"Swan."
"Don't talk, you're distracting me."
"I'm distracting you?"
Emma stopped abruptly, head tilted to the side and she was ready for the smirk, anticipated it, could feel it practically boring a hole into the side of her head the entire time she'd been pacing, but that didn't make it any less effective and he absolutely knew it.
The smirk was absurdly powerful.
Killian arched an eyebrow.
And that was like some kind of level up in the video games Roland and Henry spent hours playing.
Emma clicked her tongue, shoulders slumping when she huffed out an exhale and she had to keep blinking because the smirk was absurd and the lights in that doctor's office were far too bright. Like they were trying to tell her something.
She hoped it was something good.
Or, at least, not bad.
She would have accepted either.
She was really hoping for good.
"Maybe the distraction is a good thing," Emma mumbled, moving forward when Killian pulled himself to the end of another examination table and she probably wasn't supposed to be pacing. But she was fairly certain her legs didn't care about the rules or regulations or how goddamn bright those lights were because she kept moving and pacing and hoping.
She was brimming with hope.
And want. But want sounded far more selfish and she didn't want for her, didn't care about any of that, just wanted this to be good and possibly great and great felt even more absurdly selfish.
"You didn't call yet," Killian said, not a question, a statement and an understanding and the absolute truth.
Emma shook her head deftly, lips quirking when one of his hands landed on her hip and she didn't realize she was that close to him already.
Her legs should have been studied.
They were probably doing something miraculous.
She hoped the world didn't waste its undoubtedly limited supply of medical miracles on her restless legs. That would have been absurd.
"I haven't had time," Emma lied. She'd had plenty of time. She'd had more time than she could remember having in seasons and that might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but it was pretty damn close and she was stalling because the deadline was looming and she'd have less time again next week.
That was a confusing sentence.
She was stalling. That was the point.
And Killian absolutely knew.
Strangers on the street probably knew at this point. Ruby had definitely been talking about it to Merida, hushed conversations the day before that ended as soon as Emma turned the corner.
"Why?" Killian pressed, tapping a finger on the side of Emma's jeans.
"Why haven't I had time?"
"No."
She sighed again, drooping slightly but that only made it easier for him to work his arm all the way around her and this could not have been appropriate doctor's office behavior. Not when there were diagnoses coming and announcements practically hanging in the air already and-
"How does your head feel?" Emma asked, ignoring whatever he did with his eyebrows when she tried to change the subject.
"It's like you didn't even try, Swan," Killian mumbled. He tucked his thumb under her chin, lifting her gaze back up to his and she couldn't really think when he did that. He knew that too.
"Rude."
"You want to circle back around to the actual part of this conversation I'm interested in?"
"Absolutely not. Answer my question."
He laughed softly, a quick brush of his lips over hers and Emma didn't try to chase after him, but that worked about as well as the whole lying thing had and they were going to rip the table paper again. She hoped it offended Victor.
She was kind of mad at Victor still.
"I'm fine, love," Killian promised, and she squeezed one eye shut trying to listen for the hitch in his breath, the same tell Matt had when he promised he hadn't tried to get on the ice at practice, but there wasn't anything there. His voice was calm and even and something bordering close to confident, which was an exceptionally dangerous look on Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers and whatever word that wasn't advisorbecause they weren't allowed to use that word and he hadn't skated yet, but he'd stood on the ice the day before.
Progress.
Or baby steps.
Or something.
Possibly a miracle.
If Victor would ever show up and tell them anything.
And Matt had absolutely gotten on the ice at practice the day before too.
"Yeah?" Emma asked, absolutely hating how small her voice sounded to her own ears. The smirk disappeared almost immediately, softening and possibly warming her entire soul, which might have been the real miracle, honestly, and Killian's hand landed on her cheek like there were magnets in loved.
"Yeah."
"But, like, for real?"
Killian laughed again, fingers pushing into Emma's hair and he didn't tug her forward exactly, but the intent was clear and she would have gone willingly anyway. That felt important. "For real, love," he said.
"Because you'd tell me, right?"
"Yes."
"I'm serious."
"Swan," Killian grinned, and she wasn't sure if he even realized his thumb had started moving, but it was and there were goosebumps on Emma's skin and she kind of wanted to start pacing again. She needed to make a list of things she had to do before the deadline.
There had been some rumors about Husinger.
She should have asked Ruby about that when she saw her gossiping with her assistant.
"How come you haven't called Tink yet?" Killian asked, a smile on his face when Emma scrunched her nose. "And don't tell me it's the schedule. It's not. I know it's not."
"How do you know that? You've been trying to fix a shitty power play for the last two weeks."
"And surprisingly enough that doesn't mean I don't have room in my head to worry about you too. Also they scored last game, so I think that proves my point."
"Which is?"
"I honestly have no idea," Killian admitted, and maybe the genuine smile was more effective than the smirk, but it also might have been whatever he was doing with his fingers and Emma kind of wanted Victor to take a little longer so they could keep flirting.
"It's all Scarlet's talked about for the last two days. And it was a good goal. I don't know why he wasn't shooting from the circle before."
