Hello, everyone! This is a (quite possibly silly) bit of fluff that I dreamed up from my own ridiculous fondness for watching (even when I'm laughing at the craziness of it while I do!) "The Bachelor" and "Bachelorette", and then wondering what in the world Killian Jones would make of this unbelievable drama we actually call "reality". The rest just followed from there. It's set roughly parallel to season seven, but where we get to see the newlywed pirate and princess set up their home together and enjoy another version of the domestic day-to-day that many of us would have enjoyed onscreen. Their little girl is on her way, but not yet born, and Henry is off searching for his own story.
Obviously, I don't own OuaT or any of its characters, nor would I ever claim to have a stake in "The Bachelor"/"The Bachelorette" franchise.
"Reality and Roses"
By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on )
"Swan! Swan!"
Emma struggles not to snort through her nose as she picks up the two plates full of Chien Po'sChina Kitchen takeout she has dished up for them. They've already stuffed themselves on Crab Rangoon and Won Ton Soup anyway, but that doesn't quell her desire for Sweet and Sour Chicken, nor will it stop her pirate from having at least half his new favorite carryout Beef and Broccoli (though he would swear up and down that preference was untrue if Granny Lucas were present). Lately, Emma could swear that she has become a bottomless pit in this her third trimester of pregnancy. She can eat Killian under the table hands down, regardless of the food, but Chinese has been her go-to craving.
She doesn't even know yet what it is her captain wants to tell her, but the shock and almost affront in his tone lets her know ahead of time that it's one of those gentleman fish-out-of-water, Land Without Magic things that still, almost two years into their marriage, manage to shock and baffle him. Clearly, leaving him to channel surf for their evening's entertainment on the "magical picture box" as she dished up the main course has paid off in one way or another, if only for her momentary amusement.
Entering the living room once more, a plate in each hand and curiosity – she's sure – painted across her face, Emma is not at all surprised by the way Killian seems to snap to attention from the rapt focus he had been training on the television. In seconds, he is on his feet and at her side, taking one plate from her and gently ushering her ahead of him back to the couch before which their drinks, utensils, napkins, and the demolished remnants of their appetizers are strewn across the coffee table.
"My apologies, Love," he murmurs, rubbing his nose along the bend of her neck and shoulder for just a moment, his warm breath ghosting over her skin bared by the boat neck sweater she is wearing and nearly making her drop her plate before she can put it down on their makeshift table and resettle in her seat. She bites her own lip in her surprised jolt of excitement and almost turns to grab him around the shoulders and pull him back in for a proper taste of those full, irresistible lips – the food can wait after all – only for him to sit back from her on the couch, looking embarrassedly shamefaced.
"What, Killian?" she asks, senses reeling and completely baffled, her hand settles on his bicep, grounding herself as well as letting him know he has her attention. "What are you apologizing for?"
Her adorable nerd of a husband gazes back up at her, a slight flush just barely visible through the unshaven scruff of his cheeks as those blue, blue eyes meet hers from beneath his dark lashes. "For making you get up and fetch the main course alone. You certainly are not my waitress, and I was coming to help you – truly. I could have sworn you'd been gone but a moment – I was right behind you! – and then this…this…bloody demon transfixed me once again." He gestures at the tv vaguely before turning to sheepishly study her face for signs of annoyance.
Emma can't help but shake her head, half exasperated and half humored. It would seem that as remarkable as her True Love is in so many other respects, he is every bit as susceptible to the gravitational pull of the television as any other man. Reaching out playful fingers to brush aside the longer fringe that has flopped over Killian's forehead, she then cups his cheek in her hand and pulls him to her easily, pressing a short, teasing kiss to the bridge of his nose. "No worries," she soothes with a genuine smile on her face as she meets his gaze. "I've told you time and again that I may look the size of a house and like I shouldn't be able to move, but being pregnant does not mean I can't do anything for myself."
