A/N: I am eleven days away from 30. As a celebration of this (and to get my writing muscles moving again) I will be posting small ficlets between now and then, because why the hell not. :) (This is my way of crashing into Pervy Thirty with a fucking bang… which means not all of these will be so tame.)
(All prompts come from this list, in no particular order.)
It’s well after
midnight when Emma finds herself on the swing set in the backyard of David and
Mary Margaret’s house. It can’t be more than two minutes before Killian is
joining her, sitting down on the unoccupied swing and letting the companionable
silence fill the small space between them.
With the summer
breeze ruffling through his hair, Killian looks young and carefree. Emma tries
not to stare at him as he sways gently forward and back on the plastic swing.
Instead, she pushes off the ground, pumping her legs and propelling herself
higher than the small movements Killian is making on his own swing. When she’s
reached a speed and height she’s satisfied with, she tips back and looks at the
stars. Her long blonde hair brushes the rubber mulch that coats the ground of
the small playground. She’s only vaguely aware when Killian copies her moves,
swinging himself in earnest and eventually matching her pace.
Admin warning: The following story involves crimes due to mental illnesses. If this offends you, please do not read on.
Our son, David, is a talented little
artist. We would buy him crayons and colored pencils every month because he
would quickly wear them down with every drawing he created. David was a
beautiful and quiet child with such a creative mind at only 9 years old. He
would never cause trouble for he was always in his room drawing, coloring; only
coming out whenever he presented us with another newly finished masterpiece. We
would smile with pride and complimented how beautiful his new drawing was and
beautiful it truly was. His illustrations were always different; some were
landscapes with great detail, others were random objects he would find around the
house, but one style he loved to draw the most were portraits. He would often
draw portraits of me and his mother with a different facial expression striking
a different pose within each picture. Most of the time, he would draw these
adorable portraits of our Maltese puppy, Fuji, because he would always bring
her along to his room for inspiration. We called him “Our little Da Vinci”
whenever he showed us his new drawing. This always made him smile glowing with
joy as he skipped away, locking himself back in his room once again to begin
his next art piece. Those were the only times we would ever see him truly
We had our fair share of concerns for
David ever since he started grade school. My wife and I would always worry
about his social life for he never made friends at his school. Hell, he would
rarely talk to his own parents at home so it’s no surprise. I will admit that
we have sheltered our son. We never encouraged David to go play with the
neighborhood kids when they were outside. We never motivated him to make
friends. I know it was mostly our fault for his introverted behavior. I guess
we were just so content with the way he was that we didn’t find any reason for
concern. He was our precious angel; never causing trouble, never aggressive,
never angry, always innocently drawing without disturbance. Then one day his
teacher contacted us expressing her concerns for David saying that he was
always quiet during lunch time isolating himself from his classmates. This
worried us even more. We were afraid of David being alone for the rest of his
life living in isolation with only him and his sketch pad. That was when we
decided to try therapy.
We didn’t bring David to therapy
expecting him to be cured. We just wanted clarity. We wanted to hear that our
son wasn’t a sociopath; that he just had some sort of social anxiety that will
eventually fade in time. We didn’t want to find out that our son was different
in the worst way possible. Before the therapy began, my wife and I met with the
therapist while David was at school. She wanted to know how his behavior was at
home and school, how he acted during certain situations, and asked what we did
in response to his behaviors. We told her everything we experienced with David
as she just sat there with a focused look on her face. Then we told her about
David’s passion for art and how he would draw a new sketch by himself
practically every day. This caught her attention. After we finished telling her
everything we experienced with David, she gave a stern look on her face,
uncrossing her legs and leaned forward.
“I am very interested in meeting with
David” she said. “I would highly recommend that we begin his therapy at your
My wife responded immediately after,
“What do you have about our son so far?”
She leaned back into her chair
releasing a heavy exhale, “There are many possible factors that could explain
his behavior. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to give you a proper assessment
until I personally talk with your son.” We agreed to begin his therapy. After
discussing the different methods of payment, we decided to schedule his first
appointment the day after.
