Chapter Text
Her head. Oh, god, her head. Why did her head hurt so much? Emma groaned, a pathetic whimper coming out as she tried to roll over on the couch. Her stomach gave an uneasy roll of its own at the movement, protesting against the liquor that was still swirling around inside.
Right. Liquor. Drinking. Drinking last night. Drinking with David. David. She was going to have to kill David. David, who insisted she show up early to this weekend extravaganza disguised as a wedding. The one who claimed that since he’d lost his best man when Mary Margaret stole his little sister to be her maid of honour that he was entitled to a brother-sister pre-bachelor party. It’s only fair, he’d insisted, flashing her those big puppy dog eyes and Emma had caved. She always caved when it came to her brother - or his fiance for that matter. She was weak when it came to those two. And now she had to murder one of them. Murder her only brother two days before his wedding for forcing what must have been an entire bottle of expensive scotch down her throat while they played poker and smoked cigars (and later sang along to the entire Mama Mia soundtrack - not that she’d ever admit that). Pity. She really liked David.
“Emma, Emma, bo-bemma, Banana-fana fo-femma, Fee-fi-mo-memma. Emma!” The loud singing announced her brother practically bouncing into the room and throwing himself on the couch near her feet. Emma groaned again and threw a pillow over her ears to try and block out the off-key hollering from the asshole next to her. She was liking him less and less with every passing second.
David laughed and ripped the pillow out of her grasp. “Rise and shine sister-mine!” he chanted. She was actually going to murder him. She reached out, a pathetic attempt to strike him but her hand just fell limply at her side.
“They will never find your body,” she told him. He laughed again and Emma cursed David and his super liver. She’d been his sister since she was ten; since Ruth found her on the street, burning a book of fairy tales to keep warm, and had taken her home for the night. That night had turned into forever and now, after eighteen years of living with the man, she’d never once seen him suffer a hangover.
“How are you so chipper?” she asked. Her voice sounded like she’d gargled sandpaper. David smiled, hauling her up by the shoulders until she was sitting like an almost-human.
He threw his arms out. “It’s a beautiful day?” he offered. “I’m one morning closer to marrying the woman of my dreams? Everyone who I love and who loves me is on their way to celebrate the happiest moment of my life?” Emma frowned at him. How dare he be so happy so early. David laughed at her misery again but patted her shoulder sympathetically before rising up and walking across the hall to the kitchen. Then, as if out of nowhere, a giant cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and two extra-strength Tylenol capsules appeared on the table in front of her. She wondered if she’d fallen asleep for a minute there.
Emma reached for the coffee like it was a lifeline - which it really was if she was being honest. She drank deeply and felt the effects almost immediately. She downed the pills and water next. She couldn’t quite manage a smile since this was still technically his fault, but she offered David a thankful look for taking care of her. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t have to murder him. Just some light maiming.
“You might want to jump in the shower,” he told her as she shuffled into the kitchen, he himself already looking and smelling fresh as a daisy. “You look a little rough,” he said with a grimace. Emma scowled at him and threw a nearby banana at his head which he easily dodged. She caught a glimpse of her reflection though, in the metallic gleam of the toaster and, well, he wasn’t wrong. “Just thought you’d want to freshen up and wake up before everyone gets here,” he suggested.
That’s right. It was Thursday. Everyone was arriving today. Oh, God. Emma had not played this right. Getting hammered on the night before the festivities even began. Today everyone would be arriving and settling into their respective rooms in the estate (read: mansion) owned by Mary Margaret’s parents - seriously the place was enormous. Mary Margaret had told her once how many bedrooms it had but the number had been so ridiculous and so superfluous that Emma had struck it from her memory. Nobody with an only child needed a house with rooms in the double digits. And this wasn’t even their home. No, they considered this place their ‘summer cottage’ where they would entertain friends on the private lake. It was convenient for a wedding though, she had to say. The whole bridal party was staying there for the entire weekend.
Tonight was the Stag and Doe. Leave it to David and Mary Margaret to find a way to avoid having to be apart even for their bachelor and bachelorette parties. It wasn’t like they’d ever been apart since they were fourteen years old - why start now? It was themed. Of course it was themed. Mary Margaret loved themes and David loved Mary Margaret so he let her have whatever damn theme she wanted, and since her parents had put their foot down against their daughter getting married on Halloween, they were having a costume stag and doe . She groaned. There were so many people coming. She knew. She’d had to organize it.
Tomorrow was the spa day for Mary Margaret and her bridesmaids and she assumed the boys would be treating David to some sort of manly pre-wedding tradition. All the out of town family would be arriving for the rehearsal dinner on Saturday. And then finally, the wedding was on Sunday. This weekend was a marathon, she mused, not a sprint.
Dozens of decorators, caterers, florists, and lots of other jobs Emma had never heard of were already running around the grounds - yes, the place had grounds - setting things up for what would certainly be the most lavish and extravagant (knowing Mary Margaret’s parents) yet classy and intimate (knowing Mary Margaret) wedding the world had ever seen. And all of them were under the direct orders of Regina Mills, David and Mary Margaret’s wedding planner and probably the most terrifying woman Emma had ever met.
Emma needed to boot and rally. She was the maid of honour and the groom’s sister. This weekend was not about her. Her job was to make sure everything ran smoothly. That the two most important people in her life had the most amazing few days of their lives and nothing and no-one was going to stand in her way.
Except maybe her speech, Emma thought as she turned on the shower and stepped under it. The hot water felt good and helped wake her up a little. The speech. The speech that she’d had nearly a year to write and still only had a blank page to show for it. How was she supposed to write a speech about love when she didn’t believe in it herself?
Well, that wasn’t completely true. She believed that some love was possible. But only for certain people. People like David and Mary Margaret who had found ‘The One’ when they were in the eighth grade and had never looked back. But they were the exception, not the rule.
Love had only ever left Emma hurt and alone. Love had only ever left her behind. First her birth parents who abandoned her on the side of the road as an infant. Then the string of foster parents that had cast her aside when they decided she wasn’t what they wanted. Then Ruth who had died far too young and left her and David behind. Then Neal, her high school boyfriend who had been her first everything before he disappeared to another city without so much as a ‘see ya’ text. And now David and Mary Margaret were getting married and starting a family of their own - one she wouldn’t be as much of a part of, no matter how much her brother insisted things wouldn’t change.
No, love wasn’t in the cards for Emma. She told people she didn’t have time for it but really she just didn’t have the heart for it. A heart could only take so many blows before it learned to rebuild itself out of something stronger. The taunting lilt of ‘always a bridesmaid, never a bride’ flitted through her head and she shook it away. She was fine like this. She was happy. She had a job she loved, a nice apartment, and good friends. She didn’t need love.
As she finished drying her hair and putting on enough makeup so that she didn’t look like an extra from The Walking Dead, Emma heard the commotion of people arriving. She could pick out Mary Margaret, Belle, Elsa and Ruby’s voices easily and she rushed out to greet her friends. They squealed when they saw her and her head only protested a little as they wrapped her up in a tangle of limbs that passed for a group hug.
Mary Margaret gave her a sympathetic look. “How was the pre-bachelor party?” she asked and Emma only grunted in response.
“You guys got here okay?” David asked, squeezing in to grab his bride-to-be and give her a kiss that would make you think she’d been away for months and not for a night.
“Save it for the honeymoon would you?” Ruby said in mock disgust and David looked at her with a wolfish smile.
“Don’t be jealous, Ruby! I’ve got one for you too!” David rushed to grab a protesting Ruby and planted a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek.
Emma smiled as she watched her friends laugh and joke and tease each other. She loved having them all here together. Soon the boys would get here too and for one, perfect weekend everything would be just the way it should be. All her friends in one place, celebrating together for the first time since her college graduation.
Well, almost perfect. All of them being here also meant he would be here. He and his snark and his ego and his womanizing ways. She supposed it was a small price to pay for the reunion. And she couldn’t deny that she really enjoyed the look on his face when she put him in his place.
