a moment, running his tongue over the front of his teeth and Anna didn't move. Elsa didn't look like she was breathing.
"New Jersey should be singular," Killian said. "It's not a collective. Learn English, Liam."
Elsa threw her whole head back when she laughed, body shaking and smile so obvious they probably felt it on several different space stations and Killian didn't know how many space stations there were.
Liam didn't look away from the phone though, one side of his mouth tugged up. "Yeah, that's true," he muttered. "Mary Margaret tell you that?"
Killian shook his head. "I read. Occasionally."
"You think Emma's going to take this job? Locksley seemed to think it was good."
"Locksley's opinions are being formed by Gina. Those don't count."
"I'm going to tell her that too," Anna muttered, mostly into Killian's shoulder blade. "Also you really can't talk to Husinger tonight, ok? His fifteen minutes are up."
"They were up when Killian landed that right hook," Liam added.
"It wasn't that bad," Killian muttered, but it might have been worse and he needed Casino Night to be something treading slightly close to perfect. He needed to get out of his childhood bedroom and maybe make sure Emma wasn't somewhere making another list.
"It was, KJ," Elsa said. "It was bad and horrible and several other adjectives I bet you could get Mary Margaret to tell you about later. After you avoid Husinger all night."
"Or while you're doing it," Liam grinned. "We're not going to be specific about it."
Killian laughed, closing his eyes lightly and he might have leaned back against Anna, but he wasn't entirely sure he was in control of whatever it was his emotions were doing. And it wasn't a very good conversation, certainly not one of their best and possibly the least organized discussion they'd ever had, but they'd gotten to the point eventually.
That was some kind of lifelong trend.
"She knows you're stupid in love with her, KJ," Anna mumbled. "The world knows you're stupid in love with her."
"Well, that tends to happen when you proclaim it," Liam added, and Killian couldn't even bring himself to sigh. He leaned back. Anna's arms tightened.
"That was more a spur of the moment decision."
"Oh, we know that too. A good one though."
Killian hummed, something that felt a little bit like happiness and maybe a hint of hope settling in his core or something equally absurd.
Stupid in love with her seemed like an apt description, really.
"Frozen that way," Elsa said, tapping her finger on the phone in Colorado and he could just make out the twins shouting and Lizzie shouting and the schedule had, quite clearly, reached its end. "You should put your jacket on before you go back downstairs. And...wait."
"What?"
Elsa nodded. "Mom was helping her do her hair. She was excited."
It shouldn't have been a surprise. It wasn't. Not really. Because Emma had always been kind of right – this family was a little fairy tale and a little absurd and sometimes Killian wondered if he should pinch himself, just to make sure it was all happening. But it was and did and several other tenses and Elsa kept blinking.
And very clearly chewing on her tongue.
"It's a really pretty dress, KJ," she muttered. HIs whole soul was going to explode. That was such a disgusting thought. "She was worried it wouldn't get here in time."
"So you should probably go wait downstairs," Liam suggested, and he didn't flinch when a blur that was, presumably, Lizzie Vankald-Jones flew into the frame. "Like five minutes ago."
"Yeah, well, your guys' schedule sucked, so…" Killian reasoned. Anna was already pushing on his shoulder, trying to get him off his own bed so she could get changed, God, KJ and both Liam and Elsa nodded when he opened his mouth to thank them.
Stupid mind readers.
"We know, KJ," Elsa said. "Tell her you love her, like, forty-seven times."
Pretty, it turned out, was one hell of an understatement.
He was sitting on the couch – not quite dreading what Mrs. Vankald would say when she saw his feet on the edge of her coffee table, but not exactly looking forward to it and he didn't need Anna's pointed cough to know they were standing behind him.
Killian turned, fingers drifting across Peggy's back because they needed to stop letting her crawl around on the floor and he was absolutely worried about the kind of destruction she'd inflict on the brownstone if left to her weebling-type movements.
Emma smiled.
And pretty made no sense at all.
Pretty didn't make his breath catch or make his lungs feel like they were shrinking in his chest. It didn't make him hold onto their daughter a little tighter, standing up before he realized that was something he was still capable of doing and he was dimly aware of a shutter snapping when his jaw actually dropped.
"God, you're a walking cliché, KJ," Anna laughed. "Mom, are you seeing this? It's everything you've ever wanted happening right in your living room."
