A/N: Inspired by a prompt on Tumblr- I can be found thejollypirate. Anyways, without further adieu, here I present to you very little angst and plenty of that thing called 'fluff.'
For Killian Jones, being able to read minds is stupid, yet incredible. In so many ways, you can see into other peoples minds, understand them, read them, believe them. But there are times where it doesn't come in handy either. It's rather disturbing to be able to read someones mind, because personal thoughts and private space are no longer existent in his world. And thank the gods he learned the extent of his powers when he got older. If you were to ask seven year old Killian Jones, he would have freaked out about how crazy and awesome it would be. Now, he sits at thirty years old, a man in a fresh, yet stable relationship with the fussy Emma Swan.
But to the heavens and back, Emma Swan is everything he'll ever need. Her attitude and her complimenting beauty is nothing he'll ever be able to compare with any other woman in the world. And sometimes he wonders how he's traversed this awfully difficult path to get her to date him. Maybe it's the fact he can read her mind, but maybe it's also the fact of how similar their pasts are. They can relate and understand each other in those 'kindred spirits' kind of way. And he may only be a man who wants love, but he wonders above and beyond these ideas as well. He wonders of all the things he wants to offer her, he wants to question everything for a second time instead of having a one-time answer, he wants to do things out of his comfort zone, and he wants to please Emma to cloud nine and back. He's willing to do anything for this woman, because no matter the short time they've been dating, he understands her way too well, and he just wants to love her for all she is.
And to be able to read his Swan just as an open book even while preventing himself to read her mind, everything is clarity in front of him. Crystal clear. She struggles from a painful memories that tend to come back and haunt her at night until they linger into the chipper mornings. She finds it hard to trust new people, including Killian himself. She finds it difficult for herself to let down those strongly built walls to let people in. Speaking of that, those walls are familiar to him, because after learning of his brother's death, he nearly succumbed well under the darkness by fucking his way through every girl possible, and drowning himself in the grief of the bloody heavy taste of rum on his tongue.
But with Emma, gods, she makes him do things, she makes him emotional, she makes him lose his control over everything in the world. And he grants everything per her request. If she wants food, he gives him food. If she wants time alone, he gives her time alone. Really, it's like a dog following his admirable owner everywhere, and he will do nothing in the world to stop his relationship. She's made him stop falling into the devouring darkness, she's made him wonder how he can love so strongly, she's made him change. It's time for him to repay the favour.
Following her into a quaint, small town called Storybrooke, Maine, he rents himself a small apartment while she lives with her childhood friend, Mary Margaret. They're not exactly at the point where one's comfortable with moving in with the other, which he's totally fine with. It's what she wants, and he respects her choices, he praises her for being upfront, he admires her confidence. As for reality, time gets in between them, lives get in between them, and they don't end up spending too much time together. Does it bother him? Yeah, it really does, but he doesn't complain. He's proud of her for getting a Sheriff job for this small town, he's proud of her for finally taking that step out, and he's proud of her for just being herself.
But, the downside to their relationship is the fact he's not the most honest one. He hasn't said a word to her about his ability to read minds. He hasn't even approached her with the intention of speaking those words, because honestly, he's pathetically afraid of her denial. His truest, deepest fear is to lose her, because as much as Liam's death affected him, he's not sure how well he will fare if he loses Emma to some stupid thing he's been keeping a secret.
"Use your power for the good, little brother," Liam used to say to him, to remind him to use it for the better good.
Ever since Emma Swan walked into that little bar, ever since he read her mind which had the exact intention he was having back then- drinking away his troubles- their eyes had locked and there was immediate tension. There was an immediate connection of the sorts, because he could read her so easily, he could see the pain in her eyes, he could see the abandonment, he could simply see conflict. It wasn't like anything, or anyone he had seen before. "You're somewhat of an open book, darling," he had said to her that night, swirling his glass of rum in a seat beside her. "You've experienced something out of your grasp, one that seems to trouble you might I add," he told her, pressing the glass of rum to his lips, "and if I weren't here drinking away my very own troubles, I would very much like to know you a bit more, lass."
It was a very rough start, they even argued that night during their drunken stupor, and the next morning he had barely remembered everything as most of it went by as a haze. All he knew was that she had helped him get home, her name was Emma, and she had slightly curled blonde hair with mesmerizing green eyes of the emerald colour. It wasn't until a couple of days later where he had accidentally ran into her at the bar again, only this time, they were both sober enough to keep a better conversation up. Though, ultimately it had been the hardest things ever to try and get her to spill some information to him, all he felt was the pulling of his heart for this woman.
Funny thing was, they exchanged numbers only though they had texted back and forth casually a couple of times. He can still remember the first time she had texted him. She started it.
Hey, Jones. How you been doing? I haven't seen you around the bar recently.
My, I didn't think you'd ever text me, love.
You didn't answer the question.
