Notes: My best friend in all of the internet and fic soulmate literally had the week from hell and it pains me that she’s just having such a rough time while I’m six hours and an ocean away and can’t do shit about. Anyway, this dumpster fire fic is dedicated to my bestie @welllpthisishappening who is my favorite person aside from Dan and deserves all the love and good fortune in the world. This isn’t my best writing, but if it makes her smile, that’s all I care about. Special thanks to @cocoa-and-rum for riffling through this nonsense and making it more coherent. Tagging @the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt, @idristardis, @1handedpiratewithadrinkingprob, @imhookedonaswan because they asked to be tagged in this nonsense and are incredibly supportive.
Summary: Killian Jones has been a pain in Emma Swan’s ass since grad school. A game of dodgeball changes that.
Word Count: 3,100+
Looking back at it, Emma Swan doesn’t know how she ever thought the incident was her fault. In all honestly, it was only a matter of time before she retaliated and he got what he finally deserved.
Killian Jones had been torturing her since kindergarten. When they were six, he had pulled her pigtails. In middle school, he had doused her with water balloons. Now, in their senior year of high school, he had decided the best course of action would be to taunt her during gym class. It didn’t matter whether they played water polo or handball, he would wait for her outside the locker rooms during gym class and taunt her until Coach Teach’s whistle blew ten minutes before the period ended.
Today was no different and as Emma walked out of the girls’ locker room, he was waiting for her; leaning against a row of stacked bleachers with his arms across in front of his chest and that signature lazy smirk spread across his face. He was already dressed in his gym clothes and Emma was doing her best not to look at the snug fit of his athletic shorts.
“Ready to lose, Swan?” Killian asked.
Emma narrowed her eyes at him, lips pursed into a deep frown as she regarded her childhood rival. She unscrewed the cap of her water bottle and began filling it at the neighboring bubbler.
“Not on your life,” she replied. “If anything, I can’t wait to wipe that smug look off your face.”
“That’s a lie and you know it,” he chuckled. “You like my face.”
She scoffed, looking down at her water bottle, focusing on it to fight the blush that was threatening to stain her cheeks.
“I don’t know what drugs Jefferson’s been selling but you should reconsider. They’re really messing with your brain if you think there’s anything about you I like,” she replied, still looking at her water bottle.
“Not on drugs, love,” Killian responded, not even remotely phased by her barbs. “You know school policy. Athletes can get randomly tested. Can’t risk that,” he replied, chuckling.
“Right, Captain,” Emma replied, sneering at his title as she capped her bottle and turned to face him. “I forgot. You’re naturally this stupid.”