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“To Killian and Emma, the best bloody bail bonds people on the East Coast!” Liam toasts, raising his green monstrosity of a cocktail in the air and clinking it against Emma’s pint. David has the same concoction in hand, the result of a bet with his partner that they couldn’t handle the barman’s specialty, a cocktail by the name of Teakerbell, a chalkboard behind the bar declaring it “a one way ticket to Neverland, sure to give you happy thoughts and make you see stars!” The only ingredients listed were “tequila, gin, vodka and a pinch (or four) of pixie dust” - an apparent play on a Long Island Iced Tea. Clever. Emma doesn’t know what gives it its obnoxious shade of green, and she doesn’t want to know.
She can feel Killian’s shoulder shift against her own in the cramped booth as he raises his glass of soda to give his own toast. “To David and Liam, the biggest mother hens anyone could wish for!”
Emma laughs as the two Joneses start to squabble like children, sharing an amused look with David at the two men’s antics, and finally relaxes. It’s been a hell of a day.
Killian and she had set out from Boston early that morning after an informant had called them; Jake Hillehide, one of their most elusive skips, had finally reappeared in Rockport, a small town on the coast. Once they’d arrived in town, it hadn’t taken them long to find their man, tracking him down to a decrepit building near the docks. He had proved trickier to subdue than they had anticipated, but after a short struggle that left everyone involved with bruises and Killian with a cut on his cheek, they’d managed to cuff him, ignoring his insults and threats.
It was just as they were getting ready to leave that the door had been kicked open, and both Liam and David had burst into the room, guns drawn and ready to rescue their siblings, only to find they were late to the show.
Apparently Mr. Hillehide, under different names, was wanted in eight states for drug trafficking and numerous acts of violence. Both police officers, worried that Killian and Emma had been walking into something they couldn’t handle, had rushed upstate instead of, you know, calling them.
“As if you’d have listened,” Liam had scoffed when Emma had reasonably (at least in her own opinion) pointed that out.
And now here they are, sat in the town’s tourist bar (the Jolly Roger , of course Killian wouldn’t resist) after handing Hillehide over to the local police and filing the paperwork to make sure they got their check (their hefty check). Liam had insisted on Killian seeing a doctor for his cut to make sure he didn’t need any stitches. He didn’t, but it would probably scar; at least, that’s what the pretty doctor had said while standing unprofessionally close to her partner (in Emma’s completely unbiased opinion). David’s quip about “chicks digging scars” hadn’t helped in the slightest.
They’ll have a drink or two, get to the hostel, book another room, and head back to Boston first thing tomorrow morning. Simple.
______________
“Think of the happiest thiiiiings, it’s the same as having wiiiings!”
As she hauls her drunk brother down the corridor towards her and her partner’s room, Emma almost, almost lets him fall as he stumbles for the umpteenth time, too focused on his warbling to look where he is going. This time, he almost manages to trip her up too, making her swear in exasperation as he sings about being able to fly. If only; she’d let him float to the ceiling and leave . him. there .
“You alright, love?” Killian asks as he drags his own sibling, who – while just as drunk – is mercifully quieter, his mumbling too low for Emma to understand what he is saying.
Propping a now yawning David next to the door, Emma uses the key card to unlock it, pulling on her brother’s arm to make him enter the small room, closely followed by Killian and Liam.
“Oh no no no, you don’t,” she says as David starts trying to climb the ladder towards the upper bunk, his foot fumbling for the first rung. “Lower bed it is for you, buddy, I’m not explaining to your fiancée how you broke your neck in a hostel in Rockport.”
Ignoring her brother’s whining that he always takes the upper bed, she steers him towards the lower bunk, sitting him down to take off his shoes, not listening to his protests that he is not tired as he fumbles to take his jacket off. Sighing once again, Emma straightens up to help him, being careful not to bump her head on the metal frame.
Not tired, my ass , she thinks as she witnesses David, Boston’s 15th precinct’s best detective, lie down and snuggle a pillow with the drunkest smile she has ever seen.
How the hell did we get here , she thinks as she sees Killian struggle with his own cuddly brother out of the corner of her eye.