Apologies. I'm fine I believe. That is if you consider laying in bed with an awful cough fine.
You're sick? The Jones I know doesn't get sick.
Well, then I suppose your theory has been obliterated from my sudden illness. It's bad form to make light of a man's misfortune, Swan.
Yeah, well whatever. Get better soon, Killian. Would you like me to bring y ou some alphabet soup? Will it make you any better?
I am not a child, so thanks but no thanks.
Suit yourself, mate.
I knew there was a little English in you, love.
In your dreams.
Ah, well would it surprise you if it were like that?
Get better soon idiot.
Thank you for your lovely words. Talk soon?
Absolutely.
They were like two big babies, but could you blame them back then? It was a flourishing relationship, being built from ashes of destruction and loss. Now, they're a growing relationship, the building blocks now being set in place. You could have told the old Killian Jones how he'd be crazy for going after a bail bondsperson who would never be the one for him, but look at him now. Proud and happy in a small town with the one person he truly cares for.
To make up for the lack of time they've been spending together, he brainstorms some ideas while he sits individually in Granny's Diner, drinking a cup of coffee. No matter how small the town is, the diner is quite cozy and a good place to hang out no matter the mood. He still remembers, very clearly, the first time he had the guts to ask her out on a date. Killian never stumbles on his words with a lady, but that night, he had completely humiliated himself in front of her. It took a lot of convincing, but she had finally agreed. Let's just say she was pretty much mindblown. Now just what exactly will he do this time, now that they're in a peaceful small town?
Plenty of ideas on his mind, but to keep the cliché out of it, he singles down to one idea. So, he spends the next day planning everything, getting everything properly in place. Once everything's perfect enough to his standards, surely to exceed Emma's, he drops by the station, only to notice that it's quite empty, only Emma sitting at the desk, flipping through some sheets. He's rather confused about why she's alone, and there's a look in her eyes, one of those analyzing ones.
He knocks on the frame of the wall which leads to her small office. "Hello, love," he greets with a smile.
She looks up from whatever she's reading, and she looks somewhat shocked of his presence. "Killian, hey. What're you doing here?"
"Paying a visit," he vaguely states.
Emma's eyes narrow at him, she's always been good at detecting when something's off. "No way, there's more to it than that."
"Quite perceptive, aren't you?" He chuckles. "Well, yes, there's more to the reason of why I'm here," he says calmly, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets.
She raises her eyebrow, a frown appearing on her face. "It's nothing bad, is it?" She sighs. "I know I haven't been spending a lot of time with you, but this small town has a lot more work to it than I thought."
Killian smiles and lets out a soft laugh. "No, love, quite the contrary actually. In essence, I've planned a little night out for us. Not much of a date, just a night for us, for you to let loose from your authoritative duties," he explains. "I was hoping you'd be free tonight."
"Uh, yeah! David said he was going to drop by and take the night shift, so I'm all free after eight." She's not lying. He's reading her mind again because it's an inevitable power.
"Fantastic." He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "See you tonight."
And so the rest of the day goes by as normal. He picks her up, and Mary Margaret rushes in with a load of questions about where they're going, and Killian can't stop the laughter welling up inside of him. Emma is practically eyeing her, scolding her friend for being such a gossip girl on her love life. Before she loses her mind, Killian insists it's time to go, and Mary Margaret gives him the this-is-not-over look. He flashes a mischievous smile at Mary Margaret before leaving the loft of their little cozy home, leaving hand in hand with Emma.
The walk is quiet, but they enjoy the night sky, and the gentle breeze that blows by them. And once again, he can read her mind when he looks over at her. Her mind is a jumble of messy thoughts, and he frowns in disappointment. He squeezes her hand gently, giving her a reassuring smile, before she returns the smile and kisses his cheek. They haven't really… kissed each other that much, only once on the first date, and that's a unforgettable good night kiss. They've been taking it quite slow, hence the reasons of not exactly moving in with each other, or doing that much out of their own element. Honestly, the kisses on the forehead and cheek is perfectly fine with him. She wants to take it slow, and he respects her wishes. He wants everything to go smoothly. (Even if his own desires are greater than hers.)
I wonder what Killian's intentions are.
Oh crap, I forgot to tell David about the paperwork he needs to sign.
Mary Margaret is going to kill me when I get back. Damn, Ruby is going to question me too.
This sort of feels nice.
Every single word is there in his mind too, able to see everything in her like a blinding light that flashes and reflects off a mirror. This woman is a bloody marvel, no matter how many times he can read her, think of her, and love her, he never tires of her.
Killian leads her toward the docks, slowly guiding her onto one of the wonderful ships he had been granted permission to use. He pulls on her hand playfully, standing at the edge of the ship. He smiles at her, jerking his head up to tell her to look up. And as of instant, she does, and he follows shortly after, seeing the bright stars shining in the darkened night sky. Though the small breeze nips at the edge of his ears, he's perfectly happy, as if time is standing still. He lets go of her hand and slings his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in.