"Shut up, Banana," Killian hissed, and he wanted to move, but his legs felt like cement and steel and several other improbable and impossible things. Emma licked her lips.
That was distracting.
The dress matched his tie – blue and of course it was blue, but it fit and was good and great and his mind had kind of short-circuited at some point. Probably in between offering to retire and first steps and whatever she'd done to get her dress there on time.
"What exactly is it your face is doing right now?" Emma asked, and Anna cackled loud enough that Mr. Vankald yelled quietfrom the basement. They must have moved on to air hockey.
"Apparently freezing that way," Killian muttered. His first step forward was about as shaky as it had been for the kid still in his arms, but Emma kept doing that thing with her tongue and there was far too much visible skin with her hair up like that.
She hummed, nodding slowly and letting the smile move across her face and maybe he could alter his deal with Merida if it meant they didn't actually have to go to Casino Night.
And didn't have to stay there.
If they got to go somewhere.
Alone.
For a prolonged period of time.
Casino Night was going to be a very distinct type of challenge.
"It's not a bad look, honestly," Emma said, mumbling a string of words to Peggy when they moved close enough and Anna was going to laugh for the next seventeen hours straight. At least. She was probably trying to set some kind of record.
And she kept taking pictures.
"I think that was a compliment, Swan," Killian said. He had to move Peggy to brush his fingers over Emma's arm, but her eyes fluttered and Casino Night couldn't last that long.
Hours. God, hours.
"That was how it was meant."
He nodded, not sure how to keep talking when his mind was so focused on anything except talking, but the words seemed to tumble out of him anyway and he really liked making Emma blush. "Swan, you look…"
"Yeah, I know right?"
Killian grinned, that same feeling from before growing or expanding and he'd lost complete control of the English language, but the last month had been some kind of very particular type of athletic-based hell and...fuck it.
He ducked his head, still almost painfully aware of the daughter kicking what might have been his spleen or possibly his liver, catching Emma's mouth with his and appreciating the way she gasped against him.
It didn't take long for that to change, fingers in his hair and a body pulled flush against his chest when Killian wrapped a free arm around Emma's waist. She hadn't put her heels on yet, had to push up on her toes to reach him and that was a whole other thing that his mind absolutely could not deal with, particularly with Anna audibly gagging in the background.
"You are holding your child," she yelled, getting louder was Mrs. Vankald shushed her. The shutter went off again. And then five more times.
Killian didn't listen to her. Emma didn't stop kissing him, holding him there like she wanted to make sure he didn't disappear or suffer another potential career-threatening injury and they had to go back to the doctor in two weeks.
He didn't want to think about that.
Casino Night first.
Hours. Hours of Casino Night.
"We've got to go," Emma mumbled, but she'd never actually pulled away from his mouth and they'd probably scandalized Mrs. Vankald. Peggy didn't seem particularly pleased with the situation either.
It was definitely his spleen.
"Merida can handle it for a little while," Killian argued.
"That's probably true, honestly."
"See? Perfect plan."
"Are you guys done?" Anna asked, eyebrows lifted and a decidedly different look on her face when Killian twisted to glare at her. "Because El is going to pissed if we don't actually take pictures and-"
She pointed to the door, the bell ringing as if it were simply waiting for its cue and Mrs. Vankald's smile seemed to rival several different suns. Mr. Vankald yelled come in from the basement, Matt bounding up the steps and running to the door and it would have been impossible to miss Will's grunt when a four-year-old collided with him.
"What the hell is this?" Killian asked, as a line of tuxedo-sporting and dress-wearing people walked into the living room. Mrs. Vankald looked close to tears.
Mr. Vankald might have actually been holding a film camera.
"What does it look like, Cap?" Will asked, Matt hanging off his shoulder and Belle hovering close by so no one injured something. Ariel kept rolling her eyes.
They were all dressed. And all there. Smiling and on theme and everyone's tie was a slightly different shade of Rangers blue that somehow all kind of went together and that might have been another lesson.
"It looks like you're breaking into my house," Killian said. He hitched Peggy further up his side when her fingers found his tie. "Improbable upper-body strength," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her hair and Mary Margaret took that picture.
"This is not your house, Cap," Ruby said reasonably. She and Mary Margaret were already circling around Emma, waving hands and talking about orders and it was a mess of words and shouts and incredibly expressive faces, kids running and trying to climb on other kids and Roland had already challenged Matt to a shoot-off at some point.