“Oh! It’s Killian,” David said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check a message. Speak of the devil , she thought. “He says they should be here in five,” David informed them, tucking his phone away.
“Great,” Emma said sarcastically and David shot her a begrudging look. She saw Ruby and Belle roll their eyes as Elsa and Mary Margaret started putting things away.
“Be nice,” David warned her.
“I’m always nice!” she insisted, offended. “ He’s the one who can’t seem to manage to be a decent human being for more than five minutes.”
“Come on, Emma,” Mary Margaret insisted from the kitchen. “You’re just as guilty. I don’t know why you egg him on.” She shook her head and Emma balked.
“I do not! I just think that the man needs reminding every now and then that he’s not God’s gift to women.” It was David who rolled his eyes this time. “Seriously, David, how you can stand to have him be your best man -” she started.
“Nope,” he cut her off. “You don’t get to complain about that. You chose Mary Margaret over me when we both asked you, so I had to find someone else. Besides, Killian is my best friend.” She balked. David rolled his eyes. “My best male friend,” he corrected. “So, again, be nice .” He gave her a stern look.
“But he’s just so… so…”
“So what?” Ruby asked, looking like she was really enjoying this.
Elsa shot her a look. “Don’t encourage her, Ruby.”
Ruby grinned. “Oh come on, it’s fun! It’s like a free show watching those two go at each other.”
“We do not go at each other!” Emma insisted again. “I just find it hard to say nothing like all of you do when he goes around acting so… cocky.”
“Cocky?” Ruby prodded and Belle elbowed her.
“You know what I mean. Every time he comes here, it’s all, oh, I’ve done this and don’t worry, I know how to do that ... Look at me, I’m so handsome and -”
“Handsome?” Mary Margaret interjected with a raised eyebrow.
“Shut it!” she cast her friend a warning glare. “I mean he thinks he’s the hottest thing since the Hemsworths. And it doesn’t help that he always drags along some bimbo whose sole purpose in life seems to be to fluff his ego and his…” she made a vague hand gesture, “you know.”
“Woah, Emma, tell us how you really feel, why don’t you?” Ruby laughed.
“He’s really not actually -” David started but she cut him off.
“Look, it’s nothing against the women okay - I’m sure on some level they’re really nice or whatever, or have some great heart or talent, but honestly, any woman who is willing to be Killian Jones’ date must have the IQ and backbone of a slug.”
“He’s not bringing a date,” David told her before she could go on.
Emma reeled back from the news. Killian Jones without a date? Impossible. The man couldn’t stand to be caught dead without something shiny on his arm.
“What? Has he finally slept with every woman in America and abroad?”
David rolled his eyes. “He’s bringing his brother. Something about him being on shore leave and wanting to spend time with him.”
“Oh my God,” Emma groaned, putting her head in her hands.
“See?” Belle piped in softly, misunderstanding her distress. “I’ve always said you judged him too quickly-”
“ There’s two of them !?” she demanded, hoping someone would tell her it was a joke. There was a collective groan and a small laugh from her friends. “Is one Jones in this world not enough?” she asked the room.
Before anyone had a chance to answer, a smooth, accented voice called from down the hall. “Hello? Is someone getting married here?”
“Robin!” Mary Margaret cheered, perking right up as though there was anywhere left for her to perk. “We’re in the kitchen!” she called.
“How the bloody hell do we find the kitchen?” came another accented voice, this one rougher around the edges. “This place is a maze.” Will! Emma rushed out with Mary Margaret to help their friends navigate the enormous house.
They found them looking confused in the front hall and Emma practically threw herself in Will’s arms as Mary Margaret greeted her guests.
Will had been in the same foster home as her when they were little. He was only a few years older, but he’d made a point to look out for her when most of the older kids had been inclined to pick on the smaller ones. She’d run away when he’d been transferred to another home for fighting and, after Ruth adopted her, she thought she’d never see him again. But with some help she’d managed to track him down in high school and was happy to find out he’d been placed with a distant relative the state had managed to locate in the area - a second cousin, Robin.
Robin was in college and on his own at the time, but took Will under his wing and had brought him up more like a little brother than a son. When David, Mary Margaret, and Emma had all ended up at the same college as Will and Robin, the friendship had been inevitable. Will introduced them to Ruby, and Mary Margaret became quick friends with Belle and Elsa when they all joined and felt like the odd ones out in the same sorority. However, Will had also unfortunately introduced them all to his classmate and drinking buddy, Killian Jones - something Emma would never forgive him for.
“Hey! You’re going to ruin my shirt!” he told her, pretending he wasn’t hugging her back.
“Your shirt’s already wrinkled,” she told him.
“It’s disheveled,” he corrected her. “There’s a difference.”
“Come now, Swan, I know it can be difficult to find men at your age, but there’s no need to throw yourself at poor Will like that.”
And there it was. Ninety seconds. He’d lasted a whole ninety seconds before saying something rude and asshole-ish and just… ugh. She hated him.
She opened her mouth to retort but Robin beat her to it. He turned on Killian, finger extended in warning. “You! No. None of that. We talked about this.”
Killian snapped his mouth shut and held his hands up in innocence but she could see him biting back a smile. Ugh, he even looked smug when he was being chastised. She looked him over, arming herself for the battle that was soon to come, scanning for anything she could throw back in his face when she needed it, something to bring him back down to size.
He was handsome - she had to give him that. He was probably one of the best looking men she’d ever met and she remembered thinking so the first time they were introduced. But when he opened his mouth... god. The sheer level of douche that was contained in one man. It made her shudder at the thought and angry at her past self for judging a book by its cover. Why her friends put up with him, she’d never understand.
The others had joined them in the hall by now and pleasantries were being exchanged. But as she hugged Robin, and Killian exchanged how-have-you-beens with David and Belle, she could feel his eyes on her. That was another thing that drove her crazy about him. He always seemed to be paying too much attention to her - probably sizing her up the way she did him.
But sometimes… sometimes she’d caught him watching her with an expression that wasn’t mirthful or arrogant - a small smile curling the corner of his mouth as if against his will, his brow softened from it’s usual expressiveness. It made her unsteady, made her feel unbalanced because she didn’t know what to make of it. What to make of the fact that she kind of liked it. That scared the shit out of her.
“Allow me to introduce my brother,” Killian was suddenly saying and she realised she may have been the one staring this time. “Everyone, this is Liam. Liam this is… everyone,” he smiled. Emma raised her brow at them both. Another Jones. This could not end well. “It’s Liam’s first time in the States,” he informed them as Liam shook hands with everyone.
“Well,” Liam interjected, “first time off a ship anyway.”
“Welcome,” David said, patting him on the shoulder.
“We’re so happy to have you here,” Mary Margaret cheered, hugging him.
“Nice to meet you,” Elsa smiled, offering her hand. Liam looked from Mary Margaret to her and for a second his eyes went a little wide - Elsa could have that effect - before he took her hand and held it a fraction too long. Elsa’s smile shifted as she looked at him and Liam finally released her hand.
“Thank you,” Liam smiled, looking down at the floor and rubbing the back of his neck. “I do hope I’m not intruding,” he offered. “Only it’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to see my brother and…” Holy shit. Was he blushing? Emma thought. How the hell was this guy related to Killian?
“Of course you’re not,” she found herself saying before she could stop herself. He must be adopted. That was the only explanation. “This family has always had a soft spot for picking up strays along the way,” she insisted. “Emma,” she told him her name.
“Ah, Emma,” he said, casting a look at Killian. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Emma cast her own look at the other brother, skeptical of what he could have possibly said about her. He maintained his look of innocence. Liam smiled and took her hand, shaking it. “A pleasure,” he said and she smiled back almost instinctively. Maybe her judgement had been off when she’d first met Killian but she liked to think she was a pretty good judge of character. And Liam, well Liam had an air about him. It was the opposite of Killian’s. Where Killian exuded cockiness and pretense, Liam was modest and sincere. Well what do you know, she thought, there is a Jones out there I could like.