"Because he's a defensemen. So he's only ever played point, but he's got enough strength on his shot that he could score on that one-timer more often than not. He just has to change his mindset. Think about scoring before he tries to punch someone."
"Seems ineffective on a power play."
Killian hummed, a flash in his eyes that had been decidedly absent over the last few weeks and the butterflies in Emma's stomach didn't make sense, but she knew he'd be good at this and maybe she was a little proud.
It was bigger than that – more important and supportive, but she'd never actually gotten that refresher on the English language from Mary Margaret. Maybe that's why she was avoiding talking to Tink.
And she was, like, at least eighty-five percent certain Merida was screening her calls again.
"You don't have to be worried about me," Emma said, suddenly remembering that word being used and she hadn't been trying to yell. But the words seemed to fly out of her, a bit sharper than she intended, and Killian's eyebrows jumped.
"No?"
"You are injured. We are in a doctor's office."
"For potentially good news," he pointed out. "No headaches in like...three weeks?"
"Why don't you know that? Shouldn't you know that? God, should I know that? I probably should have been keeping track, right?"
She tried to pull away, to start pacing again, but Killian's left hand moved and he'd twisted his leg around hers at some point, effectively cementing Emma to the spot. "It's really not fair that you're still that strong," she mumbled. "You haven't even worked out in weeks."
"I've been paid to play sports for awhile now, love, I think it takes some time for muscle mass to just disappear."
Emma rolled her eyes – mostly so he didn't see the blush in her cheeks, but that was like telling him to not notice mistakes on the power play and she really wanted them to win later that night. In several different ways.
The flirting was obviously messing with her head.
"See," Killian grinned. "You can't even argue it. You know, Swan, I think you're vaguely attracted to me."
"Vaguely."
He did something absurd with every single inch of his face, shifting eyebrows and quirking lips and the color of his eyes should have been illegal. "And," he added softly, "Red mentioned we might be able to get back to a regular PT schedule if things go well today."
Emma blinked. "What? When did she say that?"
"After the game on Wednesday."
"And you just figured you'd mention that now?"
Killian sighed, eyes falling closed and head close to crashing into Emma's collarbone when it dropped forward. "It wasn't some secret, Swan," he muttered. "She wasn't sure. It depends on today and what that specialist says and how the several dozen tests I just endured play out."
"I don't think that's how you wanted to phrase that."
"Probably not."
"And it really wasn't several dozen tests. You're incredibly dramatic."
"Yeah, that may be true."
"It's absolutely true," Emma said, brushing hair away from his eyebrows and she couldn't stop whatever her heart did when his breathing evened out as soon as her fingers moved across the back of his neck. "It's going to be ok," she whispered. She didn't know who she was trying to convince. It might have been her. It might have been those strangers on the street who knew she was avoiding talking to Tink.
She didn't look up – absolutely could not because that would only lead to making out in the doctor's office instead of just flirting in the doctor's office – but Killian's hand moved, fingers tracing up her spine until everything seemed to settle and Emma knew he was smiling at her.
"I know it is," he said. "No matter what they say."
"That was dramatic too."
His hand shook slightly when he laughed, an uneven pattern that was actually almost more comforting than anything else. "I know it is," Killian repeated. "You want to talk about this phone call you're avoiding now?"
"Not really."
"You've got to call her, Swan."
"That is incredibly stupid."
Killian chuckled, lips ghosting over her temple and the top of her hair and Victor was probably avoiding them now. There was no way any of this should take this long. "Is Merida screening your phone calls and emails again?" Killian asked.
"I've got some very strong suspicions."
"We should probably buy her something at some point, don't you think?"
"Like the entire island of Manhattan?"
"It'd run much more efficiently then."
Emma nodded, stepping in between his legs when he moved and they were treading far too close to making out than was entirely responsible. His fingers had shifted under the hem of her shirt at some point.
"Way less traffic on the West Side Highway," Emma mumbled, burrowing into the crook of Killian's shoulder.
"They'd build her a statue in Times Square. Right next to George M. Cohan."
"I have no idea who that is."
"Honestly?"
Emma leaned back, eyebrows furrowed and confusion practically radiating down her spine, but Killian's eyes were still impossibly blue and Matt was going to try and get on the ice before the game that night. They were both the world's biggest pushovers.
And Will kept sneaking him on.
Maybe Will was just irresponsible.
"Do you know who that is?" Emma asked skeptically, but that was a stupid question because, sometimes, she was certain Killian knew everything and then some and Victor must have been curing several different diseases in the time they'd spent waiting. That was the only excuse for how long they'd been in that room.
Killian nodded. "Composer, actor, probably a bunch of other words. It's been a very long time since I've seen that movie."
"What are you saying to me, right now?"
"Swan, you've been in Times Square before."
"Not if I can help it."
That worked another laugh out of him, an easy grin and fingers that were probably possessed or something less awful-sounding than that and Emma didn't remember resting her hands on his thighs, but she could feel the muscle even through the jeans and they needed to get out of that doctor's office.
"Mrs. V and Ruth should probably get together and compare record collections at some point," Killian said. "Although Ruth might be a little more wild than Mrs. V is entirely prepared for."