"I know you'd like to take it slow, I respect that, love. But, I personally hated not seeing you for a couple days straight. I hated seeing you so focused on work, as if you were floating in the middle of space." His hands grow cold the more he has to say. "And I wanted for the night to just be for us. To gaze upon these wonderful natural phenomenons we have been gifted with. Each night I take a trip down here and look up, but do you know what these stars under the moonlight tell me, Emma?"
She hesitates on her answer, he can see everything in her mind, hear it, understand it. "No, not really," she breathes out as an answer, turning her head to look at him. "What do these stars tell you, Killian?"
He smiles, and looks back up at the stars. "No matter where I am, they always lead me somewhere. I've navigated the stars for years when I was younger, I knew what they meant- they would always guide me back to my home," he explains honestly, taking a breath in. "And I believe, they always guide me back to you." By the end of his explanation, he shifts his body until she's looking at him.
The glimmering at the edge of her eye catches him off guard. The Emma Swan he usually sees is a tough lass, never letting much of her emotions show through. The only time she's ever gotten close to crying was when she explained her tragic backstory. Her abandoned birth, her gruesome experiences in the foster system, her running as a petty little lost girl as a thief on the streets of New York, her broken heart from a man named Neal, her sudden confliction of emotions after Walsh's surprising proposal.
Why does he treat me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters? Why is this man so sweet to me? It's ridiculous. I don't deserve him, he deserves so much more than a broken girl.
I've lost everyone, I really can't lose him too though. He's given me hope, he's made me feel things I've never felt before. I gave him a chance, he took it, he's made the best out of it, and I should be thankful for having him. He's not Neal. He's not Walsh either. Just let him in. He moved to this damn town with me! He could have left, but he didn't. Trust him. He's different. He cares. He understands.
"Try something new, darling, it's called trust," he whispers, wiping the one tear that drops from her eye. "I promise, under these stars, that I am not someone who will break you heart. You know I hate breaking promises, love- it's rather bad form."
Holy fucking shit this guy and his words. How can I resist him? Out of all the things I see in his eyes, it's pure love. This isn't supposed to be an agonizing decision. And his lips. His perfect lips. I've refused them from mine for so long. I've been afraid of breaking apart again, what does he see in me?
"My heart's broken, Killian," she mumbles, her voice wavering slightly at the words.
"If it can be broken, that means it still works," he responds. "Do not think of yourself as someone undeserving of love, darling. Everyone deserves a little love, whether it be from friends, or family. Whether it be from a complete stranger, or a coworker. Don't be afraid to fall anymore. Don't be doubtful of who you can be, or who you are. Don't let your previous experiences dictate your future, love. Don't let it hold you back, because if there's anyone out there who knows you better than you know yourself, it's me."
"I know… I know how dumb I can be sometimes, but can you blame my uncertainty at all? Everything has always gone wrong with me, Killian. I just don't want to risk it between us either, because this seems all too perfect to be true," she finally says. "I don't want to lose you."
He feels his face soften at her words. "And I assure you that you won't lose me. Not unless you tell me to walk out of your life." He takes a second to think of something else to say. "Actually, I'd probably fight for you still even if you banish me from your life," he adds on.
After a second goes by, which feels like a really slow minute, he dips his head down and brushes his lips over hers, and at the contact, it sends unknown shivers down his spine. It's nothing like how he remembers their one good night kiss. This time, it's more than that, it's more full of emotions than anything else. It's full of unspoken words, though their voices are loud and clear now. His hand cradles the side of her head, strands of her hair slipping between his fingers, the silky texture smooth against his fingertips. It doesn't take long for her to respond, and at first he expects her to push him away, but she doesn't. Once they both pull back, he takes a moment to savour the feeling before he opens his eyes, a smile dancing on both of their lips.
"I love you, and I don't expect you to say it back, but I want you to know." Their foreheads bump together, and their noses brush against each other. "I haven't said this, because I've been afraid of letting you down for keeping this away, but, I have a superpower, Swan. And don't be frightened when you hear of what ridiculous nonsense you think I'm spewing out of my mouth. I can read people's minds. Every single thing you're thinking, I know."
She laughs softly. "That explains a lot of how you know exactly what to say at every precise moment. And just so you know, I have a superpower too. I can detect liars."
"So you believe me?"
"I have my superpower, you have yours. Did you really think you were the only one that has been gifted with such an odd ability?"
"No," he mumbles, "however I didn't know that it was a superpower of yours. I thought it was just your intuition as a law enforcer."
"Well-"
He lunges forward at her, pressing another kiss to her lips, because at that moment, she wanted to kiss again him again. Oh, this would be both satisfying and pure torture.
She gasps for air. "What was that for?"
"I can read you, Swan."