Quickly, once all the greetings had been taken care of, Emma informed everyone of the schedule for the weekend. “What will the guys be doing tomorrow?” she asked, looking pointedly at the best man.
“We’re going camping,” Killian informed her. It almost pissed her off how perfect a choice that was. David loved camping. “Lots of good old fashioned male bonding,” Killian joked. “I’ve packed enough cigars and whiskey to take down a horse. Let’s see if we can get Dave hungover for the first time in his life shall we?” Emma braced himself for whatever he was going to say next. “Besides, it will give us a chance to give him some tips for the wedding night.” He winked at the groom.
“Well, that’s our cue, I think,” David said, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Let’s go find everyone a room and have a drink and maybe some pizza before people get here.”
As the gang headed into the kitchen, Killian went about hanging up his jacket and setting his keys down before picking up his bag, calling after them. “Don’t worry Dave! I can tell you what to do so you don’t bleed your first time!” Emma lingered behind. She couldn’t help herself.
“You know you talk a lot for a guy nobody listens to.”
And there it was, that cocky, amused smile he seemed to save only for her. Emma ignored the little flip her stomach did - convincing herself that it was just leftover hangover symptoms.
“ Swan ,” he said almost affectionately, but there was a mocking there too. “We didn’t have a chance to say hello! You look…” He paused, taking in what she was sure were dark circles and pale skin. “Alive... mostly. How absolutely wonderful for someone, I’m sure.”
She didn’t even let it phase her. If he was already relying on physical insults she’d already won. “I noticed you didn’t bring a date.” He eyed her skeptically. “Did you forget to pay your tab at Escorts ‘R Us this month?”
He smiled. “I don’t see your date, Swan. Or is he already making a hasty escape out the bathroom window? Don’t take it too hard. Not everyone can have as many suitors as some.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ha,” she snorted. “Yeah I know all about your many suitors. Tell me something,” she started, inching closer and speaking low like it was a secret. He leaned in almost like a reflex. “Does your right hand know that you sometimes cheat on it with your left?”
He laughed outright at that. “Ah, love, it might shock you to discover that some of us are capable of finding willing partners for the world’s oldest dance. But I can understand how some might be led to believe one’s hand is one’s only option.”
She tilted her head. “Yeah, I’m gonna bet that partners like you are part of the reason so many dancers prefer their own hand. Might have something to do with why you only ever have a date for one night...”
It was his turn to inch forward. He stepped closer until there was barely any breathing room between them but Emma held her ground, tilting her chin up at him and meeting his gaze. “Oh, believe me. My prowess leaves nothing to be desired,” he promised. His voice had dropped, sounding gravelly and making his accent more pronounced. Emma steeled herself, ignoring the way the heat of him and the smell of his cologne warmed her skin. He always smelled so damn good, like leather and the sea. It was destabilizing and she nearly stumbled on her next words.
“And yet, you brought your brother as your date. Something tells me he doesn't put out.” He smiled at her and it was that smile she’d seen before - the unsettling one. The one that messed with this thing they had going - this mutual distaste. She needed to wipe it off his face. “Maybe I should find out,” she added with a suggestive brow and watched with pride and a small flicker of disappointment as the smile fell from his face.
“I’ll not have you defiling my brother, Swan!” He said it in jest, but he didn’t seem quite committed to his mock offence. She worried she may have pushed too far.
“Emma! Killian! Let’s go!” Belle shouted from the kitchen. “We’re ordering pizza and Ruby is getting hangry. Killian I swear she’ll put mushrooms on yours if you don’t come tell us what you want!”
They broke apart and it was only a second before Killian’s regular cock-sure bravado was back in place.
“Shall we?” he asked, indicating that she should lead the way down the hall.
Only four days. She told herself. She could handle four days.
-/-
“So tell me, Mary Margaret,” Killian asked later as they were all eating their pizza. Emma had nearly let slide his ‘ really Swan, anchovies?’ comment, but then suggested he try the one with garlic since it was unlikely he would find anyone desperate enough to kiss him tonight. He refused, insisting that experience had taught him to be optimistic. She’d muttered something about women with no standards before Robin had told them to knock it off and eat their bloody pizza. “What exactly does this party tonight entail? All Belle said was that I had to dress up? It’s lucky I still had my Halloween costume from last year.”
“You mean your halloween costume from every year ,” Emma snarked. Killian smirked.
“Why mess with perfection?” he asked. “Besides, Captain Hook is always a killer with the ladies.”
“No!” Mary Margaret covered her ears. “We’re not supposed to know what you’re dressing up as!”
“Way to ruin the surprise,” Emma said harshly and regretted it when she saw genuine surprise and regret cross his face. She ignored it, turning to the groomsmen who weren’t aware of the plans for the night. “We’re having a masquerade ball. Belle and Elsa spent weeks making everyone gorgeous masks to choose from and wear with their costumes. Nobody can know who anyone is, though. We’re doing this the right way. Nobody reveals their identities until midnight. That’s how long Mary Margaret and David have to find each other once we separate them at the beginning of the party.”
“I’m sorry, are you trying to tell me that these two haven’t told each other exactly what they’re dressing up as? I don’t buy it,” Robin shook his head.
“We took care of that,” Emma laughed. “Well, Belle did. Belle picked out their costumes and has kept them a secret. Thanks again,” she said, turning to the woman in question.
“My pleasure,” she said. “Actually, Elsa helped a lot. Her taste is impeccable.”
“Well, you couldn't have left Swan to do it. They’d both be wearing jeans and leather jackets.”
Emma shot him a look but Elsa was quicker. “How exactly is that different from your everyday look? Worried she might have picked out the wrong shade of black?” she challenged, eyeing up his black jeans, black boots, and black shirt. His black leather jacket still hung in the closet in the front hall. Liam hid his guffaw behind his hand and Elsa smirked proudly.
“Don’t worry,” Emma jumped in. “Killian doesn’t need a costume. He’s always dressed like a giant tool.” It wasn’t her best insult but hey, they couldn’t all be winners.
Killian smirked, stepping closer to her, invading her space a little, His voice was low and suggestive. “I’d be happy to show you my giant tool, Swan,” he offered and Emma pulled a face.
“ Oh my god, just bone already ,” she heard Ruby mutter under her breath.
“What?” they both snapped but Ruby pretended like she hadn’t heard them.
Liam laughed again and Elsa turned to him with wide, almost sorrowful eyes. “Oh, Liam,” she said and he turned to her. Emma wasn’t sure if she imagined the slight redness on his cheeks. It was very like his brother’s. “I’m so sorry. Killian didn’t tell us you were coming,” she glared at her friend. “Do you have a costume? I’m sure we could put something together if you -”
“Don’t trouble yourself, love,” he answered. “Killian forgot to mention a costume when he invited me.” He shot his brother a look. “But thankfully, my brother still had his costume from the time he played Westley in that Princess Bride stage play in college.”
Emma lit up just as Killian grimaced. “I’m sorry, the time he what ?” she asked, beaming. Oh, this was too good. She definitely needed to hear that story. Liam smirked, looking at his brother’s embarrassment and Emma once again marveled at how much she liked the older Jones brother.
“Hey! No more costume talk!” Ruby jumped in. “We can’t have David and Mary Margaret knowing who anyone is! It will spoil the game!”
“Sorry,” Liam said, looking a little abashed. “Mum’s the word,” He cast Emma a glance out of the corner of his eye, leaning in to stage-whisper. “He had the ponytail and everything,” he told her conspiratorially. It took everything she had not to burst out laughing, instead settling for tossing a shit-eating grin and a ‘ just wait ” look at Killian. Killian looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Liam, you might be becoming one of my favorite people.”
