So hey, @mossandmushroom ? I was cleaning out my mail the other day and I found an ancient ask prompt about a post-Underworld conversation. I haven’t written any fic since I think November, I’m rusty, this is only 500 words long and pretty raw, but here you go. :)
Emma traced the line of the dagger on Killian’s forearm, the curled letters of Milah’s name. “You want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t ask what she meant. The street light cast a steady glow across the bedroom floor. Rain pattered on the window as the promised storm made its approach, and a draft moved the curtains. They would have to fix that before winter, Emma thought.
“Been a while since we got back.” Weeks now of normal skies, and not the threatening red of the Underworld – for values of normal that include dirigibles and the occasional dragon, anyway. Weeks of holding each other when they could, too many days spent with Emma’s secret nibbling at her peace.
She curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled his arm closer around her, his chest pressed against her back. Things were better now, since the truth was out. Whatever came next, they were together.
“There’s little gain in pondering it.”
“I don’t know, you might feel better.”
A minute passed before Killian’s sigh stirred the hair on the back of her neck. The house creaked as if in answer. She had gotten used to its noises in the sleepless, haunted nights before he died.
“I would have liked to see her. I don’t know what I would have said, after this long. Nothing she didn’t always know, most likely.”
“You’ve never talked about her much.” Another pause followed. She wanted to turn around, to see the thoughts move across his face, but she didn’t move, just listened to his steady quiet breath.
“She wanted new things, always. New lands, new stars, new songs in her ears and her lips. I cannot imagine how it must have been, to wait in that same shadow of a town for centuries. And now….”
Emma squeezed his arm again. “I don’t think we can believe much that Hades said. Things had already changed there, before you left, with the river. She’ll find her way onward.” And if not, Emma thought, when we return, whenever that is – we’ll make it happen. The Oracle’s words returned to her, like a particularly tiresome song on the radio, told her that it might not be a long wait. “I really liked her. For whatever that’s worth, I mean. I’m glad I got to meet her.”
“And I, however ill the circumstances.” He withdrew his arm from her grasp, moved her hair, and kissed the back of her neck. “I love you, Emma.”
“Mm.” She smiled at both his words and that he seemed to think she needed to hear them just then. “I love you.” She fumbled around and dragged the comforter up. “Should get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day.” Magic scissors, honestly, what’s next? Hairpins, maybe. We already did hats. She fell asleep still smiling.