"That's the most ridiculous sentence I've ever heard."
"It felt ridiculous while I was saying it, honestly."
"Does Mrs. V have some kind of record collection? Is that where this is going?"
Killian nodded. "Exactly that. And a penchant for old Hollywood movies, of the musical variety."
"God, do you think she just like...floats on a cloud at all times? I do not understand how she is a real person."
"That seems like a compliment."
"It was," Emma promised. "We should buy them a gift too. I felt like shit for forgetting their Casino Night tickets."
"Honestly, it's probably for the best that you did, Swan. They would have been stunned we snuck out before it was over."
Emma blushed before she could control the heat in her cheeks, lips tugged back behind her teeth and eyes a bit wider than usual. She was going to shave Killian's eyebrows off in the middle of the night.
"Are you sure about this, Swan?" he asked, any trace of laughter forgotten when they abruptly turned into the serious portion of the conversation. Emma's eyes got wider.
"I have no idea what you're asking me."
"The job. Are you sure?"
"Crystal. Or, no, that's the wrong cliché, right? That doesn't make any sense."
"I think the context clues helped."
"So, then, yeah, I'm one-hundred percent sure," Emma said, meaning every word, but it was clear Killian was still a bit cautious and a little worried and he was worried about her. That wasn't right at all.
She wasn't the one with trauma.
"Because you could…" he started, trailing off when Emma shook her head. "You've got to at least let me finish the sentences, love."
"I don't," Emma argued. "Not when they're sentences we've already said and I'm just being an enormous coward about it."
"That's the part that worries me."
"Worry about your power play, coach."
"Don't let Gina hear you use that word, it's probably against my contract."
"And probably won't make a difference if Victor ever decides to show up."
Killian licked his lips, eyes tracing over Emma's face like he was looking for something very specific and it was almost too obvious he found it when he kissed her. Hard. She didn't quite sigh against him, but it was awfully close and she was still kind of swooning over that press conference, even the thought of it leaving her a little lightheaded and kind of dizzy and this all needed to work.
They needed to win later.
And indefinitely.
"Thank you," Killian said, pressing the words to the curve of her jaw. Emma hadn't been expecting that.
"What?"
"Thank you."
"No, I heard you. I just...don't get it."
He stared at her incredulous, disbelief etched into every bit of his face and the laugh he let out was as surprised as he'd ever sounded. "Swan," Killian breathed, shaking his head and blinking and Emma got the distinct impression he was trying to convince himself she was still there. "This is...well, the whole thing has been God awful hasn't it?"
She let out a shaky laugh, only slightly frustrated at the tears in her eyes and whatever her pulse was doing. "Yeah. I'd really love if we didn't do this again."
"That makes two of us. But you are…" He inhaled, sharp and a little unsteady and the goosebumps were everywhere now. She assumed there was no air conditioning in that doctor's office. "Everything," Killian finished. "You know that? Everything."
"You are on a drama roll," Emma muttered, mostly so she didn't dissolve into some kind of tear-stained puddle. Killian practically beamed.
"Absolutely true. It's probably the effects of the MRI."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"I'll ask Victor."
"He'll lie to you."
"Isn't that against some kind of oath?"
Emma shrugged. "Probably. I'll call Tink later today. But let it be known, for posterity and bragging rights or whatever, that I'm doing this before the deadline."
"The day before."
"Still counts."
"It does," Killian agreed, brushing across her cheek and the side of her neck and Emma wasn't entirely in control of whatever her teeth did to her lower lip. "If I say thank you for all of this again are you going to call me dramatic?"
"It would be."
"Then I won't do that."
"Yeah, don't do that," Emma muttered. The smile was tugging at the ends of her mouth though, calm and home and hopeful all rolled into one, enormous feeling that felt a bit like her own personal sun sitting in the pit of her stomach.
The drama was, apparently, catching.
"I am though."
"God, that's still doing it. You're just using different words. And that's stupid."
"Stupid?" Killian echoed, Emma nodding emphatically. "How do you figure?"
"Because we're a team, right?"
He didn't freeze – she could still see his shoulders moving and his chest moving and he must have moved his arm because his fingers laced through hers, thumb landing on top of her laces like he'd discovered another metaphorical magnet. He didn't smile either, though, just stared at Emma like she was the world and the universe and something to be thankful for.
Indefinitely.
"Yeah," Killian said, but it sounded like a promise and Emma was dimly aware of the door opening behind her. "We are."
"Are you guys kidding me?" Victor asked sharply. "You're in someone else's office."
Killian didn't look away from Emma. "Be a better doctor then."
"That has nothing to do with any of it. And I am a fantastic doctor." Emma opened her mouth, several pointed and slightly inappropriate opinions sitting on the tip of her tongue, but Victor sighed loudly and Killian had to press his head into her shoulder to stop from laughing too loudly. "Yeah, yeah, that's hysterical, Cap. You're the funniest man in New York, you know that?"
"At least in the Tri-State area, Victor, give me a little credit."
"After the shit you've put me through in the last month? Absolutely not."