He grinned.
“We should start getting ready,” Belle chimed in. “People will be arriving soon.”
“Oh I can’t wait to see the costumes!” Mary Margaret squealed and then turned suddenly. “Emma!” Emma jumped. “Will you let me do your makeup? Please? You never let me and it’s my wedding!”
Emma sighed, giving in to her friend’s decades-long attempt at dolling her up. The last time she'd caved had been prom night. “Fine.”
“Oh thank you! You’re going to look gorgeous!” Mary Margaret squealed before quickly catching herself. “Not that you don’t always look gorgeous!”
Emma saw Killian open his mouth but didn’t give him the chance. “Can it, Ponytail.”
He pressed his mouth into a tight line but the corners turned up despite how obviously he was trying to fight it.
“Wait, first let me show you your costume,” Belle said to Mary Margaret. Emma didn’t know which one of them was more excited at the prospect.
“Okay! Emma, meet me in my room okay?” The bride-to-be waited for Emma to nod in agreement (defeat) before rushing off with Belle, Elsa and Ruby following quickly behind. Emma stood shaking her head as they ran away giggling. David corralled all the boys, rushing them off in the other direction to do… whatever guys did to get ready for a party. She watched them all disappearing down the hall, whooping and cheering. She thought she might have heard Will shout something about David finding his True Love and she shook her head.
“This is why I’m never going to fall in love,” she groaned to nobody in particular, shaking her head. “It makes people act like idiots.”
“At least we can agree on one thing,” she heard a voice answer. Her eyes snapped up to see Killian, still hovering in the doorway. He smiled slightly at her. “Not in the cards for me either, I think.” There was something vulnerable about the way he said it, like there was some secret that she was missing. Just for a second, she caught herself wondering what it was, feeling a slight tug in her chest at the defeated way he spoke. A connection? She smothered that feeling right away.
“Lucky for the women of the world,” Emma answered.
He only gave her another one of those small, half smiles before following the others down the hall.
“Emma! Get your ass up here!” Ruby shouted from one of the bedrooms. Emma left the kitchen, doing her best to ignore the way getting the last word with Killian hadn’t left her feeling as smug as it usually did.
-/-
“Ah, there’s my best man,” David said as Killian walked into the room. “Leaving me in my hour of need already?”
“Please, I was gone for less than a minute. Couldn’t you guys keep yourselves entertained for that long without me?” he asked mirthfully.
“What were you doing back there?” Will asked, sounding like he knew the answer already.
“Speaking with the lovely Emma, I’ll wager,” Robin answered with a smirk.
“What else is new?” David asked, rolling his eyes before Killian could defend himself.
“Why is this your hour of need, exactly?” Killian asked, choosing not to contradict them. He had, in fact, been talking to her, so he didn’t really have a leg to stand on.
“Because Robin has a better costume than me!”
It was Killian’s turn to roll his eyes. “His name is literally Robin. Who else could reasonably dress up as Robin Hood?”
“But that’s just it! She’ll never suspect it!” David insisted. The men all paused, exchanging looks. David held up the costume that had been laid out for him on the bed. “Belle dressed me as Prince Charming. I love her to death, but she’s just as much of a romantic as Mary Margaret. It’s too obvious, she’ll find me in a second.”
“He has a point, you know,” Robin agreed.
“Hey, Belle put a lot of work into picking your costumes,” Will reminded them. He cleared his throat when Robin shot him a wry look. “And the others. They all put in a lot of work…”
Killian grinned. “And wouldn’t it just be great to see their reactions when they realise we’ve switched it on them?” Even David smiled, excited at the harmless though somewhat juvenile prank. Will looked nervous though.
“Listen, I just don’t want to be the reason we ensue Elsa’s wrath,” he defended. Liam glanced at Will, and Killian noticed a slightly downtrodden look on his brother’s face. He frowned.
“It’s my Stag and Doe,” the groom insisted. “I say we do it.”
“Aye,” Killian agreed. He slapped a hand on David’s shoulder. “Let’s see if true love really does conquer all, shall we?”
Robin considered this for a moment, arms crossed as he stroked his beard. “All right, but if we do this, we should really commit. Everybody confess what your costume is so we can pick the most un-David-like one.”
Will still didn’t look convinced. “What’s with him?” David asked.
Robin smirked. “He’s just worried that Belle will be mad at him. Or is it that you picked your costume with her in mind and don’t want to give it up?”
“Really, Will? You’re still hung up on her?” David joked. “Why don’t you just tell her already?” Liam perked up then, looking back at Will after having been staring at the floor for a moment.
“Oh, I was under the impression that Elsa was your girlfriend,” he said casually. Four pairs of suspicious eyes turned to him. “You just seemed so set on not upsetting her is all…” Killian didn’t buy it.
Will looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Bloody hell, Elsa? No. She just scares the hell out of me and she should scare you too,” he warned. “That is not a woman you want to cross.”
“Indeed,” Robin agreed, coming up behind his friend and wrapping an arm around him. “Will only has eyes for Belle.” Will elbowed him. “Elsa is, as of present, unattached.”
“Huh,” was all Liam said, suddenly far too uninterested in the conversation. It took Killian a moment, frowning at his brother, trying to read what he was hiding before it hit him.
“ Oh, no, ” he groaned and everyone’s eyes snapped up to him.
“What?” Liam demanded, playing innocent.
“No, no.”
“ What?”
“My own brother!” Killian cried. “Abandoned. Betrayed by my own kin!”
Liam rolled his eyes but his tone was way too defensive. “Shut up, Killian.”
Robin snorted but hid it quickly behind his hand as Killian shot him a death glare.
“Am I missing something?” David asked, looking between the brothers.
“What you’re missing, Dave, is that my brother, sworn bachelor, the last of the sworn bachelors, the last of the Jones’ to carry on the good name and reputation of man about town and sea, has fallen in love.” He cast his eyes to Liam again. “Traitor!”
“Oh, come on, Killian. Stop being dramatic. I’m not in love.”
“Not yet!” he cried. “But I’ve seen that look before - it’s in the eyes. I’ve seen it in my fallen comrades. First David, then Will. Robin was lost to me before I even met him, married at nineteen like some lovesick fool.”
“Careful now, that’s my wife you’re talking about,” Robin warned. Marian and Roland were joining the group the day of the wedding, thinking that subjecting a six year old to three days of wedding festivities seemed unreasonable.
“And now my own brother! Seduced! Stolen away by the Ice Queen. We stood together! Now I stand alone.”
“That’s a bit much don’t you think?” Graham said.
“You like Elsa?” David asked Liam and Killian rounded on him.
“ That’s what you got from what I just said?”
“I mostly tune you out if I’m honest,” David said casually before focusing on Liam again. “If you like Elsa you have the perfect costume. The Princess Bride is her favorite movie. She and Emma are obsessed with it - it’s a little annoying actually. If you wear that, you’ll definitely get her attention.”
“Oh, well…” was all Liam said, clearly flustered to Killian’s disgust. He did not like how pleased his brother looked at the idea.
“Killian,” David said then. “Let’s see your costume. Mary Margaret won’t come near me if she thinks I’m you. She’s seen your pirate costume a million times now.”
“I think the hair might give it away, Dave,” Killian laughed, gesturing to his own dark hair that contrasted so drastically with the groom’s fair head. “Besides,” he smirked. “You don’t have the cleavage for it.”
David rolled his eyes. “Oh, far be it from me to deny you the opportunity to wear a shirt unbuttoned to your waist.”
“What exactly is your obsession with this Captain Hook costume, Brother?” Liam piped up. “I’ve never seen it but it would seem it’s rather famous. Why the fixation on Peter Pan?”
“It’s because he’s the boy who never grew up,” Will offered, receiving a punch in the arm from the person in question. “At least that’s what Ruby dubbed him for all his womanizing.”
