Chapter Text
Will Scarlet is a bloody menace, and not in the way Killian appreciates. He likes a little mayhem in his everyday life, just to keep him on his toes, but he’d prefer to keep that mayhem out of his living space - and Will Scarlet out of his bedroom.
“In my bloody bed, mate?”
He might sound a bit more than ticked off, voice an octave higher than usual, maybe even shrill, but Will’s still half-asleep in his bed and so deserves every ounce of Killian’s sharpened rage.
Will yawns and rubs at the back of his neck. “Thought it was mine. Rooms looked a bit different in the dark.”
“And the fact that you had to break in to get in here didn’t clue you in?”
Will might be the one bleary eyed and suffering from an obvious hangover, but Killian feels a throbbing in his temple too.
Perhaps he’ll turn to that drink he’s stashed in his desk, even though it is only ten in the morning and he spent the entire night at the IT helpdesk. Does Captain Morgan even care about time of day? Killian doesn’t think so.
“Thought I left it as a challenge to myself, though it wasn’t much of a challenge, come to think it.”
Killian leaves Will still yawning and turns towards his desk.
“Get out of my bed,” he grits out.
He tugs the bottom drawer open, reaching for the bottle - that isn’t there, that’s clinking at his toes without the sloshing weight of a full bottle.
Bloody fucking hell.
Killian twists around, but not fast enough to wring Will’s traitorous neck, nor does he bend fast enough to pick up the empty bottle of his very expensive rum and toss it at Will’s head.
It rolls harmlessly to the floor, the only injury being to the wall outside his bedroom door.
“You know we won’t get our safety deposit back if you keep taking chunks out of the furnishings,” Will shouts from down the hall.
“You should worry about your own safety!”
He doesn’t say this without any heat, there’s still enough to make it a viable threat, but his voice tapers out as he surveys the train wreck of his room, the doorknob that Will had unscrewed - fucking unscrewed - to get into it, and the plaster and green paint falling like snowflakes over his rum and thinks -
Well, first he answers Jack Sparrow’s question. Why is the rum gone? Because of Will fucking Scarlet.
After that’s when the thought hits him, harder than the pans he can hear clattering to the floor in their shared kitchen, harder than he wants to punch Will in the face. It hits him:
He needs a new place.
-
Apparently soulmates are in this year because everyone seems to be getting one.
There’s Ruby, for one.
Ruby was a great roommate, more considerate than the stereotypical party girl persona would lead people to believe. World’s best secret actually that Ruby cleaned, cooked, and still managed to keep the fridge stocked with milk so Emma never missed out on her morning cheerios.
Ruby was a great roommate until she bumped into Belle at that party, and the tale unfolded like all of the great romances. You know the ones, where they stare into each other’s eyes and just know. Mainly because they can suddenly see. Where the world was once black and white - or only shades of red, yellow, any color of the rainbow, you name it - now it’s bursting with every single color they’ve missed out on their whole life.
Ruby bumped into Belle and suddenly she could see Belle’s blue eyes instead of just the red of her lips.
And, suddenly, she wasn’t that great of a roommate after all. It took only three weeks for her to move into her girlfriend’s place and leave Emma in the kind of lurch that had her running herself ragged just to find a damn roommate.
Mary Margaret was the perfect choice.
Mary Margaret believed in romance like Emma believes in onion rings and chocolate covered strawberries, true, but romance didn’t seem to believe in her and if there was anything that bonded them, it was that. Made them perfect roommates in fact, commiserating over shitty dates and regrettable one night stands as they watched bad TV and laid across Mary Margaret’s bed.
It was the perfect arrangement, so of course, Mary Margaret had to volunteer at that animal shelter and David Nolan, great guy that he was (is) had to greet her with his “brilliant smile, brilliant, Emma,” and say the words Mary Margaret’s had tattooed on her wrist since freshman year, “Hey, weren’t you the one that stole my notes in A&P?” and Mary Margaret had to sputter out the words engraved on his - and Emma did not need an A&P lesson at all, thank you very much, Mary Margaret - gluteus maximus, “I needed it more than you, Mr. ‘charms the professor into giving me an A because I smile and smell nice.’”