"Ok, there's no need to be a complete ass about it," Emma muttered, and Victor looked properly abashed at that. Killian kissed her cheek.
"Victor, what's the name of the oath you took?" Killian asked. "The one not to be a complete and utter dick."
"That's not what I agreed to, Cap."
"Maybe you should have. You know we have to get back to the Garden at some point, right?"
"Strangely enough, yes, I am aware of the schedule."
"Really not selling it."
Victor glared, narrow eyes and thin lips and the lights reflected off the stethoscope around his neck. Emma was going to strangle him with it. "Hippocratic," he bit out, pushing on Killian's shoulder like that would get him to do anything. They were probably just going to scowl at each other for the rest of the day and Emma would never call Tink back.
That didn't seem like a particularly bad option.
And, really, she wasn't sure why she was avoiding it.
She meant what she said. She didn't want the job, wanted home and this team in some kind of never-ending absurdly fairy tale type of way, but her phone seemed to be taunting her now and she'd finally started to be able to breathe easier.
She'd slept perfectly for the last two weeks. And slightly imperfectly after Casino Night, but that was neither here nor there and also kind of nice and she was only a little worried she and Matt were going to do damage to Mary Margaret and David's ears in the team suite on Wednesday night. They'd both cheered very loudly for that power play goal.
Selfish.
That was the word for it.
She didn't want to shake the metaphorical boat or start worrying again and it was all easier to ignore than acknowledge and she wanted to know what Ruby was talking to Merida about.
Husinger had been a healthy scratch on Wednesday.
"Ah, shit that's what it's called," Killian muttered, jerking Emma out of her own thoughts and she was only slightly surprised to find there was still a conversation going on around her. "I can't believe I forgot that."
"See, not nearly as smart as you think you are, Cap," Victor grinned. He sank onto the edge of the desk in the corner of the room, making some noise of approval when there was another knock on the door and the specialist from before was back.
She didn't have a stethoscope around her neck.
"Your bedside manner could use some work, Victor," Emma said, twisting when Killian tried to pull her closer to him It was a strange balancing act – she was still standing in between his legs and it probably wasn't all that professional, but Emma was still considering strangulation methods, so she figured she was losing whatever professionalism battle they were all staging.
It might have just been her.
Killian kissed behind her ear. "Stand down, love."
She huffed, but didn't say anything else and Dr. Tocorro smiled when she glanced at both of them. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Jones," she said. "Mrs. Jones."
Emma nodded, butterflies doing something entirely different than they had during the flirting and she hoped her heartbeat didn't sound that loud in the office. That would have been embarrassing. Tocorro didn't move. Victor didn't move.
This was absurd.
"So, were we just going to stand here or…" Emma muttered, Killian's laugh lingering in the air around her and possibly working its way into her. His hand tightened around her waist, a hold she'd almost forgotten was there.
That seemed important.
And also kind of absurd.
"We do have a game later," Killian reasoned. He glanced meaningfully at Victor, met with a pointed eye roll, and Tocorro dug the toe of her shoe into the linoleum floor under her. "And," Killian added. "A kid who very much wants to get on the ice before the game."
"I knew it," Emma said, not quite yelling and not quite turning because Killian's arm was still there and she wondered if he maybe was secretly working out still. She'd have to ask Ariel about muscle mass later.
"The kid's got a hell of a wrister," Victor muttered. "I think he stunned Jeff the other day."
"How do you know that?"
"Very chatty team and an even chattier athletic trainer."
"Naturally."
"You guys hear about Husinger yet?"
"What?"
Killian sat up a little straighter, palm flat on the curve of Emma's opposite hit and Tocorro looked incredibly uncomfortable. "What do you know, Victor?" he demanded, but they didn't have time for rumors or gossip when there was a specialist standing in front of them with news could that could change everything.
Tocorro coughed politely, head tilted and eyebrows lifted in unspoken question. Emma bit her lip. "I do have some news," she said lightly, Emma's heart lurching in her chest. Killian mumbled something, some kind of promise or guarantee he couldn't make even if there hadn't been headaches in a week.
"Don't look like that, Cap," Victor said. "It's fine."
Emma tensed. "What?"
"Fine," Victor repeated, taking his time on all four letters like that would make the word sound less important or possibly more important. The most important felt a little too dramatic, but it had been that kind of day.
"Well," Tocorro amended. "Fine is a bit of a-"
"-What?"
"Swan," Killian muttered, but her hair hit him in the cheek when she shook her head. They were the least professional adults in the entire NHL.
"An answer, Victor."
"Actually, it's got to be me," Tocorro said, a small smile on her face as she waved one of her hands through the air. The other was holding a clipboard that felt more official than anything else. Emma nodded. She hoped she nodded. She wasn't sure she had.
"With everything that happened," Tocorro explained, "the final decision has to be an independent source. Obviously I've consulted with Dr. Whale and even the staff in New Jersey, but the league can't afford another mistake or misdiagnosis and, well, as I said-"
"-It's got to be you," Emma finished. She needed to stop interrupting people.
"Exactly that."