Killian rolled his eyes, familiar with the nickname. He never bothered to mention that he liked the character of Hook, not Pan. Not the devil child but the melancholic man who clung to the last bit of hope left in him.
“I’m hardly a boy,” Killian glared. “And I don’t womanize. Every woman I take out knows exactly my intentions. I’m not some child playing games.”
“Then you won’t mind giving up your costume,” Robin insisted.
“I told you it would be too obvious,” he reminded them again.
“So am I understanding correctly?” Will asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re just all throwing the girl’s rules out the window?” Will asked with a bit of annoyance in his tone. If Killian himself weren’t so annoyed at Will’s crush on Belle, he’d have found it funny.
“Yes,” David said simply. “Liam, you keep yours so that you have an ice breaker with Elsa and Killian, well, I guess you can keep yours for your vanity.” Killian rolled his eyes. “The rest of you,” he demanded. “Let me see what you have.”
David, Will and Robin spent far too long debating who should wear which of the three costumes, even going so far as to look through the clothes they had brought to see if they could make a new, fourth costume, before finally making a decision nearly an hour later. As they headed to their respective rooms to change, Killian noticed his brother lingering. He sighed again.
“So, Elsa then?”
“I mean, she seems nice,” Liam answered but Killian could see him trying to fight the little smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Nice? Elsa? I mean sure she can be friendly sometimes, but I’ve always found her to be a bit cold, distant.”
“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you, brother.”
“Nonsense,” he smiled. “All women like me.” But then looked at Liam again. “You really like her?”
“I don’t - she seems interesting. I’d like to get to know her better, yes.”
“Unbelievable. You’re in the country for ten minutes and you’ve fallen for the first blonde you’ve seen.” He shook his head, utterly, totally disappointed by his brother.
“I wouldn’t be the first Jones now would I?” Liam muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Unbelievable,” Killian sighed.
“You keep saying that,” Liam pointed out.
“Well it is! A few years ago we were all free, unattached. We could head to the bar, meet some nice girls, have some fun. But now, I swear David has to ask permission before he goes out with us. And Will won’t go anywhere unless we agree to invite Belle along so he can stare at her like a git and not say a word. When did all of the bachelors die off? When did all my friends drop off the face of the earth. I’ll tell you when. When they decided to fall in love!”
“Don’t you think you’re getting a little old for this, Killian?”
“How dare you?” Killian snapped. “I’m thirty-two. I’m hardly at the age of needing to settle down.”
“Then pray tell what age is appropriate to settle down?”
“I’ll let you know if I ever hit it,” Killian smirked. Liam rolled his eyes.
“So what, you’re going to keep man whoring around? Don’t you want to be with someone? Have something real? Fall in love?”
“Love is overrated. I plan to die a bachelor.”
“You mean alone,” Liam corrected him. “I don’t believe you for a second, brother,” he said, but he shook his head in a way that told Killian he didn’t plan on arguing any further. Let Liam disbelieve him. He didn’t need his brother’s approval. He’d tried love once and it had brought him nothing but wasted years and endless torment.
Killian had learned young that love only ended in pain and heartbreak. He’d seen it with his mother, who’d been unhappy her entire married life only to pass away young and leave behind a father who was so heartbroken of the loss of the woman he mistreated that he abandoned his two sons.
He’d sworn off love at six years old. He’d only faltered once since, despite his best efforts to resist it. And that time had only served to reinforce his belief that he was right. Love was a waste of time. He didn’t need it. And he didn’t want it. Let the Davids and the Robins and the Wills - and apparently the Liams - of the world have love. He would stick to one night. One night was clear. One night left no expectations, set no precedent. One night was safe.
“So then,” Liam started, snapping Killian from his admittedly rather gloomy train of thought. “What about Emma?” he trailed off.
Killian’s head snapped up as though he’d been struck. “What about Emma?” he asked wearily.
“She seems nice, is all. Funny, smart, rather beautiful too…”
Killian felt his heart jump into his throat. Emma? Liam and Emma? Was his brother really suggesting that he was interested in Emma romantically? Or even just physically? The idea of his brother and Emma together stirred a feeling inside of him that he didn’t like. The same feeling that had come over him when Emma had taunted him with the idea of her and Liam earlier. What was it - anger? Disgust? Jealousy ? No. He wasn’t jealous. Emma could sleep with whoever she wanted. So could his brother for that matter. So could he. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.
“I’ll admit that she’s rather pleasant to look at but believe me, the woman is a harpie. She’s got a wicked tongue on her. She’s cold and defensive and she has walls a mile high.”
“She seemed rather pleasant to me. Witty too.”
“Oh, aye, she’s got wit, that’s for sure.” He caught the corner of his mouth ticking up and forced it down. “She’s quick and rather amusing when she’s not yelling at me.”
“You don’t seem to mind her yelling at you.”
He laughed. “She’s quick to anger, that’s all,” Killian shrugged, trying to go for blase but knowing he was failing. “Makes her rather fun to argue with. She has a way of seeing people… she’s quite perspective really.” She was. She could and would call him on any and all of his bullshit. He was always surprised to realise how much he enjoyed that. But she had him pegged wrong. Always had. And he couldn’t forgive her that.
“So you don’t like her then?” Liam continued, frowning. “I suppose I can understand that. I heard you talking in the hall. She does seem like she can be rather…”
“Rather what?” Killian said quickly, shocked by how vehemently his body reacted to the idea of someone speaking poorly of his rival - someone besides him anyway.
Liam’s eyes went wide and then settled into a knowing expression Killian didn’t like. “Nothing,” he said, but the word held weight.
“She’s just… she’s had a hard life,” Killian found himself saying. Shut up, why are you defending her? he demanded of himself, but he couldn’t stop the words that came out. “She’s been through a lot - like we have. And she’s done some rather impressive things with her life despite it. She’s a detective you know?”
“Yes, I know. You’ve told me. You’ve told me a lot about her actually…”
“Right,” Killian caught himself. Clearing his throat. He didn’t like what his brother was implying. Killian didn’t want Emma. Of course he didn’t. They fought and they bantered and they teased but that was all their relationship was. It was all it ever had been - well, almost. There was that first night... But regardless, he didn’t want his brother to get tangled up with her either. For his brother’s sake only. Emma pushed everyone away. He wouldn’t want to risk his brother being hurt like... “Well, yes, she is cold and distant and incredibly frustrating and - I don’t know if you want to go there. Not worth the effort I think and -”
“ Killian.”
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m not interested in Emma,” he explained carefully and Killian was angry at the relief he felt. “But I think maybe…” Killian steeled his jaw, fists clenching and shoulders straightening as his brother eyed him with… pity? sympathy? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Something in his expression must have warned Liam off. “Nevermind,” he finished.
Killian let out a heavy breath, thankful that this conversation was over. “Shall we go get ready?” he asked. “I think people will be arriving soon. I’ve seen Mulan’s car pull up. And if she’s here, the party is bound to get underway quickly.”
“Aye,” Liam said, swinging his arm around Killian’s shoulders. “Let’s.”
-/-
“Emma!” she heard Elsa call for her from the room next door. She banged on the adjoining wall to let her friend know it was fine to come in. A second later Elsa was making her way into the room, awkwardly looking behind herself as she struggled with her costume.
“Could you give me a hand with these laces?” she asked, referring to the corset like back of her Swan Lake ballerina costume. It was pretty, graceful, and understated like her friend.
“Sure,” Emma said, gesturing for her to turn around so that she could help her with the intricate lacing. When she was done, Elsa brushed her hands down the front of her dress, making sure it looked right.
“Thanks.” She looked Emma up and down and frowned. “You’re not ready yet? The party’s already started. I’m running late because of these damn laces. What’s your excuse?” she asked, taking in Emma’s jeans and leather jacket.
“Oh, I’m ready,” she said, grabbing a hat and a pair of sunglasses and putting them on.
