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August 1st, 2015 - Daily Goat #213: First Few Desperate Hours

“This is a song about a couple of people who shouldn’t probably have gotten married in the first place. They did… and you were like, hey hey hey hey, it’s always good to see you guys out around the town, cruising the bar and everything, but maybe getting married, not the best idea… and when you said it, they got really angry, and they were like, you know, ‘Who are you to judge me?’ They came out with a lot of that. So you were like, 'I’m not, you know, I’m not anybody to judge you, I’m not judging, I’m just singing, I’ve known you a long time.’ And then they were like, 'You don’t know me,’ and you were like, 'Okay, I don’t know you. Hey, cool. It’s your lives, not mine.’ Then they were like, 'Why you gotta be that way?’… and it ended badly, and you were like, 'I hope it goes well for them,’ but it didn’t, and you resist the urge to gloat. Inside you had a little bit of the gloat in you. As a matter of fact, I know that you did, because I saw it when the whole thing went down.” ~John Darnielle

Bad luck comes in from Tampa
Bad luck comes in from Tampa
On the back of a truck
Doing ninety up the interstate
We have bad dreams the night he rolls in
We have bad dreams the night he rolls in
And we try to keep our sprits high
But they flag and they wane
When the truck pulls up out front
In the light spring rain
And they sag like withering flowers
Let the good times roll on
Through these first few desperate hours

Yeah the driver drops his cargo at the curb
The driver drops his cargo at the curb
And the sun peeks in
Like a killer through the curtain
And when cloven hoof prints turn up in the garden
Yeah when cloven hoof prints turn up in the garden
We keep up the good fight
We keep our spirits light
But they draw like flies
And there’s a stomach-churning shift
In the way the land lies
And they lean like towers
On a hillside struggling to stand
Through these first few desperate hours
Yeah

Living Together

Alternate 2x06, Emma doesn’t trap Killian on the beanstalk and he starts out in Storybrooke on Team Charming.


They’d been back a week.

Mary Margret and Emma jumped, hand in hand. Attached to Emma’s other side was Killian Jones, who’d said that, “The closer we are, Swan, the easier it’ll be.” With a smirk, but she hadn’t bothered to argue.

Having a pirate in Storybrooke was strange. Having a pirate on their side, was even stranger. Though Mary Margret and Emma, the Queen and Princess, vouched for him, the people in town were still unwilling to give him a chance. And that’s how Emma ended up with a pirate sleeping on her sofa.

Now this wouldn’t be as much of a problem if they didn’t live in such an open space and it wasn’t already eleven. But it was, and Emma was itching to go to work after all that time away (yes, she knows she should stay at home and rest, but when did she ever listen to anyone, even her own parents?), and she couldn’t just very well leave a pirate resting in her living room. And yes, even though she vouched for him, she didn’t trust him that much - didn’t even know him, in spite of what her gut told her.

“Hook.” She hit his shoulder, rocking him backwards. Pushing him again only made him stretch out on the sofa and then tuck back into himself.

She stood back, he did look rather cute like this - more pliant and much less threatening. His usual flirty smoulder and suggestive eyebrows were replaced by a soft, content snoring and a crease between his brow as he shuffled to make himself comfortable.

“Hook. Killian.” It felt foreign on her tongue, not used to the word.

“Emma.” He mewled, reaching out towards her. She took a step back in surprise. Though they’d only known each other a short while, he was already comfortable around her - he already identified her as not-the-enemy, even if she didn’t know that herself.

“Swan.” She blinked to find him smiling lazily at her, eyes unfocused and hair ruffled.

“Killian.” She coughed, trying to clear her brain, “I need to get to work.”

“So go, I’ll just lay here.” He told her, pulling at one of the covers so as to reveal his bare stomach.

“You have to come with me. I can’t leave you here alone.”

“Miss me will you?”

“Hook.”

“Alright, love, if you insist that you can’t be separate from me for a whole day then I must join you,” He got up, pulling the sheet to cover his waist as he smirked. Pausing as he passed her, “You shouldn’t feel bad, Swan, many a woman has fallen prey to my dashing good looks and just couldn’t stay away.”

“Just go shower.” She shook her head.

He swaggered over to the shower, the sheet riding dangerously low so as to capture Emma’s attention.

It wasn’t long until she heard a hesitant call of “Uh…Swan?”

“Yeah?” She called, fiddling with her bag.

“How do you…uh… work this, uhm, contraption?”

She bit her lip to try to stop herself laughing as she made her way over to the bathroom. She opened the door, soon assaulted by the sight of his skin.

“Hook!”

“Sorry!” He shouted back, grabbing the sheet again, “Sorry.”

“Just - don’t do that when Henry’s around.” She told him, turning to the shower to turn it on.

“Henry, he’s a good lad - smart.”

“Yeah, he is.” She begun to explain how the shower worked and how to adjust it (so that she didn’t have to come in every time the temperature wasn’t right).

.

Killian had been there eight months

Eight months and a few days, when he decided it was time to move out.

“Really?” She asked, heart pounding fiercely in defiance to her cool demeanour.

“Yeah, I think I need to, what is it, ‘fly the coup’?” He forced a laughed at his own joke. He was pushed back a few inches when Henry slammed into him to hug him. “Hey, lad, I’ll still be around, it’s just-”

They knew what it just was. Neal had died and Henry had barely escaped being kidnapped and sent to Neverland by Greg and Tamara, but he had because Hook - because Killian- had saved him. Killian was as much as a father to Henry as Neal had ever been.

But they all said their good byes and Emma helped him carry one of his bags to the Bug.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” She told him, avoiding eye contact as she strapped herself in, “Sure it’s tight, but none of us really mind.”

“Swan,” He gripped her hands between his, leaning over to place a soft kiss on her lips. “You could come with me.”

She stared at him, unblinking, until he dropped her hand and shuffled away, averting his gaze, “I meant-”

“Killian,” She breathed, reaching over to pull him back in. When they broke apart again, she rested her forehead against his, “But Henry-”

“It’s a big place - there’s plenty of room for the three of us. We could probably even fit Regina in if we wanted to.” He smiled, rubbing his arm from where she punched it in jest.

“We could.”

“We can.”

.

They’d lived together a month.

It was an entire month of blissful honey-mooning and movies with Henry and meals with Mary Margret and David.

That was before Peter Pan waded into town.

But they won anyway. With her son tucked safely under her arm and her pirate holding the pair, whispering comforting promises to them, she knew it was going to be okay.

They were going home together, after all.

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