"I'm going to go ahead and take credit for all of it," Mr. Vankald said, just loud enough for Killian to hear and Mrs. Vankald nodded in agreement immediately.
"For what?" Killian asked.
"The plan. Although I do believe Elsa wrote it down and sent it to everyone."
"She did," Robin confirmed, an arm around Regina and they both had far too much black on. "There were a considerable number of bullet points."
"Ah, well, that's always been Elsa."
"She's practicing for taking over the world," Phillip yelled. He was still lingering in the archway between the living room and the foyer, Aurora tight against his side and Killian's head snapped to Emma when he realized.
She moved at the same time.
Honestly, the lessons were starting to get a little absurd at this point.
"We weren't going to say anything for awhile," Phillip said lightly, but the room had gotten almost too silent and Mary Margaret had her hands on her cheeks. Mrs. Vankald was definitely crying. "But this team never does anything the way it's supposed to, so, you know…"
"You know," Killian echoed.
Phillip shrugged, fingers drifting towards Aurora's stomach and he probably wouldn't have noticed if he didn't look, but it was almost too obvious now and they both kind of looked like they were glowing.
Or something less ridiculous and cliché than that.
Emma kissed his cheek.
"I really didn't want to fall on the ice," Aurora muttered, hissing in a breath of air that was probably part of the apology too.
"Yeah, I get that," Emma nodded.
Will groaned when no one said anything else, a quick apology to Matt when he almost fell off his shoulder and both Killian and Emma lunged at the same time. "Ok, first of all, I need you guys to stop being crazy parents," he said, holding up his hand like that helped him make his point. "Let Rook and Aurora do that now. You guys are old news."
"For the record we did not agree to being rude at any point tonight, " Ruby said, knocking her knuckles against Will's shoulder. She made a face at Peggy.
"Second of all," Will continued, ignoring Ruby and Ariel was going to give herself some kind of complex if she kept sighing like that. "Were we going to confirm the news, Rook or were we all just supposed to assume?"
"There's not really much to assume," Aurora answered before Phillip could. She smiled, a little nervous and a little excited and Killian understood that too. Emma's fingers laced through his. "It's uh," she added, pointing at the small swell of her stomach. "Getting kind of obvious. We just…"
"There's been some stuff going on," Phillip said.
Ruby groaned. "We really weren't going for rude."
"That's not rude," Killian said, squeezing Emma's hand lightly and her thumb brushed over a scar on the back of his palm. Mrs. Vankald wasn't even trying to stop the tears from falling now. "What exactly was your plan though? If it wasn't more next-gen announcements."
"Aw, Cap, you can't just use Post headlines for your own emotional needs," Robin grumbled.
"Too late. Answer the question or I'll tell Liam to stop feeding you gossip."
Robin's eyes widened, Will snickering behind him, but that ended as soon as Matt kicked dangerously close to the bruise on his thigh. "I'm not going to send you anymore film then."
"I won't need it."
The room froze again, jaws dropping and gasps sounding far too loud and Phillip's hand had drifted entirely on top of Aurora's stomach now.
"No, shit," Robin mumbled, making a noise in the back of his throat when he realized what he'd said. "I'm just...really?"
Killian nodded. "I'm assuming it'll be easier to get that when Arthur is also trying to get me to fix your piece of garbage power play. Sorry, Rook."
"Ah, I can't screen the net as good as you, Cap," Phillip shrugged. "And, uh, just for the record as it were or whatever-"
"-We're having a baby," Aurora finished, as happy as Killian had ever heard her and she'd been the one to come up withthat drink after they won the first Cup.
There were more cheers and something that might have been an attempt at applause, but they were all trying to clap each other on the back and make sure no one ruined someone else's outfit and Mary Margaret cursed softly under her breath when her phone ran out of storage.
"It's all just videos of Pegs wobbling around," she said. "And Leo doing pull-ups."
Killian grinned. "Pull-ups?"
"In the playpen. You guys may have gotten to the walking marker before we did, but we're really gunning for strongest kid under four."
"So just Leo and Peggy?"
"Yes, exactly that."
"We didn't think it was fair to include Matt," David added. "The kid can already skate blue lines better than any of you, so it felt wrong to lump him in."