Nothing had been simple. David and Liam, despite their builds, had shown that neither of them, in fact, could handle their Teakerbells, leaving Killian and Emma to drag them back to the hostel. The plan had been to book either a second room or a bigger one, but once they had gotten to the hostel, they had been told that no other room was available in the building, or even in town, as some cheese festival was taking place that weekend and everywhere in the area was swamped. Killian and Emma had actually been lucky to get a room this late, according to the receptionist. Emma fails to see the luck in cramming four grown adults, two of them hammered, into a tiny room with a twin bunk bed, but oh well.
Running her hand through her hair as Killian wrestles a rambling Liam in bed next to David, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. There’s only one bed left for the two of them. A single bed. For two grown adults. Who will have to squeeze in to fit.
Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, she thinks desperately to herself.
Killian chooses that moment to turn around, his eyes immediately finding Emma’s as snores start to sound in the room. As usual, her partner seems to read her without her having to say anything. Scratching behind his ear, he tells her, “Take the bed, love, I’ll get a few blankets and a pillow and settle on the floor for the night.”
Emma’s spine straightens as she stares at the man in front of her, exasperated by his ridiculous notions of chivalry. “As if I’d let you sleep on the floor,” she scoffs, putting her hands on her hips.
“I assure you, Swan, it’s quite fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”
“Oh, have you?” she asks, taking a step towards him so they don’t wake up their siblings.
“Of course I have. Don’t you remember last Halloween?” he retorts, quirking his eyebrow as he slightly leans forward.
“I do, Jones. I do remember you sleeping on the floor in the living room. What I don’t remember is you sleeping right under two drunk guys who will probably want to puke their guts out some time during the night.”
This gives Killian pause. “Ah.”
“‘Ah’ indeed, genius. Now, if you want to be in their line of fire, feel free to ask reception for blankets. If not, then get ready for bed and up to safety in the upper bunk.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, love,” he insists, scratching behind his ear.
“You won’t, I’m the one proposing we sleep in the same bed.”
“Well, in that case, if you’re sure…”
“I am, otherwise I wouldn’t be suggesting it. You should know that by now, Jones.”
“Aye, Swan, I know,” Killian says, a soft smile playing on his lips. Before the moment can become more than a simple conversation between two colleagues who are about to sleep in the same bed, Emma grabs her bag from the desk in the corner and goes to the bathroom to prepare for the night. She’s glad her emergency overnight bag includes sweatpants and a T-shirt as night clothes, and not her usual shorts and cami. She’s already going to have to cuddle up to Killian for a whole night; she doesn’t know how she’d handle skin to skin contact.
She has known Killian for five years now, since he got discharged from the Navy and came to live in Boston near his brother. She had met him after he had been hired by Robin, her boss. They had clicked professionally from the start, forming “quite the team”, as Killian had said early on. On a more personal level however, she had kept walls between them, not letting him get too close. She had known from the start he was a dangerous one, with his smoldering blue eyes and smooth voice. A guy like that could only mean trouble. She’d been there, she’d done that, and she’d regretted it.
But as years passed, and as she’d come to know him, he’d managed to slowly slip through her walls, and before she’d realized what was going on, her attraction for him had turned into unshakeable feelings. Unshakeable feelings that she’s managed to keep to herself until now; she can’t let them cloud her judgement, too much is at stake here – not only her work relationship with Killian, but also their friendship. She values it too much to put it at risk.
Once she’s finished with both her nightly routine and with her thoughts, she exits the bathroom to find Killian waiting for his turn to use it. With a quick smile they switch places, their arms brushing in the small space. Emma checks on the two drunkards, who are either asleep or passed out, laying there in uncomfortable-looking positions. She finds she is too annoyed with them to care. As long as they are still breathing, she’ll consider them to be fine. Once she has put her bag back on the desk (against the wall, as far as possible from the two idiots) and adjusted the trashcan Killian had already placed next to Liam’s head, she climbs to the top bunk to wait for Killian to join her.
She can do this, she totally can.
______________
She can’t do this, Emma thinks, staring at the wall twenty minutes later, her spine ramrod straight and her shoulders stiff in an effort not to touch Killian. Her efforts are in vain, though; even if their skin isn’t touching, she can still feel the heat of his body under the covers, radiating like a furnace.
She had previously imagined sleeping in the same bed as Killian, but certainly not under these circumstances: awkwardly, in a cramped twin bed and with both of their brothers sleeping right under them. One of them – probably Liam – is snoring, making it close to impossible to fall asleep.
Oh, who is she kidding, even if the room was completely silent she wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of getting a wink of sleep tonight.
