Killian Jones is fighting a losing battle with his vice and hiding it behind his music persona. Emma Swan is the cop who arrests him for it. But that isn’t the first time the two of them have met. After Emma impulsively offers him her apartment to recover away from the tabloids, it also won’t be the last. For her it’s just giving someone a chance she never had. But can it be more? Read the rest here.
Disclaimer: All aspects of Once Upon A Time belong to ABC and the show’s creators.
Emma slid out from the bed,
re-tucking Killian’s arm under the blanket from where it had been wrapped
around her waist. She hadn’t slept so well in years, as cliché as it felt to
her, yet she had. Probably because she felt safe. That made her nearly cringe.
Emma wasn’t used to someone else making her feel safe. She’d only ever been her
own ally. Hell, she’d spent far too many nights after the first Neal debacle
sleeping in the backseat of her Bug and made it through that. It was almost too
much to think that she had felt so safe with someone else. Both because she
needed no one. And also, secretly, upset that she’d gone so long without letting
anyone in when she could have been slowly shedding the exhaustion she had worn
as a coat for years.
Honestly, despite the mild panic
bubbling under the surface, Emma wasn’t exactly pleased at the prospect of
being out of bed, feet shifting on the cold hardwood floor, but that Chinese
the night before had made her parched. She needed a drink. Emma glanced back at
Killian, studying his slow breathing to make sure he was still asleep before
tip toing from the room. The last thing she wanted after Killian being so
nervous about sleeping with her was to wake up to an empty bed. But Killian was
still exhausted and healing. She really didn’t want to wake him up yet. Also,
with Regina slated to arrive sometime that day with the contracts for Emma,
Killian having promised to contact her and from what Killian had told Emma
about his manager, Killian could use all the sleep he could get.
Emma crept down the stairs, moving
quietly until she was far enough away from the bedroom that her steps wouldn’t
wake Killian. Once she was walking at her normal pace it only took moments to
be standing in front of the open fridge in the kitchen. It was a little
strange, moving around someone else’s house as if she belonged there. Rooting
through a fridge that looked like a transformer to find something that wasn’t
liquefied kale, even though it warmed her to see Killian still used the
substance even weeks after Emma had first showed up at it. Wearing his old
sweats as if they were hers. Like she belonged somewhere other than her tiny shoebox
of an apartment.
Even in the Nolan’s house, Emma
had always waited to ask permission to take food or occupy the television, especially after the debacle with the
Neal case where she knew they were
terribly disappointed in her failures. Emma hadn’t ever belonged anywhere. Not
in the foster homes that cycled her around because she got herself labelled as
a trouble maker, a runner, an aggressive teen and everyone was too scared to
take on the challenge for more than a few months. Not in the patrol unit she’d
been placed in that judged her before they even knew half the story. Not even
in her own skin.
But in Killian’s house, she felt
free to do as she pleased. Digging through the fridge was a far cry from the
home when she was six that chained the fridge doors closed and only fed her
when she deserved it.
How Killian had crept up on her,
given her this after their very rocky
start, blew her mind.