"Yeah, that's what's wrong with it," Emma mumbled, but she was still smiling and still holding Killian's hand and that dress still looked absurdly good. Hours of Casino Night. He was going to buy everything in the silent auction to make sure it ended quicker.
"Can I have my picture now?" Mrs. Vankald asked loudly. She was standing on the couch, hands on hips and a determined look on her face. Killian's jaw was never going to recover.
"Was this the plan?"
"Of course it was. Was that not obvious?"
"I mean…"
Will saluted, swinging Matt back onto the floor. "Sure thing, Mrs. V. I mean, you were the biggest loser of the Peggy walking bet."
"What?" Killian and Emma yelled at the same time.
Mrs. Vankald looked unperturbed, but her balance wasn't perfect on the couch and it was difficult for her to shrug while she was trying to make sure she didn't fall on top of David. He kept moving his hand behind her. "He's exaggerating," she promised. "It wasn't nearly that much."
Mr. Vankald shook his head when Killian gaped at him, but he looked entertained by the whole thing and they were absolutely going to be late.
"Where do you want us, Mrs. V?" Belle asked, fixing Matt's shirt and trying to make sure Roland's hair laid flat.
It took far too longer than it should have to get them all in order – lined up in the foyer like they were going to prom or the Locksley-Mills holiday party and fancy dress competition. But they got there eventually, Belle and Ariel working with Mrs. Vankald to organize everyone while Anna shouted about height and color coordination and the camera she gave Mr. Vankald to use looked impossibly expensive.
"Now you all know what you're getting for Christmas," Mr. Vankald said, cars honking from the street and coats pulled out of the pile they'd all left them in as soon as they barreled into the brownstone.
"You want to make out in the backseat of the car?" Emma asked, finally in heels and tall enough to whisper the word against his ear and Killian wasn't sure what was happening to his entire body, but it wasn't all that unpleasant and her tongue pressed into the corner of her mouth when he turned towards.
"An absolutely ridiculous amount."
She laughed before he could say anything else – or start in on those forty-seven I love you declarations – pulling on his tie and brushing her lips against his.
They might have embarrassed that driver.
And they never needed to be worried about Husinger because the fucking asshole, as every single one of them referred to him at some point over the course of the night, didn't bother to show up.
"I thought Sam and Joe were going to drop their index cards," Emma muttered, pacing in the back corner of Gotham Hall. Killian could still hear the music playing around the corner, fans laughing and betting and the video poker thing had been a really good idea.
Will kept losing.
"They didn't though," Killian said. He caught her around the wrist when she spun, eyeing her meaningfully as she collided with his chest. "It's fine, Swan. The whole thing is better than fine."
"He's a goddamn fucking asshole."
"Yes."
"Like. The worst person on this team."
"Yes."
"Possibly the league."
"Eh, that's doing him too much of a service, love. And you don't have to worry about him."
"You can't punch him again."
Killian chuckled, kissing the top of her head and a piece hair had come undone at some point. He was only slightly positive it was actively trying to kill him. In that only slightly abandoned hallway. There were a questionable number of waiters at this event.
"Have I told you how wonderful you look tonight?" he asked, pulling them back towards the closest wall when anotherwaiter nearly tripped over both of them.
"Not in so many words."
"Wonderful. Beautiful. Incredible. Stunning?"
"Why was that last one a question?" Emma asked. She shifted her weight, resting both her palms flat on his chest and his eyes fell to the laces around her wrist – a third generation pair, which probably wasn't the right word at all, but he was already preoccupied with adjectives and feelings and whatever happened to his pulse when he remembered they were hislaces.
A slightly possessive, melodramatic, absurdly in love with his life idiot.
With an occasionally flimsy understanding of the English language.
"I feel like I've used that one before," Killian muttered. They were in the goddamn hallway, and he knew someone would come look for them eventually – there was only so much he could ask of Merida in one night and Emma's walkie-talkie was lost somewhere – but he really would walk away from all of this if it meant she got what she wanted and deserved and there was just so much open skin in front of him.
So, really, he could not be blamed for ducking his head and kissing along the curve of her shoulder and the slight jut of her collarbone and-
"If you actually leave a mark there, I'll punch you," Emma warned.
"Your insult leaves a bit to be desired when you sigh it out, love."
"That's not even fair."
"How easy it is to read you or…"
"The kissing thing," she muttered, one hand gripping the front of his jacket and the other moving into his hair and if they didn't get out of that hallway soon Killian was fairly positive he'd go crazy. That might have already happened. "You think they're going to fine him?"