His mouth opens, about to argue that he means to wait on her hand and foot, no doubt, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head and a kiss to his mouth this time – which almost derails them completely, her low hum of pleasure in the back of her throat causing them both to dive deeper, pulled together like magnets before she finally leans away, sitting back in her own space once more. "Besides, I'm the one who couldn't wait another minute for her Sweet and Sour Chicken," she adds, breaking the hold of his heated stare to spear one of the breaded poultry bites on her fork, dunk it in the pinkish-orange sauce, and quickly bring the morsel to her mouth. After swallowing with pure satisfaction, she prompts, "So, what was it you wanted to tell me a minute ago? Something on the tv?"
Killian jerks upright at that, eyes wide as he clearly remembers what had gotten him so up-in-arms mere moments ago. Gesturing to their television's screen, now advertising some sort of overpriced mop-and-broom-in-one wonder contraption, to which his eyes veer and Emma just barely stifles a giggle as her ridiculous neat freak almost loses his concentration once more to the advertisement's hold. But then, Killian focuses and looks at her in earnest outrage as he explains, "It was promotion for an upcoming program – one of those preposterous reality competitions." The disdain dripping from his words would be enough to send Emma chuckling again, this time at how seriously he takes his evening programming, if she didn't first press her lips together to forestall the outburst and then shove enough chicken in her mouth to keep busy chewing and not reveal how amused she is by the whole thing.
Killian isn't done though; in fact, he looks as if he would march right up to whatever powers-that-be control the network schedule, give them a piece of his mind and wave his hook under their noses for good measure, if he only knew where and how to find them. He's just gathering steam as he launches into the rest of his description. "Apparently some single, mildly attractive bloke is set up in a mansion while several comely young lasses jostle to woo him and win his hand. That has to be a mistake. Doesn't it, Swan? Why, the very premise is ludicrous. He can't date all of them at once! Who would stand for that?! They called it 'The Bachelor', but I must have it wrong. No true gentleman bachelor would behave in such a manner – nor try it even, if he possessed a lick of sense…" However, his voice trails off at this point, eyes narrowing as he truly registers the expression now covering his wife's face. "Wait a minute… Emma, why do you look like that?"
It's her turn to blush brightly and unsuccessfully try to avoid his eyes, though it does no good and only tips him off further. She had once been quite fond of The Bachelor – not that she'd have ever thought to tell anyone about it by choice – but the overly dramatic, outlandish guilty pleasure had kept her company on her couch with a pint of Rocky Road ice cream in that lonely apartment in Boston as she unwound after a long skip chase or stakeout more nights than she could rightly count. "Well, I don't know how many self-respecting gentlemen they really draw, but you'd be surprised what those 'lovely young lasses' as you put it, will stand for – and do – Killan. It's more intriguing than you'd think." This last is mumbled in a rush as she ducks her head and pretends to have difficulty getting an errant morsel of chicken onto her fork. She isn't necessarily ashamed of being a Bachelor devotee at one point, and Killian wouldn't judge her for it anyway, but she is abruptly struck by how absurd itall mustseem to someone who comes from the place and time he does, and with the sense of honor which runs so deeply through his veins. She flushes all over suddenly, floored by how blind she had been not that long ago, how little she had known back in those days on her own…just how different it is when those feelings the show plays on – when love itself – is True.
Killian's eyes bulge almost comically; she has to reach out to soothingly to pat his thigh, as he's entirely too distraught for his own good. "Emma, truly?" he asks, voice quieter but still almost aghast at the very concept. "He dates all of them?! The cad! How can you watch such poor form, Swan? It's atrocious!"
She grins mischievously at him, shrugging away her embarrassment and giving him a saucy wink. "Look, it's easier to just show you, alright? Tonight's Monday, so it will be on in…" she checks the clock above the fireplace, "about half an hour. I'm guessing that's what the commercial was about. You can check out the season premiere for yourself, Pirate."
Her husband huffs indignantly as if he has no desire to do any such thing, but by the time eight o'clock has rolled around, he has finished his meal, taken both their plates back into the kitchen, brought her a bowl of the restaurant's specialty pineapple sorbet for dessert, and settled into his place on the couch again, with her feet gathered in his lap.
As the program starts, Emma points out various routine practices and occurrences on the show, explains how this or that usually works, and Killian seems grudgingly engrossed despite his nobler intentions. When the appointed Bachelor flubs one of his prospective mates' names at the cocktail party, Killian scoffs loudly enough to draw her attention. Glancing sideways, she challenges, "Think you could do better, do you? That's a lot of names to keep straight!"