"So?" Killian asked, an obvious and forced calm in his voice. Emma's lip was bleeding. She was going to have to call Merida if they were going to be late. "What's the exact, not quite fine part?"
Tocorro took a deep breath, stepping further into the room and Emma felt her shoulders straighten, trying to line up to the importance of the moment or simply fight against the sudden tension in the air.
Killian's hand tightened. She rested hers on top.
"I wouldn't go so far as to say fine," Tocorro started. "But it's...optimistic."
"What is?"
"The diagnosis. And the future."
"You're really going to have to be more specific than that," Emma said, frustrated when the sentence turned pleading and Victor almost looked at her in sympathy. "Please."
"Concussions are dangerous things. Possibly the most dangerous part of this game because there's no discussion about them. There are helmets and hits and everything should be fine, even when grown men are throwing punches at each other." Tocorro stared pointedly at Killian, the heat on his cheeks obvious when Emma didn't turn around. Her legs wouldn't move anymore.
That seemed ironic. And kind of annoying.
"I'm worried we're not getting to the almost fine part of this," Killian said. "And I haven't punched him again, so I don't think that's the issue."
Tocorro shook her head. "It's not."
"Then…"
"Then I wouldn't call you fine yet, Mr. Jones. I think you have potential."
"To?"
"Play quite a bit of hockey still."
Emma snapped her head around so quickly she was momentarily worried for the state of her neck, biting the side of her tongue in the process and there was too much blue in Killian's gaze when he gaped at her. The muscles in his throat moved when he swallowed, shoulders shifting when he took another deep breath that seemed to use all the available oxygen in the room.
"If we take our time, Cap," Victor mumbled, and Emma didn't think before she kicked at his outstretched ankles. "God, fuck, Emma, stop it."
"I am honestly going to murder you with your stethoscope," she warned. "Where did you go to school? Why do you have a job?"
Victor paled, and Tocorro might have gasped, which was pretty fair. The whole thing was kind of...harsh, but Emma's heart wouldn't slow down and she couldn't catch her breath and she'd been so goddamn worried.
She couldn't see through the tears in her eyes.
"Swan," Killian muttered, but she squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head and it felt a bit like Peggy. It didn't matter. She was entitled to her quasi-breakdown after everything. "It's ok, love," he continued, moving his thumb across her cheek and just under her lower lip. "It's going to be ok."
Emma nodded, eyes still closed and she could practically hear his smile when her head fell back to his shoulder. They were probably making Tocorro uncomfortable.
"What does all of that mean?" Killian asked. He had to sit up straighter to actually look at the doctor, Emma masquerading as some kind of ragdoll while she let him support most of her weight. Her legs were honestly the worst part of her body. "There was concern I wouldn't be able to play again," he said. "How did that...did something change?"
"You listened to the rules," Victor said quietly. "Emma, I swear to God, if you kick me again, I'm going to make you wait outside."
"Yeah, I'd like to see you try," she growled. He didn't say anything else. She took a deep breath, jumping next to Killian and letting his arm wrap around her shoulders. "Seriously though. Playing quite a bit of hockey sounds incredibly optimistic."
"That's because it is," Tocorro nodded. "But as Dr. Whale so bluntly pointed out, Mr. Jones wasn't exactly following the rules in the last few weeks."
Killian clicked his tongue, cheek pressed against the side of Emma's head and maybe the Hippocratic Oath should include a shorter medical explanations.
"Concussions aren't simple," Tocorro said, ignoring Emma's not-so-quiet huff when she started repeating herself. "They're difficult enough to diagnose and even more difficult to treat. It's, more often than not, a waiting game, particularly with post-concussion syndrome. And it's encouraging to hear that Mr. Jones hasn't suffered anymore headaches or vision issues in the last three weeks. The MRI looked positive, there hasn't been any sign of other issues-"
"-What kind of other issues?" Emma asked sharply.
"Swan."
"What kind of other issues?" she repeated.
"Some post-concussion syndrome suffers experience anxiety and memory issues. Concern about what's going on with their body and the future and how to deal with the symptoms. But, as I said, Mr. Jones clearly isn't. Still knows how to work a power play even off the ice."
Emma blinked, Tocorro's smile wide and knowing. "Yeah," she muttered, and Killian's lips brushed over her hair again. "That's definitely true."
"The concern a few weeks ago was that the fight would have reaggravated the issues we were dealing with originally. But there was no sign of another concussion and no sign of any symptoms since then."
"Which means more hockey?"
"That's up to Mr. Jones."
"What?" Killian asked. Tocorro didn't flinch.
"Up to you. And your family, of course. You've suffered concussions in the past, yes?" Killian nodded. "Multiple injuries like this are dangerous. Incredibly. But I do believe sitting for the rest of the season, limiting contact on the ice-"
"-I can get on the ice? Skating?"
Tocorro nodded. "Probably not for a few more weeks. I want a full month of no headaches, no spotty vision, no further symptoms, but, yes, I think that's possible."
Killian sighed, breath warm on Emma's neck and just behind her ear. She squeezed his hand tightly. "You said injuries like this were dangerous though," she said. "What...what does that mean?"