A/N:This probably should have been broken up into two parts but I got carried away and couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me? A OUAT version of the fight scene from Crazy, Stupid, Love? Best thing ever ;)
(I twisted some of the story from the movie so it would fit more to the characters)
The bar hums with activity. The low hum of conversation, ice clinking in drinks, something jazzy playing overhead. Attractive women are all over the place, walking past, sliding up to the bar next to him trying (and terribly failing) to make conversation with him. He doesn’t even look sideways.
David swirls the amber color liquid around and around in his glass, his shoulders hunched in defeat.
“This isn’t working.”
For months he’s been replaying the words over and over in his head, but they’d never really sunk in. Not until he’d gotten the divorce papers. Even then he’d still been slightly hopeful. He could make things right, he could change for her, change for Mary Margaret, the only woman he’d ever loved.
But being separated for months now, David was starting to lose hope.
Especially since tonight Mary Margaret was on a date. Some pretentious doctor fellow who probably wore that expensive cologne she liked and drove a fast car.
He throws back the rest of his drink and a stronng hand clamps down on his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Dave, Dave, Dave,” the man says, sitting down on the stool next to David.
“Hey, Killian,” David says, motioning for the bar tender to pour him another.
“Dr. Victor Whale got you down?"
"How’d you know about that?"
"How’d I know? How did I know?"
Killian leans heavily against the bar, the look on his face something between a smirk and grimace.
"Because all anyone can talk about around here,” he gestures around the bar, “is about how some poor saps wife left him and is out with some successful doctor.”
David scoffs and takes a sip of his new drink. It’s bitter and burns, doing nothing to help the torment in his head and heart.
“You need to get over this, Dave,” Killian says.
“My daughter said-” David begins, but gets cut off.
“Oh no. No no. We absolutely don’t talk about your daughter. Or any of your kids. We only talk about setting you up with someone new.”
“Well excuse me for not being able to jump from one woman to the next,” David says. “I’m not like you.”
“Ouch,” Killian winces in mock hurt. “That stings. But I’ll forgive, because its in my nature to be gracious on poor old saps like you.”
David scoffs, laughing slightly.
Killian smiles widely.
“Now get up, shake it off. I’m going to teach you how find someone new.”
Emma feels her blood boiling in her veins even as the freezing rain pours down her and onto her shoulders. She’s completely soaked through, but she only has one thought.
Get to the bar, forget about what just happened.
She can’t believe him. Year of dating, hints at a proposal, and then a party. For what? To celebrate her passing the bar? For his promotion? Who even cares? There’s no ring and no engagement and she’s not certain there’s even any love.
If there was he’d have proposed ages ago.
So she marches to the bar where weeks earlier she’d gone to get drinks with her best friend. The same bar where that flirty, gorgeous man had hit on her and asked to buy her a drink. With any luck he’ll be there again tonight. And with a little bit more luck, he’ll ask to buy her another drink.
The bar is in sight, Emma shoves open the heavy glass doors, shaking the rain from her hair, but not stopping. She spies him on the other side of the room, chatting up some other blonde in a little black dress, and marches on.
“You!” she practically shouts.
His eyes- magnificent, deep, gorgeous, stormy blue eyes- shoot up and meet hers. His mouth hangs open a little, having been cut off mid-sentence or in shock, Emma’s not sure.
But he stands to greet her, albeit a little skeptically.
Without knowing where her feet are carrying her, she marches up to him, grabbing the lapels of his expensive looking coat, and dragging him forward to kiss him soundly.
“I’m Emma by the way,” she almost laughs as they pull apart.
“Killian,” the man says lowly. He rests his forehead against hers for the briefest of seconds, breathing heavily as if the kiss affected him greatly. (It had… It most definitely had)
“Want to buy me that drink now?” Emma asks.
He’s fallen in love with the maid, God help him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be just a harsh, gruff, power-hungry business man living out his life bitter and alone and with lots and lots of money.