Elsa frowned. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”
Emma clipped her badge onto her hip. “An undercover cop.”
Elsa stared at her for a long moment before crossing her arms in front of her chest and frowning. “Are you fucking kidding me, Emma?”
“What?” she asked defensively. It was either this or a sheet with holes cut in it,” she said. “You know, to be a ghost,” she clarified when Elsa didn’t react.
Elsa let her head fall into her hand, rubbing at her forehead in frustration. “Jesus Christ, Emma. It’s a costume party. You are a cop. You can’t just go as yourself. This is a pathetic excuse for a costume and you know it.”
“You were actually a ballerina!” Emma insisted, gesturing at the dress she knew her friend had worn in a real performance in college. Elsa glared at her. She was annoyed at her friend, but probably more at the fact that she knew she was right. She’d really hoped they’d have let her get away with it. She was never one for dressing up.
“That’s different,” Elsa explained slowly, like she was talking to an idiot. “I wouldn’t go around wearing this on the street. You haven’t even changed out of what you were wearing when we got here.”
“So you think I should go with the ghost?” she asked, smirking a little. Elsa shook her head in exasperation.
“Emma, this party is for Mary Margaret. You know what she wants it to be. She wants magic and beautiful dresses and men dressed as princes and heroes. This is her fairytale wedding and you cannot wear jeans to a masquerade ball.”
Emma sighed. “Okay, but it’s a little late now. I don’t have another costume and nothing I brought is fancy enough to qualify as a gown.”
Elsa thought for a second, looking her over as she tapped her fingers against her crossed arms. “Hang on a second,” she said finally. “I might have something.” And with that, she disappeared out of the room, trailing crinoline and feathers behind her.
Emma pulled the hat and sunglasses off, groaning as she pulled her hair out of it’s messy ponytail. She should have seen this coming. She should have known her friends wouldn’t stand for her cop out of a costume - they fought her every Halloween and this was her best friend’s wedding. She just… she didn’t have it in her. The whole fairy tales and True Love and princes and princesses - it just all felt so… fake, unrealistic. She didn’t want to get dolled up and attract the attention of some guy who would make her promises and then break them as soon as the lights came on and the masks came off. She remembered the last time she’d let some guy she met at a party convince her she meant something - she’d learned that lesson quickly. Never fall for a pretty face - especially one with an accent and a penchant for seducing blondes.
“Here,” Elsa announced, returning to the room and shaking Emma out of her thoughts. She was holding a dress on a hanger, the skirt of it draped over her arm. It was beautiful. Ice blue and floor length with intricate beading. The neckline was modest but she could see the plunging back. It was Elsa embodied: elegant, sophisticated, and just a little ethereal.
“This is gorgeous,” Emma said, reaching out to tough some of the delicate stitching. “Where did you get it?”
“I wore it to Mary Margaret’s black-tie New Years Eve party last year, remember?” Emma shook her head. “Oh right, you weren’t there - you had that case. Anyway, I forgot it here in the morning and haven’t been back to pick it up since. I feel like it would do nicely for tonight.”
“You’re going to dress me up as a princess aren’t you,” Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Elsa beamed.
“You bet your ass I am!” she laughed. “If your brother’s going as Prince Charming, it’s only fair you get a royal makeover too. Come on. If I know Mary Margaret’s mom, I’m sure we can dig up a tiara or something in one of these rooms. Shall we?” Emma bit her lip. She knew she wasn’t going to win this one. “Hey, you’re doing this for Mary Margaret,” Elsa reminded her and then gestured pointedly to her own costume. “We all are.”
Emma sighed. “Okay. But you better have a damn good mask. If David sees me in this, he’ll never let me live it down.” Nor would Killian, she thought, cringing at the teasing that would surely ensue from him seeing her in something other than jeans. Elsa laughed and dragged Emma along in search of a crown.
-/-
“Liam!” Killian called, poking his head into his brother’s room and looking around for his absentee sibling. “Are you nearly done putting your face on? The party’s in full swing and you’re missing it!”
“There’s a slight problem,” Liam’s voice carried across the room from the bathroom as he walked out and Killian had to put his fist to his mouth to stop from laughing at the sight of his brother. It didn’t work. “Shut up,” Liam warned as Killian burst out in a fit of laughter. Liam stood in front of him, looking not at all impressed in the tightest shirt and pants Killian had ever seen. The sleeves ended several inches above his wrists and the pants several inches above his ankles. Liam threw the mask he was holding at his brother.
“I’m sorry,” Killian apologized, trying to contain himself. “I don’t think it fits,” he pointed out the obvious.
“Clearly it doesn’t fit, little brother ,” Liam said with a glare. Killian returned it.
“Younger brother,” he corrected.
“No, I believe in this case little brother is correct,” he smirked, gesturing to himself again. He turned around to head back to the bathroom and Killian, who had been glaring, burst out laughing again.
“Oh, I do hope Elsa’s an ass woman,” he said. “You’ll certainly win her over with pants that tight.”
“Alright, enough. Give me your costume.”
“My costume,” Killian demanded, stepping back and placing a protective hand out in front of him. “Why?”
“Because this is your fault. You’re the one who gave me your old costume without accounting for the fact that I am the much taller and broader shouldered of the Jones brothers.”
“Or the one who needs to cut back on sweets,” Killian shot back. “Besides,” he challenged, “how will this costume fit you if you’re so big and strong you can’t fit into that one?”
“Give me the jacket and the jewellery,” Liam said. “I’ll find a pair of black pants and a buttoned shirt and it will have to do.” He eyed his brother who was still clinging protectively to his costume. “And the hook,” he demanded.
“What will I wear then, if you’re going to take the very shirt off my back?”
“This,” Liam answered, gesturing to himself. “Should work. You’ve barely filled out since college,” he smirked.
“I’ve never had any complaints.” Liam gave him a leveling look and Killian rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he ceded, shedding the beloved jacket from his shoulders and tossing it to his brother. Liam caught it in one hand and headed to the bathroom to change, pausing at his suitcase to grab a pair of pants and a shirt.
“You know you’re blowing your chances at winning over Elsa though, don’t you? No dashing childhood crush to seduce her with.”
Liam cracked the bathroom door open and poked his head out, tossing the costume at him. “I’m not trying to seduce anyone,” he frowned. “Besides,” he smirked. “Even if I was, I wouldn’t need a bloody costume to do so. Not all of us need glamour and trickery to convince a woman to speak to us.”
“Oi!” Killian shouted, offended. “I don’t need any tricks to get a woman to speak to me!”
“Is that why you pick a fight with Emma everytime you see her?” Liam’s voice was muffled through the door.
“I have no idea what you’re insinuating,” Killian snapped. He was getting very tired of his brother speaking cryptically about he and Emma’s relationship. As though they were anything but friendly rivals. So what if he looked forward to seeing her at these get-togethers? So what if he was disappointed when she was kept away by work. He simply looked forward to having someone to spar with, someone who kept up with him and could challenge him. He loved a challenge, and if Emma Swan was anything, she was a challenge.
“Of course not,” Liam patronized as he emerged in Killian’s jacket. He held out his hand and Killian passed him the pirate necklaces and the clip on earring that completed the look. “Better get dressed, party’s started,” Liam told him then looked him over carefully. “Isn’t ‘The Princess Bride’ Emma’s favorite movie as well?”
Killian looked down at the costume he held in his hands, ignoring the fact that it was, in fact, her favorite and that she might, just maybe, forget their rivalry for a second if they had some common ground. It would be interesting to speak to her without their prickly game standing between them for a moment. The last time they’d done that had been… well, a very long time ago indeed. “What of it?” he asked his brother and hoped Liam wouldn’t push the subject.
“Nothing,” Liam said and when Killian met his eye he saw the same look he’d seen earlier. It unsettled him. But then his brother smirked and the moment was broken. “Just too bad you don’t still have the ponytail.”
