A Little Thing Called Fate: Chapter 6
A Once Upon a Time Fanfic
“I don’t understand why you need my help,” Lily complains over the phone.
“I’m not from this world,” Killian reminds her. “I don’t know its traditions.”
He can almost hear her eyes rolling. “You really think Emma cares about traditions for her birthday? If anything, she wants the exact opposite.”
He arches an eyebrow, though he knows she can’t see him. “Which still requires me to know them, love.”
She sighs. “Fine, just . . . get her something sweet for dessert–not cake–and then just chill and watch her favorite movie or something.”
That does sound like a good plan, except– “And would you happen to know her favorite moving picture?”
“You seriously don’t know your girlfriend’s favorite movie?”
He doesn’t. He knows her favorites to watch with Henry, but they haven’t had many opportunities to watch any alone, and when they do, she usually takes the opportunity to introduce him to popular stories she thinks he needs to know.
There are so many she thinks he needs to know.
“Just . . . go with Princess Bride. That was her favorite for years.”
He frowns skeptical. “Is that what she told you when you were kids? How do you know it hasn’t changed?”
“Oh, trust me,” she says in a tone that does not inspire trust, “it hasn’t.”
As it turns out, she’s right.
He takes the afternoon after he gets off work to bake a sweet pastry he can’t quite remember the name of that he learned about years ago on his travels, and when Henry goes to bed that evening, he piles several on a plate, pours two glasses of wine, and leaves the bottle on the coffee table.
“What’s this?” Emma asks with a grin as she sits on the couch.
He grins back, but doesn’t answer as he turns on the moving picture box. Henry helped him get it set up before, so now all he has to do is push the little triangle button.
To his surprise, Emma groans as soon as the title appears across the screen. “Who told you?”
“Told me . . . what? That it’s your favorite movie?”
She stares at him for a second, then pulls the blanket up to half-cover her face. “Never mind. Just turn it on.”
He sits hesitantly beside her. “Is this . . . not your favorite? Would you rather watch something else?” He had thought Lily was teasing him somehow.
She’s still covering her face. “No, it’s not that. Just turn it on.” Still feeling like he’s messed up somehow, he settles in beside her and pushes play–
–And quickly finds out why she didn’t want him to watch it.
“Shut up,” she groans, pressing her face into her knees as the pirate on screen calls, “as you wish” as he rolls down the hill.
“I didn’t say anything,” he points out, though he doesn’t bother to hide his grin.
After the initial embarrassment, she relaxes, settling into his side, and he discovers just how much she likes this story. She has most of it memorized, quoting lines alongside the characters and laughing at jokes before the punchlines.
The wine has them relaxed, their fingers are sticky with sugar, and she can’t stop giggling at the show. He wraps his arm around her, and he doesn’t want this moment to end.
During the wedding scene, her head falls onto his shoulder, and she says, “that’s what I want.”
He frowns at the miserable bride, unsure what she’s referring to. “What?”
“The dress. When I get married, I want a pretty dress that . . . that looks like a fairytale.”
It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it. He wants to spend the rest of his life with her–of course he’s bloody well thought about marriage–but he was never sure what she thought about it, and now, hearing her say “when” as though it’s just a given–
He shifts, trying to see her better without letting her head fall off his shoulder. “Do you want to get married?”
She grins, that same mischievous smile he always sees on her son. “I don’t think this is how you’re supposed to ask.”
“For now it is.” He catches her face in his hand, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “Emma, I’m serious. Do you want to marry me? I didn’t know how you would feel about me asking, but–bloody hell.” He kisses her, hard and fast, then pulls back. “I want you, love, all of you, for the rest of our lives.”
“Killian.” She lays her hand over his heart, and he wonders what it would feel like if she took it in her hand. He can’t imagine there would be any difference as she’s held it far longer than she knows.
“I never thought I’d get married,” she admits. “After Neal, I didn’t even want another relationship, and I never thought I’d find someone I could trust enough to see a future with.”
She pauses, and shouts ring out on the moving picture box. She snatches up the controller box, stops it, then drops the box onto the couch and turns back to him. She stares at him for a long moment before scrambling up onto her knees.
His heart sinks, afraid he’s sent her running again. Then she throws one leg over his lap and shifts until she’s straddling him. His arms lift automatically so his hands–real and prosthetic–rest at her waist. “Swan . . .”
Her hands come to rest on his shoulders. “But with you . . . Killian, I want a future with you. I–I’m not sure I’m ready just yet, but–” she swallows. “Yes, I want to marry you.” Her eyes squeeze closed, and she leans forward until her breath ghosts against his lips. “I love you.”
