"Domestic Situation" - CS Prompt Fic
Duathadun: How about this..Emma and Killian decide to invite David and Mary Margaret over for dinner. As a team they try to cook dinner and hilarity ensues cause Killian knows just enough to get in trouble ad Emma, well isnt any better. End result? They order in from Granny’s and try to pass it off as their own, but the Charmings know better. ;)
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Emma set the phone down with a blank stare at the wall beyond her.
Killian sauntered in from just beyond the threshold, pausing when he saw her expression, and slowly approached her perch on the arm of the couch.
“Is everything alright, Emma?”
“…I just—invited them over for dinner.” Emma responded in a monotone, still staring past them at the wall, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Killian’s cocked his head lightly to the side.
“Who, love?”
“My parents,” she said, flicking her gaze up to meet his. Killian’s lips twitched in amusement.
“How perfectly domestic of you, Swan,” he smirked.
Emma expelled a breath, rising up to meet his gaze with a worried look.
“Killian, I’m serious, this is— this is a big step. This is— basically making it official we’re—…”
She cut off, letting out another puff of breath and bringing her hands to clutch at her sides. Killian’s smirk immediately vanished. He gently closed the gap between them, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing his good hand to her cheek.
“I understand, love. But you’ve nothing to fear. I’m here for you, just like I’ve always been; and your parents want nothing but your happiness.”
Emma nodded into his embrace, twirling her fingers absently into the soft fabric of the black v-neck they’d gotten him.
“That’s not all I’m worried about,” she said, green eyes flitting up to meet his. Killian’s brows drew together.
“What more?” he queried lightly.
“Now we actually have to make dinner,” she responded with a grimace. Killian drew back slightly in mock offense.
“Such little faith in your dashing captain, Emma. I’m offended.”
Emma cocked an eyebrow at him.
“You know how to cook?”
“You learn a few things aboard ship with a crew of hungry men, love,” Killain winked. “I’ll handle it.”
—*—
“Bloody hell!”
A distinctive British accent bellowed from the kitchen, followed by the incessant shrill wail of the smoke detector.
Emma groaned, throwing the bathroom door open to see Killian batting at the heavily clouded stove with a faded dishrag, coughing into his arm.
She flew into the kitchen behind him, fumbling at the dials to try and turn the stove off.
“What the bloody hell is that??” Killian choked out, pressing an arm over his ear.
“The smoke detector,” Emma yelled, grabbing the wet rag from him and throwing it over the hot surface. With a soft sizzle, the smoking stopped, and, after a moment or two, the shrill beeping of the detector ceased as well.
Emma fished a spatula from the drawer and flicked the dishrag up to reveal the blackened contents of the stove. Oil-slicked charbroiled burger meat stared up at her from the now ruined frying pan, along with a faded burnt can of something she thought she recognized as the SPAM she’d picked up at the grocery the other day.
She whirled around to face a smudge stained, wary looking Killian.
“What happened to ‘cooking aboard your ship’ and all that??” she demanded.
“Well to be fair, Swan, I’ve not had much experience with the dialed contraptions your land is accustomed to.” He paused, licking his lip and bringing a finger up to scratch at the hair beyond his ear. “And I might have forgotten to mention it’s been a good thirty years or more since I cooked aboard ship. I might be tad rusty.”
Emma groaned into her hands.
“I was only gone 15 minutes. I thought you said you could handle this!”
“I am handling it!” Killian responded vehemently. They both glanced down at the charcoaled mess on the stove. Killian threw a hand up. “Was. I was handling it.”
He turned back to Emma with a look of defeat.
“Maybe you should take over, love.”
“Me??” she repeated, eyes widening.
“I’m sure you’ve a much keener grasp on the rules of the kitchen in your land than I.”
Emma scoffed.
“Yeah, I know how to shove things in a blender and press go, or order expensive take-out. My knowledge of a stove is limited to almost-burnt pancakes and overdone scrambled eggs.”