She wasn’t even supposed to come clean when he was at home. He much rather have the maids and gardeners and everyone else in his employment do their work while he was out and about making deals and celebrating. He liked being alone, it was just who he was. And then she was there, bright and early one Saturday morning, looking out of place with her long blue skirt and crisp white blouse. She clutched a small box of cleaning supplies so tight in her small hands that her knuckles began turning a ghostly color. She practically shook as she said she was there to clean.
But now he’s here. Standing in the hallway outside her room, his nerves driving him batty, his stomach jumping, and more then two dozen red roses all wrapped up in a cellophane package.
God help him.
Mr. Gold clears his throat softly, lifting his fist to knock quickly. He pulls back at the last second, hearing her voice coming softly from the other side of the door.
"I’d love to, David,” Belle says.
She sounds… happy.
His brow furrows in confusion and sorrow.
“Your place at 2 tomorrow? Sounds perfect.”
Footsteps coming close to the door, he hurriedly takes several steps back so it doesn’t seem like he was listening. Belle comes out of the room, smiling as she presses the sleep button on the top of her phone. She let’s out a small gasp and pulls up short as she notices him.
“Mr. Gold!” Belle breathes. “You startled me."
It takes several seconds for him to realize he should be responding to her, but he’s so confused. He was sure she felt something for him, maybe even loved him, and now she’s going to be meeting this David guy tomorrow?
His heart feels sick, but he plays happy as she fawns over the flowers and smiles, dancing in place.
It’s almost enough to chase away the doubts.
But not really.
When Mary Margaret calls him and tells him somethings wrong with the sink, and would he please just come for two seconds cause she has absolutely no idea what to do about it, David feels his heart soar.
It took about 0.2 seconds to realize that night in the bar when Killian was training him on how to meet new women and how to act that he didn’t want any of it. He just wanted to be at home sitting on the couch with his wife and son. He wanted his eldest daughter to call and tell about her day and he’d hopelessly hand over the phone to Mary Margaret when the subject turned to boys because he was just about as helpless as his wife with fixing sinks when it came to his daughter and boys.
He wanted to roll over in the middle of the night, half asleep, but her there right beside him, stealing the covers. Kiss her forehead each morning when he left for work.
David wanted Mary Margaret.
So with the excuse of coming over to fix the sink, he planned to recreate their very first date with help from Neal, and his daughter promising to come as soon as she could to participate in the fun.
"Yep, it’s all set up,” David was telling Killian, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he bent to straighten out the fake grass of the miniature golf course he’d set up.
“Just waiting for her to get home, which should be any time now.”
“Well I’m happy for you,” Killian said, muffled laughter coming from somewhere around him. He sounded genuinely happy for him, but also slightly distracted.
“Where have you been anyway?” David asked. “Haven’t seen you at the bar in a couple nights."
"I met someone actually,” Killian said. He coughed, clearing his voice as if nervous.
“I’m with her right now. We’re kind of on the way to her parents house. Some sort of party."
"You serious?” David asked. He couldn’t count how many times he’d seen the younger man leaving the bar with different women. Settling down with just one was huge for him so she must have been something.
“Dead serious,” Killian laughed. “I’ve never met anyone like her.”
“Well congratulations, buddy!” David said. “Really that’s great."
"Thanks, Dave. I’ve got to go now, but I’m rooting for the plan. Good luck.”
“They hang up just as Mary Margaret pulls up into the driveway and David runs to meet her with Neal.
"We have a surprise for you!” the young boy cries with excitement.
“Dad and I have been working on it all morning!"
David steps up and grabs the bags of groceries from her hands as Neal ties a blind fold around her eyes for the surprise.
"Don’t let me trip!” Mary Margaret cries, laughing.
They lead her to the backyard and David hands her a champagne flute and a single rose. Without lifting the blindfold Mary Margaret lifts the rose to her nose and smiles softly.
“Should we take the blindfold off her?” Neal asks.
David’s about to answer when he hears someone open the front door of the house and call out.
"Oh, Em!” Mary Margaret calls. “Back here, honey!”
Emma comes out onto the back deck, bottle of wine in hand. She’s smiling, wearing a pretty sun dress and jacket, smiling brighter then he’s ever seen her.
