AN: Apologies to those of you who are following this drabble series and have been waiting for the next chapter. A few months ago my younger brother passed away unexpectedly. As you might expect my mind was on other things so I wasn't up to writing anything. Watched a couple of episodes of OUAT today and felt like trying to write something. This isn't one of my best chapters but I hope you enjoy it and can wait patiently for the next update particularly as I don't know when I will get back into writing at all.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bailey's liqueur or the board game Monopoly.

Chapter 7

151. She has the phobia Scriptophobia… The look of terror on her face had caused him to accidently spill his whiskey and her attention had been diverted to his disaster…Emma had briefly mentioned her fear but never told him why she had it.

Killian was absolutely thrilled with himself. He had managed to convince Swan to sit and have a cup of hot chocolate, with cinnamon of course and a small meal with him. Granted it was only because Granny's was particularly full on this rainy Sunday lunch time so he had, had very few options of seating choice.

Seeing the chair in front of the Saviour empty and devoid of coat or bag to indicate someone else having lunch with her, Killian had leapt on the chance. Literally leapt. The chair had made a awful screeching noise when he collided into it and his hook had caught on a glass of water on another table.

It was a scene he, nor anyone else in the diner, was unlikely to forget anytime soon. The snickers of laughter had reached Killian's ears and when he glanced at Swan he saw that she was looking amused at him but not laughing.

To his horror he had begun to blush, something he couldn't remember doing in – well forever- not in the last century or so.

Emma had seen the blush rising up and bless her soul had saved him, glaring at the rest of the diners and kicking the chair out from the table so Killian could sit. It seemed Swan didn't mind laughing at Hook as long as he didn't mind being laughed at. (another thing that would end up on his list at some point; that she sticks up for people no matter how villainous they might be).

After the chair/glass/water incident everything had progressed quite smoothly. He'd managed to order her a cup of chocolate, with cinnamon, and himself a cup of tea before managing to quite deftly and suavely manoeuvre the conversation onto the different foodstuffs available in the modern world.

Everything had been going swimmingly. Until some eager parent came over to their table with a card and a pen.

*Killian*

"Excuse me? Sheriff Swan?" The man, who seemed really nice and friendly, stood beside their table with the bright pink and sparkly card clutched in his hands. Killian didn't recognise the man as being any of the major players or people in Storybrooke and so guessed the man was a peasant in the Enchanted Forest or something along those lines, supporting character, the one who never gets named.

"Yes, are you alright?" Swan replied and she licked her lip deftly removing the foam from her hot chocolate from her lip. Foam probably didn't help her look professional but Hook thought it was cute.

"I'm fine, thank you!" The peasant-man seemed overjoyed that she had inquired about his well-being. "I was just wondering if you would mind signing this birthday card for my little girl?"

Killian being in love, or possibly in love with Emma Swan, had by this point turned his attention back to Emma. He'd dismissed the peasant in favour of studying Emma's face whilst she wasn't looking. This decision however allowed him to catch the flash of terror and horror that passed over Swan's face in a split-second.

His hackles raised Hook watched carefully as Emma glanced around the diner at all the people eating and noticed the few whose attention had been drawn to their table. Hook also saw how she grabbed at the jug of water on their table and began to claw for a glass.

Concerned Killian lifted his own glass and placed it into Emma's hand and the shock of the icy-cold glass against her overly warm and sweaty palm caused the Saviour to look him in the eye.

The look of fear and horror and worry caused Killian to do something he would never normally do for a woman. He embarrassed himself again.

He swung his hook out to the side just as he heard one of the waitresses coming by and caught the tip of his hook in her sleeve. The result was that the meal she had been carrying, pasta covered in cheese sauce with a side order of salad, chips and onion rings went flying through the air and landed splat-bang on Killian's head.

There was a cacophony of gasps throughout the diner and then silence fell with only the rattling of the plate as it ricocheted on the ground to break the tense atmosphere.

"Oh my god!" The waitress whimpered and fell to her knees to grab the plate. She then proceeded to catch the cheese, chips, onion rings and salad bits that were dripping off Killian's food-soaked head and body. "I am so sorry! It's just, well, your, Hook, I mean your hook got caught and well, oh god!"

Titters were already breaking out across the diner and Killian was glad of the cheese sauce coating his cheeks. The thick, gloopy sauce would make sure nobody saw the violent blush that was spread across his cheeks nor the humiliation in his eyes.

"Hook!" Emma exclaimed and she quickly stood and came round to help him get some of the food off.

"It's quite alright lass. Happens all the time." Hook said winsomely to the waitress who was now sat on the dirty floor with the plate of mangled food in her hands and tears trickling down her cheeks.

"Right," Swan took charge. "Let's get you back to my place and you can shower and I can wash your clothes and you can borrow some of David's in the meantime."

"Sounds like a plan love, you get to see me without my clothes, maybe this was meant to happen!" Hook said cheekily as they left the diner.

*Killian*

Much later, after Killian had showered and dressed in some of David's clothes, he was sat with Emma at the bar in the kitchen area and they were both slugging back shots of various alcohol substances.