He knows, he knows, because she wouldn’t have her memories back if she didn’t, but it’s different to hear it. He leans forward, crushing his mouth against hers, and she melts against him, letting her hands slide down his chest. He presses his false hand into her back, keeping her close, and his fingers reach up to tangle in her hair.
“Wait.” She pulls back abruptly, trying to straighten the hair that tries to fall in her face. “The movie. It’s–it is my favorite, and I want you to see the rest of it.”
He grins, and she groans, already knowing what he’s going to say.
“As you wish.”
She’s not ready yet, she said, and he understands that, but he wants to make this promise to her, make sure she knows he’s not going anywhere. He’s seen enough of this realm to know what a proposal looks like here, so he buys a ring.
It doesn’t feel right to do this without asking her father’s blessing, but that’s not really a possibility now. But there is one other person’s blessing he wants to ask.
His opportunity comes when Emma has to go out for work one evening. Henry is at a birthday party for a friend, and Killian is supposed to pick him up at dinner time, giving them plenty of time to talk before she gets home.
He doesn’t expect to get a phone call much earlier.
“Henry? Lad, are you alright?” Henry doesn’t usually call him without reason.
“Um, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just . . . " His voice drops to a whisper. “Can you come pick me up?”
He already has his keys in his hand. “I’m coming, lad. Are you safe?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I just really want to go home.” His voice cracks on the last word, sounding too close to tears for comfort.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Killian promises.
“Thanks.”
He has the address Emma gave him, and he’s studied enough maps of the city that he finds the apartment easily. He hesitates outside the door, unsure of the type of escape Henry needs, so he calls him again.
“I’m here. Do you want me to knock?”
“No,” Henry says quickly, and he’s glad he thought to check. “I’ll just tell Mrs. Wright I’m leaving and sneak out.” He hangs up before Killian can speak again, so he just stands in the hall, waiting.
A few minutes later, the door slowly cracks open, and he hears a woman’s voice say, “Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Henry says quietly. “Killian called and said I’ve gotta go home. Thanks for having me, though.” Before the woman can say another word, he darts out the door, clutching his backpack, then stops when he sees Killian. “Hey.”
Killian smiles. “Hello, lad. Ready to go home?” He doesn’t expect the sheer relief on the boy’s face, and it’s overwhelming to have that directed at him.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”
He waits until they’re outside the apartment building before he brings it up. “Would you like to talk about what happened?”
Henry shrugs, staring at his feet. “Kids are just mean sometimes.”
Killian sighs. “Aye, lad, that they are.”
They continue in silence most of the way home, until Henry suddenly bursts out, “I just don’t get it! I’ve never had a hard time making friends, even when we moved a lot, but then as soon as we got to New York, all my old friends stopped talking to me, and it’s like I don’t even know how to make new ones. I’m just . . . constantly on the outside.”
Killian’s afraid he knows exactly what the problem is. Admittedly, he doesn’t know a lot about the boy’s life back in Storybrooke, but he recognizes a lot of the loneliness in him that he’s seen in Emma and Bae, and he suspects he never actually had all the friends he remembers. But even if Emma wouldn’t have a problem with it, he can hardly say that to him.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not the best person to give advice when it comes to friends. When I was your age, I was only friends with my older brother.”
Henry looks up, mouth falling open. “You have an older brother?”
Killian’s smile grows tight. “Had. He passed a long time ago.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It’s alright. But he was my only friend for a very long time, and my only family as well. It wasn’t until we were both grown up, after we joined the navy, that I began to make other friends.” And then lost them the day he lost Milah.
Henry shifts his backpack strap over his shoulder. “So, I guess you and your brother were kind of like me and mom, then?”
No, he wants to say. No, because I won’t let you lose your mother that way. No, because even if you don’t remember them, you have a whole family who loves you and would do anything for you. No, because you will never be left alone the way I was. Instead he says, “I suppose so.”
He isn’t prepared for the boy to suddenly spin around, walking backwards and just beaming at him. “But not anymore,” he says. “Because we have you.”
The breath catches in his throat, and for a moment he can’t speak, not until he grabs Henry’s shoulders and forces him to turn back around before he runs into someone. Only then can he say, “Aye, lad. You have me.”
He decides this is enough for today. They can talk about the ring tomorrow.
They never get the chance. The next morning, a seagull lands on the dock in front of him, a note and a bottle tied to its leg, and he knows even before he reads it–Emma’s family needs her.