"Who?"
"Killian!"
"I don't know," he admitted. "And I really do not care. I hope so. If only because he's a fucking asshole and despite how fantastic all of this has gone, I know you're worried about it."
"That obvious, huh?"
"A little."
"Add that to the not fair list."
"Ah, I'm around for the long haul, Swan," Killian said, brushing the strand of hair behind her ear. They needed another car to make out in. "Something was bound to stick. And you did fantastic here. Again. Indefinitely."
"I feel like you're just saying words now."
He shook his head, fingers lingering on her cheek and he hoped his heart didn't actually beat out of his chest. That probably wasn't good for his ribs. Ariel would be pissed. "Honest," Killian said. "As honest as I am capable of being."
"That's another line."
"A fact. A resoundingly true fact that should have been obvious from the get-go."
"It was," she said. "Although I'll be honest the two kids did kind of make it a little more obvious. Prove your worth or something."
"Duly noted."
She smiled, letting her head fall forward and Killian's hand landed on her hips from years of practice and want and making out in rented cars. And hallways. There were a lot of hallways. "I love you," she muttered.
"I'm not worried about Husinger. Arthur'll probably scratch him, honestly. That was a..."
"Fucking asshole move?"
"Exactly that," Killian said. "It's not his team. It was never going to be his team, but I don't care about him. The only thing I care about is you and your event-planning sanity and how soon we can get home."
Emma leaned back, mouth twisted slightly and it really was difficult to maintain his train of thought when she stared at him like that. "I love that word," she whispered, like she was admitting to the biggest thing in the world and it kind of was and the waiters that were absolutely staring at them absolutely did not matter.
"I love you."
"Oh, smooth."
"Honest," Killian repeated. He pulled her forward, another kiss and another moment and more than anything felt far too small for all of it. For all of them.
"You're really going to help Arthur? With the team, I mean?"
There was a wall behind him, so he couldn't actually get much space between them, but that seemed kind of counterproductive to his final goal anyway, and Killian just hummed in agreement. His fingers kept moving over Emma's dress.
"You tell him yet?"
"Nah."
"You should do that."
"Yeah?"
"Wow, we went from all these sweeping speeches to just one-word questions, huh?"
Killian laughed, hands lingering on the small of her back and everything felt slower and bigger and possibly life-changing, but he couldn't really figure out why. "I love you," he said again, Emma groaning at the deflection.
"If I tell Mer I'll remember to eat lunch on my own for the next month, do you think we can sneak out of here without anyone else noticing?"
"Depends on how much you mean it, I guess."
"Ah, well, you'll be at the Garden too, right?"
"Are you asking me on lunch dates for the next month, Swan?"
"Something like that," she smiled.
"This place have a back exit?"
"If you get a cab I can get Mer and we can be gone in ten minutes."
Heart explosion, right on cue. "Make it five," he muttered, a smirk on his mouth even after he kissed her or she kissed him and it didn't matter because they somehow made it three minutes and the cab driver gasped when he realized who they were.
Killian was never entirely sure how they got into the apartment building. It was a mess of roaming hands and quiet sighs and Emma's hair in between his fingers, lips latching on her neck again as soon as the elevator doors closed behind them.
It took an inexcusable amount of time to realize neither one of them had actually pressed a button.
That probably had something to do with Emma's leg hooked around the back of his calf.
Everything.
It had everything to do with that.
He was on some kind of honest kick now.
And he dropped his keys twice when they landed in front of their front door, Emma behind him and hands under his jacket. Her fingers drifted dangerously close to his belt, a quiet laugh echoing in his ears and beating out in tandem with the pulse that was, quite obviously, trying to work its way out of his body and evolve into its own sentient being, just to prove how much work it was doing in the moment.
"Distracted," Emma muttered, dragging the word against the side of his neck and Killian had to rest his head on the door to catch his breath. She laughed again.
"That's your fault, Swan."
"We just ditched the biggest event of the season, I think we both have to take some blame for the situation we're in."
"And what," Killian started, turning quickly enough to take her by surprise and he'd probably think about the noise she made when he backed her against the wall for, at least, the next forty years. "Exactly is the situation we're in?"
"Trying not to actually undress you in the hallway."