Get a hold of yourself, Swan , she thinks determinedly. Are you really going to spend the night like this?
“Killian, you asleep?” she asks over her shoulder, adding a little shove with her elbow to punctuate her question.
“I don’t see how that would be possible with the power drill sleeping under us,” comes the droll reply.
Emma snorts at that, relaxing marginally. At least she’s not alone in her suffering. She shuffles around, turning to face Killian where he lies on his back, his arm behind his head. Propping her head on her fist, she looks down at him, the blue of his eyes visible in the dim light coming from the half-open bathroom door, so our dear brothers can run towards the light when they need to ‘ puke their guts out ’, as you so eloquently put it, Swan .
A particularly loud snore echoes through the room, making both sorrowfully awake people close their eyes in aggravation.
“Who do you think it is?” Emma asks, her eyes still closed.
Killian snorts. “Oh definitely Liam. That tosser has always snored loud enough to make the walls shake when he gets hammered.”
Emma chuckles, and they fall into a comfortable silence. Once again, the blonde’s eyes are drawn to Killian’s face, and she spots the cut on his cheek, held by a couple of butterfly bandages. He’d gotten it while pushing her out of the way of one of Hillehide’s punches – which had not been necessary, as she had seen it coming. The distraction had helped them subdue their target, though, as he had tripped, allowing Emma to cuff him as Killian held him down. Quite the team indeed.
Emma slowly raises her hand, thumbing at the cut, ignoring the way Killian’s breath catches. It’ll probably scar , she thinks absently. Out loud, she says, “You didn’t have to push me away, you know. I know how to duck.”
“Aye, I know,” Killian whispers back. “Doesn’t mean I won’t do anything in my power to make sure you never come to harm.”
“Such a gentleman,” Emma teases.
“Always, Swan,” he smiles back, before sobering. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, love.”
All the ar whooshes out of her at his declaration, because that’s what it is, isn’t it? The meaning of his words, as well as the way he’s turned his head away, scratching behind his ear as he licks his lips in a frustrated way; he clearly thinks he’s said too much. But he hasn’t. Emma realizes in that moment that she’s not the only one who has been concealing their feelings.
And yet, has he, really? All his little gestures, the compliments he constantly showers her with, never expecting anything in return. And the smile that she’s never seen him direct at anyone else but her. She had thought she was imagining it, that it was simply wishful thinking, but with those few words, he’s just revealed it wasn’t.
Uh, so she’s not the only one with feelings. Figures.
With that realization, Emma feels joy fill her. No, not joy, elation . Before she can second guess herself, she cups Killian’s cheek, turns his face towards hers and leans down to kiss him.
Emma is surprised by how soft Killian’s lips are as she caresses them softly with her own for a few blissful seconds before leaning back. Her partner is staring at her, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes search hers for an explanation of what just happened. Did she make a mistake, did she misinterpret the signals? she thinks with growing panic.
Before she can question her actions even further, Killian pounces. There is no other word for it, honestly; he surges up, sliding his hand into her hair to cushion her fall as he pushes her onto her back, hovering over her as his lips devour hers. It’s like a dam has burst, all his passion and pent-up desire sweeping over her as their mouths meld together. She’d be happy to never have to come up for air, she thinks as his tongue asks for entrance, a request she happily grants.
Emma slides the hand still cupping Killian’s cheek into his hair, her fingers stroking his scalp, causing him to groan in her mouth. Her other arm loops around his waist, her fingers scratching down his back. Her partner retaliates by nipping her lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.
She can’t get enough of him, she thinks frantically as she urges him closer by tightening her arm around his waist, taking advantage of the occasion to – finally – grab a handful of his glorious ass, squeezing it and eliciting another groan. She should have known he’d be as much of a talker in bed as outside it. They separate when the need to breathe becomes too much, but Killian doesn’t seem ready to let her go, his lips trailing down her cheek before he burrows his face into her neck, planting kisses down it. His position gives her the opportunity to do something she has wanted to do for months, nibbling on his earlobe before scraping her teeth across that spot behind his ear that he always scratches when he’s flustered.
At that action, Killian lets out a loud moan, his hips twitching against her thigh. They both freeze, suddenly remembering they aren’t alone in the room. But the snores continue uninterrupted as they listen tensely. They’re in the clear, Emma thinks after a few seconds.
The pause gives them a moment to cool down a little bit. Killian raises his head, trailing his nose up her cheek before leaning his forehead against hers, their noses touching.