"It means it's not something you should hide from team staff. And that if it happens again, I can't guarantee anything. But, for right now, as long as things stay the way they are, there's no reason why Mr. Jones won't be able to play next season. I think we've waited long enough for another Cup, don't you think?"
Emma's mouth dropped, and Killian's laugh sounded as honest as she could remember hearing it. "I thought you were supposed to be impartial?"
"Oh, I am. But I've been around this sport for a very long time and dealt with a lot of athletes and a lot of families and…"
She trailed off, shrugging slightly like that explained anything. Emma was worried she was suffering from oxygen deprivation.
"She's saying you guys exist on another level of athletic type support," Victor said.
Emma shook her head. "Do you think before you speak?"
"Not when I'm so consistenly frustrated with Cap."
"You have to be careful, Killian," Tocorro said, a sudden return to serious and proper that made the whole thing feel incredibly official. "You're playing with something that's very important and another hit like the one you sustained in Jersey could really keep you off the ice for the rest of your life. Do you understand that?"
"Crystal," Killian said. Emma smiled.
"Good."
There were more instructions and physical therapy schedules that Ariel had probably come up with the night before and Emma nearly forgot whatever gossip Victor knew about Husinger. It was difficult to worry about that when Killian kept pulling her back to his side and nodding intently every time Tocorro told them something and his mumbled thank you in Emma's ear as soon as they slid into the backseat of a cab didn't feel quite as dramatic anymore.
It felt like everything.
Which, honestly, was good considering the rest of her day.
The Husinger rumors seemed to be spreading like several different types of metaphorical wildfires – trade talks ahead of the deadlines and discussion on the subReddit about Arthur's preferential treatment or so said David over a string of text messages that were mostly just caps lock and exclamation points Emma was so distracted she almost forgot it was an hour before puck drop when she heard a knock on her door.
Mary Margaret smiled at her. And Matt was already talking. "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom," he shouted, running into her office and leaping into her lap and it kind of hurt to have the wind knocked out of her, but it had been that sort of day too and she hugged her kid far too tightly.
"What? What? What?"
"I scored on Jeff!"
Emma didn't lean back, was far too aware of the precarious state her chair was in, and Mary Margaret's smile widened. "Killian took video," she said, stepping through the open doorway and sinking into the chair across from Emma's desk. "It might have been the single most adorable thing I've ever seen. Barring that thing Leo did last night."
"I thought we weren't comparing children."
"At least within age-type reason."
"Ah, of course," Emma grinned, but the whole conversation was a little surreal already and Matt did not seem hindered by the shirt his face was pressed into. He just kept talking.
"Mom," he whined, and Emma did her best to look entirely serious and entire enthusiastic and she was definitely the second one.
"Who let you on the ice, Mattie?" That got him to stop talking. Mary Margaret was going to sprain her face muscles. "Dad?"
Silence.
Relative silence. Mary Margaret tried not to laugh.
"Reese's, that was awful," Emma muttered, but her eyes never moved away from Matt's face and he was wearing another Jones jersey. "And why are you up here? Where's David? Oh God, is David talking to Killian about the subReddit stuff because I really don't know if he can deal with that."
"Of course not."
"Then…"
"Am I late?" Ruby shouted, barreling into the office with what appeared to a bottle of actual champagne in her hands. Emma couldn't move her head quick enough.
"Late for what?"
"Mom, Mom, Mom," Matt said quickly, pulling on the front of her shirt and she needed to put her jacket back on before she went to the suite. No one was answering her questions. Mary Margaret might have been answering Ruby's.
"No," she said. "She definitely hasn't done anything yet."
Ruby tilted her head. "How can you tell?"
"Because she's talking about subReddit stuff."
"Aw, Em, you're not supposed to look at that. Hey, mini-Jones," she added. "I heard you wrecked Jeff during skate this afternoon."
Matt nodded, although Emma was fairly certain he had no idea what wrecked meant. "Mom, Mom," he yelled again, and she inhaled deeply eyeing him with something she hoped looked vaguely authoritative and slightly maternal. Her phone was ringing. "Can we go on the ice again later? I want to race Rol again."
"Again?" Emma echoed, Ruby wincing when she glanced her direction.
"Your husband is a great, big giant pushover. And Scarlet is even worse."
"Don't tell him that. He'll take personal offense to even the idea."
"Please, I know that." She sat down, somehow finding an inch of space on the arm of the chair Mary Margaret had commandeered. "You know what else I know?"
"No, but I've got a very strong feeling you'll tell me in detail soon."
"I know you went to the doctor's today." Emma's eyes widened, the the threat of her own headache lingering at the base of her skull, but Ruby didn't look deterred and Matt was blissfully unaware, still shouting about racing plans and wrist shots and that was definitely champagne. "And," Ruby continued. "I know that Ariel was very excited and possibly crying and you guys didn't want to make a big deal before the game, which is nice, but also kind of stupid and-"
"-God, get to the point," Emma sighed.
"We know that you haven't actually called the league back about this job," Mary Margaret said quietly, an unexpected hint of judgment in the words.