Killian scowled, whipping the hook off his arm and shoving it a little too forcefully against his brother’s chest, turning to storm out of the room to the sound of Liam’s laughter following along behind him. “It was one semester!” he shouted but Liam only laughed harder.
-/-
Emma poured herself another drink from the bar, readjusting her mask which unfortunately, though beautiful, had the annoying habit of sliding down her nose. One corner was still damp from when it had dipped into her drink. She didn’t know how people did this back in the day. Wearing masks was fun, the mystery of it all and the anonymity was almost thrilling, but it was highly inconvenient. She set the drink down to tighten the silk string that kept it on for the tenth time that night.
The party was in full swing. The house was packed, every room full of people squished together dancing, laughing, drinking, and shouting at each other to be heard over the music. Emma looked around proudly. She had to say, she’d done a pretty good job for someone who hated fairy tales. She loved parties, though, so she chalked it up to that. Well, that and Elsa and Belle’s beautiful masks and Ruby’s awesome taste in music… and David had helped with the decorations. It had definitely been a group effort.
Emma scanned the crowds, trying to spot any of her friends and realized that she couldn’t. She almost laughed. The masquerade thing really did work. She knew what Elsa and Liam - and likely Killian - were dressed as, but she hadn’t seen anyone else from the bridal party’s costumes and there were so many friends and family here to celebrate that she wasn’t even sure she knew all the guests, let alone that she’d be able to identify them with half their faces covered.
She made her way across the kitchen which was being used as a bar and into what could only be described as a great hall where people were dancing, hoping to spot Elsa among the throngs of people. She perked up when she caught sight of white feathers and excellent posture. Squeezing between Cinderella and Gaston who looked about two seconds away from making out - weird - she crossed the room toward her friend, only to stop dead when she caught sight of a silver hook and a generous display of chest hair.
Ugh. Killian. Elsa was talking to Killian. His face was half covered in a silky black mask but she’d seen that stupid pirate costume enough times to know it had to be him. She rolled her eyes as he leaned down to say something in Elsa’s ear and her friend threw her head back laughing, her hand coming up to rest on his bare chest as she leaned in closer.
Gross . Emma thought Elsa had better taste than that. She wondered what Killian could possibly be saying to make her friend blush and giggle like some infatuated school girl. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and the uneasiness in her stomach when Elsa ran her hand up from his chest to his shoulder under the guise of trying to hear better over the music. His hand went to the small of her back and the smile on Killian’s face felt like a punch to the gut. She’d seen that smile, relaxed, excited, soft. She’d only ever seen it so rarely before and only ever…
She turned away, done with watching the disturbing display in front of her. If Killian and Elsa wanted to flirt and whisper little secrets to each other and exchange meaningful little touches, she wasn’t going to stick around to see it. Really, she thought Elsa had better taste. She thought Elsa was a better friend than to… what? What exactly was Elsa guilty of? Cozying up to her hot friend? Getting close to Emma’s… rival didn’t feel like the right word.
She just wasn’t prepared for it, that was all. There had always been some sort of unspoken thing between the women of the group - Killian was no man’s land - or, rather, no woman's land. Despite his constant flirtatiousness and innuendos, nobody ever took it seriously, nobody ever really considered dating him or going to bed with him, at least not since that night. But there was never really a reason, no agreement made. Elsa could do what she liked. Emma didn’t care. Why would she care? Killian, while awful, was undeniably attractive and if Elsa wanted to - well, Emma didn’t care.
“I see my brother’s not wasting any time,” she heard behind her, the voice somewhat dulled by the thrumming of the music. Emma turned, smiling when she was met with bright blue eyes, just noticeable through a black leather mask, and a cheeky smirk. She looked over the costume he wore so well, a little flustered despite herself at seeing someone dressed as her childhood (and adulthood) crush.
“Liam,” she greeted, holding up her glass in a toast. “How are you enjoying the party?” The smile slipped from his face for a moment before he bit his lip against another.
“Well, I must say it’s just gotten infinitely better,” he answered.
“Ah, so I see Killian isn’t the only smooth talker in the Jones family,” she teased.
“Alas, it’s a family trait. Inherited from our father unfortunately,” he answered, his smile faltering for only a second. “What do you suppose he’s saying?” he asked, gesturing at his brother and Elsa.
Emma scoffed. “If I know him, he’s probably showering her with insincere compliments and using that inherited silver tongue to convince a perfectly intelligent woman that she wants to do something incredibly stupid.”
“And what’s that?”
“Sleep with Killian Jones.”
“I feel as though I should defend him.”
“No need,” Emma assured him. “Everyone knows who Killian is.”
He frowned. “And who is he?”
“Take your pick: playboy, womanizer, egomaniac. I swear David and the guys must just keep him around for entertainment. There is not a sincere bone in that man’s body. Well,” she laughed, turning from the scene in front of them back to the better-Jones. “Maybe one.”
“I see.” His jaw was tight and Emma worried she’d gone too far. She’d forgotten for a moment that this was his brother. She thought about how she’d feel if someone talked about David like this. But then again, David would never deserve it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, regardless. “I shouldn’t insult your family.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure you have your reasons. I summarize then that you’re not a fan of him.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “Surely he can be a bit of a scoundrel at times but I wonder… What exactly is the nature of your feud with my brother? Killian never told me anything apart from the fact that you seem to despise one another.”
Emma hesitated. She’d never told anyone this story before. Sure, her friends had asked in the past, wondering why she hated him so much, especially given their first meeting. But she’d always skirted the question, not wanting to explain herself, not wanting to admit how stupid she’d been, how blind and how reckless. It was humiliating really. But Liam was sweet, and seemed genuinely interested. And she’d just spent the last few minutes insulting his only brother (as far as she knew) and she felt she at least owed him an explanation for it.
“Did Killian ever tell you about the night we met?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t believe so,” he said, bringing a finger up to scratch a spot behind his ear in a way that was so reminiscent of his brother it threw her for a moment. Between their eyes and their mannerisms and their smiles, for all their differences, the Jones brothers certainly had a lot in common. There was no mistaking their kinship.
“We met at Will’s birthday party about five years ago. He and Killian had a class together so Will brought him along with our usual group. You might not believe it, I don’t think anyone would really, but I didn’t hate your brother the first time I met him.”
“Oh no?” he asked, waiting for her to continue.
“No, we - we actually hit it off really well. He was funny and easy to talk to and actually kind of…” Emma trailed off, finger running over the rim of her glass as she remembered his easy smiles and the way his shoulders shook when he laughed. She remembered the way he spoke, loudly and animatedly with the group but also softly and what she’d thought was sincerely when it was just the two of them. “Sweet,” she finished lamely. “He was sweet.”
She cleared her throat. “I liked him. I was stupid and young and he was charming and well, you know how he is, he’s your brother.” She couldn’t look at him now when she told him the story. It was too embarrassing. She felt as vulnerable now as she had that night and while she’d let herself then, it had been a hard lesson on why she should avoid letting herself feel that way again.
“I do,” he said.
“Anyway, we ended up spending most of the night together in a back booth in the bar. Everyone was dancing and drinking and we just sat there talking.” They’d talked for hours. They’d talked about nothing, silly things, movies, books, what they’d wanted to be when they grew up. But also about real things, things Emma had never talked about with anyone apart from David, not even her closest friends; about her childhood before Ruth, about Neal, about what she wanted out of life but was afraid of going for, afraid of failing. She hadn’t even meant to tell him most of it, but he’d listened in that rare way so few people do, the way they do when they actually care about what you have to say and aren’t just waiting for their chance to talk. She felt stupid now for all the things she’d told him.
“We didn’t even realise the others had left until the lights came on and we were being kicked out because the bar was closing,” she continued. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He asked me back to his place but I said no.” She rubbed at her neck, feeling awkward now sharing this with Killian’s brother as she recalled the details of the night and the next morning. She’d said ‘no’ because she liked him, ‘no’ because she didn’t want to go and ruin something good by turning it into a one night stand.