And then he looks past her.
And the world stops spinning.
“Is that him?” Mary Margaret asks, her voice dripping with excitement.
“What are you doing here?” David demands, a sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.
“What are you doing here?” Killian fires back. He comes down the steps to stand next to Emma.
“You two know each other?” Emma asks, her brow furrowed.
“What are you doing here?” David ignores her.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Killian,” Mary Margaret bubbles, turning in his general directing, the bandana still over her eyes.
“I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from, Em.”
"There’s was three other girls in my pre-k class named Emma so I hated being called that when I was little,” Emma explained in a rush.
“How do you know my dad?”
Killian’s head whips back to David, his eyes wide. This can not be happening.
David puts one hand on his hip and another covers his mouth. He let’s out a long breath, eyebrows raising as he says, “I’m having a real hard time understanding what’s going on right now.”
“Dad.” She speaks slowly as if he’s simple and doesn’t understand. “This is Killian. My boyfriend.”
“No it’s not. Absolutely, no.” He shakes his head.
Mary Margaret begins grumbling in frustration, not being able to see what’s going on around her.
“What are you doing with a daughter who’s grown up?” Killian hisses.
“We were still in high school, young, that’s we got married.”
“You should have told me!”
“You told me to never talk about my kids!”
Mary Margaret huffs and rips off the blind fold, finally fed up. She drops the rose and champagne flute in the process. The drink spills out on the ground around everyones feet, but no one even notices.
The two men are in a stand off position, eyes wild, not sure where to go from this. Mary Margaret and Emma however and are huddled together whispering how lovely Killian is.
“Can I go inside and watch tv?” Neal asks. He looks beyond uncomfortable.
“Yeah, go ahead.” David nods his head towards the house.
“Good idea,” Killian turns toward the young boy. “Can I come with?”
Neal runs into the house as fast as possible.
“So you guys are together? This is a serious thing?” David demands.
“Yeah, dad,” Emma says, eyes wide as if begging him to calm down.
“Nope. No way. Break up. Right now.”
“No!” Killian yells, angry.
“Then I will mess you up!"
“Mr. Gold, stop!”
And then he’s tackled from the side and he’s laying in the grass starring up at the sky willing the breath to come back to his lungs.
“She’s the love of my life, you slime! How could-"
And then Killian’s there pulling the disgruntled man off David and the girls are yelling. Mr. Gold turns on Killian and hauls off, punching him right in the eye. Killian goes spinning and Emma runs forward, her face ashen as she steadies him.
"Killian!” she cries.
“He didn’t do anything!” Belle yells. She jumps in front of Gold to stop him from going back to punching out David.
“You were talking to him on the phone yesterday!” Gold yells. “Making a date!”
“What?” David cries, he’s bent over, hand on his knees trying to breathe.
“I was coming over to bring Mary Margaret’s favorite kind of cupcakes. For the party that you’re interrupting. We’re friends."
The backyard gate swings open and smacks the side of the house and a stranger comes waltzing into the backyard with a sweater crumpled in one of his fists. He’s got a smug look on his face as he survey’s everything.
"Excuse me. Mary Margret? You left your sweater in my car the other night?” The man holds out the delicate white sweater.
Mary Margaret winces, shaking her head.
“Who are you?” Emma asks, overwhelmed.
“I’m Victor Whale.”
“Victor Whale?” Killian repeats, arms crossed over his chest.
“Victor Whale.” David practically growls.
Killian inspects his hand for a single second before quickly removing a silver ring with a giant red gem in the middle from his fingers. His knuckles cracks as he steps forward, quickly, and throws a straight punch right at Victor Whale’s head. The doctor goes straight to the ground as Emma gasps.
“You know how much pain and suffering you caused my friend, you dumb son of a-”
His sentence is got off as David wraps his arms around him, practically lifting Killian off the ground as he screams, “You stay the hell away from my daughter!”
“Stay away from Belle!”
“I don’t even know you!”
And then all four men- Whale, David, Killian, and Gold are all bunched together throwing punches, kicking, pulling, screaming at each other seemingly for the sake of it.
