title: roadtrip (2/2.5)
summary: Emma and Killian are colleagues, summoned to a client conference meet a ways away. Killian cajoles her into a roadtrip, claiming they have too much unused leave anyway, and “what’s life without a little adventure, swan?” … except, nothing goes as planned, because his car breaks down at this town called Storybrooke, and the only B&B with only one room available only admits married couples, and well… when in rome…
a/n - there will be a little coda that i will add on in the coming week - after this episode kills me, probably.
also on a03 from the start here.
The irritation refuses to dissipate, and he swipes, more than half asleep, at the ticklish thing by his nose. It’s when his fingers tangle in a mess of hair (that decidedly doesn’t belong to him), does the universe materialise in his consciousness - the hint of some spice in her hair, the warmth length of her body against his, his arms around her waist, one hand buried underneath their bodies in what will surely result in cramps later - he could care less, honestly, because this is one sure hell of a way to wake.
Killian’s always been an early riser, having a brother in the British Navy would do that to you, but this. This is worth sleeping in for. He is loathe to move, and save for a slight shift in his hips, - a necessary caution given poking her awake would make no one’s morning, Killian doesn’t budge an inch, ignoring the world and basking in being exactly where he wants to be.
He doesn’t fall back into sleep, yet beneath his closed eyelids different visions of his future dances before him. The two of them, and a boy and a girl, and a dog, it’s cliche but by George, does he want it. Or maybe he’ll finally quit and become a freelancer - all their job needs is a good Wifi connection anyway - and buy a boat and sail the world with her by his side. Or maybe —
“Mmrngh,” she grunts softly, head turning into his chest as she burrows even closer into him. Killian stills, trying to even out his breathing because he knows there’s no way she’s not going to freak out.
‘One cricket,’ he counts in his head, “two crickets, three crickets…”
“Shit,” he hears, right on cue, as her entire body tenses.