They had long since drunk the rum and Killian had moaned to Emma 'Why is the rum gone?' which had sent her into a fit of giggles. They were now onto something that Emma called vodka and every now and again they'd ease the burn in their throats with something called Bailey's.

"Thank you by the way." Emma said suddenly. The mood changed in a split second and Hook found himself feeling almost sober which was quite a feat considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"For what love?" He asked and stared at her profile intently. Swan, he had noticed, said a lot without saying a lot. Or that is she said a lot through body language and her facial expressions so sometimes if her mouth, head, heart or whatever were getting in the way he could tell what she meant to or wanted to say by watching her face.

"For making an idiot out of yourself for me. For noticing that I was absolutely terrified out of my wits at being asked to do something so bloody simple. For caring enough to do something just so I wouldn't have to cause a scene."

He licked his lips nervously before carefully constructing a sentence. It wouldn't do to undo all the progress he had made in just a few short hours because he said something stupid because of the liquor.

"You're quite welcome Swan."

Emma looked at him in surprise.

"Don't you want to know why I suddenly panicked?"

"Only if you want to tell me. I made a fool out of myself, by myself. You aren't indebted to me in anyway. If you do want to tell me then that's fine, if you want to tell me in two weeks that's fine, if you want to tell me in three years that's fine, if you never want to tell me that's fine too."

It was Emma's turn to lick her lips nervously and she followed this up with a swig of Bailey's.

"It's called Scriptophobia. It's a fear of writing in public. Something as simple as that."

"Alright lass." Killian said and he plucked the Bailey's bottle from her hand before she could pour another shot of the creamy liquid.

He then stood and filled the kettle before rummaging around in the cupboards and finding all the necessary items for making tea. A few minutes later they were sat playing Monopoly and drinking a relaxing cuppa.

*Killian&Emma*

That was all they said on the matter at that time. It wasn't until years later when one night, after several hours of adult fun, where they finally finished with Killian and Emma curled up on their sides facing each other that Emma told him why or how she had discovered or developed her phobia.

"I was young, young enough to still be really hopeful about getting fostered with the right family, the ones who would keep me for more than few days or weeks. The foster home was having an open day, one for prospective parents to come and see the foster home, meet the kids. It was kinda like having a special sale for children: come and see them before you commit."

Killian smiled wryly and wound his fingers with Emma's before squeezing gently, a silent reassurance that he was there and he was listening and that he cared about her past just as much as she did.

"Well, the carers said we should all draw or write or paint something. They were going to decorate some of the rooms and corridors with our pictures so that the people visiting could see some of our talents. I couldn't do any of that, drawing or writing or painting. The previous foster homes I'd been at hadn't been big on letting us kids have or use our imaginations. So I did my best with the little bit of knowledge I did have. One of the older kids took pity on me when I'd spent an hour and only had a wobbly stick figure and a wonky house to show for my efforts.

He carefully and slowly made dots on the page and then gave me a bright red pen and told me to join the dots up. Eventually I finished and he told me I'd spelt and written out my name. I studied the shapes of the letters for hours and copied them over and over again."

Killian rubbed his thumb over Emma's white knuckles. She had clenched her hand in the middle of the story and the gentle motion over soft skin made her relax her hand with a wry smile.

"Anyway, the following day the potential parents came round. We were all dressed in our best clothes and smiling excitedly. A few couples seemed interested in me and it all seemed to be going well until one of the children who was with another couple showed them their artwork. The couple I was with wanted to see mine, so I led them over to the picture of the wonky house and the wobbly stick figure and my carefully drawn name.

One of the other children, an older girl, made a comment that it had taken me an hour to draw it. The couple I was with said it didn't matter and asked if I could write my name for them, show them what I had learnt. And I just couldn't. The pen felt so heavy in my hand, and the letters that I had studied so carefully the day before were just squiggles in my head. My tummy began to roil around like I was on a ship and I felt absolutely terrified.

I just sat there and cried in front of the blank piece of paper."

The hitch in Emma's throat caused her to stop with her tale and Killian leant over and placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. She giggled slightly and rubbed her head against the pillow before carrying on.

"When all the couples and potential foster parents had left the home, and all the children had stopped teasing me for not being able to do anything, for not being interesting I managed to do it. I wrote my name out perfectly. Ever since then however I have found it really difficult to write in public.

Luckily most of the time I don't have to. Sheriff work is normally a bit more active than writing. The odd occasions where I do have to write in public, I try to use short and simple words so that the terror doesn't overwhelm me. Most of the time its simple things like signing my name and as long as I know I have to do it beforehand, I can psych myself up to do it. But being caught by surprise like at Granny's diner, all that time ago, I couldn't."

Killian gave Emma a soft smile and pulled her close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her back with his stump.

"Thank you." He said and he could feel Emma's grin on his shoulder.

*Killian&Emma*

151.2 Because she trusted him enough to tell him the story behind her phobia. Because she never, ever had any trouble writing in front of him and she even delighted in writing when he was watching. The smile that would break out on her face when she saw their names side by side at the bottom of a card was one of the most beautiful things she gave him.