So again, here Emma is, without an apartment to turn to because Mary Margaret’s too busy climbing Charming - excuse me - David like a fucking tree on their kitchen counter.
She could bang her head against this wall with how frustrated she is, or she could check the local papers to see if there are any places available.
Emma could definitely do that. But first, the wall is calling her name and who is Emma to deny it?
-
It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.
“Are you going to turn off that damn album or should I?” Emma calls out to Ruby as she heads to the back of Granny’s.
Ruby who obviously can’t hear her because she’s too busy flirting with her girlfriend, soulmate, roommate thief.
Emma sighs and grabs the grilled cheese Granny laid out for her. Thank the gods for Granny and Kraft cheese. At least Emma can be thankful for that.
What she can’t be thankful for is the empty booth awaiting her outside the kitchen and the newspapers sprawled across it, the Craigslist page pulled up on Emma’s laptop screen, and the millions of listings that are out of her budget, distance, and ability to tolerate weird smells and screaming neighbors.
She hip-bumps open the door and instead of her waking nightmare of the past two weeks awaiting her, there’s a new addition to the wreckage, a guy sitting at her booth and poring over her newspaper. Dark-haired, scruffy, and settled in like some kind of particularly indecent fixture.
Emma thought button-ups were supposed to be buttoned up.
“Hey,” he says when she stomps into the seat across from him, carefully doing so close enough to his feet that he’ll get the picture.
Apparently the only picture he’s interested in is the Soulmates Only apartment listing downtown.
“I have an idea,” he says.
“I’m not listening, but I am considering using deadly force,” Emma says.
He smirks and finally lifts his gaze from the newspaper. He lays it down and leans forward, giving Emma his full attention. It’s disconcerting. She supposes it’s meant to be seductive and if Emma were a bit drunker, a little less consumed with a desire for his face to meet her fist, she might be consumed with a different desire entirely.
“I’m not trying to be impertinent here -”
“And yet.”
He chuckles, brushing his hair back. “And yet, I see that you’re looking for an apartment, which coincidentally is what I’ve been doing in that booth -” He points to the booth behind him. “For the past couple of hours. It’s gotten to the point where I’m ready to give up or attempt something totally insane.”
“Like bothering the woman in the booth behind you?” Emma says.
She’s intrigued, but she isn’t stupid. If this isn’t some kind of come on, she’ll eat her hat. Or, at least dig it up from wherever she’s stuck it. She’ll need it soon anyway. It’s getting colder and her ears and frostbite don’t get along too well.
“Like introducing myself. Killian Jones. I go to the uni, living on the main campus at the moment in the Gold dorms, 2nd Floor, Room 2B, with my roommate Will Scarlet. I bet you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this.”
“Actually, I’m just wondering how you get your hair that way,” she says drily and gives him her best fuck off smile.
If only her best worked.
He grins again. “It’s all natural, darling. And I know you’re wondering why I’m telling you all this as you would’ve used…” He licks his bottom lip and Emma follows the motion, angry at herself for doing so when the words that follow are, “deadly force already if you weren’t,” said with all the effect of a, you guessed it, come on.
Straightening, Killian’s voice evens out and he says, “The reason is that Will Scarlet is the worst roommate in the world and if I don’t get out of there soon, I’m going to end up on your 10 o'clock news. I mean all the major networks. I might even make the world news circuit.”
Emma looks back down at the listing. “Oh no, no, no,” she says, shaking her head.
“You’re looking at this all the wrong way, darling - which, I’d love to know your name.”
“We all love what we can’t have,” Emma says. “The answer is no way in hell, heaven, or whatever beyond you believe in. I don’t know you. I’m not going to pretend to be your soulmate just to get an apartment.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but looking at her face for a moment longer, slumps down into the seat instead.
“I can see I won’t change your mind.”
He almost sounds defeated.
“You’re right.”
“But if you do -”
Killian jumps out of his seat as Emma groans in frustration. Disappearing into his booth, he reemerges only moments later with a card. He looks almost embarrassed as he hands it to her, and it’s only when she reads it that she understands why.
“Your roommate design these?” Emma asks, snorting.