"So we're here to fix that," Ruby announced. "With emotional support and very expensive champagne."
Emma lifted her eyebrows, trying to read the label and scoffing when her gaze landed on the first few letters of Korbel. "Very expensive, huh?"
"Well, depends on who you ask."
"And I'm asking you?"
"Obviously," Ruby grinned, leaning forward to nudge Emma's blinking phone towards her. "End of the month, Em. And we're super psyched you're not leaving."
"But, like, way more sincere than that," Mary Margaret corrected.
Emma chewed on the side of her tongue. That was a mistake. "How do you know I'm not leaving? Also, technically, I wouldn't have. It was New York based."
Ruby made a noise in the back of her throat, an obvious disagreement that was almost as offensive as calling Korbel very expensive champagne. Mary Margaret sighed. "You know what we mean," she said. "Leaving us. Collectively. And we know because if you wanted to do this, you would have already."
"Plus you were totally freaking out about Cap," Ruby added. "Like. Freaking out."
Mary Margaret swatted at her side, another sigh and Emma kind of felt like she'd chugged all the shitty champagne in front of her already. "Understandably," Mary Margaret said. "We were all kind of freaking out. Collectively. Again."
"This is heavy-handed, Reese's," Emma accused, but it was also pretty goddamn nice and the kid in her arms was talking about power play success rates like he was the coach of the New York Rangers.
Maybe eventually.
Maybe.
Hope was as nice a word as home.
"That's the only way she knows how to operate," Ruby reasoned. She tapped on Emma's phone again, ignoring Mary Margaret's tongue click and Emma's eye roll and-
"No time like the present, right?" Emma asked.
"I mean, technically, it should have been last week, but you and Cap snuck out of Casino Night. So it's almost understandable that you were distracted. And I suppose beggars can't be choosers when dealing with the power of true love."
"That wasn't heavy-handed?" Mary Margaret balked.
Emma shook her head. "That didn't even make sense."
Ruby growled, low in the back of her throat and it probably would have been menacing if she weren't popping the top on the champagne, bubbles overflowing and Matt's laughter seemingly permeating the air and they were going to win the night.
The world owed them this game.
Or something less lame.
"Cover your ears, mini-Jones," Ruby instructed, and Emma wasn't at all surprised to see him do just that. "The sooner you make this shitty phone call, the sooner you can drink this shitty champagne in celebration of...I don't know, happiness with your very devoted friends and then you and your husband can tell us how the doctor's went today. Deal?"
Emma swallowed, mouth suddenly dry and eyes determined to set some kind of blinking record, and she knew she nodded when her hair moved on the back of her neck.
Tink answered on the third ring.
And the Rangers won – a lopsided victory over the Sabres that didn't mean much of anything because they'd fallen out of the Wild Card standings in the last two weeks and the playoffs weren't so much a goal anymore as some potentially impossible feat, but the power play didn't look like garbage and none of it mattered when they all piled into the restaurant that night.
"So, uh…" Will said, slouched in one of the booths with an empty plate nearby. Roland was on the other side of the table, curled into a ball in the corner with Matt against his side, both of them very clearly trying not to fall asleep.
Killian glanced at Emma, one side of his mouth tugged up. She shrugged. "What, Scarlet?" he asked, moving into her space and those magnets were really starting to get distracting.
"Are we allowed to ask questions or is that against the rules?"
"Oh my God, Scarlet," Robin groaned. "We talked about this."
"You did?" Emma asked.
Anna nodded. "In detail."
She refused to give Peggy up for most of the game, and her arms must have been aching by the final whistle, but they were all a little worried about what Peggy would be able to knock over if her feet touched the ground at any point. Killian kept mumbling baby thief under his breath all night.
"You didn't have to do that," Killian said. "It's not exactly a secret."
Phillip made a contradictory noise, quietly when Aurora flicked her fingers on his chest, but David did the same thing and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like subReddit rumors. "You've got to stop looking at those," Emma said.
"Where would you get your information from?"
"Probably the actual NHL players I know. And the team I work for. And, you know, the actual NHL player I'm married to."
She'd never heard an actual explosion, but there'd been several close calls in Emma's life – most of them seemed to revolve around that stupid hockey team and the even more stupid players, all of whom were far too involved in each other's lives and successes and it kind of felt like the walls were shaking.
Killian laughed.
Ruby was arguing with Eric about being behind the bar. His champagne was probably better than whatever they'd had in Emma's office.
"Wait, wait, wait," Robin stammered, waving his hands in the air. "Was that a confirmation on both things?"
Emma nodded. "It might have been."
"Em," Will groaned, sliding down the bench until his feet were back on the floor. "Are you serious right now? Straight answers. Both you and Cap."
"You keep making that face, Scarlet, I'm not going to know whose the four-year-old, you or my actual kid."
"That seems to suggest I'm also your kid in this scenario."
"No, because that's weird, but sometimes…"
"Ah, don't finish that sentence. Please."
She smiled, gasping loud enough she definitely woke up Peggy as soon as Will's arms wrapped around her and it was difficult to breathe. "You and Cap are both incredibly stupid, do you know that?" Will muttered, but the sincerity was honest and his arms were tight.