Killian sighed with an apologetic smile, as Emma put her hands back over her face.
Suddenly, his eyebrows drew together in thought.
“Did you say 'take-out', love?”
Emma peeked out of her fingers.
“Yeah, why—”
Their eyes flew to one another.
“Granny’s.”
— * —
Half an hour later, a plate of juicy burgers, stuffed with various trappings and condiments, sat delicately arranged on a blue platter in the middle of their little table, neighbored by a vat of orange, bread-crusted mac’n’cheese.
“Hurry, they’re coming!!” Emma exclaimed from the kitchen, throwing blackened cooking utensils into the dish washer and scrubbing at the widening puddle of dish detergent she’d squeezed all over the stove.
Killian was flying about the open room, setting dining places, straightening knick-knacks, and opening all the windows.
“Oh God, it still reeks of smoke in here,” Emma moaned between scrubs, glancing up at the still slightly hazy atmosphere above their heads. “Killian, you gotta grab the Febreze.”
Killian paused in the middle of the living room.
“Which one’s that again, love?”
Emma’s lips twitched in a small smile. Adorable pirate. At least he was trying.
“The bottle with the squeeze handle in the cupboard next to you. Just pull the trigger-looking thing. Like, a lot.”
Killian complied, finding the bottle and quickly emptying the aerosol contents around the room.
Just as Emma had thrown the sponge into the sink and shoved the dishwasher closed, the sharp rap of the knocker sounded out from the front of the apartment. Killian and Emma glanced at one another, and, with matching deep breaths, hurried over to the door and flung it open.
— * —
“What do you wanna bet they ordered Granny’s?” Charming whispered with a grin as they came up the final steps to Emma’s apartment door. Snow rolled her eyes at her husband, but a smile came to her lips.
“David, be nice,” she murmured, lifting the brass knocker.
There was a bustle of movement from inside, and then the door was being thrown open, and Killian and Emma stood breathless and smiling in the threshold.
“Come in!” Emma welcomed with an overly done exuberance. Charming clapped a hand on Killian’s shoulder, and the two stepped inside.
Emma gestured to the table.
“We…made you burgers and mac’n’cheese, I hope you don’t mind,” she said with a nervous laugh. The pair looked over at the food displayed, and glanced back at each other, Charming's eyes glinting as he did all he could to hold back an “I told you so” grin. Snow turned to her daughter and Killian with a loving smile.
“It looks delicious.”
— * —
“Lovely dinner,” Snow later said, as she and Charming moved into the hall outside.
“Yeah,” agreed Charming. “I’d say almost as professional as Granny’s.”
Snow nudged him in the ribs with an elbow, producing a soft groan that effectively silenced his teasing. She leaned in to kiss her daughter on the cheek.
“It was wonderful, Emma, honey. Thank you.”
She turned to Killian and squeezed his hand affectionately.
“And thank you, Killian. I’m glad to see Emma so happy.”
Killian bowed his head.
“As am I, m’lady.”
And then, with a round of smiles and goodnights, Snow and Charming were down the stairs and out of the building.
— * —
Killian and Emma collapsed onto the couch with a mutual exhausted sigh. Emma rolled her head to one side to look over at him.
“You think we fooled them?”
Killian enclosed her hand in his at her side.
“It went perfectly, love.”
Emma smiled in relief, a smile which, as she gazed at him, quickly turned into a devilish grin.
“You know,” she murmured luringly. “I did tell Henry he could spend the night at Regina’s.”
Killian’s eyes flew to hers, and he took a sharp breath.
“So,” she continued, “We have the apartment all to ourselves….”
Killian whisked her wrist up to the couch behind her head, and moved over her with a returning, husky smile, bringing his lips to nuzzle at her neck.
“Mmm, love, now that’s something I can handle.”
The cleanup could wait until morning...
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Hi, dear! It might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I hope I at least got a little of what you were thinking (I can be such a sappy writer sometimes it's hard for me to get the humor in!). Hope you like! I enjoy writing these for you :)