“Let go of me, let go of me!”
“What is going on?!”
“Let go of me!”
Clothes are tearing, and they’re grunting, falling to the ground in a pile of tangled limbs. They continue wrestling in the dirt as Belle, Mary Margaret, and Emma try to call them away.
To no avail.
They sit out front on the stone planter box, Gold wringing his hands, Killian with his legs crossed looking like a model even with his swollen lip and bruised eye. David sits with his arms on his knees, breathing heavy, and Whale has a bag of frozen peas pressed to his jaw.
Two police officers stare at the odd bunch and then at each other.
“I’m just going to write domestic disturbance, all clear.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Mary Margaret sighs.
They begin to walk away, but one officer turns back.
“Just simmer down,” he says, sternly. “We all have arguments, but if you’re going to fight, just do it inside. Keep it in the family.”
Killian let’s out an almost high pitched giggle, slapping a hand over his mouth to cover it and the goofy grin as David scowls, looking repulsed.
“Hey, babe? Where are my swimming trunks?” You hear your boyfriend David call from the bathroom. It was right across from your bedroom, so he didn’t need to yell.
“David, they’re in here, you don’t need to yell, baby.” You said, getting up and grabbing them off of the dresser. You knocked on the bathroom door. “David. I have your shorts.” You said, handing them to the hand peeking out of the crack in the door.
“Thanks you very much. Get your bathing suit on and get outside. I have a surprise for you!” He said, closing the bathroom door. You shook your head, walking back into the bedroom, and opening your closet. A blue bikini was hanging from a hanger in front of you, so you decided that you would wear it; instead of looking through the mess. Since David was in the bathroom, you changed in the bedroom. As you were tying your bikini strap, you heard a wolf whistle; it belonging to the handsome man standing half naked in your doorframe. “Well, how long have you been here, sexy lady?” He said, winking at you. You blushed as you put your hair up, then bent over to pick your towel up. “Now, babe. Don’t tease. We’re not kids, you know.” David said, his cheeks pink. You laughed,
“You look devilishly handsome in those red swim trunks, David.” You said.
He smirks. “I try.” He grabs a towel off the rack.“Now. Out to the backyard!” David announced, guiding you to the French panel doors that led to the small backyard you owned.
You both recently moved from an apartment to a house, so there was nothing out there but grass, but when you saw the Jacuzzi on a fresh patio; your jaw dropped. “David!” You exclaimed, jumping into his arms. “I cant believe it! Where did you get this, and why?” You asked, nudging your nose into his neck. He laughed, walking over and dropping you over the side. He got in next to you, and pulled you close.
“Brand new house, nothing in it. We had to start somewhere.” He said with a smile, and looked up at the night sky. You giggled, doing the same. You don’t know how long you were out there for, but you both were surely pruned afterwards.
Will: “Y/N, where are you?” You hear your boyfriend call from the kitchen. You grunted in response from the bedroom, where you sat in front of your laptop in a dazed and angry state. Your friend began dating your ex boyfriend from several years ago, and had posted a picture on instagram of her new ring he bought her. They had only been dating for two months and already were getting married. You saw it, and messaged your friend.
Closing your laptop and clicking off your phone, you walked out to see a midnight snack already made for you and placed out on the table. Will smiled at you when you appeared from behind the doorframe, and approached you with his arms open.
“What’s wrong, Love?” He cooed, kissing your forehead. You wrapped your arms around him and told what happened, and instead of saying something, he led you to the table. You sat down in a wooden chair, but Will shook his head at you, and pulled over your recliner. With a smile, he pulled you into his lap, along with your snack. Popcorn, with milk duds, chocolate chips, and a caramel drizzle. Not normally what you would eat, but your boyfriend definitely knew his comfort foods. Together, you both sat at the table, talking about random things until the sun came up.
You were dozing off on the couch when the phone rang. Getting up, you ran to the bedroom and picked up the receiver.
“Ay, Baby. I just wanted to call to let you know I’m coming home a little early. ”
“Sounds good.” you reply trying to not sound as excited as you were. He’d been on tour a while.