"If that's a compliment, I think you might have missed your mark a little."
"That's because I'm frustrated you didn't actually answer my question."
"Seems to be a trend, honestly," Emma mumbled, glancing over her shoulder, but Ruby brushed her off and Eric was already lining up shot glasses.
She waited a moment for her lungs to recover before turning back towards Killian, an unreadable expression on her face that made Emma's pulse pick up and the butterflies in her stomach returned, fluttering and flapping metaphorical wings and he bent his knees before Matt collided with his legs.
They were very well practiced.
"When?" Killian asked softly, and Emma knew he couldn't actually say the word louder, the threat of a shake in his voice and possibly his soul and they were going to ruin the psyche of everyone in that restaurant when they inevitably started making out.
"Before puck drop."
"You didn't-"
"-Win first, right?" Emma shrugged. "Everything after that."
"Emma."
"Nah, c'mon, that's really stupid."
"You're the most eloquent person I know."
His expression didn't change – still staring at her like several universes and every single trophy the NHL gave out and neither were doing much to help the butterfly army in her stomach, but they'd been doing this long enough that she was almost used to it.
Or probably would be at some point.
She hoped not.
"What did she say?" Killian ask. "Did you talk to Tink?"
"She was super pissed," Ruby muttered, grabbing a shot before Eric or anyone else in the restaurant could stop.
"No, she wasn't," Emma argued. Killian lifted his eyebrows. "She wasn't. She was...not super pleased, but I'm...I mean I kept ignoring her calls, I think she knew she was fighting some kind of losing battle."
Killian didn't nod, not exactly, but his tongue darted between his lips and Emma could feel his smile when his mouth landed on hers. Hard. Again. There were more shouts the longer they stood there, jeers and cheers and a few whistles that were either Will or Roland and Matt had started swatting at both Emma and Killian's arms at some point.
"Absurd upper body strength," Emma mumbled, somehow standing on tiptoes with an arm slung over Killian's shoulders. "I know, Mattie, I know. We're paying attention to you now, kid, I swear."
Matt grinned at them – a look that was almost identical to Killian's and someone's phone shutter snapped. It might have been everyone's phone shutter.
"Whatever," Will grumbled when Anna pulled his phone out of his hand. "I think you're just jealous I'm going to get more likes than you, little Vankald."
She stuck her tongue out. "Emma was right. You are a child."
"Can we actually get some confirmation here?" David yelled.
"He's law enforcement," Robin added. "You've got to listen to him. Those are the actual rules."
"That's not true at all," Killian argued, but his smile was still far too similar to the kid clinging to his side and Emma had more or less resigned herself to the swooning at this point. "You want to go first, Swan or…"
She shook her head. "Yours is way more exciting."
"Swan."
"Oh my God, one of you," Ruby groaned, still holding a bottle in one hand.
"Fine, fine, fine. Ok. So, uh, we went to the doctor's today."
There was a chorus of boos and more jeers and several shouts that they'd all stolen from the crowd at the Garden. It was absurdly endearing. "You guys are all horrible people, you know that?" Killian yelled.
"Nah, you don't mean that, Cap," Will promised, resting his forearm on Roland's shoulder. "Get on with the goddamn story, though. You still going to power play us?"
"You are terrible journalist."
"That's why I'm scoring one-timers now."
"Oh my God."
"Jones," Regina snapped, and her frustration might have been the only reasonable one. He winked at her.
"We went to the doctor's again today," Killian repeated, a look Emma recognized as discipline as soon as the peanut gallery started to groan again. They stopped immediately. "And nothing for the rest of the season, but I'm going to…" He took a deep breath, wrapping one arm around Emma and the other under Matt's legs and it was all so absurdly, stupidly perfect it was almost ridiculous. "I'm coming back next season."
Will might have jumped and Robin definitely whooped, Phillip sagging slightly against Aurora like he was exhaling any sense of stress and worry and Emma understood that. Her gaze barely lingered on them though, flashing around the restaurant and finding the face she was looking for far quicker than she expected.
There was probably a reason for that.
There always was.
And he'd probably volunteered to stay in the team suite so Mary Margaret and Ruby could ply her with shitty champagne.
David nodded once when Emma looked at him, smiling softly and easily and she almost didn't hear Matt's question.
"Dad," he whispered, burrowing against Killian's chest like he did when he was little. Emma bit her lip.
"Yeah, Mattie."
"Can we practice again soon? I think I can shoot that one'r."
Killian scoffed, but it was kind of a laugh and kind of relief and Emma understood that too. He looked at her, eyes a bit glossier than usual and her fingers kept tracing over the name on the back of Matt's jersey.
"Of course, kid," Killian promised. "Of course we can." And for the first time in weeks, Emma knew it would happen. "I love you," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.
"I know. I love you, too."
They toasted more than once, emptying bottles and ignoring any idea that this was against the rules of a regular season, and by the time they climbed into the backseat of a different car, two sleeping kids draped over both of them, Emma was ready for the feel of Killian's hand in hers and the muttered thank you in her ear.