“That was…” Emma breathes, not finding the words to describe what just transpired.
Killian chuckles, nudging his nose with hers. “It was, wasn’t it?”
She can’t stop touching him, now that she can. He doesn’t seem to be doing much better, as his fingers keep carding through her hair, the tingles his movements create spreading down her spine.
“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Killian confesses, his nose gliding along Emma’s as he makes no move to roll off her. Not that she minds.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Emma asks, because really, the man is a well of confidence.
“Well, you didn’t seem to feel the same, and I didn’t want to risk what we had, love. I just… couldn’t risk it.”
Emma’s heart swells as she hears her earlier thoughts repeated back to her. We’ve been stupid, haven’t we , she thinks amusedly, looking at Killian in the half-light and seeing the smile bloom on his face as she says as much. Her partner doesn’t answer her with words, though, leaning down to kiss her once more instead, letting her taste the smile on his lips.
This kiss is much softer, even if still as intense as the first. Emma has a feeling that all their kisses will be like that, that they’ll never stop being breathtaking. She’s surprised to realize that thinking of her and Killian in the future doesn’t scare her one bit; quite the contrary, she can’t wait. It’s the last thing she thinks before every thought leaves her mind to be replaced by Killian and heat and more .
Killian seems to be of the same mind, as he lowers himself on top of her, one of his thighs between her own, creating delicious friction that sends sparks flying through her whole body as they continue to kiss, this time making sure to be quiet. Hands start to roam, finding their way under clothes and stroking skin, lighting a fire under their skin that can only be quenched by more . More kissing, more skin, more shared breaths.
Just as Killian finally, finally inches his hand over her breast, softly stroking her skin as he goes, a moan that comes from neither of them rends the air, making both lovers freeze in guilty dread as Liam jumps out of bed, rushing for the bathroom, loudly knocking the trashcan to the floor and causing David to grumble unhappily.
If the sudden movement and noise hadn’t killed the mood, then the sounds of Liam retching clearly do. With a heavy sigh, Killian removes his hands from under Emma’s shirt, before rubbing his nose against hers one last time.
“Guess I better go make sure the git doesn’t die,” he says with a rueful smile that widens upon hearing Emma’s whine.
“Do you have to?” she asks, pouting dramatically as she clutches harder at his back.
“Yes I do, think of the paperwork otherwise, darling.”
Oh, he’s playing dirty, he knows how much she hates paperwork. Emma relents, dropping her arms to the bed, still pouting.
(Doesn’t stop her from staring at his ass as he goes to the bathroom.)
______________
The next day dawns brightly a few hours later. Even though they only slept for a few hours, Emma wakes up refreshed and full of energy, despite the fact that she hasn’t had her coffee yet.
Waking up entwined in Killian’s arms probably helps. Turning her head to look up at him and finding him already awake and staring at her with a dopey smile doesn’t hurt either.
(She knows she has the same smile on her face, but she’ll never admit to it.)
“Good morning, love. Have a good night?” her partner asks, stroking her cheek and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I did. You?”
“The very best.”
They smile happily at each other for several moments. But can they be blamed? Not even twelve hours earlier, Emma would have never hoped to be where she is now, safe and warm in Killian’s arms after a night spent together. If he hadn’t made his feelings known by accident, they would never have dared taking a leap of faith with each other. Now that they have, Emma can’t understand why they didn’t take it sooner; she doesn’t think she’s ever been this happy, and it hasn’t even been a full day.
A snore interrupts their moment once more, reminding them of the presence of their brothers barely a few feet below. It’s only a matter of a few moments to get down, and the vision that greets them has Killian and Emma struggling to stifle a laugh. David and Liam are still dead to the world, but they’ve moved during the night. David is now spooning Liam, his hand resting comfortably on his pectoral, and both men sport happy smiles, even if Liam is drooling onto his pillow.
In true sibling fashion, both Emma and Killian take pictures before Killian wakes up the two men while Emma films. And oh boy, were they right to record it.
David is the first to wake, his first instinct being to scoot closer to Liam, rubbing his shoulder and mumbling about Mary Margaret’s archery practice giving her amazing arms before realizing that he’s not holding his 5 foot 5 fiancée but his 6 foot partner. His reaction is golden, as he shoves the elder Jones out of the bed, swearing profusely before clutching his head, his hangover catching up to him.