“Was it the ‘KJ, not BJ (but he’s up for that if you’re interested)’ that clued you in?” Killian asks.
“No it was the Scarlet Industries scrawled in the bottom corner,” she says.
Killian raises an eyebrow, something like pride and wonder in his expression as he says, “You can decipher that?”
“I’ve had practice with shitty handwriting during Forensics 100,” Emma says.
“Well. If you do change your mind, feel free to call or text that number, or drop me an email. I’m in a desperate situation…”
He leaves room for her name. Emma just stares at him.
Sighing, he gives up with a grin that is less weary than it is highly amused. Emma suspects Killian would be laughing if he thought it would help his cause.
“And yours seems pretty desperate, too. Think on it, sleep on it, dream of…”
Her eyes flash warning signs. His scream danger.
A match made in heaven.
“...a beautiful apartment with a roommate that comes with excellent references and always picks up the milk.”
She actually finds herself considering it until sanity kicks in and she waves him away.
“Later, Jones,” she says.
-
“So, what did Mr. Handsome and Obviously Interested want?” Ruby asks.
“Go kiss your girlfriend and leave me be,” Emma hisses.
“Someone’s testy,” Ruby says. “Maybe you should consider Killian’s offer.”
Emma narrows her eyes and grabs her friend around the wrist before she can pull away.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s in my web design class.”
Ruby shrugs. Emma doesn’t let go.
“You told him to come over here,” Emma says matter-of-factly.
“He needs an apartment. You need one too. I thought I could help,” Ruby says.
Emma groans. “I appreciate the help, but…”
“Don’t help?” Ruby supplies.
“Don’t help,” Emma confirms and they leave it at that.
-
They, meaning Ruby and Emma of course. Emma and Killian, however?
-
It’s desperation that has her at the Gold dorms, 2nd floor, Room 2B at 1pm on a Saturday, banging on the door and praying that he isn’t in class and he has a couple of hours to spare.
“Ah, I’d greet you properly, but I don’t know your name. Your friend was pretty insistent that I get it from your mouth.”
It takes a moment for her to respond. She’s only human and any human confronted with a bare-chested Killian Jones might flounder a bit. There’s one thing to see his chest hair peeking through a button up shirt, it’s another to see the muscles ripple in his stomach as he nervously scratches at the back of his neck and rocks back on his feet.
She must’ve woken him up - from a studying session no doubt. He has book face.
“Emma, Emma Swan,” she answers after a beat too long.
“Emma, you can come in if you wish, or we can go to the common room. You’re here to discuss my proposition, right?”
She raises a brow at his offer to go to the common room. You’d think he’d jump at the chance to get her ensconced in his room. She’d think that at least, up until this moment when he looks sleep soft, without even that smirk she’s sure he gets as much mileage out of as he can.
“I don’t know what kind of vetting process they have, so I have a list of things to know about me, and you said you had references? We can combine.”
She says this all in a blurted way, bouncing on her own toes and fisting her own hands, not nervous, but oh so desperate.
Calming herself a little, she says, “That is if the apartment looks as good as the pictures on Craigslist make it seem.”
“Oh, are we going on a trip?”
Ah, there’s the smirk. Emma feels a little better seeing it.
“If you have the time? I’ll drive.”
He nods. “I’d ask you to wait in here while I get dressed but I think I hear Will waking and I don’t want you to suffer that, so I’ll meet you in the common room…”
“Emma,” he says finally, her name husky on his tongue.
She’s going to hate that damn accent of his if they get this apartment, but she’s jumping ahead of herself. They haven’t even seen it yet.
Emma’s seen the words written across David’s ass though. Green ink, too, of the color of Mary Margaret’s eyes, which Emma got a good look at before she ran from the apartment and drove to the library to pound out her own list of references.
“We need a ‘how we found out we were soulmates’ story,” Killian says before he closes the door. He’s quiet and leans in close enough that only she can hear him when he says, “Though I’m sure thinking of one for us will be easy.”
He closes the door with a wink and Emma trails towards the common room, fist pressed against her mouth to keep from screaming.
They’re going to get this apartment and she already hates his damned voice.