Killian however doesn't miss a beat, sliding his gaze across to capture hers with twinkling charm, "Any decent suitor has ways of holding onto those names which matter," he counters smoothly, waggling his brows at her in flirtatious come-on.
Emma does snort then, but at least partly to cover the way he makes her breath catch and her heart start beating faster.
Her husband is smart enough not to gloat at this, though he easily notices and reads her as well as ever, merely nodding with a secretive smile and gathering her close to his side as she leans over on him while they continue to watch. When it reaches the stage where the chosen man is going on his first intimate date with one of the women and the pair onscreen are sharing a romantic candlelit dinner, Emma tilts her head to look up at her handsome husband, studying his beloved, scruffy profile and sliding her hand over his solid chest to slip under the typical, partially-unbuttoned collar and rest her palm tenderly against the warm, inviting skin right over his heart. "So, a little more romantic than you figured, Captain?" she questions curiously.
Killian chuckles lightly, giving a tiny bob of his head in acknowledgment, but when he turns to look back into her eyes, Emma sees clearly that he has not yet played his last card. Reaching the bared stump of his left forearm, brace and hook long since removed this evening for comfort's sake, to rest beneath her chin and gently turning her face to just the angle he is after, Killian bends to kiss her slowly, languorously, stealing her breath and every thought of reality dating, exotic locales, or winning their little debate from Emma's mind. When he does pull back, just enough for them to each draw a bit of air, their lips still only centimeters from each other, the low rasp of words he intones in that voice she can't ignore sends shivers all the way down her spine. "Aye, my love, I do see the appeal." He runs that devious tongue over his lower lip before going back to hers for another taste and nearly making her melt into the couch cushions beneath them.
At their next pause, he gathers her closer still, nuzzling his nose with hers, their foreheads resting against each other before he looks into her eyes seriously, his question now truly concerned, "But even so, people do not seriously think that a deep relationship can be formed in this way, do they? Surely you would not have gone on a show like that? Competed that way as if love were a wrestling match or choreographed script?"
Emma tilts her head to the side as she considers his question, shrugging noncommittally when she answers, "Well, no, probably not. I mean, I definitely didn't think they were finding real love. But as a lark…who knows? I mean, they got to travel, be pampered, live it up. It might have been fun."
"Fun, hmm?" Killian murmurs at her temple, his hand now gently resting on her swollen stomach, the warmth truly comforting, even as she knows he is about to challenge her again. "Well, be that as it may, lass, luckily you are now married to an illustrious pirate captain fully aware of how to woo a lady and able to take you any place in this realm, or any other, on the fastest, most marvelous ship in existence."
Emma smiles up into his gorgeous face before resting her head on his shoulder and relaxing into his touch for the long haul. "You're forgetting the real difference that I finally understand," Emma whispers to him lightly. "Back then, I didn't believe love existed anyway. It didn't matter if what they were selling on tv was a scam, because I didn't think what we have was possible. Just like you said in Neverland – not until I met you."
Killian's pleased agreement rumbles in his chest, and Emma feels the vibrations pleasantly throughout her own body where she rests in his arms. The fancy jewelry, ball gowns, televised proposals, and celebrity serenades they see before them on camera, none of that holds a candle to this man with whom she now shares her life and her home.
And so, when Killian comes home from the station at dinnertime two nights later, and surprises her in the kitchen by kneeling before her and holding out a single yellow buttercup to match the bloom inked on her wrist, and asks if she will accept his token, Emma can hardly be surprised. Nodding and grinning with perfect glee – and thinking how much prettier this simple flower that reflects her more than any red rose ever could – her smile feels as though it might split her face completely in half. Emma finds herself giggling as he stands and somehow manages to sweep her off her feet and spin her around, impressive baby belly and all. "Well Love, since you have accepted this formerly hopeless bachelor's proposal, you are entitled to the all-expense paid trip to the destination of your choice I've arranged. We leave Saturday; anywhere you want to go, one more magical getaway before the little one arrives. It's all taken care of."
Swept up in the romance and surprise of her husband's plan, Emma Swan-Jones can only marvel at how her reality is so much better anything she could have imagined.