Liam’s befuddled expression as he wonders how he got on the floor is even better.
“Aw man, my maid of honor speech is going to be awesome,” Emma crows triumphantly. Seriously, these thirty seconds make up for the last night, puking included. She’s never going to let them live this down.
______________
Emma’s good mood continues onto breakfast, where her cheese-covered hashbrowns taste even better with a side of karmic justice. Liam and David are positively miserable, heads bowed over their plates, David hugging his coffee mug while Liam chugs down Coke like his life depends on it. The older Jones had only raised his head to glare at his brother when he’d asked for the third time if he wouldn’t prefer some iced tea to soda so early in the morning.
“It’s Alice’s iced tea, brother! That way you can move from Neverland straight into Wonderland! No?”
The fact Killian’s leg is pressing against her own under the table might also add to her good mood.
The end of her good mood coincides with the chiming of Liam’s phone. It’s a text from his “just-a-friend” Elsa, his neighbor and totally-not-anything-more. (The routine would be more effective if they hadn’t been caught making out in dark corners. Multiple times.)
And Killian has to open his big mouth.
“Tell me, brother, how does the dear Ms. Arendelle bear with your completely obnoxious snoring?”
And that’s when Emma sees it. The most wicked, vindictive, vicious grin appears on Liam’s face, as he keeps his head down. Uh oh.
“I don’t snore, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Because half of the hostel last night could tell you what I’m talking about. Bloody hell, I thought the bed was going to collapse under the noise alone.”
The grin gets wider, takes on a triumphant edge as Liam finally raises his head to meet his brother’s gaze, with a quick look towards her. Why – oh no.
“Funny you should mention that, brother , I thought the same thing last night. You and Emma were making quite the ruckus, weren’t you?”
Oh no. No, no, triple fucking no this can’t be happening. No!
“What?” Killian says, clearly caught wrong-footed.
“What?!” David erupts, emerging from his hashbrowns like Brotherly Fury Coming Out of His Well of Gravy.
Emma doesn’t say anything, too caught up in the horror of what has become her reality. Liam knows. Liam was not sleeping.
Liam is still talking, the complete bastard.
“I woke up feeling queasy last night, and before I could get up, can you imagine my surprise at hearing you speaking about your feeeeeeeeelings with the object of your affections. At last! I thought, proud to know that my baby brother’s balls had finally dropped after 29 years, just before I was treated to the sappiest, most saccharine declaration ever. So sweet, little brother, that it literally made me sick.”
Since Killian is too busy imitating a fish out of water next to her, it falls down to Emma to react before Mount David erupts. She has to deny it all, tell him it was a drunken dream, she has to tell him –
“You were awake this whole time, and you didn’t say anything? You – you perverted fuck! What the hell, Liam?!”
– not that.
Not that, because the asshole, no, the monster sitting next to her purple-with-rage brother turns his gleeful smile on her, clearly enjoying the fuck out of himself, his hangover all but forgotten.
“But it was so touching, Emma! How could I block the path of true love? After all, like my brother said, he’s ‘wanted to do that for years’.” answers Liam, before turning towards his partner. “And oh, they did, Dave.” Another “ what?!? ” escapes David’s mouth, who’s now taken to staring at Killian like he’s just killed a puppy in front of him.
“Oh my god, Liam, shut up !” Killian and Emma exclaim in unison, to the elder Jones’ delight.
“Aw, look at you two, already in sync! What was it you were saying this morning Emma? My best man speech is going to be awesome. ”
Hell fucking no .
______________
2 years, 3 months and 17 days later.
“...And so let me conclude with a toast: to Killian and Emma, the most nauseating couple on the East Coast!” Liam crows, raising his glass of champagne as the whole room does the same, laughing at the bride and groom’s mortified expressions.
The jackass did recount the whole story in front of their family and friends, even daring to take credit for their relationship by pushing them to share a bed. As if passing out on the bottom bunk bed had been deliberate, Killian had groused, his ears tomato red, as Liam had talked over him to the amusement of everyone.
And yet Emma can’t find it in her to be truly mad at her new brother-in-law, a small thrill coursing through her everytime she catches the glint on her left hand or on Killian’s. Her husband .
There’s also the fact that her dear, dear brother-in-law’s own bachelor party is coming in two months’ time, and that she’s managed to wrangle the recipe of the Teakerbell from the Rockport bartender.
And Elsa has asked her to be a maid of honor.