He groaned – not sure if it was the words or her hands or the glint in her eyes, but it was probably all of those things and Emma smiled like she'd won every single bet this stupid team had ever made.
"I love you," he said, possibly closing in on forty-seven at this point. He'd kind of lost track in the cab. It was definitely at least twenty times.
"Yeah, I think I heard that somewhere. Several press conferences."
Killian laughed against her mouth. His keys were still on the ground. "Just the one, love," he said, but that felt bigger too and he had no idea how his shirt had come half untucked. "We've got to move, Emma, or we're going to get kicked out of our own apartment."
She hummed, fingers under his shirt and brushing over his hip and they didn't move, couldn't move, or wouldn't move and, honestly, the English language was irrelevant. "C'mon, Jones," Emma muttered, tugging lightly on his tie and he had no idea what noise he made when she grabbed his keys. "I hate looking for new apartments."
They didn't make it out of the living room.
Which, really, was kind of absurd if Killian stopped to think about it, but he was having a difficult time remembering anything that existed out of few feet around him and was more than willing to linger in absurd if this is how it all worked out.
Emma bit her lip, standing there with her dress around her ankles and her hair hanging over her shoulders and he must have actually said c'mere because she moved, legs on either side of his hips and they both laughed when the couch creaked.
"This is ridiculous," Emma muttered, but her hips were moving now and there were only so many times Killian's brain could short-circuit before he just died. That would have ruined the night. Probably.
"Romantic, this is romantic."
"Yeah, so says you."
"Are you not charmed, Swan?"
"I mean…" The rest of her sentence got caught in her throat when his fingers moved, mouth back on hers and heart beat pounding in his ears and he smiled when she mumbled God, like that against his skin.
They never actually picked up their clothes.
They were still in a pile hours later, phones forgotten somewhere as Killian's fingers drifted over Emma's side. It was a precarious position, balanced on a couch that quite clearly was not meant for two adults, but moving felt like some kind of insane notion and he was fairly certain Emma was close to falling asleep.
Until she started talking again.
"I'm not going to do it."
Killian's fingers stilled, eyebrows furrowed and he couldn't quite see her. They hadn't ever turned the goddamn lights on. "I'm not going to do it," Emma repeated, voice a little surer that time. "The league job, I mean. I don't...I don't want it."
"What?"
"Did you actually not hear me or was part of that confusing?"
"I mean, kind of both," Killian said, propping his head on his hand. Emma squeezed on eye shut. "Swan, are you...are you sure?"
"Yeah," she answered immediately. "I mean...it's a great job and a good opportunity, but I don't.." She sighed, the lights from the street reflecting on her face and there was an ambulance driving up the block. It was always so goddamn loud in that city, but it was difficult to fall asleep without the noise too, and Emma didn't blink when she met his gaze again. "I'm home and maybe it makes me selfish, but I don't want to leave that. This team and these people and your tendency to proclaim things in print are…"
"You've got to finish your thoughts, love."
He didn't mean for it to come out like that – part plea and part need and his eyes closed when Emma traced over his jaw. "More than anything, right?" she asked.
"Indefinitely."
"That's not what's going to happen. This is...I know you think this might be it, but I don't believe that. I won't. It's...that's not who we are. Not anymore."
"Not for a very long time, Swan."
"Exactly," she said, pulling herself into his eye line. "I don't want it. I can still do good here."
"Better than good."
"A line."
"A fact," Killian said. "You're sure though?"
"You don't have to keep checking. I'm positive. Which is something I never really thought I'd get and you-"
"-Nearly fucked that up."
"No," Emma countered, grazing over the bruise he'd been careful not to lean on and her smile wasn't something he'd ever get used to. That was probably for the best. He didn't want to ever get used to that. "The opposite of that. I am...ridiculously happy with you, you know that?"
"Ridiculously?"
"You don't get to make fun of word choice. Not all of us have presser availability."
"How many times do you think you're going to mention that?"
"Probably until it stops making me swoon. So I wouldn't hold my breath."
He kissed her. There was no other option. Really. That wasn't even hyperbole. That was another fact and another feeling and he was going to breeze by forty-seven times. "C'mon, love, I'm going to hurt myself if we stay out here," Killian said, standing up and holding a hand out to Emma. Her fingers were warm.
"Old man," she muttered, but the insult got lost in her laugh and her smile and they didn't move their clothes until the next morning.