Suddenly, his hand was on her arm, fingers brushing over the bare skin there and her breath caught at how warm he felt against her. It was comforting, familiar though, and almost unsettling in that familiarity. She remembered another set of fingers running up her arm outside her apartment building years ago.
“You don’t have to tell me -” he started.
“No it’s okay,” she cut him off. “He was surprisingly okay with it,” she said. Well, not so surprising considering what he got up to later. Liam didn’t need to know about the kiss - or the other one for that matter. She bit her lip, remembering. “It was late so he offered to walk me back to my apartment. I lived in kind of a shady area back then,” she explained. “He did and we went our separate ways,” after a while , she thought, “and we made plans to meet up the next morning.”
“So, what happened?” he asked, his fingers still idly tracing patterns on her arm up to her shoulder.
“What happened,” Emma started, clearing her throat again as the anger set in. Anger was good. Anger helped with the humiliation, with the hurt. “What happened is I went to his place the next morning and some girl in a towel answered the door.” She saw his eyes widen. She couldn’t see his eyebrows but she knew they were likely shooting up to his hairline.
“What?” he asked, mouth gaping open.
“Yeah. Some blonde, obviously a blonde. He’s got a type, you know. She told me Killian was in the shower and it wasn’t hard to figure out that after I turned him down, he went out and found someone else to get his rocks off with. So yeah, that’s when I realised exactly what kind of guy he is.” He’d probably only walked her home as a favor to Will.
“I’m sorry, love, that must have been awful,” he said. Emma shrugged.
“It is what it is. Honestly I’m just annoyed at myself for not seeing it sooner. I’ve met enough guys who are only after one thing and I don’t know why I convinced myself he wasn’t.” She gave him a small, insincere smile.“Must have been the rum,” she shrugged. There hadn’t been any rum though. Neither of them had had a thing to drink since they’d sat down in that back booth, hadn’t felt the need for it. It had been so easy.
“Perhaps,” he started, and Emma turned to look at him. She’d been fixated on her glass for the last few minutes. She couldn’t really make out his expression in the dim lights, his voice soft enough to be nearly drowned out by the music. “Perhaps you should ask my brother about that night,” he suggested. Emma’s eyes snapped to his in surprise and what almost felt like betrayal.
“Why would I do that?” she demanded, feeling defensive. She pulled back a step, wanting to put a little distance between them after this unexpected turn - what was it with her and baring her soul to the Jones brothers? Was she that much of a sucker for blue eyes and an accent? - but he followed her, moving with her and leaning in close to speak so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music.
“Because, Swan, there are two sides to every story and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that it’s always better to give someone the benefit of the doubt.”
Emma blinked at him, slightly distracted by him being so close to her. The room was crowded and she felt the stickiness clinging to the back of her neck from the heat of so many people packed into one place. A lot of that heat seemed to be coming from him. His hand was still on her arm, having drifted down to her wrist, his thumb tracing over the back of her hand as he spoke, his mouth next to her ear and his breath warm against it. The smell of him was heady around her, like leather and sea air and - wait, had he just called her Swan?
She looked up then, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make out his face under his mask. Something about him… something was familiar, more familiar than brotherly resemblance. His jaw ticked, the muscle clenching in a way that was so… she'd seen it before, it - Oh. Oh, no way . She looked him up and down, taking in the lean frame, the dark, flippy hair that stuck out of his mask rather than the curls she expected, the sharpness of his jawline where Liam’s was softer, the shape of his mouth… Killian. Oh, he was a dead man.
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” he said.
She turned her head up to meet his eyes, set her chin like she always did when she was ready for a fight. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she started, ready to call him out on his little ruse and rip him a new one for tricking her.
“You’re right,” he said and some of her fight was lost to her surprise at the way his voice softened. Who the hell was this Killian in front of her now? Where was the fight, the ego? His hand was still stroking hers, his eyes were sincere and unpretentious and even a little self-deprecating. “So, just who are you, Swan?”
She pulled back, drawing her hand from his and crossing her arms over her chest, trying to wither him with her stare. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” Wouldn’t he indeed. She was sure he’d love to find out all about her so that he could use it as fuel for their arguments, like some game. The nerve of -
He ducked his head, catching her eyes and stepping even closer to her. Her breath caught at the openness and the sincerity she saw there. “Perhaps I would,” he said and Emma felt her heart pounding against her ribcage. He hadn’t looked at her like that since that night. Since the night she felt for the first time in years that she’d found someone who understood her, someone she connected with, another lost soul, someone she could actually care about, maybe even - She wanted to believe him. She wanted it to be real. It sounded real. It felt real. And he was so close and the way he looked at her..
Emma didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember putting her drink down, but suddenly her hands were gripping the sides of his face and pulling his lips to hers as she rose up on her toes to meet him. He froze against her for a moment, in shock probably she realised, and she grasped the reality of exactly what she’d just done and how stupid it was. But before she could step back, his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her tightly against him, his body flush with hers as his other hand traveled up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck.
She should stop this. This was Killian for god’s sake. Killian, who she hated. Killian, who she swore she’d never let get under her skin again. Killian, who was currently backing them against the wall behind her. She gasped as her back collided with the hard surface and he used the opportunity to slant his mouth over hers, letting his tongue slide into her mouth, making her let out a sound she should have been embarrassed about as heat rushed into her belly. He growled as his hand found her hip, tugging roughly and pressing them even closer together.
She knew she should stop it. This was Killian. Killian, who knew how to push every single one of her buttons, who’d pushed her and challenged her from that first night. Killian, who she looked forward to seeing at every get together if only so they could spend ten minutes insulting each other and she could see his mouth twist into that playful smirk. Killian of the Swans and loves . Of the soft smiles that crinkled his eyes. What if she’d been wrong? What if she’d misjudged him? All these years.
Emma slowed, her hands which had at some point ended up in his hair released their grip and she let one settle around his shoulders, the other sliding down over his chest to rest in the v of his shirt. She could feel his heart racing under her palm, matching her own’s frantic beating. Killian froze again, and then something changed. His hand released it’s nearly painful grip on her hip and slid up her back to rest between her shoulder blades. The hand that was fisted in her hair came around to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek as his lips slowed over hers, his movements no longer desperate and needy but gentle and exploratory.
She let him kiss her, let him open her mouth wider under his own, let him pull at her lips and slide his tongue against hers with a give and take that felt so familiar it sent her heart racing again as a warmth built in her chest and in her stomach and bloomed out through her limbs. She felt his shoulders relax under her own as he melted against her, pressing her against the wall like he wanted to feel every inch of her skin against his through their clothes, feel her heart beating against his and drown her in the warmth that was radiating off of him. She was burning up from the inside out.
He pulled back after a long moment, pressing his forehead to hers, eyes still closed and lips still close enough to touch if she just tilted her head every so slightly. The hand that had been at her cheek slid along her jaw, thumb brushing over her bottom lip as his breath puffed hot against her face. His fingers trailed slowly and featherlight along her spine.
“Emma,” he breathed as her hand came to his cheek, tracing the stubble under her fingers. She was only just pulling him back in when the music stopped.
The lights coming on were like a bucket of ice water being thrown over her. Somewhere, someone was announcing that it was midnight, that it was time for everyone to remove their masks and reveal who they really were.
She saw it in his eyes, the regret as he reached for his mask and it hit her like a blow to the chest. She caught his hand, stopping him from ruining the only excuse she had. If he didn’t, then she could claim she didn’t know it was him. She could convince herself it was all just a mistake. “Swan,” he spoke again, searching her eyes for something she couldn’t give him. This wasn’t who they were.
“Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you,” she warned. She watched as his lips pressed together and his head fell before he nodded.
“Fair enough,” he said, dropping his hands and stepping back just enough that she could squeeze by.
She did. And then she ran.