“I love you, see you when I get home.”
You heard your boyfriend say before the call ended. You put the phone back on its charger, picked up your pillow and blanket, and walked back into the living room. You fell asleep on the couch right after that, waking up to Dana’s soft hand caressing your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open, and a large grin appeared on your face when you saw him, the same expression on his face. He bear hugged you, pulling you up from your blanket cocoon, and swinging you around.
“I missed you so much!” He said, burying his face into your neck. You giggled, wrapping your legs around his middle.
“I was just about to watch The Notebook, if you wanted to join me. I have tissues.” You said to him, pulling him down on the couch. He grunted as you both fell, but you fell in his lap, so there was nothing to complain about. You curled up in his lap, your arms draped around his shoulders. He smiled down at you just as the movie was starting, a tear already falling from his face.
“I love you.” He said.
“I love you too, Dana.” You responded, giving him a quick kiss. You both lasted about halfway through the movie with no tears, only because of the lack of sleep you both got. Dana was normally the one who fell asleep during movies. Not the both of you.
Cole: It was about 10 when you arrived home from work to find your boyfriend Cole on the couch watching some type of cartoon. You closed the door behind you, slipped off your shoes, and gave him a quick kiss before heading into your bedroom. You dropped your bags at the door, and took off your day clothes. After you had your pajamas on, you decided to look for your journal in the closet. The light was already on, due to Cole being home all day, so you began looking. A Nike shoebox was at the front of the floor, and out of curiosity; you opened it. A mess of blues, reds, yellows, and intricate designs were all shattered. You wondered what it was at first, but then; it hit you like an incoming train. It was the china doll you got from your grandmother when you were only seven years old. You had been looking for it for years, and you never realized that you brought it with you when you moved in with Cole. A tear rolled down your face as you picked up the box with the remains in it, and you shook your head.
Walking into the living room, you called Cole’s name about four times, but he didn’t hear you over the TV. “Cole!” You said louder, his head whipping around to look at you; wide eyes staring. “What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, rising from the couch. You stepped towards him, feeling his embrace around you, but you kept the box close.
“My china doll is broken..”You said quietly into his chest. He stroked your head, guiding you to the table. "Put the box down, I’ll grab the glue.” He said with a reassuring smile on his face, pulling away from you, and entering the kitchen. You put the box on the table, and opened it to reveal the mess. Cole came back with the glue, sitting down in the chair across from you, and grabbed two pieces. “Now, time to get to work!” He said, smiling at you. About two hours later, you had a comfy bed, a warm man, and a fixed doll.
“Isn’t it nice?” You hear your boyfriend ask from the top of the hill you had been traipsing up for half an hour. “Sure…” You heave, gasping for breath. Reaching the top; keeling over. He placed a lawn chair down on the ground, laying a blanket over it. He laughed at you, waving you over to sit down beside him. You stood up again, walking over to him, dragging your pillow behind. Gabe thought that since you just got home from a trip, that it would be nice if you two could relax and gaze at the stars. When he heard that it would be a clear sky and a full moon tonight, he giddily told you once dinner was over. He looked so happy, to include you in something that he loved, so you gladly said yes. Now, here you were, in his arms. His arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back to lean against his chest, where he rested his head on yours.
“So, are stars cold, or warm?” He asked quietly, as if there was somebody around.
“Well, Gabe, stars are cold. Just like an ice cube, but highly explosive.” You laughed, grasping his hand in yours. He kissed your head, and looked up at the sky once more.
“Look! A shooting star!” He said excitedly, poking a finger out towards the object. You giggled, looking towards where he was pointing. It was obviously an airplane.
”Make a wish!” You told him, smiling ever so slightly. He nodded, closing his eyes. And for a few more hours, you both stayed there.
You know, in another universe, David and Gillian could have been this costar couple who would have been so done with Hollywood and so nostalgic about the hippie years that they would have recreated Woodstock in their huge backyard and David would have played the ukulele after he fed their pet goats and Gillian would be knitting in the sun while drinking some herbal infusion, only wearing a flower crown and looking fabulous.